The smell of ash still clung to his scales.
He could not forget it. No matter how he tried to focus on the warmth of the fire pit or the excited chatter of the tribe outside the chief's cavern, the memory returned again and again.
That thing.
The creature had killed the old chief.
Not with fang or claw, not with spear or trap the way proper hunters fought. No. The strange creature had done it with something worse. Something unseen. Something that struck faster than a thrown stone and louder than thunder in a cave.
The chief—strong, scarred, undefeated—had fallen before he even understood the battle had begun. Two of the best hunters died with him.
The kobold shaman swallowed and scratched nervously at the necklace now hanging around his neck.
But it did not kill me.
That was the part that confused him most.
After the slaughter the creature had dragged him—dragged him!—all the way to its lair. Not to eat him. Not to sacrifice him. Just to show him.
To show him power.
The shaman remembered standing there, trembling, scales cold, as the creature watched him. It had been looking at him the way a hunter watches a curious insect.
Then the creature had done something impossible.
It copied him.
The shaman had hurled fire, desperate, screaming ancient words of flame. A small fireball—nothing impressive, but enough to burn fur and skin.
The creature had watched.
Then it had tried to do the same.
The first fireball it made was enormous.
Too enormous.
The kobold shaman shuddered at the memory. The blast had roared to life like a newborn sun, lighting the forest with blinding orange light.
He had not waited to see more.
He ran.
And the creature did not chase him.
Which meant only one thing.
Territory.
It had been a warning.
"Mine," the creature had said without speaking.
The shaman had understood perfectly.
He would have returned straight to the tribe then, to warn them about the monster that now lived nearby.
But fate—glorious, clever fate—had intervened.
As he ran past the body of the old chief, something glinted in the dirt.
The necklace.
The chief's necklace.
The creature had not taken it.
The shaman had nearly laughed.
What kind of monster leaves treasure behind?
He grabbed it without hesitation. There had been no time to search for other artifacts like the protective rings the chief sometimes carried.
The necklace was enough.
More than enough.
He had returned to the tribe covered in dust, panting dramatically, holding the necklace high for all to see.
And oh, how they listened.
He told them everything.
How he had faced the monster.
How he had escaped its terrible magic.
How he had bravely stolen back the sacred necklace of the chief from the monster's very lair.
The tribe had stared in awe.
And after that… things moved quickly.
A few demonstrations of his fireballs helped.
Just a few.
Now the necklace rested on his chest.
Heavy.
Important.
Chief.
The kobold shaman leaned back on the throne that had belonged to the previous leader and allowed himself a slow, satisfied grin.
The tribe obeyed him.
The hunters bowed their heads.
The females watched him with interest.
And the food…
The food was plentiful.
He was not a foolish chief, however.
Strong chiefs did not rule long if the tribe grew hungry or jealous.
Which was why he had made a wise decision.
A feast.
Outside, the tribe prepared the fires.
After all, they still had prisoners from the goblin settlement.
And tonight, the tribe would celebrate their new chief.
Nothing warned of danger.
The scouts had sent no signals. No alarm calls echoed through the trees. The night belonged to the tribe, and the tribe was celebrating.
The new chief—shaman, survivor, hero—sat beside the largest fire while the rest of the kobolds laughed, shrieked, and fought over scraps of roasted meat. Flames crackled, casting wild shadows over the crude huts and the sharpened stakes that ringed the camp.
He held his prize in both claws: a perfectly roasted goblin leg.
Now that he was chief, the best pieces belonged to him.
The smell alone made his stomach growl. Fat dripped slowly from the blackened skin, hissing when it touched the coals. He lifted the leg proudly, bringing it toward his snout.
Yes. This was how a chief ate.
He opened his jaws wide to take the first glorious bite.
And froze.
His mouth remained open.
His teeth hovered inches from the meat.
Because something was floating in front of him.
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Him.
The creature.
The monster from the forest.
The being who had slain the former chief and several of the tribe's greatest hunters with strange, invisible power. The thing that had taken him to its impossible lair and shown strength beyond understanding.
The shaman felt his stomach twist.
Why is it here?
He had believed he understood the rules. The creature guarded its territory. If the tribe stayed away, it would ignore them.
But now it hovered above the firelight like a silent spirit, staring down at him with a very displeased expression.
Did it come for revenge?
The shaman swallowed.
Think. Think quickly.
He slowly extended the roasted goblin leg toward the floating stranger.
A gift.
Hospitality.
"Great… visitor," he croaked, hoping the gesture would be understood.
The monster's face twisted even further, as if the offering somehow made things worse.
Around them, the tribe had already noticed the sudden arrival.
Kobolds stopped eating. Jaws dripped grease. Hands tightened around spears, knives, and crude bows.
Several began to rise.
The shaman snapped his tail sharply and waved one claw downward.
No.
He knew what would happen if they attacked.
They would die.
All of them.
He had seen what the creature could do.
But then—
The shaman's eyes narrowed.
Something caught the firelight.
On the monster's hand.
A ring.
No… not a ring.
A bracelet.
A protection bracelet.
The artifact.
He had stolen from the dead chief.
Except the creature was wearing it on a finger like a ring.
The shaman's mind raced.
It does not know.
The fool monster did not understand what it carried.
This… this was an opportunity.
If he had the artifact—if he activated it—he had a chance.
And with the tribe behind him…
Yes.
Victory.
Before the creature could react, the shaman lunged forward.
His claws grabbed the bracelet wrapped awkwardly around the monster's finger.
He pulled.
It didn't move.
"Tight…" he hissed.
He pulled harder.
The monster only stared at him in confused surprise, as if unable to comprehend what was happening.
Good.
Confusion was useful.
The shaman twisted the bracelet sideways and yanked with all his strength.
It slid free.
He almost laughed.
In a single motion he jammed the bracelet onto his own wrist and triggered it.
The familiar hum of protective magic surged through him.
Power.
Real power.
The creature then tried to take the ring back, but the barrier stopped him.
The shaman-chief laughed a little and then shouted.
"ATTAAAAACK!"
His shriek tore through the camp like a war drum.
And the tribe surged forward.
David's POV
The small kobold shaman—apparently the new leader—managed to surprise him.
The creature suddenly grabbed his finger.
David blinked.
Of all the things he had expected—spells, screaming, maybe even a desperate spear thrust—this had not been on the list.
Still… it was better than watching them chew on roasted goblin.
At first he simply stared as the kobold tugged at the ring on his finger with both clawed hands, grunting with effort. When David realized what the little creature was trying to do, curiosity replaced his initial confusion.
I can't even activate artifacts, that can be a learning experience.
Instead of pulling his hand away, David activated [Mana Perception].
The world shifted.
Faint currents of mana appeared everywhere—wild, chaotic threads drifting through the air around the campfires. The kobold, however, was suddenly very interesting.
As soon as the ring slid free and ended up around the kobold's wrist like a bracelet, the shaman paused.
Then it did something unexpected.
A thin thread of mana formed between its claws. It reminded David of the way he drew symbols to activate that fire spell.
The kobold guided the mana into the artifact.
A small pulse followed.
"Huh," David muttered quietly.
So that was the mechanism.
Direct mana input via a mana thread.
Interesting.
He extended his hand casually to take the ring back.
His fingers stopped.
Something invisible blocked them roughly a meter away from the kobold.
David frowned and pressed forward slightly.
Solid.
An invisible barrier.
"Ah," he said slowly. "So that's what it does."
The kobold began making a strange rasping noise.
At first David thought it was choking.
Then he realized.
It was laughing.
And then it shouted something.
“SHAAKAAM”
A moment later the entire tribe exploded into motion.
Kobolds rushed him from every direction.
They leapt, scrambled, and climbed over each other like a swarm of angry lizards. Sharp sticks jabbed through the air toward him. Some kobolds simply clawed and bit, trying to reach any exposed part of his body.
David had seen a lot of strange questions on the internet.
The kind that showed up at three in the morning when the algorithm stopped pretending to be useful.
Questions like: Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?
Or that infamous hypothetical everyone seemed to argue about in comment sections:
How many first graders, if they were seriously trying to kill you, would it take to defeat you?
David had always scrolled past those threads with mild amusement.
Today, however, he suspected he was about to find out the answer.
Because the kobolds were coming.
Dozens of them.
They swarmed him from every direction, shrieking in their rasping language. Spears jabbed. Claws scratched. Teeth snapped. Small scaled bodies leapt at him with suicidal enthusiasm.
David raised an eyebrow as the first kobold collided with him.
The creature bounced off his chest like a rubber ball.
Good thing he did not forget to activate [Physical Enchantment]
"Okay," David muttered. "That answers one question."
Another kobold jumped at his arm, trying to bite his sleeve.
David gently flicked it away.
It flew several meters before landing in a pile of dirt and immediately scrambling back to its feet, furious.
More came.
One latched onto his leg.
Another climbed his back.
A third tried stabbing him repeatedly with what looked like a sharpened stick.
The stick snapped.
"Guys," David sighed, "this isn't going to work."
They did not seem interested in negotiating.
The swarm grew thicker.
From somewhere behind the invisible barrier, the kobold shaman screeched triumphantly and began chanting something that sounded vaguely magical.
David remembered a scene from that blockbuster movie from the 2000s—the one where the hero fights an endless crowd of identical enemies while more and more of them keep arriving.
This was starting to feel a lot like that.
Except his attackers were knee-high lizards with spears.
A kobold jumped for his face.
David leaned slightly to the side.
The creature sailed past him and crashed into two others.
Another grabbed his sleeve.
David spun slowly and the kobold lost its grip, tumbling away into the dirt.
He tried to avoid hurting them too badly. A shove here. A gentle push there. Occasionally he just let them bounce off him.
But the numbers kept increasing.
Kobolds poured out of huts.
From behind cooking fires.
From the forest edge.
Soon there were so many of them climbing and jumping that David could barely move his arms.
One kobold hung from his belt like an angry ornament.
Another was gnawing on his boot.
"Alright," David said, looking around at the chaotic pile of reptilian attackers.
"This is getting ridiculous."
He bent his knees slightly.
Then he kicked off the ground and jumped.
The sudden movement scattered kobolds in every direction like bowling pins.
At the same time he summoned his improvised hoverboard—the metal radiator grille streaking through the air toward him like a loyal mechanical pet.
It slid under his feet just as he landed.
Mana surged.
The board lifted.
Upward.
Two kobolds still clinging to him suddenly realized the ground was disappearing beneath them.
They shrieked and let go.
David rose above the camp, floating safely several meters above the tallest huts.
Below him the kobolds jumped, waved their weapons, and screamed furious insults in a language he thankfully didn't understand.
One threw a rock.
It missed by a very comfortable margin.
David exhaled slowly.
Then looked down at the chaotic mass of angry kobolds and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Alright," he said to himself.
"So the answer is..."
He paused.
"A LOT of first graders."
