Chapter 1: Dog and Man

Ground.

An unknown little corner.

Luge smoothed out a piece of worm shell and a small piece of beast hide, placing them in a dry spot on the Cave Wall, then tidied up the thin rope he had dug out with vines.

After many days of effort, he was finally about to own his first piece of clothing; as long as he pieced them together, he could break free from this state of being unclothed.

Although, it would probably only be enough to make Shorts.

You have to know this wasn't just for appearance; it was of great help for Hunting too.

Just imagining being able to run freely in Shorts through all sorts of harsh environments, an inexplicable warmth of happiness surged in his heart.

He had never thought before that he would be so easily satisfied.

Even to the point of being moved to tears over a pair of Shorts.

He calmed his mood and took out his Shui Chun, though he preferred to call it the Black Tome.

He had been suffering from severe insomnia lately, and happened to pick up this black book; every time he opened it and looked closely at two pages, he would feel dizzy, and after repeating this several times, he would surely sleep well.

He had not yet turned to the third page up to now.

This was not because its effect was good; sometimes he had to flip back and forth seven or eight times before falling asleep, and recently it had been more than ten times.

He hadn't turned to the third page because that book was like it had stuck to itself; although it was a thick volume, no matter how he tried, he couldn't turn the pages after it. Of course, this actually didn't have much influence on him, after all, he couldn't understand the words and patterns on it either.

He scratched the messy fur behind his ear, caught a mischievous little Worm, and casually threw it into his Mouth.

"It's been itchy during this period, I knew I'd grow Worms..." he muttered softly.

Being able to lose fur and grow Worms, he felt he was already a qualified Kobold.

A small episode interrupted his state of reading.

He changed into a comfortable posture, and by the way used his hand to sweep away two uncomfortable small stones beneath him, then focused his spirit again.

The second page of that book had only one pattern, occupying a whole page; after staring at it for a while, the pattern seemed to come alive, twisting slightly before him.

He didn't know how many times he had looked this time, already forgetting to count; the dizzy feeling finally reached a Peak.

He closed the book, no longer forcing himself to stay awake, and placed it behind his head as a pillow.

This thick book was indeed an excellent pillow.

In a moment, short and long snores sounded in turns, Echoing in this rarely visited empty Cave.

He had a dream.

He came to a seemingly familiar restaurant.

The delicacies on the menu made saliva uncontrollably drip from the corners of his Mouth, and for a moment his eyes were almost not enough, scanning up, down, left, and right without stopping.

"Serve the food, serve the food! Serve it quickly!" he shouted while sitting at the edge of the table.

From simple urging, it gradually turned into roars like Rage.

As if all the anger in the World was churning in his belly.

His face began to change; first slightly wrinkled skin, then sparse brown fur, his mouth gradually protruding, and his figure shrinking.

Kobolds are born looking like this; what's so strange about it, he thought.

The simple old restaurant table, unknowingly, turned into a solemn and heavy dark red table; the long table body with various elegant arc patterns inlaid was being struck by him with both fists, making bang bang sounds.

The meal finally appeared on the table.

Two plates on the left and right.

Two plates were placed before him, but he couldn't see clearly what was on them; he lowered his head, stretched his neck over, and a pair of dog eyes strained to open as wide as possible.

On the left plate was actually a black book, and on the right plate lay a pair of Shorts pieced together from worm shell and scraps of leather of various sizes.

He suddenly Woke Up.

Panting heavily, he sat up and looked around blankly, then raised his eyebrows and fell backward, lying back down heavily.

Gurgle gurgle! His belly started growling at just the right time, as if afraid he would be lonely.

This time he probably hadn't slept long either, he thought.

He rested his head on his arm and glanced sideways at the materials barely placed in the depression of the Cave Wall, as if they were on display, like a row of shining medals.

In the early days of his insomnia, every time he forced himself to sleep and then woke up, he would forget he was a Kobold.

Sometimes he would fall into strange thoughts.

For example, having become a Kobold, was he still himself?

Was he really living in this strange World now? Wouldn't this be a very long, very long dream?

Only later, when his belly growled with hunger, did he firmly nod; he was still himself.

He looked at the things on the Cave Wall and decided to postpone his plan, going to find a piece of Bug Beast shell or beast hide to make the finished item more perfect; as long as the materials were good enough, it could completely be considered making a piece of armor.

Gurgle gurgle—

He rubbed his belly, got up, and picked up a Long Stick with a beast fang at its Peak.

He took his Short Legs and left the secret little Nest in twists and turns.

As he walked, he tidied up the Grass Skirt tied around his waist that was about to Scatter; this old companion still needed to accompany him for a while longer.

He sighed that he always wanted to achieve everything in One Step when doing anything.

Actually, that was very tiring.

Kobolds have no clocks; calculating time generally relies on strange things like the belly.

For example, after being Hungry three times, they gather somewhere and go out together for tribal Hunting.

In this area, Kobolds are mostly at the level of hunters most of the time, provided they don't get separated; the switch between hunter and prey is often extremely smooth, and a separated Kobold is at most just a piece of stinking Meat that walks and sheds fur.

Luge looked at his small arm holding the Long Stick; even among the short Kobold race, he was considered one of the thinnest, like a malnourished child.

After participating in two tribal Hunts, he never went again.

Kobolds as thin as him are considered useless people in the tribe and are often used as bait during Hunting.

When the tribe hunts, bait generally comes in two forms: one is ordinary bait for trapping prey, the other is for emergencies—for example, if an unexpected Underground Beast breaks in during the hunt, they need bait to draw the intruder away to ensure the hunt succeeds.

If the bait survives, theoretically it would receive a slightly larger share of the hunt's spoils afterward.

But that is only in theory.

Kobolds are hardly kind and loving creatures.

Kobolds sometimes even cheer at the death of bait, because that means less food to share, and they are never stingy with their fists toward weak kin.

So ever since then, he has kept far away, and his food problems he has solved by gritting his teeth and enduring on his own.

The weak have their own way of living.

Fortunately, life has improved greatly recently.

He quietly approached an exit rarely frequented by Kobolds.

In this region occupied by Kobolds, cave connects to cave, pit connects to pit, passages crisscross inside the caves, on a staggering scale; otherwise he could not have a quiet little nest of his own.

And the Kobolds' so-called hunting trips were merely from this small cave area they occupied to a larger, more open underground space. That was the Kobolds' Hunting Ground, vast as a small world within a cave, with tall Spindle Mushrooms standing like giant trees in the distance.

Of course Luge did not dare go there—that was a place only tribal hunts would go.

Luge crept out like a thief, holding a stick.

Actually he did not even know how many exits this place had, and he could affirm that other Kobolds did not know either.

Those fellows' brains were all broken, closer to beasts than humans, unable to utter a long sentence, finding it difficult even to simply describe something.

The one thing most like humans was that they bore grudges.

He walked a distance, looked back, did not see those three disgusting figures, and breathed a little easier.

Feeling the mud underfoot, his Short Legs scrambled along the whole way, while trying not to make a sound.

He only dared to make a living around here.

Every direction, every sound of various sizes transmitted, would make him tense until the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and then he had to judge whether to stay quietly in place for a while or leave as soon as possible.

Luge had to thank these dog eyes.

Kobold eyes could barely see in the darkness, which kept him from being completely blind.

He carefully made his way all the way to a not-large Gouhe.

This was his secret granary.

He casually picked up a withered leaf by his foot, came to the Gouhe, cut his palm with the beast fang at the tip of his stick, and lightly smeared it on the leaf.

Then he aimed at a Shallow Pit Worm Nest, and based on past experience placed the leaf in a suitable position, preferably between two nearby Shallow Pit Worm Nests, and then began to wait patiently.

In these strange Shallow Pit Worm Nests there would be one to three arm-thick white grubs, white and plump and extremely delicious; grub meat eaten raw is thick and hard to swallow, but rolled in a hot spring, it becomes chewy.

Pity that Fat Meat Worms could not provide him with production materials.

As far as he knew, these white plump grubs had already appeared all over the Kobolds' Hunting Ground, with many Kobolds secretly catching grubs and no longer participating in tribal hunts.

Fat Meat Worms were gradually changing the Kobolds' hunting habits.

The biggest reason they could become the top food choice was that there was no hunting danger, and no one had ever seen the adult beetles that laid them.

Only Shallow Pit Worm Nests unworthy of being called worm nests were left on the ground.

He gripped the Long Stick, lay on the ground, eyes fixed on the Shallow Pit Worm Nest.

The difficulty in catching this kind of Fat Meat Worm was not to be anxious; one must lure the grub out of its hole.

Shallow Pit Worm Nests were full of a white substance; when Meat Worms were startled they would vomit saliva wildly, and their saliva could quickly merge with that white thing into a big lump, soon becoming abnormally tough; with his small arms and legs, even exhausted he could hardly smash it open.

He temporarily put off making clothes, also eyeing this stuff; this was practically natural armor material, highly malleable and hard, the only unsolvable problem being the smell.

After this stuff was smeared with grub saliva, it would emit a peculiar fragrance that lingered, making one's appetite inexplicably increase after smelling it; not to mention that he himself could not stand it, wearing it on his body would probably also attract wandering Underground Beasts.

After a long wait.

Came the beautiful harvest moment.

He carried the Long Stick on his shoulder, feeling his steps were so light.

Two Fat Meat Worms were strung on the stick.

Eating sparingly, it could last a long time.

Although this place was not far from the Kobold Cave cluster, and he had not even reached the Kobolds' Hunting Ground.

But he would never stay here for a long time.

In his memory, there had not been that Gouhe here before, so let alone going down to catch grubs; he felt some resistance to this place in his heart, and thus tried hard to be a qualified cowardly Kobold.

Luge was careful all the way and smoothly returned to his safe nest.

Although this place could not really bring him much sense of safety.

Along the way into the Cave cluster, he guessed in his heart that perhaps many Kobolds in the tribe had gone out, so the whole way was very smooth, and he did not meet a single detestable fellow.

Probably because the grubs were too easy to catch, no one wanted to loiter in the cave, and no one wanted to come and rob passersby like waiting by a tree stump for a rabbit.

He first untied the rope on his chest, took off the Guide to Sleep book on his back.

A sturdy, flat, thick book, and not afraid of water; what else could this be? Of course it could be a fine set of tableware.

He was really too hungry, tired and hungry, decided to eat something raw for this meal, and consider the flavor for the next meal.

Happily dividing, happily eating.

He cheerfully hummed a little tune, as if he were not a Kobold sitting in a broken hole using a book as a plate.

And he was just enjoying the benefits of being a Kobold; a qualified Kobold automatically ignored the stickiness and sourness of the grub meat, took a bite, and felt his stomach immediately much more comfortable.

(Chapter End)