《Grandmothers and Goblins》


 Before the spark

    Bob Jones stared up at the roof of his grandmother''s house. From his sprawl position on his bed he had a wonderful view of a stain left by his attempt at painting the room. That alone was the perfect reason not to clean up. Once again he failed.That could be the synopsis of his life.  Thus  he started the self condemnation.


    It was not malice, or incompetence at least from what he could remember of his past. All he did was everything. Bob followed his heart, from one interest to the other. He did art, drawing gaming, reading chemistry, comics, manga and more. The problem, as far as he could see, was that he could never stay with something. Sure he had passion, burning bright but never enough to not allowed for him to say doing something. At the first frustration, the first issue, he simply gave up to move up to another interest.


    It was a constant through school, the constant changes of club and issues truly annoyed his parents. Apparently, bob had potential, but his own fluidity had ruined it. They wanted him to at least have a goal for something. But bob couldn¡¯t never handle it. This was until the end of highschool were his parents drew the final line. Bob winced at the memory of the argument. He could still hear the disappointment in his parents'' voice.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t do one thing for a week. Give us a goal, something you are working toward, anything, please.¡± His mother pleaded, looking at bob while eating dinner. They even cooked his favourite lasagna and roast chicken.


    ¡°I¡®ll figure things out. Relax mom¡± Bob retorted between bites of the lasagna.


    ¡°None of that. You have talent, I have seen you talk about your passions. But at the first sight of a problem you yield and you run off. All we are asking is a goal, something you want to work  towards at least.¡± His father said. The brawny man always sat square at the head of the table and with a simple, calm expression. Those hands were callus and rough but Bob knew sometimes they could strangely gentle.Sadly that was not today.


    ¡°Sorry dad. I really don¡¯t yet,¡± Bob spoke, looking down at the rest of food.


    ¡°Damn it, boy, you need something. Listen. You are going to college and by this time in four year you will be working to at least give yourself something. ¡° His father yelled standing up.¡±We have a fund and you will at least get something done¡±


    Blinking away the tears bob turned on his bed, the messy rectangle that elevated him away from much worse mess on his floor. That moment haunted him. College was hell, and he hated it all. The classes felt long and tedious , the commute pissed him off and all he felt like a waste of space through it  all. Still he had at least stuck with it and for the first he could say he complete it kinda off. That was the last time his parent were happy for him. Now they wouldn¡¯t even mention his name in a swear.


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    Instead of job hunting, he had ran.Packing all he had escaped, dashing off in the direction farther away from his parent. But that was a failure. All Bob could achieve was homeless. It was only for a month but was without the worst month of his life that only end with his grandmother finding him. She took him in , despite everything and he was luck to have her but she had her own challenges. His rumination on his failures and other disgraces was interrupted by a voice.


    ¡°Bob, dinner is ready. Come out and have something. You still have the yard to clean up.¡±  rang out a older female voice spoke.


    Grumbling, Bob rolled off his bed. With a zombie posture he moved to the door slapping on the first pant and shirt he could pick out. It was the slow, bitter walk of a man who truly felt he had nothing left. Lumbering forward to , he left the damp, stuffy room to enter a much cleaner place, one which put his inaction to shame. That was to be expected for Bob comparing him to anyone else felt wrong, especially his grandmother.


    Grandmother Dexter was the polar opposite of Bob in every way. The old frail woman had always gotten up early, cleaned, prayed and always left her house spotless.Her clothes were always put together, and she was never seemed messy at all. Life had been rough on her but she never bowed out, always facing it with a stiff upper lip. She had seen many generations and was a guiding beacon all her children and grandchildren. Well, all those except bob.  Her gray hairs were neatly made in a bun with her frock that had daisies. She liked daisies.


    Her rules were always clear, and she had set things she always did. One should be clean and alway be ready for the world. Breakfast was maded with a cup of coffee and a bit of ginger.The house was swept thoroughly, then mopped up by midday.Then she would read a book or two, only to make dinner. Finally she would enjoy her shows watching for four hours before bed at 8pm sharp.


    Bob sat at the table in the cream colour wall the window limunitating his own washed up face. Staring down at the rice and peas with fired chicken he simply grined with frustration. What could have pushed her to make something for him ? She didn¡¯t even eat chicken. Bob though.


    ¡°Have you started job hunting yet ?¡± She asked her own food beside her as watched the news.


    ¡°No not yet. Can¡¯t really do that with my current state. ¡° Bob replied.


    ¡°Well, clearly if you spent some of that time to clean up your room maybe you would be a bit better off. ¡° She began.


    Another routine , that constant argument. He hated it and for once he cut it off at the legs. Bob standing up moving back to the coffin of his room.


    ¡°Before we start this, I got a possible job on monday.¡± Bob growled on his way out.¡±Can¡¯t eat. I am turning in and yeah, I already lock up the place.Night¡±


    Grandmother dexter watched him go. She had found him,on the street with cold vacant eyes and if he was her grandson, she would have left him. That fire he once had was smoldered under years of expectations and demand. Her son, bless his heart, tried but he could never quite give bob that strength. But at the end of the day, she would help him, even his parents wouldn¡¯t. But her biggest problem, it seemed, Bob wouldn¡¯t even try.


    Back on his bed Bobby doom scrolled on Facebook taking pictures and other random information from the internet. He simply read hoping it would drown out the thoughts. It never did.


    But one this day the world changed. At exactly 12 am the planets alined and a sudden light consumed the world. Bob would have very different challenges far stranger that merely looking for work.

 Two reactions

    Bob awoke, annoyed by the strange smell. Rolling off his bed he sprung upwards with far more energy than he ever did before. He didn¡¯t hear any prayer or mumbling which was strange, grandmother only stopped if she was not feeling well. Perhaps he had overslept and missed that part of the day. Hopefully he hadn¡¯t missed the interview and could still get breakfast. That would be wonderful. It was just as interesting when an old feeling danced through his body. Joy. Today was the day he would change. He would get better with his job and with a little luck he would be able to put some money down. Soon he would be putting this time in his life away as something best forgotten. With his clean shirt and shorts, he stepped out into the room to the usually breakfast.


    There was no breakfast, no eggs or bread, or anything else. As he walked to the stove he noticed there was no frying pan or cooking implements out. With no sweet smell of food, no prayer or words, only silence. It was an eerie scene that seemed to sit, the plate unpacked and Bob looked around confused for a moment, only to shrug. It was not so bad, perhaps his grandmother was ill. But that was not quite right, as usually she would have turned on the television. However, it was the light that confused him. Sunlight, something was wrong with the sunlight.


    He had seen sunlight before. Everyone had. The warm rays were constant through his life like any other living thing on the planet. It was nothing like the light that came from the window. It was a bit too much, strangely vivid and with richness that turned honey yellow to the brightest of gold. It came through trees. Tall trees that were not there last night. There were no trees that size around his grandmother¡¯s house. Then the fact was the type of tree was wrong for the climate. From his mere glance he saw gigantic trees that would have taken at least four life times to exist like that. Gobsmacked, he moved to the window in his grandmother¡¯s kitchen, confused. What he saw was another shot to his mind and made a mere musing a clear possibility.


    Bob rubbed his eyes, slapped his cheeks, then squinted his eyes looking outside. The world had changed. Glancing about, his eyes saw small creatures; foxes and badgers that seemed to be just as confused as him. Then he noticed the large evergreen tree that rose around the house. A long branch sat on the roof which held birds that danced around the old house. Mighty oaks stood before the backyard as both fox holes scattering the ground. That and strange animals walked through the yard. Bob smiled as he knew what happened. Something wonderful had occurred.


    There was no way. Bob thought, running out to veranda with a childish grin. Those things never happen, not in real life. Such ideas were merely things authors wrote about offhandedly or as a background for a cheap erotica that would be a quick afternoon read. He sprang through the living room to the veranda to see his grandmother. She was standing on the veranda confused, clearly unsure of what she had seen. What she saw must have been a dream, clearly not one that made sense. Her house was built on a hill away from any forest and the countryside. These trees, these animals, they only appeared on her shows about other countries. This couldn¡¯t be real.


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    Unable to stop his sudden speed he slammed into the ajar door. Puffing he slipped forward to see the forest around them. Bob knew then what had happened, he could see. Standing up with a gleefully smile he shook his grandmother.


    ¡°Do you know what this is?¡°he asked giddily.


    ¡°What?¡± grandmother Dexter responded.


    Bob¡¯s manic grin was horrifying to her. Something had happened and her grandson who was usually down and gloomy was now possessed by some unholy impulse. He ran forward leaping off the steps into the front yard. Then like a mad dog he seemed to sprint around it. Birds leap from their nests and small rodents scampered away from his foolish dance. Leaping about from each fence he was so animated completely unlike his former self.


    ¡°We got isekai-ed. This is so badass.¡° Bob screamed in jubilation. ¡°This is so cool.¡±


    ¡°A what?¡± His grandmother mumbled absently at the environment. ¡°Something is clearly wrong.¡±


    ¡°No this is awesome. This is so cool. What kind of isekai is it though? We should check that.¡± Bob said, running about looking at the trees. ¡°It looks like we are in a forest so maybe we can get cool magic. Wait someone is alway over powered so, Wait is that me ?¡±


    ¡°I need to sit down,¡± she said, falling down.


    Bob could barely reach his grandmother falling, but he was too far away to help. Still he tried leaping forward, only to slip down onto the stairs. It was then Bob realized something he overlooked, a common trope. The powerful character was usually the one that was confused and unsure of the world, not the one that was happy and glad to be iskai-ed. The ground leapt up to catch his grandmother shaping itself into a chair. She sat with her head down confused at what had happened with the world. She shivered under an unknown chill, one that shook her to the bone. Her normally contained hair fell apart, her eyes dimmed as she muttered.


    ¡°No this can¡¯t be real. This is the work of some demon, some heathen magic.¡± She stared forward confused. Struggling to stand up, she reached out her hand as she stared at the forest.


    ¡°I rebuke you,¡± she said softly.


    ¡°Wait, grandma calm down.¡± Bob pleaded rising from the steps.


    ¡°I rebuke you Satan!¡± She screamed as light shimmered around her fingers. The lights grew golden orbs the air crackling and sparking around her. Then with a thunderclap it shot out towards the forest but Bob was in the way. He narrowly escaped the attack, his ears ringing as he fell down back onto the steps. Perhaps he should have looked for a status screen. That would be helpful.


    It took ten minutes for Bob to have his grandmother calm down, as he dashed about to make breakfast. Sure, such supplies had suddenly become much more precious than gold but even spices had to be used. Moving towards his grandmother he slowly walked with the tray with a simple sandwich, her medication, and a cup of black tea. She was muttering a prayer as the world bent around her words. Minor images of Christ and the cross morphed into being, only to fade back into the wall. She didn¡¯t even notice the change and began another prayer that broke the world around her.


    Jealousy danced within Bob, as he coughed, making his voice clear.


    ¡°Here is some breakfast.¡±


    Placing the tray on her legs, he sat down onto the verdnada, taking a deep breath. She did not react confused to her grandson. Did he do this? Why is he not scared, confused, or anything? She screamed in her own mind.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± His grandmother asked, confused as she looked at the coffee.


    ¡°Simple, we are in another world.¡± Bob smiled, looking at his grandmother. ¡±Isn¡¯t it great?¡±

 Woe of the fool

    Bob was giddy about this sudden change. Something like this was unbelievable, like a soldier beating a hundred alone, unlike the stories about it. The genre was as common as salt in food. Mindless entertainment to be listened to while working on something more important. It polluted his video feed for ages, the Isekai videos, and all those sub-genres that involved x characters in a random other¡¯s series. They always used AI voice filters and reused AI pictures for thumbnails and all the scummy practices one would expect. But the thought that it could be real, that it could happen to him, was a truly incredible prospect. But it was also happening to his grandmother.


    Said grandmother was slowly nibbling on her sandwich, still shell-shocked by the change. Her new powers broke her veranda, making chairs out of solid rock. Reality, it seems, was also subservient to her. With prayers and the old grumpy muttering, the surrounding air seemed to illustrate her words.


    Was it raw power? Maybe her class? How do I check that? Bob thought in his mind, annoyed at this new turn of events. She was the overpowered character that every Isekai needed, but that should have been him. Usually, the hero in another world with such magic broke the world. Everyone stopped under the power of that character and everyone loved them bent backwards to please that character. At least that was what Bob thought. He matched all the criteria for the hero, being a down-on-his-luck loser, with few prospects. Damn it all, he was the perfect self-insert everyman. So why was it his grandmother?


    ¡°You didn¡¯t cook the egg right.¡± His grandmother Dexter finally spoke.


    ¡°What? I thought it was good.¡± Bob retorted with a huff. ¡°Do you want something else?¡±


    ¡°No. You seem to know about this. Could you at least explain it?¡±


    Bob stopped rubbing his head, trying to stop the oncoming headache. This would be dreadful, as his grandmother was both stubborn and struggled to understand anything outside of her world. She couldn¡¯t even understand how to find her apps on her phone. She was a constant student, never bothering to listen and always repeating what he said constantly. Still, if Bob did not explain, his grandmother could accidentally destroy everything and herself before noon. So, a deep understanding of his Sisyphean task, he attempted to explain what was happening.


    ¡°Alright, so as I said, we are in another world.¡± Bob started with a calm, soft tone.


    ¡°What? Then where are we, Mars? ¡°Dexter replied, confused.


    Already Bob felt his eyes start to roll. This was going to make him wish he hadn¡¯t woken up today. Grinding his teeth, he took a deep breath, sighed, and cleared his throat. With his eyes firmly on his grandmother¡¯s face, he gave his warmest smile.


    ¡°I mean, we aren¡¯t in the normal world.¡± Bob was starting again. ¡°We are no longer on our Earth or world. Now listen, I need you to calm down ok?¡°


    ¡°You are not making sense. What do you mean we are not on Earth? Then where the blazes are we !?¡± Dexter asked. Golden flames flickered around her legs and ornate figures rose around her. The faceless ghosts seemed to hold golden blades pointed at Bob, with a strange regal pose as knights defending a lady of the court. They wore no armor, only mere shadows of gold but the blades looked unnaturally sharp and far too real.


    ¡°Calm down. Please, let¡¯s relax.¡± Bob begged in vain. ¡°Listen, let us check first ok? First, we need to find a stat screen ok. ?¡±


    ¡°Wait, what do you mean by that? Explain what that is !¡± She screamed. As if on queue the figures got into position to strike Bob down.


    ¡°I mean that whether by fate or whatever, we are no longer on earth. That is why you have those things around you. The status screen should show us our powers and things. Like that thing around you that is going to hit me!¡± Bob screamed.


    It was then Dexter finally noticed the golden figures who circled her. They then shimmered, leaping forward to attack Bob with a brutal swipe. Bob ducked narrowly dodging the attack falling to the floor, However the attack that mass of golden warriors just kept going. Grandmother Dexter watched the carnage she caused rip through the left side of her veranda and proceeded in a straight line into the forest that encircled them.


    ¡°See, that is why you need to calm down.¡± Bob retorted from the ground.


    ¡°I see that. Do you want a moment?¡± Dexter responded, turning to the sudden change on her veranda. ¡°Who did this on my veranda?


    Bob could only groan in annoyance. This was going to be a long day.


    It took thirty minutes for Bob to convince his grandmother to sit down, and that it was her who made this new formation in her veranda and it was safe. Granted, he had lied about that last part but his grandmother seemed bothered by that minor inconvenience. Grandmother Dexter sat down on her new furniture annoyed. It was not the chair made of molded earth from her veranda, nor the ethereal images of Christ on her wall. It was her grandson who once again was trying to explain everything. The problem was the way he was doing it. It was his tone, treating her like a child or as if she was not an adult. She was around and thriving before he could walk on his own.


    ¡°All right, we are no longer in Kansas, like the Wizard of Oz. Yeah. So we need to find out what kind of isekai. It is important so we can plan properly. First thing we should do is check our status screen.¡± Bob spoke with strange authority. Usually, he was always the person causing problems and making everything worse but maybe it was the perk of this new world. Hopefully, that will continue. Bob mused in his own mind.


    ¡°So how do we do that?¡± Dexter asked, glancing up at her excited grandson. Clearly, he understood this situation but something was still off about his actions. It was clear he knew something else but was not telling.


    ¡°Well, Hm.. I am not sure. Maybe we could try to call it out ?¡± Bob mused looking upwards. ¡°Let¡¯s first try to say show status. On three.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Dexter sighed rubbing her head. This was beyond her. All this was something for the young.


    ¡°One. Two, Three. Check status.¡± Bob and Dexter chanted.


    For a moment, nothing happened, then sparks danced in front of them. Shimmering at two points on the left and right they outstretched towards each other forming into a simple box. Then the box cracked as shapes morphed into smaller boxes and lines. Then the texts appeared slowly like burning letters marked on the simple paper. Bob felt something touch him pouring the information into his head like something was doing a root canal for his mind. He screamed looking at the value of his being. Clawing at his eyes he yelped as the sheet formalized.


    This was unlike his grandmother who handled it with grace as she didn¡¯t even flinch. Light gentle words carved into her sheet as a faint wind with the smell of lavender that seemed to caress and gently massage her back. Closing her eyes, the pleasant feeling washed over her body like the wonderful memories. She leaned back into her new chair as the words formed with a simple click. It lasted only a minute but for the two it was a very different minute.


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    It was after that Bob finally saw his full sheet, and the disappointment crystalized. After a simple read, he wished he hadn¡¯t bothered to. Unfortunately, he was not some super ultimate powered being with unstoppable magic. No unique class nor unstoppable talent. Glancing through the sheet he saw :


    Bob Jones


    Hp: 8


    Class: Flame Knight


    Experience: 0 (Spark cadent.)


    Weapons- Any


    Armour -Any


    Class Features


    Mighty blow, Flame start


    Race feature :


    Coward escape. Ever a student.


    He was basic. Just a basic fighter-like class with simple powers that were the most basic abilities. With a simple, strong attack that would do extra damage when he hit something and what seemed like a simple fire attack. He was rather plain for isekai hero. He scrolled through the status and effects with his mere thoughts with a critical eye.


    Once Bob attempted to make his tabletop games and those skills gave him a unique insight. The layout was quite familiar like a simple d20 system with the same hard figures and sub-skills. But someone came in with a hacksaw and blow torch forcing in strange and conflicting systems.


    They seemed redundant mechanics and held clear connections to older systems. It had simple abilities that could be purchased using calculated figures from his own statistics. Then with hard skill that his class would give, it seemed someone tried to mix underline engines making an abomination.


    Along with a hard save and modifier system, it seemed to be a jumble of background systems with little care for how they would work together. From what he could gather from a mere glance, he was a type of warrior or frontline class that was themed around fire. The skills were littered about and seemed to mix both a percentile and modifier systems. However, some skills were just insulting.  Worst of all, something had even outlined that his class was very common. All his features held the qualifter ¡°basic¡± over all his class features. Clearly, someone wanted to rub salt in the wound.


    But what die did it use? What are major hit mechanics? What kind of skill was a coward''s sprint? Why did it sound so basic? It even had a basic name, the fire warrior. Even the font made fun of him with the most basic and simple text style with a bland blue background. At least I didn¡¯t have bad base stats. Bob complained in his own mind.


    ¡°Hey grandma what do you see?¡± Bob asked, tearing himself from the screen to look at his grandmother. Her confusion consumed her face simply furrowed her brow and scowled.


    ¡°I can¡¯t even understand what I am seeing. Here, see for yourself.¡± She waved her hand as the world bent. Bob could only grin as his eyes burned and his teeth quaked like his face was next to a boombox. His grandmother could not tell what she did. That or she wanted to punish him for not bothering to clean his room. It could have been both.


    The first thing he noticed was gold, the box was not only golden, but the font was a heavenly white with a black outline. Each text box had its golden border with engraved angels that seemed to point to what was important. The skills list was so long it wrapped around the floor and she seemed to have top-tier status. Then he saw her classes and almost wept.


    Sahsa Dexter


    Hp: 49


    Classes: Grand Wizard, High Priest.


    Experience - 2500000


    Weapons - No bladed weapons may be used in combat


    Armour - You can not use any heavy armor


    Spells


    ¡°You have 20 in all major spell casting stats and have thirty-five levels. You are a Grand wizard and a high priest. You could do anything. ¡°Bob responded bitterly. What the hell was this? Why was his grandmother basically god? Bob screamed in his mind.


    ¡°What? No stop. I don¡¯t want to do this anymore. I want to go home.¡± Dexter asked her body, feeling so heavy. She had entertained it enough, this was something her grandson had done to impress her. Clearly, he could remove it.


    ¡°Come on, let''s go now,¡± She said defeated.


    ¡°Go where?¡± Bob asked.


    ¡°Home. Come on now¡± she stated, annoyed.


    ¡°We are home at least for the time being,¡± Bob replied with a shrug, sitting on the floor. ¡°Most stories like this never have an option to go back. ¡°


    Instead of rage or a shout, she simply stood up and moved back inside. This was not real, it couldn''t be. Nothing could explain this. Bob noticed his grandmother''s depression and with a half smile quickly sputtered. ¡°But we can find a way back.¡±


    His grandmother who seemed sure with everything, who faced everyday firm and confident seemed so weak. She seemed too human. With a side glance, she looked back at her grandson, then with a breathless, weak voice. ¡°Please, if you can. I¡­ I need to lie down. Make sure the house is locked up.¡±


    Bob could only nod as his grandmother moved into her room, locking her door. Rubbing his head he stood stretching readying himself to get ready. The first thing he needed was a weapon.  With a smile, he dashed off to the kitchen grabbing a knife, lacing up his strongest sneakers and a bicycle helmet.


    ¡°This will have to do.¡± Bob grinned, sprinting into the forest ready to start his brand new adventure. However, Bob forgot to close the door behind him.


    ¡­.


    The orc chieftain Grey Blade was in a strange mood. Like, a very good orc he was aggressive brutal and often chose violence for any solution to all matters. And of course, debase all elves. It was the only thing he could agree with dwarves about. Their weapons were better used by orcs like him. But such things never gave him joy, those were just obligations. Every orc needed to do that. All orcs needed to attack slaughtering and enslaving. It was simply the way of things. It was the routine. He didn¡¯t even enjoy combat; nothing was more boring than hitting the enemy until it died. But this was different. The heavy metal chain mail jangled as he lurched forward taking a simple sniff of the "cake". His harsh squat face held a radiant smile that was very wrong on an orc''s face. Even his small tusk bit into his upper lips as this new emotion ruined his traditional orcish snarl. His large ears fluttered in joy as he simply stared at the small treat.


    His massive brown form hunched over the table that his slaves had made. Sure, it was shoddy and wobbled but it was much better than before. So as a treat for their good behavior, the slaves would not be whipped with salt tonight. Just whipped. He could not be too nice to the slave. Still, that was work and he wanted no part of work right now.


    Grey Blade''s only love was the small little brown pastry that was on the table. That damned light that someone made had messed up all the geography. All the maps he had were now wrong and the new buildings were much stranger than expected. But then he tasted something divine, from one place that had claw marks and a massive hole in the back. Inside worthless glass scattered about but the food was unharmed.


    That smell was a wonderful thing like medicine on an open wound. Take a bit of "cake" his eyes widened. It was like honey but better with a beautiful look unlike anything he ever saw. But the sweet food he found had awakened something new in him. Using all the scouting party, he gathered everything in that place then dragged it back as quickly as he could force them.


    Gray Blade was happy. This was whatever slave''s breeding, or what everyone else those slaves spoke about. Honestly, if they had bothered to defend their happiness as much as they spoke about, maybe they wouldn¡¯t be slaves. But at least they were not goblins. Shuddering, he turned to face the small treat slowly poking it. He hated goblins, those little green bastards ruined everything they were a part of, even his mood. The only reason he had not gone out to kill them all was the fact he lacked good proper orcs to replace them.


    No matter what, this would cure it. This cake would be the cure-all like it was before. For just a moment he could forget all his responsibilities. Just one he had earned that at least.


    Then his ears twitched. Something was coming. Suddenly as if from the hand of Regol the orc god of bitter news massive golden shadows destroyed the cabin. Those golden bastards swung longswords around in a maelstrom of destruction. They broke his wall, shattered his windows, wrecked his table, and ruined his only joy. Then they left, destroying his door.


    This event put Grey Blade into a proper orcish mood. First, he roared spit and bile flying across his ruined home. Then he had to punch his wall making it worse. Finally, he grabbed his large ax and whips; his mind settling on the most orcish thing. Revenge.


    With a mountain cracking bellow in the clearest words he could speak he screamed, ¡°That is IT! Call the goblins we need to get the bastard who did this. Freedom to the first one that gets me the head of the bastard that did this.¡±

 Forest and security

    Bob got lost far too easily. He had made the first mistake of any explorer not marking a path back. Reality had made it a personal mission to crush Bob''s dreams of adventure. It was using the simple reality to destroy any hope in Bob''s power fantasy. He made no preparations; had no proper tools and made no trail nor any note of the path he walked. Worse of all he dashed off into a foreign forest that he had no familiarity with. It was a suicidal decision and the tool of murder was annoyance via sound and pests.


    It was far louder than expected. He had thought it would be simple. A quiet trot through the forest to maybe his first companion and his first victory. Just like it was in the anime and other fantasy media. Why would it be difficult to walk around in some woods? It was a foolish belief, and this world punished him for it. Bob could only grind his teeth as the natural orchestra sang into this new world. The birds were the strings pushing a strange tune of a vibrant tempo. The whistling winds were a swirling flute carrying the melody of the tune. White mist watched Bob''s torment from the treetops a ghosty audience to his pain. Insects acted like a constant accompaniment, volvas chirruping and wailing. Last, large animals, dogs, foxes, and more cried out like brass completing the song.


    But for Bob, the greatest musicians in the forest were the mosquitoes, as they decided to dirge just for him. But that was a happy accident for the mosquitoes. They have another job as his executioners. He tried to fight them off, flailing about through the clouds of black buzzing. However, every swing of his hands offered the mosquitoes more chances to feast. The only thing worse was his choice of footwear.


    His sneakers were simple and cheap. Basic black composite leather with a basic rubber sole seemed perfect for activity. But the problem was the poor quality of his shoes and the rough, uneven terrain around him. Sharp rocks prodded on the bottom of his feet, scraping the bottom of his shoes. That and the sharp thistles that ripped the composite sides of his shoes, scarring them. Luckily, he wore sweatpants, stopping the mosquitoes from having a complete feast. However, it came with its consequences. The damned thing kept catching and making movement much worse. His pants clung to every branch, every thorn and weed. It made the walk much worse and far more difficult, but at least the insects did not roost on his legs.


    The trees were giant arbiters of life within this forest. All seemed to bend around it from the brush''s weeds, vines, and beasts. The ground was damp, drenched in the deep homey scent of dirt and earth. Moss, small shrubs, and other life in the forest thrived in the wet soil, dyeing the ground in their colors. Even the dead played a part, with large logs and dead plants laid uncared for as the living used them to further their own lives. But the terrain was against Bob, making his movement quite hellish. Fallen trees blocked his path, some rotten trees that gave out when Bob leaped onto them. Then the land being a disjointed mess covered in slick moss, gave Bob reason to hate it all. Wandering about desperately, he slipped, falling down a minor ledge. Another mistake.


    I should have stayed home. Bob groaned, forcing himself up off the ground. He had already lost track of time, and now he even felt hungry. It was really a bad time.


    How could he go back? Which direction did I come from? Bob complained in his own head. His head was ringing as he slipped about in the cool earth staining his shirt and face. Bob¡¯s body ached. This amount of exercise was a shocking change to Bob¡¯s withdrawn lifestyle. At least he thought there were no enemies around, he grumbled. Then a shuddering twig snapped behind him.


    Slowly standing, he saw a rat. His eyes widened as the rat had not yet noticed him. It was huge, bigger than any rat he had ever seen before. About the size of a large dog, that rat seemed to have been chewing on a large red thing, with ragged black fur and constant squelching about some strange meal. The long tail was a red noodle that seemed to flick about with its focus on something. With the long claw and crimson teeth, it was clearly in its own world. Bob prayed it was some kind of fruit, but it was a fool¡¯s prayer, and the forest laughed at the intruder.


    A liquid leaked out onto the ground with a hellish scent up into the forest. Red fluid stained the ground and painted the beast''s legs. It was blood flowing from some corpse, one that seemed to be human. Bob gulped, his hand wrapping around his knife to understand what exactly was in front of him. This was his life on the line, and he needed to strike first. With all the grace he could muster, he tried to stand up silently, only to step on and snap a twig. This alerted the monster to his presence.


    Its beady eyes hated him and fear seemed to spark a new resolve in Bob''s body. For the first time, Bob found the will to live. At that moment, Bob and that rat were bound by life''s oldest scenario. They could either flee from each other or ignore each other. But that would not happen. The rat just saw another meal and charging forward at Bob biting at him. Bob narrowly dodged the rat''s first attempt to bite off his face, leaping to the side. Sliding back, Bob could barely breathe as the beast wheeled quickly and charged back to him.


    Bob¡¯s hands were heavy, slow, and far too ineffective. He tried to slash it but the rat slipped it, nearly taking Bob''s hand. Stabbing the blade forward, he hoped that would be enough. The blade found its mark in the beast''s eye. Squealing, the beast broke the bob¡¯s grip on the blade with a brutal shove. Bob swiftly shifted to the left as another bite took a bit of soil beside him. Bob quickly shuffled steps as the rat just kept trying, biting into his boot, ripping it. His right hand scraped across onto the ground as he simply gripped a stick. He swung it upward with all his strength. This blow forced the rat¡¯s head upwards, forcing the knife to shake, pushing it backward a step.


    Capitalizing, Bob slammed this new weapon down, slamming it down onto the rat¡¯s head. With a mad savagery, he slammed the stick down again, to the squealing yelps of the creature. Bob had killed it with this blow. The adrenaline and desperation of a true predator pushed him. He had to ensure it was dead, and that urge blinded him. This continued for a minute until exhaustion stopped him. It was then he finally took a breath, observing his work. It was a brutal sight.


    The body still twitched with its brain splattered on the ground. The blows deformed the rat''s jaw, shattering it. The right eye was destroyed and the left eye was implanted into the skull by Bob''s knife. Its own blood streamed downward, leaving the rat''s last impression on the world. Bob shuttered, glancing at the rats¡¯ former meal.


    "Well then, it is one of those grim dark Isekai. Hopefully, there is only more violence, not other things.¡± Bob grumbled.


    A short, faceless creature lay dead ten feet away from Bob. This sparked a debate in his head. Should he loot the body? Was it moral? Was it even dead?  Bob thought about moving closer to it. He poked the stick just to check if it was truly dead. Thankfully, it was.


    The rat mutilated the body. It was a short humanoid that died in worn discolored clothes that smelt like rotten molded meat. The little monster had a sword belt and gloves but it all looked horrible. It was worn dirty and discolored. The boots were strangely firm but still dirty and scared by forest travel. It seemed strong or at least fit with green skin laced with scars and brown gloves covering its hands. There was also a weapon, a strange blade that hung loosely from a worn belt.


    That confused Bob, as he did not expect to find a dead body already. Sudden surprise shook Bob as he kneeled to this clearly inhuman creature. It would happen during his quest at some point, but it was far too soon. And a demi human too. Or was it? He could not tell at all. The body oozed fluids that wet the clothes, making the smell much worse.


    ¡°Green skin, I wonder. A type of lizard man? Strange beast man? Maybe a goblin. ¡°Bob mused grimly. ¡°Still, I should gather my stuff.¡±


    Shaking, he turned back to the rat, reaching forward to the knife. He struggled for a moment to pull out the blade as it sat firmly in the beast''s skull. However, Bob pulled out the blade, but the blade became drenched in rat blood, emitting an undesirable smell. Then he pulled the stick close, bracing on it, thinking about what to do next, glancing at the body. Should he take it? Surely he needs it for future battles.


    ¡°The first rule of RPGs is to always loot the body.¡± Bob justified his grave robbing. "Plus, it is a monster. This is a net positive."


    Grumbling, he turned with a cold resolve. He needed better weapons, and surely the body had one. He barely needed a second to locate the weapon, swiftly grabbing and pulling it free from the dead. Like his class, it was a basic weapon and, hopefully, he would find others.


    It was a rough weapon blade that was a kind of sword, but without a proper finish. It was about the size of Bob''s forearm and roughly shaped in a crude triangle with a simple hard crossguard. The dull metal was covered in a simple black liquid that had no smell. Bob¡¯s hand could barely hold the blade, his palm wrapping around most of the handle¡¯s rough wrapping. He assumed it would be a kind of long sword to the creature, but for him, it was barely a dagger.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Honestly, this is kinda cool. Bob thought, twirling the blade around. He then saw the gold on the belt and looked away from it. It would be a waste to leave it. But he had no more pockets or free hands. This gave him a sudden idea of moving to a spot in the ground. Utilizing his knife and stick, he dug a shallow hole tossing the bag inside. Then he covered it the best he could. With an x marking the spot, he felt smart. Now He could always come back for it later.


    Sighing, he turned unsure of what to do. How would he get back home? Glancing about, he looked for something to tell to guide him back. However, all he saw was a massive deer that stared at him. The white beast seemed out of place in the natural environment. It was like an angel with strangely intelligent eyes that seemed to connect with Bob¡¯s mind. The hooves seemed to hover over the ground it stared at. His mind had realized that he was charmed and clearly under the sway of this beast. However, it was far too late and Bob became the beast''s greatest fan. Thus, he simply followed the majestic deer.


    Although the walk was just as difficult as before, all that mattered to Bob was the deer. How it smelled, the majesty of its walk, and the silkiness of the fur. Every step was beautifully overwriting the forest as it led him somewhere. This lasted thirty minutes, and it had led him to an opening in the forest that had smoke rising. Shaking his head, he felt the charm fade and shame fill his body. Bob rubbed his head, moving closer to opening, hoping this experience didn¡¯t awaken something within him. Luckily his ears heard the gibbering and high-pitched voice of something alien. So as stealthy as possible he could muster, he crept closer to the monster conversation. As he grew closer, the voices became understandable and seemed to be within a worrying conversation.


    ¡°I told you Gray Blade is a bastard. He still has those slaves, but we still work in mines. And the hobgoblins are saying we have to conquer all the forest before the end of the year. Listen, the light damn near broke everything and made everything so much harder. Then there is that damn thing with those gold things.¡± One voice shrieked loudly from the distance.


    ¡°Yeah, it nearly took mi head. '''' Another spoke in a softer high-pitched tone. ¡°You gonna try to get out ?¡±


    ¡°No point,¡± replied another in a scuffed reply. ¡°The hobs would just put us back.¡±


    ¡°How close are we to the source of gold bois?¡± mused the softer tone.


    Bob laid his back on a simple tree as his eyes saw something familiar. His grandmother''s house was close by, barely a few meters from the clearing. At any moment, they could find it and do something horrible to his grandmother and his house. He smiled for a moment as he realized this opportunity. It was his moment to shine. Finally, his true journey would start here. With a sudden burst of energy, he leaped out, jumping over to the group. It was then he realized what he was facing.


    The first thing Bob noticed was the smell. Somehow it smelt worse than the dead body by the rat, and even more miasmic. It almost made him stop gagging under sudden shock, but the thought of what could happen pushed him forward. The second was the nose. The long hooked noses flared to reveal unkempt nose hairs that shook with each twitch. They had sharp teeth that desperately needed a dentist and a long tongue that licked the nose. Floppy long ears curled upwards in horror as they stared confused at Bob¡¯s charge. Those crimson cat eyes widened in shock as Bob mass rocketed toward one, slamming it to the ground. It was then Bob noticed how small they were, barely child-sized, and the fact they were green.


    The poor goblin flew two feet away, hitting its head on a stone. Then the remaining trio simply stood looking at each other. The two goblins crouched as low to the ground with their eyes firmly on the stranger. Bob, far more upright, aimed the stolen blade and stuck it forward at the two creatures that stared at him. Those goblins had grabbed their weapons, only small daggers they hid behind their backs. Normally they would have attacked, but clearly, the human was crazy or powerful.


    ¡°So human, you suicidal?¡± The gruff creature mused, standing up suddenly. Stretching its neck. It wore a loose scarf with a brown leather breastplate. Marching forward it moved toward Bob like a sarge heading to private. ¡°Your form is all wrong, too.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me? Are you ?¡± Bob responded by attempting to shorten the distance to his home. ¡°Wait, you guys are goblins right ?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Do you think you''re some kind of hero?¡± It responded. ¡°Honorable guy and all that.¡±


    ¡°No, but do you?¡± Bob retorted, looking at the other one.


    ¡°I dunno, maybe we should go,¡± the other, much more timid goblin replied. ¡°He can¡¯t be that stupid to jump into a fight like this. ¡°


    Bob''s eyes narrowed, wrenching forward as a new feeling sparked within his body. It was hot, like spicy pepper in his mouth, his face growing sweaty and coughing. Stumbling back, the braver goblin capitalized, thrusting its knife forward to skewer. It was then Bob burped, accidentally activating his power, which made a sudden burst of fire. This sudden power threw off the goblin¡¯s attack and hit the goblin square in the face. It had set him ablaze, much to the shock of both Bob and the other goblin. They watched the other goblin as it then dashed off into the forest screaming in pain.


    ¡°So, ¡° Bob asked, ¡°You want to fight ?¡±


    The remaining goblin looked at Bob, horrified. A whipping from Gray Blade or the mines were much better than being set on fire. Doing its very best to seem submissive, it looked down grabbing a pack from behind a stump. Packing what it could, it slowly shuffled away from Bob.


    ¡°No Sir. I will just go if I can, " It said, stepping back.


    Although Bob was tired and wanted a bath, he was sure he could defeat a mere goblin. Still, the risk was there and frankly, he could barely hold the blade up. Hoping he looked cool, he simply stared at it silently. Clicking his teeth, Bob grinning wildly doing his best manic expression.


    ¡°Sure. Go one then¡± Bob said, moving back but with his eyes firmly on the goblin. Thus the two left watching the other go. It was only when Bob could no longer see the goblin that he turned his back. Then sprinting as fast as he could back home, locking the door behind him. That was enough of a surprise for one day.


    The first thing he did was drop his weapons. Clattering to the ground, Bob moved to the bath, pouring as much water as he could, along with soap and perfume. Then, after soaking, he scrubbed as much as he could. Once he cleaned himself, he got out of the tub, drying off with a towel. Bob finally smiled as the day''s event finally solidified. He just had his first fantasy adventure and fight. Joy filled his mind as he moved to get something to eat, grabbing a small tin of sausage and a bit of bread. With a haphazard sandwich that had the bread slipping and sliding with every step Bob took, he moved to the couch.


    His cheerful tune was a knockoff version of a random song as he simply sat down in the living room. The noble hero lounged on his couch with a simple sandwich at his side. Only managing two bites of the sandwich, exhaustion finally claimed him.


    His eyelids slowly fell, as he slowly leaned forward. Yawning, He debated moving to his room but he just couldn¡¯t manage it. His muscles were far too tense, stretching out seeking more comfort. Growing ever more tired, he had a simple thought.


    Did I lock the back? Bob half mused, only to shrug. He could always check after a quick nap. Finally falling asleep, Bob dreamed of the marvelous adventures and glories he was yet to achieve. However, he did not lock the back door.


    The goblin known as Jil¡± bili *Grinny slowly stood up with a concussion. Of course, she would never know what that was, only the throbbing pain of a blow to the head. The tiny form of the goblin stood out and was easy prey for any beast or bird. A wounded goblin in a wild forest had a short lifespan. Dusk was ending, and she was alone in pain. It was normal for her. Every goblin learned quickly how to manage a blow to the head. Rubbing her head, she looked at the foreign building that appeared one day. The tiny red eyes stared up wearily at the new castle; the building towering over her. Her hood was bloodstain and the gash on her head painted her naturally black hair red. The sword she had was still in the holder and her body was still in working order. She even had her boots on.


    Thank Relolock. She thought. It could have been much worse. At least she was alive enough to be scared. Her nose had a slight crook and was damaged by the fall, but it caused no trouble. Goblin noses could take a beating without becoming useless, they merely bent under the pressure. Coughing, she looked about for her companions in a vain hope she was not alone. However, Jill was alone. As expected for a goblin.


    Goblins were simple savages, and none really liked them, not even other goblins. They always put their own lives above anyone else, often to the detriment of any teamwork. Not that they were fools,in many respects, they were much more industrious than orcs and hobgoblins. However, they lacked bravery and often avoided any battle as best they could. The only thing worse was their teamwork . So they cheat. This was the reason that goblins were well known for mobbing, backstabbing, and the most dishonorable actions.


    Kindness was also a rare trait in goblins, often beating out their masters, the world, or any goblins. Howling in pitches beyond the human ear Jil paced back and forth attempting to signal to her fellows. It was the goblin ears that allowed them to communicate in secret. What to others would be a large screaming would be a deep conversation between goblins, discussing their lot in life. Most of their gods were enslaved or bound to much stronger gods, including their own. It was beneficial sometimes. However, this leads to their constant fear often freezing when too confused. This instinct helped them avoid beating and bigger things but it also made being in fights much worse.


    After thirty minutes of high-pitched yelping, she began to cry. Wet, messy tears streamed down her disgusting face, leaving slimy dirt trails. What else could she do? If she didn¡¯t get back, the masters would kill her, but being in the wild, she would surely die. Sniffing, her natural instincts screamed at her to find cover and find somewhere to hide, but where? Grey Blade ruled the forest he would find her. She panicked. Well, there was one place her savage mind responded.


    Turning to face the foreign building, she shivered in fear. The warrior could come back and he could find her ,she debated in her head. Or give protection. Her instinct responded. Her legs walked up to the strange gate, confused and scared. However, the howls of a large dire beast gave her motivation. Sprinting around the side she enters through a strange insection at the left;  slipping inside the yard. It was clearly some ritualistic channel for blood, it would explain why that stranger so easily defeated her.


    It was strange with things Jill had never seen. The ground was a black stone that smelt like the oil in the pit the orc would use to hurt anything. It smelt like burning leather and some meat; she kneeled scraping at it. It almost stopped her, but the further howl shook her mind free of the trap on the ground. Leaping back, she ran back onto the rocks that looked real. Strange-shaped stones littered the ground as a path, clearly for trapping fools. However, she was a goblin and far too nimble for such a simple trap. Moving as quickly as possible, she leapt onto the tiles.


    Her legs slipped under the suddenly slippery feel of the tiles. It was so smooth and vivid, even better than the tiles in Grey Blade place.  Skittering quickly, she moved to find the wall. She expected wood at best. But her hand felt cool, hard stone. Leaping back, she looked over like the forest, like the overseer. The sight was truly beautiful, seeing life and, for even a moment, being safe. This suddenly disappeared as she realized how exposed she was. Her mind raced, wondering what to do now. But then she smiled, her jagged teeth shining in the dusk sun.


    She simply walked inside using the door, closing it behind her. Ensuring one¡¯s own success and closing the way for others was also quite goblin-like.

 Goblin in the house

    A putrid smell woke Grandmother Dexter. Its disgusting scent was a slap to her dreams, sending her back into reality. One she refused to believe. How did the world become a fantasy? Her grandson tried explaining what was happening, but it was even more confusing. The only thing she understood was that she was somewhere else and had no way back. It was a dream; she lied to herself. Moving from her bed she struggled in the darkness. With a desperate tap of the light switch, the light spared to life. Her raw power accidentally powered her house, allowing her house to still function. Quickly slipping into her bath gown, Dexter moved into the living room to find her grandson. Surely he had found a way back by now.


    Stepping into the room, she wrinkled her nose at the full breadth of the foul miasma fog that had first woken her up. Scanning the area she looked for some possible reason, locking on Bob''s sleeping body.


    What did he do? Dexter spoke, looking at him. Coughing, she stepped towards the switch, powering the lightbulb. This sudden light revealed the sprawling, chaotic mess of her grandson. To the left of Bob''s snorting body, a messy sandwich split off on a titling plate. He didn¡¯t even have a shirt, only boxers. He was lying on her leather couch in boxers.


    His body covered her brown leather, water droplets glistened in the light of her bulbs. Her grandson didn¡¯t bother with a shirt laying bare chest and toilet barely wrapped around his waist. Crumbs and other sauce sat over his face like war paint and his left leg sat on the ground like uncoiled rope. He embodied a true slacker


    ¡°Christ, why does he do this?¡± Dexter growled, looking at her grandson with pure disappointment. Then the more pressing smell pushed her forward. Side-eying her grandson, her disappointment boiled into rage.


    What did he do? How is he sleeping with that smell? Dexter scowled. God had always been good and although her grandson had many faults, she would always believe he could do better. However, days like this often ruined that faith for her. Sighing, she turned away, shuffling over to her light switch and flicking it. It turned on as she grumbled, her annoyance growing into a seething rage.


    ¡°Every blasted time. Why does he never listen? Is he deaf? ¡°She bitterly spat, stepping back to her grandson. Her long-spoken grievance rang out as she moved closer to her kitchen. Then a crack rippled through the air, shocking her for a moment. Her grandson yelped out as something struck him, pushing him off the couch. Luckily, the table and her plate were not broken, but her grandson was slightly bruised. The large welt on his cheek looked like a ruler had struck him in the face. Shaking his head, he looked up, unsure of what had happened.


    ¡°How many times have I told you not to sleep on the couch? You could have punctured them with your elbows. I tell you this every day. Every Time?¡± She ranted, looking back at her grandson. A red mark smeared on his cheek as he looked around unaware. Then, as he registered the smell, his face morphed into utter disgust.


    ¡°Wait, what the hell is that?¡± Bob sputtered, slowly getting off the ground. ¡°That is oh.. oh no.¡±


    For the first time in her life, Dexter saw a serious, determined look appear on his face. His eyes darted about, and red sparks appeared at his fingertips. Dashing forward, he rushed past the dining room, slowing down to the kitchen sink. As Bob¡¯s thunderous sprint came to a swift end, he stared, dumbstruck, at his own mistake. Dexter simply shambled over, confused, yet slightly proud of her grandson. However, as she saw the backdoor ajar, that pride turned into a bitter fury.


    ¡°Are you dumb or daft? Why did you not check to ensure anyone could have come inside?¡± Dexter shrieked while lightning sparked off her frowned brow. ¡°Every night I tell you this!¡±


    "I''m sorry. Maybe I was focused on what was happening outside." Maybe just once, I was tired and dozed off.¡± Bob retorted, heat simpering around him. "I was worn out after fighting a giant rat and all those mosquitoes."


    "All the more reason for you to ensure you locked the doors.¡± His grandmother replied. Punctuating her point, an unearthly wind slammed her room door shut while Dexter turned to face her fuming grandson. Sure, he may think himself big and bad, but he was nothing to those in her past. She had seen truly dangerous men, and nothing Bob could do would measure up.


    ¡°Fine, I get it. I messed up! Give me a break.¡± Bob yelled back, moving to the fridge.


    ¡°Don¡¯t turn your back on me!¡± She screamed with a thunderclap that threw Bob to the ground. Stumbling down to the ground, Bob remembered a simple fact. His grandmother had a cosmic power that she couldn''t control. And he had enraged her.


    The houses shook as thunderbolts cracked around Dexter, power oozing out of her eyes. That golden eldritch energy colored the air with the sweet scent of thyme. Her disgusted face was highlighted by the energy that surged through her very being. Like a banshee, she shrieked out, ¡°Why I never! No one has ever talked to me like that! How dare you? Don¡¯t test me, boy!¡°


    Cowering, Bob moved back, avoiding the stray sparks and the eruptions of fire. Like an insect in the face of a hurricane, all he could do was dodge. Bob fled, merely watching the calamity that was his grandmother. His back slammed against the back wall of the storeroom, a straight line from the back door. With his hands raised over his face, he finally retorted. ¡°Ok! I get it, please stop-¡±


    Clank.


    It silenced Dexter''s anger and Bob''s fear like a judge''s gavel. Turning slowly to the washroom, the two stood up. Bob solemnly placed his hand on the door separating the front of the house from the back. Quickly turning it open, he expected some beast or other nasty thing, but nothing was there. He defiantly strode forward toward the danger. First, he checked the bed and the other side of the room. His eyes scanned the other room, the place without a lock, finding nothing out of place. But his grandmother remained standing at the door still, supervising her grandson''s attempt at a search. Her anger shimmered until she could not hold it anymore.  Then Dexter began again.


    ¡°Did you make sure the things were in the right place?¡± Dexter asked, looking at Bob.


    ¡°Of course I did. Why wouldn¡¯t I do that?¡± Bob retorted.


    ¡°Don¡¯t raise your voice at me. Clearly, like you locking the door, that must be a fantasy.¡±


    ¡°Well, something clearly is inside,¡± the boy responded sheepishly from the ground.


    ¡°Yes, go find it! You''re the man of the house!¡± Dexter roared, launching Bob up to his feet.¡± Must I tell you everything?¡±


    ¡°No, I will get on with that.¡±


    Irritatedly, Bob walked out the door. He hoped the pressing threat was a monster, something nasty. Big and bestial, so he could have just cause. He needed to hit something so he could get the aggression out. Moving forward, he stepped to find his weapon, grabbing the long wooden stick from the forest. Dexter moved behind her grandson, rapidly growing bitter from the mess in her home. On her two shelves, powder soap spilled over the large blade on the ground. The chemical litter also tipped over, but luckily, they never pierced the bottles. However, the floor shined as some strange fluid also littered it. It seemed like water, but the large circles smelt a bit like mud. That clue sent Bob¡¯s mind ablaze as he opened the door. Inside his bathroom, he heard the sound of sobbing from the bath.


    Bob moved forward, stepping gently with the stick, primed to skewer the intruder as quickly as possible. Each of his steps was a slow step beat as he moved to finish it quickly. Then he heard the sobs and revealed what had entered the house. Speeding up, he nearly slipped on the soap, but he steadied his flailing body. Turning to the bath, the sobbing grew quiet.  A tiny figure stood watching the monster about the size of a small child with long, strange ears.


    Slowly, Bob stepped forward, thrusting the stick forward. Hit the head of the intruder, Bob capitalized, revealing the creature. A small goblin lay on the floor, a hand rubbing its left eye. Its beady cat eyes stared up at Bob''s scornful face, like a wounded cat. To bob¡¯s interest, the goblin was muscular and seemed to be a more pale green, unlike the deep puke green of the males. The nose was slightly smaller than the male¡¯s massive all consuming nostril, looking far more logical. The teeth were still jagged and still needed a cleaning, but at least they seemed intact.


    ¡°Knew it,¡± Bob stated triumphantly, grabbing the scruff of the goblin''s little neck. Surprisingly, for Bob, it worked much like a cat. The goblin seemed shocked. Bob¡¯s confusion grew as the skin was surprisingly soft and seemed pleasant to the touch. It wasn¡¯t even slimy. The goblin was surprisingly light, dropping the blade from the beast''s belt.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The frowzy creature struggled for a moment, but as Bob lifted it above the toilet, it stopped. It was not unwomanly. With the right curves and some of the proportions intriguing for some, but the goblin unkept nature kept Bob¡¯s wilder thoughts down. Even if he was a sick bastard, the scent was a good word for any idea like that. Even the boots were a muddy mess that needed to be sunned and cleaned for at least a week. Still, there were some excellent traits of the goblin. It was shapely, and if the goblin was cleaned, wasted, and even perfumed perhaps.


    ¡°So gob how do you want to die ? ¡± Bob mused, stepping past the toilet and grabbing the goblin that sniffed. The flapping ears tickled Bob''s nose, and the scent was much worse up close.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me,¡± the small creature pleaded in a strange, low, scratchy tone. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna die.¡±


    ¡°Too late.¡± Bob grinned, opening the door and tossing the goblin down onto the ground. The goblin slid across the mess she made laying before Dexter''s gobsmacked face. The tiny green creature glanced up at Dexter with weepy eyes.


    What is that? How can it be? Dexter screamed in her own head. It was so weak, shaking in terror, wearing disgusting clothes. It broke into her home and now seemed to cry in fear. Like a child. Her mind could barely handle this strange moral dilemma. Should she kill it? Can she do this to someone who was so childlike? But she had to, right?  Her thoughts fought a brutal war with her mind as she looked at her grandson. But it was the goblin that gave the Hail Mary to her ideas.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me,¡± the goblin pleaded to Dexter, the powerful creature in front of her.


    Staring at her grandson, she finally chose. For the safety of both her and her grandson''s soul, she would have to make a choice. That thought, that idea was a gift and awakened her mind. Glaring down at her grandson, she spoke.


    ¡°Is that how you treat a young lady? You need to make sure this does not happen, Bob.¡±


    A pregnant pause sat between both Bob and his grandmother. His grandmother''s radical words shocked both Bob and Jill. Bob''s confusion contorted the rage into a comical caricature of expression on his face.


    ¡°B-but it¡¯s not human¡­¡± Bob sputtered, looking at his grandmother.


    ¡°She is a young lady and you should show her respect.¡± Dexter retorted.¡± You need to get that look off your face.¡±


    Wait, what? Bob thought, gulping down and looking at the goblin that seemed prone on the floor. Shifting Bob could weakly plot in his own head. Argue? Can¡¯t. Maybe I could kill it later? I need a test dummy for the system.


    While Bob debated the merits of goblin murder,  that said goblin was happy. Her luck was much better than expected. If it were like the orcs, she would have been on the pike as soon as they found her. The hobgoblins would have taken her eyes and tongue. Sure she was scared, but she lived another moment. That was more than the stronger creatures expected. And the old woman seemed strongest, so all she could do was beg for her mercy. It was not hard. She already was doing it.


    ¡°Mercy mistress!  please spare me?¡± Jill asked tentatively. She prayed she would be released.


    ¡°Nah. She stays here. This is my friend. She just was confused. Right?¡± Bob spoke, glaring at the creature on the floor.


    Blinking, the goblin rose, confused. Thus her instincts spoke to her with the first rule of the goblin: obey the strongest around.


    ¡°Yes master, I am Jill Bili Grinny. We are friends, oh supreme master.¡± She brow-nosed the old lady.


    ¡°Alright, Jill. Well, she needs to be cleaned up either way. Just call me Sash, little one "Dexter.¡± BOB! Clean this place up and make sure the place is locked before you go to sleep.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you never let me call you that. Where are you going ?¡± Bob questioned.


    ¡°You came up with it. You used to call me that all the time when you were a child. Cleaning this up clearly. ¡°


    Holding out her hand to Jill Dexter had not expected the little thing to take it. But Jill took it quickly, nearly pulling Dexter down. But the new power Dexter held gave her a strange strength. A sweet providence showered her as she took the little creature to her bathroom. As they left, the little Jill could not help herself tilting back a stunted bob with a dirty grin.


    This left Bob in a mess. That shimmering rage erupted as Bob released. Slamming his dist against a wall, he thought over what had just happened.


    ¡°Did I just get outsmarted by a goddamn goblin?¡± He growled, just soft enough not to be heard,


    Jill walked through this new place, this new valley of gods. These were such strange things that would be great treasures at the camp. The sink thing would make her beloved and not whipped by the overseers. She wanted to touch them and learn more about them. But this aged woman seemed to drag her past these wonders, unfazed. Holding this elder''s hand was also relaxing.


    Jill had never seen a human this old. Or any creature this old. Hobgoblins elders never left their keeps and the orcs just killed anyone who couldn¡¯t keep up. Her hand clapped this lady, merely enjoying this foreign comfort. The two walked to a simple hall as she moved to a strange new locale. The hall was painted lemon yellow and with a tall ceiling above Jill''s own head. It was much bigger than Dexter, clearly she had some troll or giant to craft it. Well, everything in this strange castle was bigger than her.


    Despite this, the strange lady called Dexter moved past the hall and entered a white room. Jill¡¯s confusion grew as she saw the throne at the other end of the wall. It was about the size of Gray Blade''s throne. Unlike it, Jill couldn¡¯t understand why it was here, and there was a strange sink across from it. It seemed made from the same material and even had a metal top, as it seemed to pipe on the top. Jill would learn what a tap was.


    Tubs Jill had a reference for. Those were torture weapons, often filled with boiling oil. The goblins were often tied down, so they were always screamed in the end. Gray Blade made a point of eating the remains to make the same point he always did. Desperately, Jill started to struggle, pulling away from the lady. Annoyed by her actions, Dexter''s arcane power sparked with her words.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pull now. Stop tugging on me.¡± She grunted the ground, pushing the goblin forward.


    Jill¡¯s strength failed. Under some strange magic this old woman wielded. First Dexter took her to the tub''s edge, staring hard at her. Then the old lady pointed down at her with the voice of authority.


    ¡°Take off your clothes,¡± Dexter kindly said.


    Those words drained the blood from Jill''s face. That was what the Hobgoblins said before pot. She could try to fight, but Dexter¡¯s arcane might destroy her within a blink of an eye. Weakly shaking, she began with removing her breastplate and cover, that cheap brown leather. Then she removed her boot, dropping the muddy shoes onto Dexter''s bathroom ground. Next, she removed the muddy pants and shirt, leaving only the soiled cloth that tied down her breast.


    ¡°That too, all those things will have to be washed. ¡°Dexter commented.


    With a sniffed sob, she removed the wrap that stood by her for the week. There she stood, as naked as she was born, expecting death. However, Dexter merely grabbed her hand, tossing her into the tub¡¯s edge. Like a wet fish, Jill was tossed inside the tub. Unlike the black ashy pits that had crisped bones and marrow, it was clean and white. Nothing was in it save the strange chrome pipes that glistened in the sun.


    Scared, Jill looked up at the strange lady, who watched her with expectant eyes. Gesturing to the strange taps Dexter simply watched. Slowly moving to the strange taps, Jill placed her hand on the blue tap. Glancing back at Dexter she gulped, looking for some mercy. Hopefully, she could escape. Perhaps she could be spared.


    ¡°Turn it on. ¡° She said, looking down warmly. ¡°Just turning the knob.¡±


    Jill felt it was a nightmare. Panicking, she turned it, expecting death. Instead, liquid drained down on her, blinding her for a moment. It was a clear liquid and ran off her skin as Dexter''s moved forward with the strange bar of green material. She screamed upon feeling it, for the boiling oil would have destroyed her skin first. Then her muscles would cook, melting off the bone and destroying her insides.   At least that would be over quickly.


    Unknown to Jill, the water began a cleaning process, loosening the hardened dirt on her. Thus the goblin¡¯s cleaning began.


    The first layer of dirt drained off with just the water. Then Dexter looked at the little creature noting what would be needed. Soap a lot of soap with conditioner with some strong brushes. Then she would need at least razors and scissors to cut away at the long mangles of hair that would need maintenance. As she thought of what she needed, the items appeared on the floor beside her. Instead of questioning it she simply began to clean brushing furiously. Jill other hand screamed learning about cleaning.


    ,


    It took thirty minutes of hard, brutal scrubbing to get nature out of Jill''s head. The dirt and grim tainted the tub and at least two rags were painted black. The forest¡¯s remains trickled down the drain as Dexter moved to the hair. It was a mop of messy kinks, knots, and dirt. But with perseverance and grit, Dexter managed to get it clean. Of course, Jill protested, screamed, and generally acted like an infant in a cold shower. However, Dexter had dealt with those behaviors with her children and grandchildren. So through muscle memory and hidden magic, Dexter managed to clean the creature. This revealed Jill''s true hair color; a strange brown that had streaks of white, and despite the rough nature of the goblin, the hair was strangely silky.


    Taking a break simply sitting on the toilet, she watched the little creature. It stood naked and shaking as it looked around. Strangely, it was a mix of shrunken parts with adult additions. Dexter could only say it was like dwarves she watched as a child, which would make sense as she was apparently in that fantasy. It looked like a wet kitten with large eyes staring up at Dexter with unsure betrayal. The hair would have to be cut along the nails and teeth would have to be cleaned. Still, she looked much better now and the once oppressive scent was gone. All she needed was a towel. Raising her hand, an arcane force answered her simple need; summoning a bright green beach towel in her hand.


    This magic thing is not so bad, I suppose. With the towel, she moved forward, wrapping it around a little creature that was nostalgic for her grandchildren, even Bob.


    ¡°Why did you do that?¡± Jill asked, shivering from the cold green skin that steaming in the evening.¡±Wait, what are you doing ?¡±


    ¡°You needed to be cleaned up. You have more dirt than a garden. Come now, let¡¯s get you dried off.¡± Dexter cuddled, wrapping Jill. She lightly tapped the creature, much like a toddler drying her body. This was the final connection for Jill. After all, Jill never had a true mother¡¯s touch. Within Jill''s subconscious mind, a bond was made, one that, despite herself, hoped would never break.

 places in the totem pole

    Bob hated cleaning. Oh, how he despised it, often finding any reason to avoid it. But now, as he swept away soap and other cleaning products, hate curled in his mind. Cleaning a mess he didn¡¯t commit was a slight he would have to pay back. That goblin Jill had truly pissed him off. His teeth grinned as he saw a single goblin''s mess and handwork. It was lucky that, despite that, he hoped no other goblins would bother to follow her. His eyes glanced over the mess and narrowed as he saw everything. All of it was wasted. Sure it was not his money, but he had to run out to get them. That train of thought brought another group of problems. Those minor items, how would they be replaced?


    Most of these cleaning products were common in the normal world, but things changed. Most cleaning items came about till the thirty at the earliest. Even bleach would be a revolution to some backwater, he thought. Now they were worth their weight in gold and almost twice as hard to replace. That made Bob even more bitter, especially if the creatures that did it were still there.


    Was there even a civilization that could replace it? Bob argued in his own mind. Probably not so. The chemistry that was used to make them would not exist. Would there be any use for it ?  If it did, mostly nobles or those of wealth would have something similar.Plus, it would be much weaker, as only because of modern technologies were the chemicals as strong Bob mused.


    Slowly sweeping the powdered soap and detergent, all Bob could think about was the rules of this new world. Although it seemed familiar, there were oddities he needed to figure out. Then there was leveling up, something he really needed. Hopefully, he could gain something quickly. First thing he needed to do was to figure out the Xp and what he needed to do. Then he needed to find out the weapon damage and if there were scaling or modifiers.


    Since the system seems to be based in the classic Osric/ DND, it should have some similar elements but the issue was the finer points. Well, most rpgs games were based around DND whether as a companion piece or objection. Because of the history of the game, anything could be a part of it which made his head spin. Grumbling, Bob¡¯s left slowly lifted the small shovel, while the other grabbed a large plastic bag. With a practiced flick, he dumped the contents of the shovel into the bag and then tied it.


    It was tedious work, including sweep wrapping and annoyed scrubbing of the floor. Finally, after the cleaning, Bob stood scampering as fast as he could away from it.


    Once he was within the kitchen, Bob sighed, looking over to the door. His mouth morphed into a scowl as he looked at the back door quickly locking it. His grandmother was right about leaving it open, was dumb.


    But she never considered him or how he was.  The critiques were quick, broad and brutal. She never told bob anything good he did only bad. Bob shook his head, his rage growing far too much. So, with a bitter yawn, Bob decided he needed sleep.


    Stepping away from the door, he crept through the dining room and hall bitterly. Bob didn¡¯t want to alert his grandmother, which would mean more work. He had enough of that. Gingerly, Bob crept past the bathroom and to the squeaking of the goblin. Bob hoped it was drowning, but he wasn¡¯t delusional. More likely, his grandmother was trying to clean it, which was funny in a cosmic way. Still, he wanted no part in it, simply stepping past into his room.


    The heaps of trash paper, dirt, and clothes covering his bed remained there. The same was true of the white papers around his dresser and cabinet. It was all topped with an equal helping of dirt and empty bottles that were never moved. Bob simply shifts away from the mountain, allowing for a simple parting for himself. That was all he needed, after all. For some rest, he can slowly wake up to the more tedious stuff of life.


    Unlike her grandson, Dexter was pleased. This creature was not as uncouth at first glance, or at least enjoyed the bath. It stood shaking from the cold, wrapped in a hand towel. She could only smirk as it reminded her of her own time with her children. Clothing her would be an issue. The ragged mess that she wore was both too dirty and unbecoming of a woman. But that strange woman was too short of her clothes and what of her bust? She deserved better than being ogled by her grandson.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Dexter sighed, wondering what she could wear. It would have to be modest. What could match the green? As she stared down at the goblin, these questions danced and played in her head. The little creature shivered in the towel, those big plate eyes almost as confused as Dexter''s.


    ¡°What happens now, mistress?¡± The little goblin, Jill asked. ¡°The water was too cold and I don¡¯t know what more I must do to please you.


    That strange statement assumed Dexter''s face. Her light grin pushed her wrinkles and older warts upwards. Kindly, she turned to look for a nightgown. She did not have to look as far as a simple black gown appeared on the floor. Gingerly lifting the gown, Dexter tilted her head with a smile. This would be interesting.


    Jill loved to sleep. It was possibly one of the rare times a goblin would be safe and at peace. This place she slept on the sofa was the softest thing that she had ever slept on. She would be lucky if she slept on a rock. Usually, the goblins slept in a pile using their own bodies to regulate heat.


    In her dreams, she was powerful. No, the mistress ruled over her, no overlord commanding her. She gave orders she would be the great one, they would give her the treats. Her grand command sputtered out into the real world as mere grumbles. But that didn¡¯t stop her as she bellowed with the dream. Armies rose at her command, clad in all the shining things she could never have and they were clean. They glistened in gold and that Human Bob was the leader bringing tribute to her. Those sweets and foods were hers, not men or orcs.


    Jill sat on her own throne about to eat a fruit but a song began. That melody haunted her and strangely felt familiar. It was a light hum that was rather heavenly and far away. A strange lady seemed to hover over Jill for a moment only to rip her apart with green hands. It always consumed her with grief as another monster came. A large orc tossed her away as the song stopped and the screaming began. Jill always hated this part of her dream.


    The wriggling green of those frosty nights and the whips rippled through her mind. All she could see was the fire of those pyres that burned the dead. Unusually, it grew until it became a wide inferno, reducing the surrounding images to ash. Then those burning fingers reached down at Jill. The malicious flame formed the face of the man who almost killed her twice. Grabbing her upward, Bob roared, shaking her. This woke Jill as she stared into the hell pit that was Bob.


    Shaking in fear Jill gulped desperately holding her bladder. His tall frame held her with nightmarish ease, this tan skin reminding her of the orcs. The man wore a snarl, and strange white teeth stuck out to her. Far too clean, Jill thought in her mind. She avoided the eyes; they seemed to blaze with a power that shook her. Through stuttering teeth, she begged.


    ¡°I am a boss. What do you need to master? Jill looked pleased as she gazed at her overseer. Brown-nosing was an inborn goblin trait.


    ¡°No, none of that. You were having a fit, and you needed to get up. It was time for breakfast.¡± Bob retorted, holding the little creature. ¡°We have a busy day today.¡±


    ¡°We?¡± Jill asked.


    ¡°Yep, now shut up and eat without question,¡± Bob commanded, dragging the goblin to the kitchen.¡± We need breakfast to get started.


    To both Bob and Jill''s surprise the kitchen remained intact. There were no burning wrecks, destroyed utensils, or stained floors. Eggs were surprisingly cooked along with slices of bread. Jill watched Bob¡¯s cooking like a child, as this was her first experience with a stove.


    ¡°So master is that magic ?¡± Jill questioned.


    ¡°No science,¡± Bob grunted quickly, scraping eggs.


    Confused Jill stood on her chair leaning forward. Her cat-like eyes shone with a sparking interest. With a swift breath, she asked, ¡° What is that ?¡±


    Bob frowned looking back at the goblin. She had her mittens on the table smudging the white tablecloth, which he would have to clean up. The table had held her up despite how weak the table was, or at least how he was too strong perhaps. Gulping he slipped into his cupboard grabbing some plates.


    ¡°Step back I am coming in hot,¡± Bob said, sliding the plate down onto the table. With a practiced ease, he slipped the eggs onto the plate. This was confusing for Jill as the food was hunted or poorly cooked when compared to the eggs. She quickly gobbled the meal, shoveling it into her mouth.


    Bob''s response was as swift as it was brutal. The spoon slapped Jill''s knuckles, stopping her meal.


    ¡°None of that, use a fork and wait for the bread,¡± Bob commanded, placing down a slice of bread.  Jill whimpered under the blow, which was nowhere as bad as the orcs but still hurt.


    ¡°You mean. Why is the bread so white ?¡± Jill questioned.


    ¡°Shut it. It is good and rare. After you eat then the work can begin.¡±  Bob started his meal. The two ate in relative silence, only interrupted by the furious slaps of spoon goblin hands. Despite that, it was possibly the greatest meal Jill had ever eaten. And her most peaceful.


    But for Bob, it was his most stressful, as he had become a nanny for an energetic child. Every moment he had to stop her from smearing her greasy hands on the table or stop her from chewing so loudly. Sighting grabbed both the plates turning away to clean them. Bob tried to be silent but it was difficult. He wanted to rant and be a loud bastard, a grumpy grip at Jill. Slowly Bob cleaned, storing all his rage for the rules testing. It slowly bubbled into his mind that would make his test for this new world. But he had to make sure his little goblin would survive it.


    Bill escorted Jill the goblin out of his house into the front yard. She wore a makeshift armor of pillows cloth and any soft item Bob could find. Then he bound it together with as much rope as possible.


    ¡°So little goblin let us stress test the new world,¡± Bob spoke maliciously.

 System test

    Neither Jill nor Bob could be considered kind. But of the two, only Bob could be called truly intelligent. In most things, Bob was at best an apathetic bastard. This was especially true of things he knew little about or knew little about. On such things, he was the perfect yes man going with the flow with no questions. But with something he knew, his usually lazy and bitter persona was replaced with something else.


    Like a boy who found a fun new game, he was an innovator with an eternal wellspring of passion. This was especially true with games. So, in a new world much like the games he enjoyed. It was a recipe for madness.


    So there he stood in the front yard with a mad grin. His test dumb that goblin stood there covered in the best protection Bob could make. Pillows encased her body, bound with a mix of tape and cloth. A helm made from a hard metal pot sat on her head as he stood proud of his makeshift armor. That was not enough for Jill, who prayed for mercy.


    Jill watched in terror as her instincts screamed at her to run. But she watched as the one called Bob simply stood. She had no way of knowing what Bob was planning. If she knew, she would have escaped.


    Bob stood on the firm ground, counting on his mental checklist. First, he needed to figure out the rules for attack. So, with the stray goblin that had ruined his sparking fantasy adventure that had dragged his grandmother into it, with a malicious grin, Bob pounced, leaping forward at the cowardly goblins. Jill shook, falling and waiting for the killing blow. But it never came as Bob only poked her in the helm.


    It was still enough to drop to the ground, but unlike the orc, Bob had thought of that. Jill''s wrapping of pillows and sheets kept her relatively safe with no broken bones.


    ¡°That hurt¡± Jill shrieked, pushing herself off the ground.


    ¡°Relax, I had to check,¡± Bob sighed.


    This was not the best, but he needed the information. How else could he be able to make the proper plans for the future? But that goblin pissed him off, so with steam rising from his body he tried to seem reasonable.


    ¡± Hit me ¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Jill shrieked looking at the steaming creature they called Bob.


    Despite not being as bulky as an orc, he was strangely almost as monstrous. Forgoing a shirt his slim tone shone in the morning sun like a strange blade. There was a burning intensity to the man which always seemed to be at the edge of exploding. But normally he was under his grandmother. What Jill feared was being alone with Bob. But like most things, they often find themselves within their own fears.


    ¡°Come on, I don¡¯t have all day, you know,¡± Bob growled with his chest bare and hands open.


    ¡°Okay sir,¡± Jill squealed, leaping and slapping bob¡¯s hand. She did it as softly as possible to avoid the reprisal.


    Noting the attack, Bob called his status sheet. It shimmered to life with a shower of red light. His clinical eyes stared over the assorted numbers and terms, searching for a roll button.


    That attack a mere slap took a full hit point, and despite his lower defense, he saw a reduced damage icon as well. So could the status alter defense? What of attack? How much would it do ?


    ¡°Do it again.¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡± Jill mused, confused. It was not strange for a goblin to be used to serve strange fantasies to Orcs. It was rather normal and goblins rarely survived the experience.


    ¡°No, your gonna kill me if i do that.¡± Jill shrieked.


    Scowling Bob loomed over the poor goblin like death and swiftly tapped her. Well, Bob never considered the fact he was almost double the size of Jill. She toppled over as that man merely pushed her over.


    He almost felt bad. But now she was a goblin he thought it wouldn¡¯t be too bad. However, his expectation of a clean action missed two facts. His own newfound strength and the fact the goblin was barely the size of the small child made a love tap to bob a crippling blow to Jill.


    She made a big show of it too. She wailed like a baby, clucking her hands and screaming in agony. For a minute Bob started. Such was expected of a goblin. Bob as he looked down confused.


    ¡°Calm down, it was not bad. I think.¡± Bob growled. A thought occurred to him, a strange memory.


    ¡°Status screen open.¡± He screamed with a panic screech.


    With a spark, it appeared. Strangely, it changed, the edges of the text becoming a bit more like an aged bit of paper. The text had become more fanciful and even had curled around the edge of the text. His eyes gazed through his character information annoyed by his carelessness.


    Bob Jones


    Level 2


    Hp: 20


    Class: Flame Knight


    Experience: 1600 (hot blood.)


    Weapons- Any non missile weapons


    Armour -Any except shields


    Class Features


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Mighty blow


    Flame start


    Racal feature :


    Coward escape.


    Ever a student.


    Other features are available.


    Despite his curiosity about his class exp, what was more important was a mighty blow. He had glanced at it but he needed to actually read it.


    With the biggest of hunches, he growled in a boiling rage. In his mind, he made an error that could be catastrophic.


    He almost felt bad. But now she was a goblin, he thought it wouldn¡¯t be too bad. However, his expectation of a clean action missed two facts. His own newfound strength and the fact the goblin was barely the size of the small child made a love tap to bob a crippling blow to Jill.


    She made a big show of it, too. She wailed like a baby, clucking her hands and screaming in agony. For a minute, Bob stared at the strange show. Then,it was expected for a goblin. Bob frowned as he looked down confused.


    ¡°Calm down, it was not bad. I think.¡± Bob growled. A thought occurred to him, a strange memory.


    ¡°Status screen open.¡± He screamed with panic screeching.


    Slowly the box changed. It was like turning the page to a book, one that was old and worn. Unlike the burning pain of stat menu, this was more of a ripping agony like aggravated toothache or stubbing a toe. Growling softly he stared and realized what he had done.


    ; Mighty Blow;


    Once a day, you deal extra damage equal to your level per day. If you are fighting a creature one size category lower than you, this ability can be activated up your ability modifier.


    With a guilty expression, he glanced at Jill, who had moved from holding her hand to only nursing her wounded limb, with large puppy eyes. Gulping, he stared down, wondering what he could do. He was a blood fighter class, not a paladin but there may be a way to help her. Maybe a heal spell he could learn.


    ¡°Ouch, it hurts sir, please no more?¡± Jill begged, touching a nerve that Bob was dead.


    Growling, he looked at the purchase available and sighed. That nerve burned in his head like a brand. That feeling of guilt shame and disappointment raged across his psyche. It was a new world, he was a goddamned hero. Why should he care? He battled himself for a moment, then folded with a single withering glance at Jill''s wounded face.


    Kindling available.


    White kindling - Users of this kindling gain access to the lay on hand, as a paladin of similar levels. At, level four you may cast level spells like a cleric from the spheres of healing.


    Black kindling - Users of this kindling gain access to lie on harm as an anti-paladin of a similar level. At level four you may spell as a wizard but only from the school of necromancy.


    Red kindling - Users of this kindling gain access to the holy sword feature of a paladin of a similar level. At level four you may cast spells as a wizard but only fire-based spells.


    Bob''s gaming instincts halted him for a moment, stopping his altruistic thoughts. The greatest issue was that all the abilities were good. Fair, too good, almost too hard to choose. But once again, that shriek from the goblin forced his hand. With a silent curse, he hoped the cleric was like the Advanced Dnd or had reversible spells.


    ¡°I accept White kindling. ¡°Bob scowled.


    His body erupted into flames. At first, Bob panicked. After all, he was on fire, but then, no pain occurred. Stumbling a bit Bob noted how strange it was. It felt good, like a soft gel over his weary body. Then it got weird. Bob''s hands went to his head, scratching at his skin. It was like the gel became a bad powder. But it grew, the itch going into a strange burning sensation that consumed him.


    Jill watched Bob with confusion. She had no way of seeing any status screens and only saw Bob stop screaming out random names that were just as alien to her as the cleaning products. Then he started burning. Confused, she only stared at the strange man who she could only make one conclusion. He liked pain.


    He liked it so much he loved to share it. Which was almost worse than the orcs. They would kill burn and other uncouth things to goblins but they never seemed to enjoy the pain. With an upturned face, she felt a new emotion within her. It was a downer feeling that felt like strange boiling within her judging the bastard. That was new. Goblins never judged.


    But that strange white fire seemed familiar. A distant forgotten memory from a moment that was too short to be important awakened in her. It was almost nightmarish. So with what little strength she had left she moved back to the farthest fence and waited for the worst.


    Bob burned, the wisps of flame burning into his very being. Fire consumed him, his mind, body¡ªhis soul, being put on a flaming pedestal for something to see¡ªto judge. His flaws were forcefully dragged into his awareness, the judgmental gaze leaving no corner unturned. A constricted gasp was all he could manage¡ªthe edges of his vision darkening as the pain continued to rise.


    Just as he thought it was over¡ªthat he''d be burned to the bone, it all stopped¡ªrelief like he¡¯d never felt before making him fall to his knees.


    The back of his spine shuddered as he blinked, text white as paper appearing in front of him.


    ¡°The white kindling accepts you.¡±


    Bob¡¯s body fought the urge to collapse. The air was barbed wires and his eyes burned in the sun''s light. Stumbling forward pain became truth, and it was not pleasant. But as the madding gaze formed he saw it. The goblin, Jill. Resolve hardened to will as he shuffled to her. Hard heavy steps took Bob slowly to his target, who responded by closing her eyes and pulling back. Clearly, she was afraid.


    Good Bob thought I have a reputation to uphold.


    Then he swiftly grabbed poor Jill by the neck, jolting her upwards. This of course made Jill panic even more but to her surprise, it felt good. A truly odd concept to a goblin.


    Was that what the big one felt when he got hurt? No wonder he enjoyed it. Jill thought looking at him.


    Gently Bob''s hand lowered down putting Jill onto the ground with a strange care.


    ¡°So let''s take a break K?¡± Bob sputtered looking at the sky.


    ¡°Sure sir. Would you like me to fetch you some water?¡± Jill questioned hopping to her role.


    ¡°Fuck off with that now. You''re not my damned slave. ¡°Bob growled. ¡°I may not like it but you are here and that means you gonna act respectable.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what you just said,¡± Jill replied, annoyed.


    ¡°I know. ¡°


    ¡°Then- ¡°


    Jill¡¯s eyes narrowed as an arrow shot past her head. Bob was as lucky as another arrow slammed into his chest. However, Bob was much tougher than Jill and that arrow merely poked his chest like a small pin. Painfully but nowhere nearly lethal. Shimming to the left he narrowly dodged another then another. It escalated to a brutal volley of small spikes. With his soul burning Bob¡¯s brutish hands grabbed Jill and ran under the watch of feral eyes.

 The burning battle

    Something new appeared in Bob once he reached this new world. Perhaps it was always there, deep in the back recesses of his mind. Behind the fear and despair, a seed of battle mania. The glee of combat in songs of pagan champions and chivalric tales. That savage joy of watching one¡¯s foe driven to ash.


    That spark had flared to life in battle. It fueled him like nothing he ever had. He was not tired after butchering the goblins,  He wanted more.  There was no panic nor terror in his thoughts, only one emotion dominated him. Joy. Insanely it was joy. True joy. That hellish joy of knowing you could die at any moment but still live. His soul blazed this strange glee amidst the falling arrows.


    Dodging another arrow from the left, he slipped with a shoulder roll. Then he dashed towards the veranda. An arrow nicked his shoulder, and another slammed in front of Jill. Becoming a living shield, he leaped in front of her, grabbing his bag of tools. He roared. It was thundering brutal bellow like a suppressed fury exploding. To Jill, it was rather orcish. Jill shook in terror as despite the behavior he was protecting her. Then he charged.


    Arrows rained down in response. Another scared his other shoulder, scrapped his head, and he narrowly missed being implanted. Pulling out the rusted smelly blade, a devil''s grin grew on his face. With a hellish grunt, he swung it around. In his mad berserker rage, the blade moved faster than any mere goblin could swing with a brutal death whistle. On the third swing, his blade found blood slashing at a strange creature''s chest.


    It¡¯s shrilly shriek a haunting mix of roar and bird chirp echoed through the forest. But that emboldened his attackers as two rushed forward to challenge Bob. They were small feathered things. His eyes could barely see the forest cover. A large brown leather head rushed forward biting towards Bob¡¯s chest.


    With a quick leap back, he landed on a fluffy feathered ground. Another shrilly shriek rocked the area as another beast tried to claw free from Bob¡¯s foot. Sheepishly Bob grinned as his foot crushed the beast''s tail.


    That creature then yelped again before launching a bite at Bob¡¯s legs. With a swift kick, he connected to its snout with a brutal crack. Another tried to bite Bob¡¯s head off. With the flat of the blade, he slapped it away. Desperately Bob leaped back into the open area of his home. However, they followed into the light.


    The first thing Bob noticed was how small they were¡ªtiny little fur balls with long snouts that had sharp, pointy teeth. Stepping back, he could see they were a mix of fur and scales. Most of the body had heavy fur wrapping around it. It seemed to mask the features of the body, leaving only a deadly silhouette. It was truly serpentine, with a long tail at the back. It was not visibly muscular but lean and built for speed.


    The second thing he noticed was the shining orbs of yellow fury that stared at him, watching his every move. Every muscle in Bob¡¯s tense hand was noted. His gulps and haggard breaths slowly seemed to excite the surrounding beasts. Those eyes knew his weakness and were ready. They growled revealing rows of needle-like teeth and serpent¡¯s tongue. Hissing they circled Bob with instinctual precision.


    Finally, he noticed the weapons, which were made mainly of wood and stone. It seemed bound by vines and held a brutal black point. Narrowly dodging the first strike he shifted to the left only to just as quickly shift to the right. With a relentless assault, Bob could find no counterattack. Every attempt turned into a block as the beasts tried to skewer him on black stone tips.


    The trio forced him back to the wall, and he could do nothing about it. As his head stopped on the wall, he stared at his imposing doom with another revelation. They wore clothing. It was a terrible thin leather that was tied around their waist. At least two of the beasts have similar material around their chests.


    Did that mean they had breasts? Were these things mammals? Bob, though. A part of him grew curious, because of this world''s classic fantasy nature, this new beast was something truly interesting. However, the rest of his mind strangled those thoughts, as if every beast were trying to kill him.


    With a brutal hiss, one creature tried to stab Bob''s chest. Only to be hit on the head. Two turned, hissing at the disturbance. Jill had grabbed a stick from the Bob¡¯s own stash of weapons. Normally she would have run, leaving Bob to his fate. But for the first time, she stayed. That was stupid now I am going to die. This new feeling confused her.


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    She couldn¡¯t explain why she stayed put. Her body could not move, and all she could do was think. However, she had in the process of attacking, disarmed herself. So all she could do was wail in terror as the monster spoke. It was a high-pitched yell, that was barely heard. It sounded like a laser or wire shaking around.


    ¡°Kill corrupted elf kin.¡±


    ¡°That is a bit much.¡± Jill squealed.


    However, they made a horrible mistake. They gave Bob an opening. Matching the beast''s savagery, he swung a devastating blow. The blade could barely handle the strength of the swing creaking as it found flesh. His blade slashed through the neck of one of the other creatures. Then his soul erupted and Bob exploded with white. Unlike the previous flame burst, it was focused. Instead of the burning explosion, it was more a spray of fire that glowed a strange otherworldly shine. Using his best instincts, Bob aimed his face at the beasts. White flame gushed out of his mouth towards the beast. Like the living flame thrower he was, it caused brutal damage to mere flesh.


    The scent of burning feathers consumed the area expunging the air. One creature died with agony on his face. Bob¡¯s fire died as well quickly sputtering into simple sparks and smoke. However, it had the expected effect. Of the three that were attacking Bob, only two remain.


    Those two turned to face Bob, hissing once again. Bob growled back, only to stop by the creaking of the door. Like a child in trouble, he turned to face his grandmother, who was just as enraged as him.


    ¡°What are those demons? Why are they here?¡± Dexter screamed with her left hand pointing to the beast.


    ¡°We are not demons. The kobold kin was here first , Invader. ¡°The beast responded with fury.


    Bob was going to respond, but a glimmer caught his eyes. With his mouth agape, he saw what Dexter was doing and his jealousy grew from a seedling to Evergreen. Why did she get that level of power? What was he chopped liver? He screamed in his mind.


    From the sky, a white glowing apparition appeared. Shimmering in holy light it approached slowly but inevitably. Jill''s eyes realized, and she fell to her knees in terror. The old lady was the strongest person around.


    Last, the kobolds noticed the goblins'' shock and Bob¡¯s terror. A mere glance of light stopped them. Their eyes stopped and froze as the holy light shined down. The light formed into a divine hand.


    It shone in the light, bending and twisting into perfect fingers. Despite each light-shattered form, it was perfectly shaped to where it could have been the model. But it still approached, brutally forming a finger. All could only stare as Dexter summoned the hand of God.


    With brutal flash all the beasts were dead, burning in a white fire. Bob''s eyes felt down looking down as his grandmother coughed.


    ¡°Get that off my lawn. Lord that is terrible.¡±


    Bob''s glee faded as he shrunk back into the role of the dutiful grandson. Sighing he looked to the dead annoyed.


    ¡°Status check¡± he muttered.


    Bob Jones


    Level 2


    Hp: 6/20


    Class: Flame Knight


    Experience: 1600 (hot blood.)


    Weapons- Any non-missile weapons


    Armour -Any except shields


    Class Features


    Mighty blow,


    Flame start


    Racal feature :


    Coward escape.


    Ever a student.


    Other features are available.


    With a sigh, he looked at his sheet. It annoyed him how the damn screen never showed him the damned numbers. His numbers. Staring at the flashing red six, his eyes narrowed.


    Other features? That was too damned much. Bob thought. Could I call them up? But those other features. Hmm, for later.


    Turning, he looked back to his grandmother panicking and the goblin hugging her. All he could do was sigh once again.


    ¡°I need to figure this out quickly or next time it will be me. ¡°

 Burning Messiah

    All goblinoids fought, but only hobgoblins qualified as true soldiers. All hobgoblins were indoctrinated in tactics. From the age of Two, they were instructed in the way of the sword, primed with the axes, and coached in formation. War was as common as water, and Fo''il was just a common hobgoblin. But he despised scouting.


    He understood why it was important. The tenets of combat were second to speaking and the major lesson was the necessity of proper intelligence. But Fo''il rather hoped there was someone else who could do it. He was more the man in the tent rather than a scout. But they gave him this task. His red skin smirked under the piercing beams of the forest sun. The bugs always ended up in his hair and his boot never quite fit. Worse, he did not even like Wurhorse.


    They were feral savage beasts that came out of the womb crazy. The strange mix of wolf horse and beast seemed to appear in Orc camps. Lupine jaws that always found meat, long legs that crushed heads underfoot. It was a midnight beast with a soft pelt that was always just itchy but manageable. But all of that was fine to Fo''il if not for the eyes. They had wide marble crimson eyes that burned with a weird awareness. It seems to know things. These eyes were smarter than the orcs, but they also held a madness. Those things were crazy. For Fo''il that was the major thing, it was both bigger than him, and with claws that could be swords. These were reason enough to never deal with the beast again, but a good soldier follows orders. Still, they acted best as weapons and his mount wasn¡¯t as bad as the others.


    He could never tell why he was chosen for this. Every time a scouting mission had to be done that damned gray blade always picked him. It made sense that he turned hobgoblins; they were the only goddamned group who had martial actions. His heavy brow knitted into his usually annoyed face. Why were they still under the orcs?


    It was in the religious text, after all. Their god the master commander of the hobgoblins Hobgor fought Orc¡¯s savage god Gorcckan. He had all the bastion, fortifications made of stars, and artillery that could shatter stars. But none of that mattered. Gorckan and his immortal hordes overwhelmed the golden army. Artillery means nothing to a horde that could not die, simply moving past it. Fortifications were trampled underfoot as they approached. However, Gorcckan wanted a challenge so he bellowed across the stars.


    So Hobgor strode out moving to battle Gorcckan to stop him and ensure the hobgoblin race would survive. The two titans, one of skill versus one of strength battled for supremacy. They fought with blades the size of stars and crushed a thousand worlds in which there were duels. For every parry, for every strike Gorckan pushed through beyond any flourish Hobgor could do. But Hobgor made one error.


    Gorcckan was no fool. Aggressive, brutal and cruel, but he could learn. Every hobgoblin captured every fort seized he learned about Hobgor. He had learned to prepare and was ready, unlike Hobgor was for the first time was unprepared. It was Hobgor who went on the offense while Gorrcckan simply parried. The horde who watched was confused, but it was all a part of the plan. With a flick of the wrist, Gorrckan cleaved upwards with his ax. Hobgor attempted to block the attack with his shield but the battle had worn him out. Gorrcckan''s plan had worked and he claimed Hobgor''s shield hand. It was said the red blood from the hand was the reason hobgoblins had red skin.


    .Then to the shock of everyone, Gorrckan offered Hobgor a chance to surrender. The first and only time this was ever done, after all, Gorrckan refused any mercy. It was a trap, but what other choice did Hobgor have? Let his kind and kin die under the orcish heel or become a slave? A swift kick pushed him to answer. On his back bleeding out from his left hand, all he could do was give up.


    Thus hobgoblins became allied to the orcs. Well, slaves really. Always bullied or worse used as a mere tool for the Orc brutal, pointless context. However, they never bothered to listen to the hobogoblin¡¯s plans. Or worse, break it when they just need to be quiet.  They always tried to push the hobgoblins and always blamed them when things when pear-shaped. Each complaint increased his natural scowl, giving him the most natural hobgoblins expression. But they could do nothing about it.


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    They were cosmically bound to the orcish idiots.  But there was a way of free them, only one way.  A warrior whose rage would match the orc, his body would burn with holy fire. Fo''il growled softly, attempting to shake off these thoughts out of his mind. Prophecy doesn¡¯t solve campaigns.


    It wouldn¡¯t ever happen. The gods wouldn¡¯t bother, not now. Fo''il thought on the ride. They had been ¡°workers¡± for the goblins as far back as he could remember. As far back as anyone could remember. They were in the middle. Goblins are the worst and orcs are too strong to be overthrown. But for this scouting party, they didn¡¯t even spare him ten hobgoblins.


    No, the only proper companion he had was his superior officer. The rest was goddam goblins. The only thing he could do. His companions were mere goblins and only his superior. She was still held back, only watching him moving forward to the spot.


    Chuckling, Fo¡¯il could only feel contempt for the goblins. The great enemy didn¡¯t even put up a fortification. No, they only had a strange house and the dead bodies of goblins. Well, what was left of them? Crushing them under his mount foot, he got closer, only stop with his hands raised. The mounts knew what it met, stopping instantly. But the goblins stumbled forward.


    Rolling his eyes, he merely focused on the house.His wolfish pupils stared down at the strange new building.So indefensible, so plain. It needed a rampart and at least four towers for battlements.  He thought, annoyed.


    What is your assessment ?¡± Ravagrora asked.


    With a boyish grin, he tilted his head to his commanding officer. She was a cold bitch, but that was excepted of all hobgoblin lieutenants. Ravagrora was not kind, always pushing and moving over those who could not do it. But she was effective. That was the only important thing. She gave and followed orders and enforced discipline but still bothered with boots on the ground.


    The average black helm that every hobgoblin lieutenant covered her raven hair. It mirrored Hobgor''s own midnight armor which paired well with her crimson skin. But her gaze was fixed on the strange structure. Blue sphere of focused fury simply watched for danger with her talon hand on a simple sword. Her voice was like every lieutenant firm brutal and harsh.  Her voice that sharp scraping was soft but firm.


    ¡°Report Scout¡± She commanded.


    ¡°Effects from the light. I see the goblin and a human. But they seem to talk. ¡° Fo''il respond.


    Hobgoblins'' eyesight and their ability to see things were well known. Those eyes allowed them to gather intelligence far better than any other goblinoid. But for each hobgoblin the sight was varied. Sunlight was a tactical flaw, it made things too bright and often burned the eyes.   The gift of seeing in sunlight blessed Fo''il and Ravagrora. But of the two Fo''il could see far better, at least the living while Ravagora could see magic. Which was almost better.


    ¡°No clue he is hitting the goblin which is normal. Wait wait he is saying something, but.. I can¡¯t understand it. ¡°


    ¡°Then what is he just stupid ?¡±


    ¡°No, he-¡± Robogor spoke, shaking in his boot. His eyes began to tear up, as he stared at it.


    ¡°Answer me, damn it.¡± Ravagor glanced forward, looking at the stranger. She had seen it all, every magic had a tone, hue, and result. Orc magic was twisted green and always seemed too thick, like swamp goo. Goblins'' magic was worse, useless, and not even worth cannon folder. It was fitting for goblins. Demon magic always had a sinister tint with sparks of copper yellow. But this was new.


    ¡°White, it is burning white ?¡± Ravagor wisphered looking forward at the monster.


    ¡°I can see it damn it all. He doesn¡¯t even look hobgoblin. Why is it white?¡± He whispered.


    ¡°We keep watch. Then we report it to the elders, this is a sign, you know.¡± She began with a strange new tone.


    Fo''il sighed once again. Of course, he would have to find this. None of the prophecies spoke about how or what the burning one was but, he had to see what happens to those who found destiny often died on the path to achieve it.

 Chapter 10 Stats and strife

    Bob hated his grandmother''s reprimands. She always said harsh words that cut a bit too deep and were a bit too personal. Brutal emotional damage in thirty words, and it then kept going. But it was never without reason. That was the problem.


    Bob hated to admit it, but he had issues. He knew he was a sorry piece of trash, but that was yesterday when everything was normal. In a literal fantasy, everything should have been different. But it was not. His grandmother was truly resistant to the change. But worst of all, his grandmother always yelled his issues to the heavens. She never bothered to close the door at all.


    ¡°I wake to the smell of burning and see you and Jill outside too early in the morning, ramping around. If you were not out, maybe those things wouldn¡¯t have attacked you. What did you do, Bob? They wouldn¡¯t just attack.¡± She said bitterly.


    ¡°I needed to know about the rules of this world,¡± Bob said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that, Jill is shaking in panic. Plus, you didn¡¯t even wash your plates. Who do you expect to clean them ?¡±


    Jill could only watch as this monster cowered to mere words. That was concerning at least for her. Goblins knew strength and the aftereffects of it.  Not even the Orcs shattered as quickly as they needed a blow or two. Bob''s head hung low, and he didn¡¯t bother to talk too loudly or bother with any retort. No matter what, he seemed to whimper under the old lady''s talk. But he was a strange monster and somehow, he was as scary then as he was weak now.


    ¡°So no more back talk, just clean up the kitchen and check if the filter is still good,¡± Dexter commanded like an orc chief.


    ¡°Yes Grandma, I understand. Can I-¡± Bob begged, looking at her.


    ¡°NO! You''re a man damn it.¡± She growled. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have to say this, but you need to act like one.¡±


    That sentence was a brutal assault on Bob¡¯s damaged pride. It was worse than any stab or attack from any enemy he had faced. He almost retorted, but he bottled it. Any comment would make it worse, he and his grandmother would rain down death literary on him if he was not careful. Still, it festered. He growled, stomping off bitter and annoyed with boiling rage. Dexter didn¡¯t even bother to look at her puffing grandson. A tantrum was not important to her. Her aged eyes looked down at the goblin that merely watched in fear of Bob.


    ¡°And you! Come with me,¡± Dexter said. ¡°We need to have a word.¡±


    >>>>


    Bob¡¯s anger slowly boiled as he moved back to the kitchen. His bitter stomps slowly echoed through the house like a drumbeat of frustration. His eyes narrowed as he cleaned.


    Why was the rant aimed at him? He had nearly died twice in the past two days, and she acted the same. Somehow, it was worse. No mere knife stab, but her disappointment was always painful. She saw him as a failure, like everyone else did.


    Didn¡¯t she get it? Why was he still doing dishes in another world? Bob growled in his mind.


    Puffing like a boiling pot, he kept going, muttering about the facts. No matter the words, it seemed to Bob he was in the wrong.  Growling he scrubbed his mind, simply consumed by the biting words.


    She never gave him good faith or bothered to look at him. Never him, but everyone else got the best virtue, all the understanding. It was infuriating, and it never changed. Even in another world, Bob was the butt of reality fumed.


    Growling he cleaned the counters, leaving a faint heat trail. Sliding down, he cleaned wiping with bitter rage. His annoyance kept him moving, using the water to flush any remaining particles into the sink. But something new burned his mind. How did the lights work?


    It was not like there were power lines. He had seen none in the forest and even if they were out there that would raise another question. What would they connect to? And if they were, who was running the electricity station or supplying the gas? Bob thought. He couldn¡¯t remember ever seeing any connecting power lines within the forest. Something was afoot, and that made him curious. His eyes looked at the television that sat in the living room, which seemed to do nothing.


    Bob never used the wide-screen television that sat in the middle of the living room. But his grandmother always used it by watching the news and then shutting it off. It was both discolored and had poor audio balance. The sounds kept having the Electric hum of static that seemed to make every work just as annoying as possible to him. All he could do was wait it out. But now the little red light still glowed.


    Inching closer, Bob ignored his grandmother and Jill''s talk, his attention squarely on the television. That gave him a strange thought. Gingerly, he grabbed the remote, gulping as he looked at the TV. His mind ran over the possibilities and dangers.


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    It could explode or send him to hell. It could be your grandmother''s thoughts, It could be. Those words erupted in his mind, and for a moment, he almost gave it up. But with the rending of teeth, he pushed the one button. His legs shuffled back, expecting something horrific to happen. But nothing happened, at least for a moment. Exhaling, Bob almost laughed. But a zap and crackle silenced him. Wide-eyed, he stared transfixed at the device that turned on. Static appeared on the screen, the black and white dots battling for control, as he expected. However, with a wave of strange brown light, it went away.


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Bob muttered as pain flared within his head.


    He was smart, or he wouldn''t have done this. Desperately, he held back the scream; after all, whatever that was wouldn¡¯t be worse than what his grandmother would do. But the pain was gone as soon as it came. Staring up at the television, all he could see was the brown background with words that were not quite formed, like silhouettes without proper outlines. Grinning, he looked at it only to see it change. The words slowly faded in like a bad word effect and were almost too distracting for him.


    ¡°Damn why the shit effects?¡± he muttered only to notice the simple fact it gave him the information he always wanted. On the screen, a simple console menu appeared, written in simple Times New Roman text. His frustration became joy as he read that his gaming experience was finally useful.


    User stat


    Class information


    Known information


    Mini realm 1


    Sitting back, he pointed the remote at the television and hoped it worked normally. Flicking through the menu, he stopped at the class information. He couldn''t help but smile. A former avid gamer and designer knows that most TTRPGs are imbalanced in their games. The most common, at least at first, didn¡¯t give the player all the mechanics; it was the domain of the reference. But this world had some strange design choices. There was some known info, but he needed to know his status and if some exploitation could be done.


    ¡°Well, hope no system shock happens,¡± He quipped, pressing the ok button with his thumb.


    The screen flashed once more, only to reveal a simple blue screen. Then the lettering appeared on it, morphing before his every eye in order of strength to charisma. The classic six was paired with some other additions.


    Str 16, Dex 9, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 13


    *Exceptional Strength 16+ Exceptional Consuition +14


    Exceptional charisma. +13


    Traits. Ever the student.


    Coward escape


    So the classic six but again the mash-up. Bob thought. There seems to be a bit of trait knowledge too, but it looks similar to psychic rules. It would not be the best, but not too bad.


    With the practiced skill of years of channel searching, he maneuvered to the traits section. Gulping he tapped the ok.


    Traits. A creature may have unique traits or abilities based on its environment or natural skill. The creature known as Bob Dexter has these traits. Because of this, creatures with these trait¡¯s ability to cast spells will be reduced by 1 spell slot for each trait.


    Coward escape. You have an increased chance of running away from battle.


    Ever a student. You have a ten percent chance to learn one trait/ spell each time you level up.


    No magic or effect has been learned.


    Ok. So that was practically useless until I got something. Bob thought. That, and my ability to do magic was reduced. Great. Still need to find out my class info.


    Biting his lip, he attempted to move back, only to be confounded. The remote stopped only to hold the menu in place.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Bob muttered. With practised ease, he typed in another command. The cursor leapt off his number and onto his class.


    Flame warrior.


    He had never read the lore about the class, only the quick and dirty synopsis with a healthy assumption. It was rather easy to understand, but he needed to know more. It could help him avoid more targeted traps.  So with a click, he explored his most defining job.


    Flame warrior.


    A warrior who radiates the power of fire and the fury of flame. Hot-headed and reckless, they often fight without shields, preferring heavier weapons in combat to cleave through enemies. This has led to them being known as fools but they simply believe it is better to destroy an enemy so they do not become a threat later. These combatants are the first into battle, plunging deep into the furnace of war. All who become flame warriors become true terrors, leaving only ash and death in their wake.


    With a shout from his grandmother, Bob read, confused. His previous idea was not incorrect, but it lacked some key details. Bob had thought his class was more paladin like but based on the description, he was closer to a berserker. It had all the underpinnings of that class or at least how others saw it. Bob tried to scroll down, but it held on that paragraph. Scowling, he glared at the television, attempting to willing it to move. It had the opposite effect; sparks sputtering around the television. Panicking, he leapt up his hand around the television cord. Plugging it out, he sighed.


    ¡°Bob, what are you doing ?¡± Dexter yelled.


    ¡°Going to the pump don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Sighing, Bob simply plugged it out. Standing was painful, but he had more things to do. After all, it would be a long day and he needed to get ready.


    ¡°That was enough for today.¡±