Someone was knocking on the door.
At first, the sound was hesitant—like the visitor wasn't sure if anyone was home.
Tap… tap… tap.
Then, gradually, it grew louder. TAP… TAP… TAP!
Until finally— BAM! BAM! BAM!—like whoever was outside had decided patience was overrated.
Inside the room, a man lay sprawled across the floor, half-buried under a thin, scratchy blanket that smelled of dust and wet earth. His head throbbed with a pain so sharp it felt as though someone had taken a pickaxe to his skull.
A low groan escaped his lips as he rolled over. "Urgh… what the hell… who's dying at this hour?"
For a few moments, he didn't even notice the strangeness of his surroundings. He just rubbed his temples and tried to remember what had happened last night. But his mind was blank—like a wiped slate. No memory, no dream, nothing. Just darkness followed by pain.
Then the second round of knocking came.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
He jumped, blinking his eyes open. And that's when he froze.
The ceiling wasn't plaster. It was dirt.
The walls weren't painted. They were mud.
The floor beneath him wasn't tiled—it was rough, uneven stone, cold enough to bite into his skin.
He sat up slowly, confusion swirling in his mind. "Where… the hell am I?"
A kidnapping? Maybe. But who'd kidnap him? He didn't have money, didn't have enemies, didn't even have relatives rich enough to pay ransom.
He frowned, thinking hard. "Unless…"
A ridiculous thought flashed through his mind—maybe he finally won that lottery ticket he'd been buying every week for the last three years. Maybe this was the weird luxury suite they give to winners before the cameras roll in?
He snorted. "Yeah, right. Me winning a lottery is more absurd than getting kidnapped."
He'd never won a bet in his life. Not once. Even his luck at coin flips was suspiciously cursed.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The knocks came again—fiercer this time. Whoever was outside clearly had no concept of privacy. He flinched, massaging his forehead to ease the pounding pain, and got to his feet.
Each step was careful, uncertain. The wooden door looked ancient—splintered, warped from moisture. There was a small hole at eye level, maybe used as a peephole by whoever lived here before.
He hesitated, then bent down to look through it.
And what he saw made his blood run cold.
Outside stood a short, ugly creature, barely four feet tall. Its skin was rough, covered in dull moss-green scales that gleamed faintly in the dim light. It had a flat, snout-like nose, beady yellow eyes, and sharp, uneven teeth.
A monster.
He blinked once. Then twice.
His mouth opened—
—and his survival instinct kicked in just in time. He slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the scream clawing at his throat.
'No. No, no, no. That's a goblin. That's— that's literally a goblin!'
He backed away from the door, panic rising in his chest. His breathing quickened, each inhale ragged and loud.
'Okay, calm down. Maybe it's a dream. Maybe it's a prank. Or a movie set. Yeah. A really weird movie set with… realistic CGI.'
But that didn't explain the smell—the earthy, damp scent of soil and smoke that filled the air. Or the faint warmth seeping from the nearby torch mounted on the wall.
His hands trembled slightly. "Okay, maybe not a movie…"
The creature outside mumbled something in a guttural tone, like a series of grunts and growls. He couldn't understand a word, but the tone was clear: impatience.
He pressed himself against the wall, afraid even to breathe too loud.
'Oh god, it's real. It's actually real. I've been kidnapped by monsters for… human experiments or something!'
His mind spiraled through every insane possibility. Secret cults. Genetic testing. Government black sites.
But then another, slightly more believable idea crossed his mind.
'Nightmare. It's just a nightmare. That's it. That makes sense.'
He clung to the thought like a lifeline.
'I mean no matter how you look at it, A nightmare's much more believable than human experiments or monsters, right?'
By now, the creature outside seemed to have lost patience. It muttered again, kicked the door once, then stomped away.
He held his breath until the footsteps faded. Only then did he let out a shaky sigh of relief. "Okay… gone. Whatever that was… gone."
He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. His heart was still hammering in his chest.
Just then, he glanced down—and froze again.
His hand.
It wasn't his.
It was small. Rough. The skin was dark red, almost clay-colored, with faint scales running along the wrist. The nails were sharp and curved, more like claws.
He stared, unable to process it.
Then panic surged through him again. He checked both arms, his legs, even his torso. All of it—wrong.
He stumbled to his feet, looking around frantically for anything reflective. That's when he saw it—an old, cracked mirror propped against the far wall.
He approached slowly, as though afraid the reflection might jump out at him. And when he finally stood before it…
The breath caught in his throat.
A monster stared back at him.
It was a short, brown creature like one he had seen through the door just different colour—snout, scales, fangs, and all.
He touched his cheek. The reflection touched its cheek.
He opened his mouth. The reflection bared jagged teeth.
He staggered back, shaking his head violently. "No, no, no, no, no—this is insane!"
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
"Alright. Let's… let's be rational. If this is a dream, then I just need to wake up. Simple."
He pinched his arm. Hard.
Nothing.
He slapped his face. Still nothing.
He even tried smacking his head lightly against the wall—twice.
"Ow—okay, not that either."
He sighed, rubbing his face with his clawed hand. "Fine. I'll just… sleep. Yeah. Sleep inside a dream to wake up from a dream. That's how this stuff works, right?"
It was a desperate plan, but at least it was a plan.
He trudged back to the mat on the floor, muttering to himself. "Yep, just a nightmare. Brown goblin, creepy mud house, random monster knocking—classic nightmare. When I wake up, I'll laugh about this over instant noodles."
He lay down, pulling the itchy blanket over his head. His body trembled slightly, not from cold but from the sheer absurdity of it all.
He closed his eyes and forced his breathing to slow. "Just… wake up, idiot. Wake up…"
Then it happened.
DING!
A sharp, mechanical sound echoed in the air—clear, crisp, and completely out of place in the rustic silence of the room.
His eyes snapped open. A glowing rectangle hovered above him, faintly blue and humming softly. Words began forming across it in neat, precise letters.
> [ SYSTEM BOOT SEQUENCE COMPLETE ]
[ Host Synchronization: 100% ]
[ Welcome to the Realm of Varnark. Species: Kobold (Brown Variant) ]
[ Status Interface Unlocked. ]
He blinked. "…Kobold?"
He sat up slowly, staring at the floating text.
"Kobold? Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure this face screams 'Goblin Extra #3,' not kobold or whatever."
The window flickered once—then displayed a new line.
> [ Correction: Kobolds are distinct from Goblins. Please refrain from racial misidentification. ]
He gawked at it. "Did… did the system just scold me? Wait why is a system here? It's still a dream right?"
Silence followed, as if the floating window had decided it wasn't worth replying.
He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his reflection again. "Kobold, goblin, whatever. I've still got a snout, claws, and the sex appeal of a potato. Great."
The absurdity of it all finally began to sink in. He laughed weakly. "Yeah, sure. Why not? Random cave, fantasy monster body, talking blue screen. Totally normal day."
He tried lying back down again, muttering, "If I ignore it long enough, maybe it'll go away."
But before he could close his eyes, a loud
THUD! hit the door. Then another.
And another.
The hinges creaked dangerously.
His eyes widened. "No… no, no, no, not again—"
CRASH!
The door exploded inward, scattering splinters and dust. A larger, sturdier kobold stood in the doorway, its scales grayish and glinting under torchlight. It held a crude wooden club in one hand and looked… annoyed.
"RURGH! YOU SLEEP TOO LONG, BROWNLING!" the creature barked in a harsh, guttural accent.
He screamed.
Loudly.
And very humanly.
"AAAAHHHH! WHY IS THIS STILL HAPPENING!?"
He stumbled backward, tripping over his own tail—yes, tail—and landed flat on his back.
The gray kobold blinked, seemingly unimpressed. "Weak. No breakfast. Work now!"
Before he could react, the creature stomped over, grabbed his arm, and yanked him to his feet as though he weighed nothing.
"W–wait! I'm not even supposed to be here!" he protested, flailing helplessly.
The gray kobold grunted, clearly not understanding—or not caring. "Browns talk too much. Move!"
He was half-dragged toward the doorway, mind racing in panic.
And as if mocking him, the system window chimed again.
> [ New Quest Generated: "Survive Your First Morning" ]
[ Objective: Avoid death. ]
[ Reward: Continued existence. ]
[ Hint: Screaming less may increase survival rate. ]
He could only stare. "…Oh, you're not funny you know."