Nine months had passed since Luna gave birth to her child, and my life had taken a peculiar turn. This morning, as usual, I awoke before dawn with a singular purpose: escape.
I couldn’t use the front door—too obvious. My only option was to lift the back of my tent and roll under it. The maneuver was clumsy but effective. Once outside, I bolted downhill, my tiny feet pounding against the forest floor.
Freedom was within reach. Or so I thought.
The sound of pursuit echoed behind me. It was gaining—fast. My increased agility was no match for the green beast chasing me. Despite the points I had added to my stats and the hours spent running to train them, I couldn’t shake her. My agility had increased by 6 points since I started these desperate sprints, but the gap was insurmountable.
I zigzagged, dodged, and even used magic to throw obstacles in her path. Nothing worked.
Then I felt it—the inevitable grasp of her claws as she wrapped her arms around me.
“Emma, pwease let me go!” I pleaded, trying to reason with my captor.
Emma tilted her head, pretending to consider my request. “Uh-uh,” she replied, the universal toddler refusal.
With that, she hoisted me up like a teddy bear and carried me back toward the village. My protests were ignored, as usual.
<hr>
Emma’s rapid development was the bane of my existence. At nine months old, she was already the size of a five- or six-year-old human child. Her stats were ridiculous, and her strength alone made her nearly impossible to resist.
My parents thought her attachment to me was “adorable.” My mother even joked, “It’s good she’s strong—Juren’s been sickly since birth. He needs a strong woman to protect him!”
Damn Goblin genes, I thought bitterly. Her hybrid bloodline had her developing faster than anyone expected, and her stats reflected it.
Out of morbid curiosity, I used [Soul Analyze] on her again.
<hr>
Name: Emma Rald
Age: 9 Months
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.Race: Green Elf (High Goblin Variant)
Level: 1
Traits:
<ul>
<li>Elven Swiftness</li>
<li>Elven Talent</li>
<li>Elven Longevity</li>
<li>Elven Spirit</li>
<li>Selfless Hero</li>
<li>Dragon’s Blood</li>
<li>Goblin’s Development</li>
<li>Beast’s Instincts</li>
<li>Red String of Fate</li>
</ul>
Stats:
<ul>
<li>HP: 500</li>
<li>MP: 1,400</li>
<li>MP Regen: 340/min</li>
<li>Strength: 31</li>
<li>Endurance: 40</li>
<li>Agility: 23 (2.3 x 10)</li>
<li>Intelligence: 13</li>
<li>Wisdom: 34</li>
<li>Charisma: 20 (+50)</li>
<li>Constitution: 11.3</li>
</ul>
<hr>
Emma’s stats were unfair. Despite her level being zero, her natural traits made her almost impossible to match. Her raw strength and endurance alone would have allowed her to carry me around the village all day—and she often did.
I had been proud of the stats she’d inherited at first. Her [Selfless Hero] trait had even made me chuckle. “Look, it’s the protagonist!” I’d joked, imagining myself fist-bumping Deadpool.
But the reality was cruel. I’d unknowingly created the body that now tormented me. Karma, it seemed, was real—and it hated me.
<hr>
Her other traits explained her rapid growth.
Dragon’s Blood granted her naturally high stats and the potential to awaken abilities tied to dragons. It even ensured other dragons would recognize her as kin.
Goblin’s Development allowed her to gain stats faster than others, and Beast’s Instincts gave her heightened senses.
Then there was Red String of Fate. When I tried to analyze it, I suffered a severe backlash—an intense headache and full-body spasms that left me reeling. The trait was powerful enough to actively repel my scrutiny.
Even [Selfless Hero], though accessible, remained troublingly vague.
<hr>
Emma’s emerald-green skin was the source of her name. Unlike the slimy, dull green of Goblins, her skin shimmered like polished gemstones. Her mother had named her Emma to match her last name, Rald. “Emerald,” she’d explained proudly.
“You stink at naming,” I’d retorted, but Luna had remained undeterred.
<hr>
Emma carried me back to the village, her grip unrelenting. I called out to the heavens for assistance. My plea was met with a most unhelpful prompt:
<hr>
All Gods watching are laughing at your current predicament.
Goddess of Love says, ‘Isn’t young love wonderful!’
<hr>
Gods are jerks, I thought bitterly.
Emma paraded me around the village like a trophy, much to everyone’s amusement. She didn’t just carry me—she clung to me as if her life depended on it.
Her attachment was relentless. From the moment she could walk, she had followed me everywhere. There had even been a time when my parents let her sleepover. I’d convinced them it was inappropriate, but it hadn’t stopped Emma from watching me sleep on more than one occasion.
<hr>
My life had become a constant struggle to maintain some semblance of autonomy. The irony was not lost on me. I had created the body that now haunted me, and my cries for help fell on deaf ears.
As they say, when it rains, it pours.