The night sky was restless. Dark clouds swirled above as if the heavens themselves sensed the shift in power. Deep within the heart of the Goblin Lands, a battle was unfolding—one that would decide the fate of an entire race.
A Test of Power
Dargul, once a mere goblin warrior scraping for survival, now stood at the edge of ascension. He had conquered the trials of the Elders, wielded the flames of the forgotten gods, and faced enemies both mortal and divine. But this—this final confrontation—was unlike anything before.
The Goblin King, a beast of raw power and centuries of domination, glared at him from across the ruined battlefield. “You dare challenge me, whelp?” he snarled, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief.
Dargul tightened his grip on the obsidian blade gifted to him by the Shadow Shamans. “I’m not a whelp anymore,” he said, his voice calm but filled with power. “I am the future.”
The Fall of a King
The fight was brutal. Every clash of steel sent shockwaves through the ground. The Goblin King’s strikes were monstrous, each one strong enough to shatter boulders. But Dargul was faster, stronger, and no longer bound by mortal limits. The spirits whispered in his ears, guiding his movements. With a final, decisive strike, his blade plunged into the king’s heart.
Silence.
The great Goblin King fell to his knees, his eyes wide with realization. “You… have the gods’ favor,” he whispered before collapsing.
The Goblin Horde, watching from the shadows, erupted in deafening chants. “Dargul! Dargul! Dargul!”
The Moment of Ascension
The ground trembled as an unseen force wrapped around Dargul, lifting him off his feet. A golden light bathed his body, and ancient symbols burned into his skin. The gods had chosen him. He was no longer just a goblin—he was something greater.
His voice echoed across the lands, filled with divine authority. “No more hiding in the shadows. No more bowing to stronger races. We rise, together!”
And with that, the Goblin God was born.
A New Era Begins
The world would never see goblins the same way again. The age of scavengers and weaklings was over. Under the rule of their newly ascended god, the goblins would rise, not as mere pests, but as a force to be reckoned with.
From Goblin to Goblin God – Chapter 37
The Awakening of a Deity
Dargul’s body pulsed with an otherworldly glow, his veins coursing with raw divine energy. The whispers of the ancient gods echoed in his mind, their voices layered and powerful. He could feel it—the shift, the transformation. No longer bound by the fragility of a mortal body, he had become something greater, something eternal.
The goblins knelt before him, their eyes wide with awe and reverence. Even the mightiest warlords, who once sneered at his rise, now bowed without hesitation.
For the first time in history, a goblin had ascended to godhood.
The First Decree
Dargul turned to the horde, his golden eyes glowing like twin suns. The power in his voice sent a ripple through the air.
“We have been scavengers for too long. We have been nameless, forgotten, hunted. No more.”
A murmur spread through the ranks. Some nodded, others clenched their fists in agreement.
“We will build a kingdom of our own. A land where no goblin is treated as vermin. A land where our kind walks tall, unafraid.”
The response was deafening. The goblins roared, their voices shaking the very earth beneath them. For the first time, they had a god who spoke for them—not just a warlord hungry for power, but a true leader with a divine purpose.
The War Council Assembles
As the celebration roared through the night, Dargul retreated into the ruins of the Goblin King’s stronghold. A handful of trusted warriors followed—those who had fought by his side, bled for his cause, and earned his trust.
There was Wrekka, the brutal war chief with an iron-plated arm, feared even among ogres. Beside him stood Sha’Zir, the Shadow Shaman, her face painted with sacred sigils, eyes dark with prophecy. And then there was Torvik, the cunning strategist who had once been a mere thief but now commanded legions.
Dargul looked at them and spoke with the authority of a god.
“The world will not welcome our rise. The humans will see us as a threat. The elves will brand us as abominations. The dwarves will raise their axes against us. We must be ready.”
Wrekka grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Let them come. They’ll learn soon enough—this isn’t the age of weaklings anymore.”
Sha’Zir’s voice was quieter but just as deadly. “The spirits whisper of blood in the wind, my lord. War is inevitable. But with your power, we will endure.”
Dargul nodded. He had expected nothing less. The road ahead would be difficult, but for the first time, goblins had a god to lead them.
And he would make sure their enemies never forgot it.
A Kingdom Forged in Fire
The following days were a blur of preparation. Tribes that had once warred against each other now swore loyalty to Dargul. Goblin engineers once thought incapable of true craftsmanship, began forging weapons of war—stronger, deadlier, and unlike anything the world had seen.
The shamans performed ancient rituals, calling upon forgotten spirits to fortify their warriors. Dark green banners bearing Dargul’s sigil—an obsidian flame—were raised across the lands.
For the first time in history, goblins were not just a scattered nuisance.
They were an army. A kingdom.
And soon, they would be a force the world could no longer ignore.
From Goblin to Goblin God – Chapter 38
The Birth of Gobrath, the Goblin Empire
The goblin clans had never known true unity. For centuries, they had lived as scattered tribes—petty warbands squabbling over scraps, hiding in caves, or serving stronger races as expendable foot soldiers. But now, under the divine rule of Dargul, all of that was changing.
The newly crowned Goblin God had declared a kingdom, and the goblins answered.
They called it Gobrath, the first true goblin empire, carved out of the ruined stronghold of the old Goblin King. What was once a crumbling fortress had become the heart of a rising nation. Towers of obsidian and iron rose above the land, built by goblin engineers with a newfound purpose. Walls lined with jagged spikes stood as a warning to invaders. War drums echoed across the valleys, uniting tribes that had once been enemies.
But even as the goblins celebrated their newfound power, Dargul knew the world would not let them rise in peace.
Whispers of War
Messengers came, bringing news from the outside world.
The humans in the south had heard of Gobrath’s rise and were gathering an army. The elves, long disdainful of goblins, now saw them as an unnatural threat, their druids warning of “dark forces” at work. Even the dwarves, who rarely cared for surface wars, were fortifying their mountain borders.
“They do not fear us yet,” Dargul said to his war council. “They think us rabble playing at kingdom-making. We will show them otherwise.”
Wrekka slammed his fist on the stone table. “Let’s strike first! Before they bring their armies to our gates.”
Torvik, the strategist, shook his head. “Attacking too soon will only unite them against us. We must be patient.”
Dargul listened carefully. The fire of Wrekka’s rage was necessary, but so was the cold calculation of Torvik. He turned to Sha’Zir, the shaman, whose eyes were clouded with prophecy.
“What do the spirits say?”
She took a breath, her voice echoing with something not entirely her own. “Blood will be spilled either way. But those who underestimate the Goblin God… will live to regret it.”
Dargul smiled. “Then let them come.”
A Test of Divinity
The gods had granted him power, but what was divinity without devotion? Dargul knew that if he was to be more than just a warlord, he needed faith.
In the heart of Gobrath, a temple was built in his name—an altar of black stone, where goblins came to pray, to offer their loyalty. Not as slaves to a god, but as believers in a future where they were no longer weak.
With every prayer, Dargul could feel the power inside him growing. This was the secret of the gods—divinity was not just strength; it was belief. The more goblins that worshipped him, the stronger he became.
And soon, he would be strong enough to reshape the world.
The Siege of Blackthorn Keep
It did not take long for the first test to come.
The human kingdom of Veldor, fearing Gobrath’s rise, sent an army to crush them before they could grow too powerful. They marched north, led by Lord Aldric of Blackthorn Keep, a veteran of a hundred battles.
He came with ten thousand men—knights in shining armor, battle mages ready to rain fire, and siege weapons meant to turn Gobrath to rubble.
But Dargul was waiting.
As the humans camped outside Gobrath’s borders, preparing for an easy victory, Dargul led his warriors in the dead of night. Not as a scattered horde, but as an organized force—silent, deadly, disciplined.
The goblins struck like shadows, torching supply wagons, assassinating commanders, and luring soldiers into deadly traps. By dawn, the proud army of Veldor had been reduced to chaos.
And then, Dargul himself walked onto the battlefield.
The remaining knights charged him, believing him just another warlord to cut down. But he was no warlord.
He was a god.
With a wave of his hand, the sky darkened. Lightning split the heavens, striking down enemy ranks. The ground trembled as goblin warriors, emboldened by their god’s power, tore through armor and steel. Lord Aldric himself tried to flee, but Dargul’s blade found him first.
As the sun rose, the battlefield was silent.
Gobrath had won its first war. And the world would never be the same again.
From Goblin to Goblin God – Chapter 39
The Aftermath of Blackthorn
The battlefield was littered with broken swords, shattered armor, and the lifeless bodies of human soldiers. Crows circled above, their cries blending with the distant cheers of goblins celebrating their victory.
Dargul stood atop the remains of a fallen siege tower, his divine aura still pulsing with energy. His goblins had fought not as scavengers or bandits, but as an army—an empire in the making.
Sha’Zir approached, her staff glowing with eerie blue light. “The spirits whisper of fear, my lord. The humans are shaken. They did not expect a god to walk among goblins.”
Dargul smirked. “Good. Fear is a weapon sharper than any blade.”
But he knew this was only the beginning. Blackthorn Keep had been a warning to the world. Now, every kingdom, every race, would turn its eyes toward Gobrath. Some with curiosity. Others with dread.
A Kingdom Forged in Strength
Back in Gobrath, the city was transforming. What had once been a collection of crude goblin dens and stone huts was now becoming a fortress of iron and obsidian. Skilled goblins worked tirelessly, reinforcing walls, constructing watchtowers, and forging weapons infused with dark magic.
At the heart of it all was the Temple of the Goblin God, where thousands of goblins gathered daily to offer prayers and oaths of loyalty. The more they believed, the stronger Dargul’s power became.
Yet, as he sat upon his newly built throne, Dargul felt a deep unease. Power alone was not enough. The gods who had granted him divinity were watching, waiting to see if he would rise or fall. And beyond the mountains, other forces were stirring.
The Elven Envoy
On the third night after the battle, a scout rushed into the war hall, breathless and wide-eyed. “My lord, an elven envoy has arrived.”
Elves. The race that had long viewed goblins as filth beneath their boots. Dargul’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.
“Bring them to me.”
Moments later, a tall elven woman was led into the hall. She was draped in robes of silver and green, her golden hair braided with small charms of nature. Unlike most elves, who held goblins in contempt, her emerald eyes held something else—calculated interest.
She bowed slightly. “I am Vaelith of the Emerald Court. I come not as an enemy, but as a messenger.”
Dargul leaned forward. “Speak.”
Vaelith’s voice was smooth but firm. “The world now knows of your rise, Goblin God. The humans call you an abomination. The dwarves build weapons to strike you down. And the elves… we watch. Some among my kind believe you are a threat. Others are willing to listen.”
Dargul narrowed his eyes. “And which side do you stand on?”
Vaelith smiled faintly. “The side that survives.”
Silence filled the chamber. Sha’Zir watched the elf with interest, while Wrekka scowled, gripping his axe.
Dargul finally spoke. “Tell me, Vaelith of the Emerald Court—why should I not burn your forests as the humans once burned our lands?”
The elf didn’t flinch. “Because war is costly, and alliances can be profitable. You seek dominion, do you not? You cannot conquer the world alone.”
Dargul studied her for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. “Interesting. And what would the elves want in return for their… neutrality?”
Vaelith’s expression remained unreadable. “That is a conversation for another time. For now, consider my presence here a sign—others are watching. Choose your next move wisely, Goblin God.”
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving a silence heavier than any battle.
A Fateful Decision
As soon as Vaelith left, Wrekka slammed his fist on the table. “We don’t need alliances! We crushed the humans; we can crush the elves, the dwarves, and anyone else who stands in our way!”
Torvik, ever the strategist, shook his head. “Wars are not won by brute force alone. We have power, yes. But we are outnumbered. If every race bands together against us, even a god may not be enough.”
Dargul remained silent, lost in thought. Vaelith’s visit had changed everything. He had expected enemies. He had not expected diplomacy.
Sha’Zir’s voice, calm yet filled with warning, cut through the tension. “The spirits whisper of a crossroads, my lord. Choose wisely, for the path ahead is uncertain.”
Dargul exhaled slowly. He had built a kingdom, crushed an army, and claimed godhood.
But now, the real game was beginning.
And he would make sure the goblins played to win.
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