Cave Goblin
In the deepest part of the cave, where light died before daring to exist, a goblin remained crouched against the rocky wall.
A rough, worn brown blanket wrapped almost completely around him, leaving only a pair of eyes exposed, glimmering in the gloom. Were it not for that fixed, alert gaze, anyone might have mistaken him for part of the surroundings—just another stone among many, a forgotten fragment of the cavern.
But that goblin was not like the others.
His eyes were not empty nor crazed by the constant hunger that ruled his species. There was something else dwelling within them: calculation, patience… and a cold wisdom utterly unbecoming of a goblin.
The goblin rose slowly, as if every movement had been rehearsed hundreds of times. As he extended his right hand, the cloth slipped aside, revealing a short dagger, dulled by use, firmly gripped between his fingers.
His hands were still green, but they were not covered in grime or scabs like those of other goblins. They were cleaner. Steadier. More dangerous.
That goblin was named César.
Just as he was about to turn, distorted shouts erupted in the distance, slicing through the tunnels like blades of sound.
"Two-legged dog!"
"Bones! Meat!"
"Eat! Kill fast!"
César tensed instantly.
He recognized those voices. They were his goblin brethren, stirred into frenzy by the presence of intruders. He narrowed his eyes and fixed his gaze in the direction from which the howls came.
Goblins did not know fear.
To them, any creature that entered their territory was not an enemy, but food. Males were tough meat and bones to crack. Females… were something more valuable: soft flesh, fertile, capable of producing new offspring, regardless of species.
After a few seconds of silence, César began to move unhurriedly toward the source of the noise. As he walked, he checked the equipment hidden beneath his cloak: the dagger, small tools, remnants of a life that did not fit this body.
Then, without making the slightest sound, he slipped away and vanished into the darkness of the cave.
Outside, at the lair's entrance
The gnolls had already crossed the threshold.
Four tall, fur-covered figures advanced through the passage, torches in hand, casting elongated shadows that danced across the uneven walls.
"This cave is too dark…" murmured the only female in the group, nervously scanning her surroundings. "Shouldn't we call the others?"
"We're all novices," replied the largest gnoll, his voice rough. "We don't have the strength to hunt better prey. Do you think anyone truly powerful would come to eat goblins? They stink and taste like rot."
His tone was impatient. That female—strong and beautiful by the standards of their village—showed too much hesitation. Too much fear.
"But—"
"But nothing!" he cut her off. "Goblins are the weakest creatures in the world. Without numbers, they're nothing. Kill a few and the rest will run. Trust yourself. You're one of the best in the village."
Then he pointed toward the narrow passage.
"The terrain favors us here. They won't be able to surround us. We'll kill them little by little. And our shield-bearer will cover you."
"That's right!" exclaimed the gnoll with the shield, stepping forward and raising it proudly. "As long as I'm here, nothing will harm you."
The female's face flushed red. Her nerves eased slightly.
Laughing and talking, the four continued deeper into the cave, unaware that something watched them motionlessly from the shadows.
There was no doubt.
The goblin stalking them was César.
His goblin body burned with primitive impulses, desires his human mind understood… and despised. Those of his generation already mated with captured beasts, obeying a simple law: the strong take, the weak obey.
The elders and powerful goblins claimed humanoid females. The young received only animals.
César knew that relying on his species meant dying slowly.
Survival demanded offspring of his own.
That did not bother him.
What repulsed him was the method.
He would not lower himself to copulate with beasts. Even if he was no longer human, his soul was. If he had to choose, it would at least be with a humanoid creature.
And fate had answered.
His eyes locked onto the gnoll female.
A slow, twisted, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"It's decided…" he whispered to himself.
"You will be the first Goblin Mother."