Kael slipped past the castle stables before sunrise, hoodie hood up, joggers tucked into boots, and a single determined slime perched proudly on his head like a squishy crown.
Rimuru squeaked with excitement, wobbling side to side.
“Yes, you’re part of the mission this time,” Kael whispered. “Try not to glow too much. We’re sneaking.”
Rimuru glowed brighter.
“Great Sage, route to the goblin trail?”
“Most efficient path: northern ridge, 12% risk of hostile encounter.”
“Cool. I’m going south.”
“Irrational decision confirmed.”
Kael smirked and jogged into the trees.
Into the Green
The forest was dewy and humming with life. Rimuru bounced in place as Kael walked, scanning the underbrush. Squirrels darted. Birds sang. Mana buzzed in the air like invisible fireflies.
It didn’t take long.
A sharp snap sounded underfoot—then the world spun.
Kael dangled upside-down, tangled in a rope snare.
“Oh come on.”
Rimuru dropped gently from his head to hover beside him, spinning lazily like this was just a fun game.
Shadows moved.
Five goblins emerged from the trees, spears raised. Their patchwork armor clinked with every step.
“Caught somethin’,” one muttered.
“A human?”
“And a… slime?”
Kael tried to look non-threatening. Hard to do upside-down.
“Hi. I come in peace. This is Rimuru. He also comes in peace. Usually.”
One goblin threw a rock.
It flew straight at Kael.
Rimuru launched off Kael’s chest like a missile. In a blink, it caught the rock mid-air and dissolved it in a tiny flare of mana.
The goblins froze.
“…That slime just ate a rock.”
“No—it ate the mana in the rock.”
“Slimes don’t do that!”
“Is it… mutated?”
Kael, still swinging: “Let’s all take a deep breath, yeah?”
Goblin Diplomacy, Upside-Down Edition
Before things got stabby, one of the goblins stepped forward.
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“I know him,” he said. “He watched us last moon. Didn’t attack. Brought food to the woods.”
Kael blinked. “Gobrin?”
“Aye.”
Gobrin gestured to the others. They hesitated, then lowered their spears.
“Cut him down. If the slime wanted us dead, we’d be puddles.”
Kael landed in a heap. Rimuru bounced happily onto his shoulder.
“Ow. Graceful as always,” Kael muttered.
“Confirmed.”
The Village Hidden in the Leaves
They led Kael through a winding trail veiled in natural magic. Vines parted. Roots shifted. And suddenly, nestled in a ravine of moss and mist, was a village.
Huts made from bark, hide, and carved stone. Smoke rose from tiny fires. Goblin children darted between shadows. Elder goblins sat sharpening dull blades.
Kael took it all in.
It was rough. It was desperate. But it was alive.
“Yo,” Kael whispered to Rimuru. “It really is the village hidden in the leaves. Now all we need is a ramen shop and a ninja school.”
Rimuru pulsed in agreement, wiggling proudly like he was ready to be the slime Hokage.
They brought Kael to the largest hut, where an old goblin sat hunched on a carved stump. His tusks were chipped. His eyes, sharp—like he could read a person before they even spoke.
Kael leaned toward Rimuru. “Great Sage, scan the elder.”
“Subject: Bokku. Race: Goblin. Class: Strategic Elder. Age: 74. Traits: High Intelligence, Situational Awareness, Preemptive Tactics. Notable Title: Chief of Emberleaf.”
“So he’s the brains of this place.”
“Correct. Estimated survival probability of this village without Bokku: 9%.”
Kael straightened a little.
“Figures.”
“You are the prince of the humans,” Bokku said.
No, not exactly. I’m Kael Drayke, third prince of Emberhollow and son of King Thalion Drayke. Not the prince of all humans.
“And that thing?”
“My familiar. Rimuru.”
Rimuru did a slow, dramatic twirl in the air.
A young goblin girl with glasses stepped forward. “Its mana signature is absurd. What kind of slime is that?”
Kael gave her a grin. “The clingy kind. He latched onto me and refused to leave. But now he can eat magic, float, and apparently dissolve rocks with attitude. So… an overachiever.”
Kael nodded at her, impressed. “You’re the smartest goblin I’ve met. Easily.”
Nana squinted at him. “How many goblins have you met?”
Kael shrugged. “Counting you? Like… five.”
“So I’m smartest out of five. Not exactly a high bar.”
“Hey, give yourself some credit. You use big words, and you haven’t tried to stab me yet. That’s elite behavior.”
Rimuru bobbed in agreement, puffing slightly with approval.
“That is Nana,” Bokku said. “She is smarter than most humans.”
Kael liked her already.
Before Kael could respond, a massive goblin stomped past the hut, dragging a crude club carved from a tree trunk. Her muscles looked like they could bench press a wagon.
Nana glanced over. “That’s Zelga. Our strongest fighter. She doesn’t say much.”
Zelga gave Kael a slow, assessing look… then nodded once.
Kael nodded back. “Alright, strong and silent. Got it.”
He leaned slightly toward Rimuru, whispering, “Great Sage, can you scan her?”
“Subject: Zelga. Race: Goblin. Subtype: Warrior-Class. Physical strength rating: 4.8 times goblin average. Known skills: Blunt Force Mastery. Minor Earth Resistance. Passive Skill: Endurance.”
Kael blinked. “That’s a whole mini-boss with tusks. Remind me not to make her mad.”
“Recommendation: Avoid provocation.”
The Tan-Stalkers
“We are being hunted,” Bokku said, his voice low. “They come in the mist. Silent. Fast.”
Kael straightened. “Tan-stalkers. I heard that name last time I was out here.”
Bokku nodded slowly. “They took ten of us last season. Three this moon. No bodies. No signs of a fight. They don’t eat. They take. As if… collecting for something.”
Kael swallowed hard, his mind flashing back to the uneasy silence in the forest, the strange tension in the mana, and how even Rimuru had gone still.
He scanned the village again. Kids peeking out from shelters. Elder goblins trying to smile. Cookpots too empty for the number of mouths.
“Then why stay here?” Kael asked.
Bokku met his eyes, tired but steady. “Because fear follows us no matter where we run. This is the only place we’ve made our own. And let’s be honest—no human city would welcome goblins.”
Kael didn’t argue. He couldn’t. The truth sat between them like stone.
Kael’s Call
Kael sat on a log, Rimuru squishing happily on his lap.
“I’m not a chosen one,” he said. “I didn’t ask for a crown. But…”
He looked at the village—at Gobrin teaching a kid to sharpen a stick, at Nana scribbling diagrams in the dirt, at Bokku trying to look strong when he clearly wasn’t.
“I’m not the kind of guy who lets kids starve while nobles eat soup off gold plates.”
Rimuru bounced, pulsing with pride.
Kael smirked. “Guess I found the start of my kingdom.”
Bokku raised a brow. “What would you call such a place?”
Kael looked out at the trees.
“Somewhere that doesn’t care what you look like. Only who you choose to be.”
The goblins were quiet.
Then Nana whispered, “That sounds like home.”
Kael stood, hoodie swaying in the breeze, Rimuru firmly planted on his shoulder like a noble badge of goo.
“Alright, team. Let’s build a future worth fighting for.”
And deep in the woods, something watched.
Eyes low to the ground. Breath slow. Hunger patient.
The tan-stalkers were coming.