Chaotic Craftsman Worships The Cube - Chapter 12

In the Bog forest, dangers were in every corner. During the nighttime, the thick white mist blinded the eyes and the chilling air froze you to the bones. Once morning arrived, thousands of ferocious mutated animals as big as the hills roamed for prey.

Among them lived the weakest species on the Meer Continent, the Monster Species. They only survived with their tough bodies in the midst of a world ruled by magic power.

To the mage, they were simply pests that were easy to be exterminated.

To avoid the eyes of the mana rulers, they had to hide in secluded places; in the caves shrouded by shadows or in the dark underground where filth was brimming. But, continuing to hide was not a solution.

When warbeasts sharpened their claws, elves polished their weapons, humans feasted on their greed, and demons searched for prey with their thirst, an orc named Moku was born.

Moku was a world MMA champion who transmigrated into the body of an orc in the magical world. He had always dreamed of possessing superpowers; being able to jump beyond the clouds, shattering the mountains in one hit and running faster than sound.

Moku dreamed of having these powers. He used rituals, magical lore, and all the things that were considered myths and fairy tales in his home world to make him and his tribe stronger.

A promise was deeply engraved by him. One day, he would bring the war to those who underestimated them.

A slime randomly falls into existence. Sapient and born with the ability to recreate parts of the things it preys upon, the highly confused drop of primordial soup decides that the only real thing it can do is become the being at the top of the food chain. A task of longevity in the leaves of the Omniverse.

"I hope my wife liked the arrangements... for the wedding night."

I was just your average burnout. Now I’m a kobold in a dungeon where everything wants to eat me—and frankly, I get it. I look delicious.Reincarnated as the weakest possible monster in the worst possible place, I start with nothing but panic, backward knees, and a skill called Civilization Mimicry—which is sealed. Because of course it is.But survival isn't the story.This is the story of what comes after.Of finding meaning in the scraps. Of building law from ashes. Of kindling memory in a place designed to erase.Because even if the world sees kobolds as nothing, I’ve seen what we used to be.And I’m going to bring it back.Firelight by firelight. Burial by burial. One fragile tradition at a time.Because if the world wants kobolds to be nothing?Then I’ll teach it what nothing becomes when it learns to dream.