Deep within the cave, where light died before it ever dared to exist, a goblin crouched against the rocky wall.
A rough, worn brown blanket wrapped almost entirely around him, leaving only a pair of eyes exposed, gleaming in the dimness. If not for that fixed, alert gaze, anyone might have mistaken him for part of the surroundings—a stone among many, a forgotten fragment of the cavern itself.
But this goblin was not like the others.
His eyes were calm. There was no trace of the unrestrained lust or the habitual madness that ruled his kind. In his gaze there was only calculation, patience… and a cold wisdom utterly improper for a goblin.
The goblin rose slowly. As he extended his right hand, the cloth slipped aside, revealing a short dagger, dulled by use, firmly gripped between his fingers.
Unlike the others, his green hands were not covered in filth or hardened scabs. They were cleaner. Better kept. And dangerously steady.
That goblin was César.
Just as he was about to turn, distorted screams 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. His goblin brethren—driven mad by the presence of intruders.
He narrowed his eyes toward the source of the howls. It was not unusual for the cave to be invaded. To most species, goblins were little more than vermin. Some hunted them as food; others exterminated them to reclaim stolen treasure or anything of value the creatures had hoarded.
The cries alerted every goblin in the cave.
Yet none showed fear.
On the contrary.
They were excited.
Goblins did not understand fear.
To them, any creature entering their territory was not an enemy… but potential prey.
Males meant tough meat and hard bones.
Females… something more valuable: capable of reproduction, regardless of species. And when no longer useful, they too became food.
César watched in silence for several seconds.
Then he began moving slowly toward the source of the disturbance. As he walked, he checked the equipment hidden beneath his cloak: the dagger, small improvised tools… remnants of a life that did not fit this body.
Without making the slightest sound, he slipped deeper into the darkness.
Outside, at the mouth of the lair.
A small group of four bipedal, fur-covered figures advanced slowly but steadily.
The gnolls had already crossed the threshold.
Four tall shapes moved along the narrow passage, torches in hand, casting long, dancing shadows against the uneven walls.
"This cave is too dark…" muttered the only female among them, scanning the surroundings nervously. "Shouldn't we call the others?"
"We're all novices," replied the largest gnoll in a rough voice. "We don't have the strength to hunt better prey. Do you think anyone truly powerful would come help us just to end up eating goblins? Wake up. No one hunts them if they can avoid it. Their meat stinks."
His tone was impatient. Though the female gnoll was considered strong and attractive in their village, she showed too much hesitation.
Too much fear.
And that irritated him.
"But—"
"No 'but'!" he snapped. "Goblins are the weakest creatures in the world. Without numbers, they're nothing. Kill a few and the rest will scatter. Have confidence. You're one of the best warriors in the village."
He pointed toward the narrow passage.
"The terrain favors us. They can't surround us. We'll eliminate them one by one. Our shield-bearer will cover us."
"That's right!" exclaimed the gnoll with the shield, stepping forward and raising it proudly. "As long as I'm here, nothing will hurt you."
He had long been interested in the female and seized the chance to show off.
She blushed faintly, and her nerves seemed to settle.
Laughing and talking, the four continued deeper into the cave.
Unaware that something watched them from the shadows.
Still.
Silent.
César.
From his hiding place, the goblin studied every detail.
When his gaze settled on the female gnoll, he felt his body respond with primitive impulses—instincts his human mind understood… and despised.
He had long noticed that such urges intensified as he grew. The young goblins of his generation—even his own brother—had already begun reproducing with captured creatures.
It was not that they desired nothing better.
But within the tribe, there was a simple law:
The strong take the best.
The elders and powerful goblins claimed humanoid females.
The inexperienced youths settled for whatever they could obtain.
César knew that with his ability, he could eventually rise in status.
But another thought lingered in his mind.
I can only truly trust my own bloodline.
He knew that notion was influenced by his goblin nature.
And, to his surprise… it did not disturb him.
What did repulse him was the idea of lowering himself in ways his human conscience still rejected. Though his body was no longer human, his awareness remained so.
If he were to choose… it would at least be with an intelligent creature.
Now, as his instincts grew harder to suppress, fate seemed to answer him.
A gnoll.
In his previous life, he would never have imagined even considering such a possibility.
Now… the idea did not disgust him.
His eyes fixed on the female gnoll.
A slow, twisted, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"It's decided…" he whispered to himself.
"You will be the first mother of my lineage."