Renegade's Dominion

Accepting the goblins into his settlement might just be the best decision Tyberius had made since arriving in this unfamiliar realm.

Why? Because now he possessed one of the most vital tools for survival in a world like this, information. Not weapons, not brute strength, not even magical prowess, but knowledge. The kind only locals could offer.

The Goblin tribe he had welcomed was called the Gribnakh. A name Ty found underwhelming, if not outright laughable. "Sounds like someone choked on a name halfway through," he'd thought when he first heard it. Initially, he'd estimated their numbers at around twenty, but that was simply because he hadn't paid close attention. The truth? There were fifty-four of them in total, more than double his original guess.

Among their ranks was an elder goblin, aged and frail, a figure whose presence carried weight despite his near-skeletal frame. He was twenty-five, an astonishing number considering the average lifespan for goblins capped at fifteen. This one had not only surpassed expectations but had shattered them.

And with age came insight.

From him, Ty finally learned the name of the world he'd been cast into, Eretraia. A land divided by races, with each of the four dominant species claiming a major continent as their own, acting as sovereign powers that dictated the flow of civilization. These origin races, as the goblins called them, were the Humans, predictably so, the Elves, the stout Dwarves, and the aquatic Iliodians, known colloquially as the Water Dwellers.

Each of these factions occupied a designated realm and stood at the pinnacle of the societal ladder. Their supremacy wasn't just political; it was divine. All four were cherished by the highest spiritual figure in ERETRAIA, Goddess Lyssera herself.

Below them were the minor races, and at the base of that long hierarchy lay the monsters.

These freakish race of nature were dismissed as inferior, frequently overlooked, and almost never granted a seat at the table of civilized society. Most of them lived scattered across the Allerond Savannah which, to Ty's dismay, was exactly where he had been dumped upon arrival.

"Fantastic," he muttered bitterly, stepping out of his shelter for a bit of fresh air. The sun was still high; at least there was some comfort in the day's clarity.

As he wandered without any real direction, he replayed the rest of his conversation with the Goblin Elder in his mind. The Allerond Savannah, according to the elder, was a place anyone with common sense would avoid. It wasn't just dangerous, it was a war zone segmented by dominant monster factions.

The northern quadrant was controlled by orcs, aggressive, militaristic brutes whose Civilization is easily dubbed the most grounded and wildly expanded across the northern area. They were the closest to having an established nation the likes that could compete with the four great race.

Next in the list is the eastern marshes, home to lizardmen, scaled and cunning. To the west dwelled the trolls, cave-loving titans who preferred darkness and stone to sunlight and trees. The southern skies belonged to Harpies, winged savages with piercing cries and a ruthless temperament.

Beyond these four, other species did exist throughout the forest, but they lacked the strength to establish any significant territory. They were nomads, weaklings scraping by through constant movement, clinging to scraps and shadows in search of a place to belong.

The Gribnakh tribe was among them, perpetual wanderers unable to claim land due to their physical inferiority. Without a means to defend themselves, they'd become vagabonds, shuffling from zone to zone in hopes of evading predators.

Eventually, they grew tired of it.

That was when the tribe decided to take a gamble: they would pledge their loyalty to a stronger being in exchange for protection. They would serve, labor, obey, anything, as long as they could finally stop running.

And somehow, Tyberius had ended up being that stronger being.

"So they really think I'm some monstrous powerhouse..." he groaned. "Seriously, what part of me screams monster to you?!"

He didn't see himself as fearsome in the slightest. And although he could accept being called many things, stranger, outsider, even odd. Being mistaken for a monster was a step too far. He couldn't let that slide.

Resolved, Ty marched toward the area where the goblins had been permitted to establish their camp. When he arrived, he was met with the sight of organized chaos, goblins bustling about, some carrying planks, others focused on structure placement.

They had asked him once how he'd built his own shelter, and he'd generously shared the basics: how fallen trees made for solid plank material, how leaf strips weren't reliable, and how interlocking joints provided better stability. That had been the extent of his instruction.

What surprised him now was how far they'd gone beyond that.

Rather than slap together a crude shack, the goblins had begun crafting what looked to be a proper cottage, sharp edges, aligned planks, symmetrical foundations. Their coordination was impeccable, their teamwork seamless. It looked like something from a countryside village, not a makeshift forest refuge.

As soon as they noticed Ty approaching, every single goblin dropped what they were doing. Hammers hit the ground, logs were lowered, tools paused mid-air, and in unison, they dropped to their knees.

"It is a pleasure to be graced by your presence, O Great One," they chorused with unnerving sincerity.

Ty froze.

Every cell in his body cringed.

The level of drama in their greeting was enough to make him want to curl up and disappear. It was suffocatingly over-the-top, like they belonged to some cult worshipping an ancient tree god, and he was the tree. He half-expected them to start chanting in tongues or sacrificing berries in his honor.

It was far too much.

A simple "good afternoon" would've done just fine.

With a weary sigh, he raised one hand in acknowledgment, a half-hearted wave to say, "Yeah, I see you. That's enough."

The goblins slowly returned to their duties, still watching him with awestruck reverence. Ty exhaled and asked where the elder was. He wasn't looking to linger longer than necessary.

Truth be told, the goblins still made him feel awkward. Maybe if they stopped treating him like some divine warlord and started acting like normal people or well, goblins, things could improve. Until that happened, Ty preferred to keep a healthy distance.

At least for the sake of his sanity.