[You identify what that creature is.]
The [Environment] check automatically succeeds, and a ‘voice’ is heard.
[Small build, hideous face, large and pointy nose and ears.]
[It’s a goblin.]
‘I know that, you bastard…!’
Not only did I recognize that those were goblins, but I also knew exactly where this was—more specifically, which dungeon.
“Goblin Labyrinth.”
It’s a dungeon that first-time players often stumble upon after escaping from the slavers’ camp during the prologue, wandering around without a map.
Basically, it’s a tutorial dungeon.
It exists to give players a taste of what dungeons in this game are like.
And just like any other tutorial dungeon, the difficulty isn’t too high… but the problem was, regardless of that, it’s still a dungeon.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
That strangely familiar-feeling room from earlier was, as expected, a “rest area.”
It’s not like that mercenary knew and brought me there on purpose.
He probably had no idea that this place was a dungeon to begin with.
No matter how urgent things are, what kind of lunatic heads into a dungeon just to ‘rest’?
He probably found a cave-like spot while looking for a quiet place and thought, “This’ll do,” and rushed in.
That’s pretty much the in-world logic behind rest areas inside dungeons anyway.
In the “Goblin Labyrinth,” there are two rest areas total.
One near the dungeon entrance, and another close to the so-called boss room.
There’s no way he brought me all the way to the boss room, so we’re definitely at the first one.
Which means, if my memory serves me right, this is the dungeon entrance.
In other words, the exit isn’t too far from here.
“Kerrk? Kkerrrk!”
The problem was that the goblins were completely blocking the only path to that exit.
As the name “Goblin Labyrinth” implies, all the monsters in this dungeon are low-tier goblins.
Even the boss is just a stronger goblin.
Goblins are one of the weakest monsters in the game.
So honestly, one-on-one, there was no real reason for me to be afraid.
Even the boss goblin wouldn’t be too hard to take down with my current build.
However—
[Goblins are known for moving in groups.]
Naturally, you never face just one at a time.
[You’ve heard a saying like this before:]
[If you see one goblin, there are ten more nearby.]
It’s true.
This was a goblin nest, and those two were just a fraction of maybe twenty.
And there’s no way they just happened to be standing there by coincidence.
“Kerrk!”
I couldn’t understand goblin language, but it was obvious from their gestures that they were searching for someone.
And I had a good guess as to why.
They must have gotten separated while I was in the rest area, and now they were looking for the one who triggered the ‘trap’ at the entrance—the mercenary, who was most definitely dead by now.
You see, the entrances of dungeons like these are often rigged—naturally or artificially—with traps that act as alerts for intruders.
Once triggered, it becomes one of those classic dungeons you imagine, where a horde of monsters suddenly rush in.
That damn mercenary just had to step on one of those, without thinking.
In short, dozens of goblins were now in an “alert” state, just like those two, and they were sweeping through the dungeon in search of the intruder.
Even if goblins were the weakest monsters, fighting them in large numbers was a different story.
Especially for me, in my current state.
So turning back now and waiting for them to leave would be the worst possible choice.
Running into ten or twenty while trying to avoid two would be a disaster—I had to deal with these two before it was too late and get out.
At least I knew my skill “Mocking Remark” worked, as proven by that dumb mercenary.
But… this build wasn’t meant for solo play, let alone wandering dungeons alone.
Sure, the damage output was insane—enough to one-shot someone as sturdy as a mercenary—but that came at the cost of sacrificing strength and agility, meaning I had to avoid direct confrontation at all costs.
“Mocking Remark” is a single-target skill.
It only damages one enemy at a time—at least at level 1.
And it’s not like I just talk trash and it magically works.
It’s more like casting a spell that manifests through insult.
That’s why it even works on monsters like goblins that don’t speak human languages.
But on the flip side, that also means there’s a cooldown before I can use it again.
In game terms, it’s about one turn—in real time, maybe a few seconds.
So if even one of those goblins manages to close the distance and attack me…
Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I could dodge or withstand it.
Besides “Mocking Remark,” my only actual weapon right now was the dagger I’d grabbed earlier, which I wasn’t even confident in using properly.
‘…Damn it.’
But there wasn’t much time to sit and ponder.
The goblins had started heading this way.
Sure, I was hidden behind a corner for now, but this was a one-way corridor.
Unless I ran, I’d eventually run into them.
So I had to take one out before the other could close the gap.
That was my best and only move.
And to increase my chances, I needed to put as much distance between us as possible.
Which meant—
‘This is all I’ve got…!?’
I threw the dagger—useless in my hands anyway—as hard as I could.
“Kerrk!?”
Not at the goblins, but beyond them.
I aimed for the far end of the hallway to draw their attention in the opposite direction.
But in my rush, I forgot one crucial fact.
If I were the ‘me I remembered,’ that plan could’ve worked.
But the current me?
Was a frail bard with Strength stat of 2.
“Ah.”
Clatter.
The dagger, leaving my hand with all the force of a dying breeze, didn’t even sail over their heads.
It landed right at their feet.
And with that, the goblins naturally turned their gaze in the direction it came from—straight at me.
“……”
Well… I got their attention—just in the worst way possible.
You ended up throwing away the only real weapon you had—right at your enemies.
“…Kerrk?”
Even the barely-intelligent goblins paused for a moment to stare blankly at me, as if trying to figure out what my real intention was after seeing me pull a move that seemed even dumber than anything they’d do.
So yeah…
“…Sh*t.”
There was just no way to keep from cursing.
“Kerrrk!!”
Sure enough, the goblins, who had hesitated for just a moment, seemed to stop thinking entirely and came charging right at me.
“Y-Your mom’s a goblin!!”
Panicking, I hastily fired off a [Mocking Remark] insult.
In that instant—
[Goblin Soldier’s mind has shattered!]
“Kerrk!”
The targeted goblin flipped its eyes back and collapsed, foaming at the mouth, just like that mercenary did earlier.
“Ke-Kerrk!?”
Maybe it was because the remaining goblin had no idea what just hit them—there hadn’t been a proper attack or a magic effect or anything—but it froze in place, clearly rattled by the sudden death of its companion.
I didn’t miss the opportunity and immediately kicked off the ground, sprinting.
Obviously, in the opposite direction.
“Ke-Kerrrk! Kerrk—!”
Whether it realized I had no other weapon besides that mysterious attack, or whether it just got pissed off that its buddy was dead, I didn’t know, but the thing let out a furious roar and came tearing after me again.
That’s exactly what makes goblins so annoying when they swarm.
Individually they’re weak, but when one of them gets attacked or killed, the others get enraged and gain buffs.
“Ah, for real…!”
Seeing it rapidly close the distance freaked me out, and I forced my legs to move faster.
And that turned out to be my biggest mistake.
“…Ah.”
Thunk.
I tripped—over my own damn feet—while trying to move too quickly.
Thud!
As expected, I went down hard, face-first into the ground.
My whole body—especially my face—burned with pain more than embarrassment.
Only then did I fully realize that it wasn’t just my Strength that was a miserable 2—my Agility was a pathetic 3 as well.
This crappy low-physical-stats build had literally tripped me up.
“Y-You son of a…!”
If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve just made a normal build!
What the hell was I thinking, picking this crap?!
But it was too late for regrets.
As I struggled just to push myself off the ground—
“Kerrrkk—!”
The pissed-off goblin had already reached me.
It raised its dull blade high above its head—ready to crack my skull open without any exaggeration.
In that moment—
…!
The moving blade suddenly froze in place.
Not just the blade—everything around me did.
The goblin’s open mouth, mid-scream.
The flickering torchlight on the wall.
Even the little pebbles that had bounced up from the floor.
It was like time itself had stopped.
And in that frozen frame, a set of dice floated up in front of me.
The surreal scene hit me with sudden clarity.
My “Moment of Fate” had arrived.
This was the point that would decide whether I could dodge the goblin’s dull blade or not.
My future would now hinge on those rolling dice.
To put it plainly, if I failed this dodge check, that blade would indeed split my head open.
And the stat I needed to avoid that fate—
Was a 10.
And my Agility modifier?
A whopping +3.
In other words, no matter what I did, I couldn’t dodge that blow.
[Dodge Attempt]
Difficulty: 10
DEX Modifier: +3
Only one outcome could save me—a natural 6 on the die, which meant a critical success.
To make it worse, I was in a prone state.
Which meant I’d take a critical hit for sure.
So that meant…
‘I’m… gonna die?’
That blade was guaranteed to kill me.
‘Like this? To a goblin?’
That was my fate.
‘…No.’
No, not yet.
Not before I flip the script.
‘Like hell I’m dying this pathetically!’
I had nothing to lose.
If I was going to die anyway, I’d at least thrash and claw at fate before I went down.
And this time, I wouldn’t be grabbing at straws—
I’d be grabbing at my soul.
{Alea,}
My soul.
{iacta,}
The soul stone.
{est—}
The die has been cast.
What I chanted wasn’t just some famous quote.
It was an incantation.
“Star’s Moment.”
[A skill to seize one of the rare, life-changing moments in a person’s life when they must make a decision that can alter their future.]
[The power to turn chance into destiny.]
This ability, belonging to the hero of misfortune, now resided in my soul—and for some reason, it responded to my will.
My will to control my fate, not leave it to chance.
The dice gradually slowed down, as if answering my call, then finally came to a stop.
And when they did—
[Fate changed.]
[You realized that power.]
(6/6)
[Critical Success.]
I rolled my body over.
And the world began to move again.
Huff!
The blade that had been coming down slashed through empty air instead of my skull.
At the same time, I felt the mana I had spent earlier with [Mocking Remark] refill inside me.
The so-called cooldown was over.
“Your dad’s a goblin!!”
I hurled another [Mocking Remark].
“Kerrk?!”
I honestly didn’t know how insulting a goblin’s paternal heritage would be among their kind, but whatever—what mattered was that it worked.
At least, it worked well enough that the goblin froze mid-swing and collapsed, foaming at the mouth.
For a moment, silence fell.
Whew.
Only after watching the goblin fall limp at my feet and stop moving did I finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Then the tension drained from my body, and I collapsed onto the ground just like the goblin had.
But it was only natural.
It had been a truly close call—no exaggeration, I’d nearly died.
“I barely made it out alive…”
The skill I used to dodge that blade—[Star’s Moment]—was one that fixed the value of a rolled die to a ‘Critical Success’ of 6, no matter what.
With that kind of overwhelming performance, it was originally a skill that only became usable much later in the story—at least around the mid-game.
It was meant to be the trump card for the player, the Hero of Misfortune, to twist fate in battles they were destined to lose.
But it wasn’t some newly obtained power.
Rather, it was a dormant ability I’d possessed from the beginning, now awakened.
That mysterious ‘???’ listed under [Unique Skill] in my first status screen—that was this skill.
So I figured, if I just knew the incantation to activate it, I might be able to use it right now—and thankfully, I was right.
‘…Thank God I was right.’
Even if it’s kind of depressing that I needed that just to not get my head split open.
Still, thankful or not, I couldn’t just lie here.
Surely, the goblins nearby had heard the sounds of this battle.
If I stayed still, more were bound to show up.
That’s just how goblins are, by nature.
[You used the power of fate.]
[You’ll need adequate rest before you can use it again.]
And so, I could no longer use [Star’s Moment].
At least not until a full day had passed.
By design, it used up all your ‘fate power’ for the day—in other words, your luck.
So I forced myself back onto my feet.
I had to get out of this dungeon as soon as possible.
This wasn’t the time to be wandering around in one.
Even if I could wander right now, there wasn’t any particular reason to explore this “Goblin Labyrinth” anyway.
As I hurried my steps, just as I expected, the exit quickly appeared.
I didn’t look back—I just ran straight for the light and escaped the dungeon.
***
Having escaped the dungeon, I had to walk for a while through the forest, the air gradually growing colder.
For the first time, I finally had time to think—about all the things I’d pushed aside in order to survive immediate threats.
And to cut straight to the conclusion I came to after all that thinking—
‘…I’m so screwed.’
It wasn’t just because I was in a depressing situation where there was no one around to notice or care about me, making negative thoughts creep in.
No, I was genuinely screwed.
Sure, it was partially because this “Weak-bodied, Attention-seeking, Genius-faced” form came with all sorts of frustrating limitations, as proven during the slave auction and the dungeon.
But really, the problem was the body itself.
More precisely—the fact that I was the Hero of Misfortune.
Why’s that a problem?
Because I’m the one who has to save this world.
If I don’t, the whole world is doomed.
That’s how the game’s story went.
To save the world, I had to go to the Demon King’s castle at the far northern end of the continent and defeat the Demon King.
Classic hero story.
If left alone, he would, without a doubt, take actions that would accelerate this world’s destruction.
And the only one who could stop him… was me.
Now, if this were just about power levels, I might have been able to find some top-tier warriors, help them grow stronger, and let them do the job.
Basically, hitch a ride on a carry-bus.
But that wasn’t an option.
It had to be me.
That was the lore.
This… body.
To be blunt, the ‘soul’ dwelling in this body—my soul—held the literal key to stopping the Demon King.
It was like I was the ring that needed to be carried to the volcano.
So not only could I not be a passenger on the bus—I couldn’t even be the driver.
I was the bus.
I had to keep rolling forward in silence, no complaints.
And even if I wanted to give up and just ignore it all until the world ended—
Even before the guilt of ruining a world I’d come to love, I’d explode before the world ever did.
If I didn’t ‘deal’ with the Demon King using the soul dwelling inside me.
So I had no other choice.
To save the world—and just to survive—
Like all the other adventures I’ve been through before, I had to save this world one more time.
This time, as a Frail Attention-Seeker Pretty-faced hero.
Cliche Novel 
Nice
LikeLike