I sat on a rock. Or maybe a boulder. Whatever. It didn't matter. I was too busy staring blankly at the blue sky above me, soul slowly leaking out of my body.
> "Why... why am I stuck in my own trashy novel?"
Of all the times in life to get isekai'd—why now?
Not when I was broke and living off expired instant noodles.
Not when my bank account laughed at me every time I opened it.
Not when I desperately prayed for an escape.
No.
Fate decided to throw me into a dumpster fire of a fantasy world right when I was finally about to succeed. My book deal was finally close, my manuscript was being reviewed… and BAM.
I'm suddenly Marcus, resident idiot of "The Forsaken Goblin-Slaying Town"—a setting I made up at 3 AM during a vodka-fueled rage-write.
> "God hates me. That's it. No other explanation."
I rubbed my face and sighed. Alright, alright… calm down. Let's think.
What even was the plot of this thing?*l
Flashback time.
[Drunk Me, Three Years Ago]
Hiccup
"Let's start the novel with a goblin attack! Hahaha! Fire! Blood! Chaos!"
Slams keyboard
"Goblins burn the town down. Boom. What a banger opening."
Back to the present.
I froze.
>"...Oh shit."
That was today, wasn't it?
> "OH fuck what the hell, Why am Stupid!"
I leapt up from the rock, tripped on my own foot, and did a full panic circle like a deranged chicken.
"Why the hell did I write goblin attacks in the starter town!? I'm a level zero nobody!"
I don't even have a weapon! The only thing I'm armed with is regret.
Wait, wait, wait… I did make this world system-based, right? That was the only cool thing about it.
I stood tall, took a deep breath, and yelled to the sky:
> "System! Show yourself!"
…Nothing.
> "System!"
Still nothing.
> "You trashy system, obey the command or I'll delete your code myself!"
[System Notification]:
"...Ugh... five more minutes, Master..."
> "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I screamed.
[System Notification]:
"Yes, Master. I am here to help you... kinda."
> "Show me my status!"
[System]:
"Pardon?"
> "STATUS, YOU DUMBO!"
[System]:
"Okay, okay! Geez, no need to scream..."
A screen finally popped up. Glowing letters in front of me like a cheap RPG knockoff.
--
[Status Window]
- Name: Marcus (Somehow Still Alive)
- Level: 1 (Basically a toddler)
- HP: 100
- MP: 15
- Stamina: 9
- Swordsmanship: 3
- Magic: 2
- Endurance: 4
- Special Traits: Regret (Passive), Sarcasm (Active)
---
> "What is this dumpster stat sheet!?"
I pointed at the screen, horrified.
> "Stamina: 9!? Endurance: 4!? Even a grandma on a treadmill could outlast me!"
I rubbed my temples.
> "And I'm supposed to survive a goblin raid with this? I'm weaker than the tutorial slime! Who wrote this—oh right. Me. I wrote this."
[System Notification]:
"To be fair, Master, you also gave yourself the Trait: Sarcasm, which increases wit but decreases luck."
> "That's not a trait! That's just my personality!"
"System! Show me the goblin design!"
I waited.
...
Still waiting.
"HELLO?! I know you're in there, you discount Cortana!"
[System Notification]:
"Ughhh... fine. What now, Master?"
"Don't 'what now' me! Show me the goblin stats before they show up and turn me into a kebab!"
[System Notification]:
"Displaying: Goblin – Basic Trash Variant. Viewer discretion is advised due to stupidity."
A hologram flickered to life in front of me, and…
Oh my god.
This thing—this thing—was barely a monster.
It looked like a rotting avocado with limbs.
Its nose was so big it could sniff other dimensions.
Then it took a step forward... tripped on air...
and died.
Yes.
It literally fell. Face-first. And died.
Cause of death: Gravity.
"Is this... is this real life? Did I seriously write this?!"
"This thing is supposed to destroy the town?!"
I stared at the stats.
[Monster: Goblin – Basic Trash Variant]
HP: 3
Attack: 1.5 (on a good day)
Weapon: Slightly cracked wooden spoon
Special Ability: None
Weakness: Everything.
AI Intelligence: Goldfish-tier
"Bro can't even walk straight but he's gonna commit arson?"
"He got a spoon, not even sharpened! This ain't a raid—it's a cooking show!"
I collapsed to the ground laughing.
"Oh no... I actually wrote this. This is my fault. I am the villain origin story."
"At this point I should just fight them with a flip-flop and a prayer."
Suddenly, my confidence shot through the roof.
"Wait... this might not be so bad."
"I mean, if this is the worst the novel throws at me, I'll be fine!"
...
I was chilling. Literally sunbathing on a roof, watching the town go about its broke little life.
"Ah, peace… sunlight… no bills. Not bad for being isekai'd into a trash novel I drunkenly wrote and abandoned."
Suddenly—
Farmer NPC #34 came running, covered in sweat and screaming like his cows owed him money.
"GOBLINS!! They're coming!! SOMEONE HELP!!"
The whole town went full panic mode.
Children screamed. Women fainted. A man tripped over a chicken and got pecked in the eye. Chaos.
And me?
I stayed lying on the roof like an unpaid intern on a Monday.
"Pfft. Goblins? I made those idiots. They tremble holding sticks. I saw the system file, they die to gravity!"
I cackled.
"This is my moment! I'll save this town, make them worship me, and build a harem—uh, I mean, legacy."
Village Chief (Budget Gandalf) stepped up with a dramatic announcement:
"Whoever defeats the goblins shall receive 100 gold coins… and free food for two weeks!"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Eh. Tempting. But not harem-worthy."
Chief paused… then added,
"AND… I shall give them my daughter's hand in marriage! The most beautiful maiden in the village!"
My ears twitched. My spine straightened. My brain short-circuited.
"Wait… did he say most beautiful?"
Cue imagination: A hot elf girl with curves sent from the heavens. Two majestic boobs leading a nation. Hair blowing in divine wind. Heaven's theme music intensifies—
THUD!
I fell off the roof. A cat screeched and ran for its life.
I leapt to my feet like nothing happened.
"Ahem! Looks like your town needs a hero after all."
Chief: "Wait… are you a hero?"
Me: "Of course. Can't you see my majestic hero aura?"
Villagers whispered.
"Isn't that the same guy who ran around screaming about talking potatoes yesterday?"
"Yeah, I saw him fall from the sky like a meteor… and then sleep in front of the church."
"Didn't he talk to a tree for three hours?"
"HEY! I can hear you peasants!" I shouted, totally not offended.
Chief grabbed my hands, eyes watery.
"Please, save us brave hero. We believe in you."
"Of course, of course. You're all like… family to me."
(Even if half of you have three teeth and smell like boiled turnips.)
Chants began.
"Hero! Hero! He'll kill the goblins!"
"He'll bring peace!"
"He smells okay!"
Then—
Farmer #34 returns, panting.
"G-G-G-GOBLINS! They're h-h-h-here!!"
I puffed out my chest.
"Just hand me a knife."
Chief handed me a… kitchen knife.
"Seriously?!" I yelled. "This is for chopping onions, not monsters!"
Still, I strode toward the forest like a man destined for greatness.
And then…
I saw them.
Not baby goblins.
Not trembling idiots.
But six-foot-tall, jacked-up goblins with six-packs, wearing armor and wielding axes like Final Boss DLCs.
They stood in formation.
They had war paint.
One of them was doing pushups for intimidation.
Blink.
Blink again.
"Are you…"