Leader of Goblin Debauchery: I Can Infinitely Evolve my Artifacts

drip

The sound echoed faintly in the gloom, followed by the cold weight of something thick sliding down his forehead.

Keith's mind stirred reluctantly, his body sluggish and uncooperative as he flinched, his eyelids fluttering open.

His first sight was the ceiling above—close enough to scrape his nose if he lifted his head.

It was rusted, pocked with grime, and streaked with dark stains.

From one of the patches, a viscous liquid oozed, forming droplets that fell with a faint plop onto his skin.

It wasn't water.

The texture was wrong—too dense, too slimy, leaving behind a trail that clung unnervingly to his flesh.

He blinked, the sensation sharp and alien.

'Where… am I?'

The thought grounded him, steadying his breath as his focus expanded.

Bars.

Thick, jagged bars caged him in on all sides.

He reached out a hand—small, green, clawed—to test them.

The cold bite of metal met his touch, firm and unyielding.

His hand fell back to his side, his gaze shifting to the rest of his body.

Green.

His skin was green.

Thin, bony arms extended from shoulders that felt frail, and the nails on his fingers were yellowed and curved slightly.

He flexed his fingers experimentally, his movement jerky and stiff.

'Not my body.' The realization settled like a stone in his gut, heavy but undeniable.

He lowered his head, catching sight of his legs—bare, bound with a thick chain that rattled as he shifted.

In the weighty silence, the sound felt like a subtle act of treachery.

Yet instead of panicking, he observed his condition and noticed how the chains seemed very short, attached to the base of the cage, at least 49 cm in length.

A faint smell wafted to his nose, sharp and metallic, layered with the cloying stink of rot.

Keith turned his head toward it, his gaze settling on the source of the odor.

His eyes narrowed as he peeked through the metal grills, looking outside toward the dim light.

Hanging from the walls were bodies—green-skinned humans, flayed of their skin, their raw flesh glistening under the dim light of a flickering torch.

Some were strung up by their feet, others by their arms, their faces frozen in twisted expressions of agony.

The grotesque display didn't stop there.

Among those green ones were other creatures—humans with a hint of animal ears and fur stripped clean, pointy-eared humans whose hollow sockets leaked dried trails of crimson, and humans. Pale, limp, lifeless humans.

The soft creak of chains punctuated the stillness as the bodies swayed gently.

Keith's eyes, without a hint of reaction, seemed to observe that these humans—now, there were definitely humans among them, but not all belonged to the same race.

'A slaughterhouse.'

Going by the condition of this place, where several tools were lying on the table and liquid jars bubbling were placed on either side of the drawer, it clearly made him think of the possibility of it being a slaughterhouse.

Assessing the situation he was in, instead of panicking and wondering why he was in this body, he knew that leaving this place should be his first priority.

Evident from how his gaze drifted, taking in every detail—the scorch marks on the floor, the faint scratch marks on the bars of neighboring cages, and the clear stench of burnt flesh and blood mixed with the rotten smell filling the whole place.

Everything told a story of suffering, of torment, of death.

He sat back, or tried to, the cage barely allowing enough room to adjust his posture.

Despite the claustrophobic space and the mounting horror, he kept his breathing even.

Panic wouldn't make anything better for him.

"...he...l..p"

"...hic....m..om..."

A faint murmuring filled the air as he focused on it. Within that small area, he noticed through the metal cradles that there were many other cages similar to his scattered throughout, from which some of the sounds originated, but not all of them.

'Human trafficking...' Despite recognizing beings that were not of the human race in this dimly lit room, the similarities to past experiences prompted him to deduce that it was likely related to human trafficking.

Krieeekk

A door creaked open somewhere in the distance, followed by the rhythmic clack of footsteps.

Keith's ears twitched, honing in on the sound.

'Shoes....no, heels...a woman?' From the sound of footsteps, the rhythmic similarity common in women due to their biological features prompted him to guess that it was a woman.

It grew louder, accompanied by the clinking of metal trays.

The footsteps stopped, replaced by the dull grind of something being slid across the floor—a bowl.

'food...', Keith, upon recognizing that familiar noise he had encountered multiple times within the prison cells during meal times, felt encouraged to take another guess.

However, his head tilted awkwardly due to the confined space, with his skull pressing against the cold metal above him as he tried to place his ears against it, giving the solid object the property of transmitting the sound he wanted to hear more of.

"..f..o..od" Whimpers and scraping echoed in response as the other captives scrambled for their meager sustenance.

Her movements were deliberate, mechanical, as she deposited bowls through the openings of the cages.

Keith's eyes narrowed as she approached his cage.

'Only three are alive?' Watching the way that woman made her way toward him after only providing two cages, he began to realize that most likely either the remaining cages were vacant or the ones inside them had already died, whether from starvation or...

From his vantage point beneath the cage, he couldn't see beyond her waist. However, the hint of an apron and the sharp black dress, made from what appeared to be a durable, easy-to-clean fabric, provided him with clues.

'A maid?'

Observing her waist-to-feet length, he estimated that she stood at approximately 5.6 feet.

"What...?" She paused in front of him, then tilted her upper body and peered through the bars.

Her eyes swept over his still form, lingering on his unflinching stare. She frowned slightly, as if confused by his composure.

"No begging?" she asked, her voice cutting through the air.

Keith remained silent, his gaze unwavering. Now that he had seen her face, he noticed the acne near her nose, and her eyes distinctly resembled those of humans—particularly those who wore human skin.

Her frown deepened, her fingers tightening on the tray. "You think silence will save you?" she hissed.

She slammed the bowl against the bars with a clang, the sound ringing out sharply.

The slaves in neighboring cages recoiled, but Keith remained still.

His eyes never left hers.

Her irritation flared. "You think you're better than the rest of them?" she spat, her voice rising.

Keith inclined his head marginally, his face revealing nothing, as he took note of a shift in personality that appeared to offer advantageous traits such as anger, ego, and frustration for him.

Her lips twisted into a snarl, and with a sudden, fluid motion, she reached into her apron.

When her hand emerged, it held a small glass vial filled with a clear liquid.

Keith watched the movement intently, his mind racing with calculations.

Noticing the transparent liquid in the glass bottle, along with the corrosion marks on the nearby metal cages that he had observed a moment ago.

In contrast to his cage, which had already been exposed to a dripping liquid that could cause corrosion, the other cages were still unaffected by such moisture, but still their metal components were showing signs of rust.

Additionally, her words and that looking down tone while reaching for the bottle made him realize that she possessed a remarkably inflated ego.

And through all this, he concluded that the substance in her hand was ACID.

His hands tightened their grip on the chains binding his feet, doing so subtly enough that she remained oblivious, her gaze fixated on the bottle.

She uncorked the vial with a sharp pop, the acrid stench of acid filling the air.

Without hesitation, she flung its contents at him.

Swish

With a sudden jerk, he yanked the chains up to his face, sending most of the liquid splashing onto the chains, and to save his eyes, he had already lowered his face with a few drops landing on his clothes.

The liquid hissed as it struck, burning through fabric and searing into flesh—even though it was only a drop.

Pain flared, sharp and immediate, the skin of his thigh blistering, peeling away under the onslaught.

Keith's mind was still calm, as if this much pain were nothing to him.

He didn't flinch.

Fzzhhh

The acrid stench of burning metal filled the air as the acid hissed and sizzled against the chain binding Keith.

clank

A faint plume of smoke curled upward, and the faint sound of dripping liquid mingled with the echoes of soft whimpers from the other cages.

'!?'

The woman's mocking grin faltered.

Her sharp eyes widened as she saw the chain begin to bubble and corrode. "What the—"

Swish

Keith moved before she could finish her thought.

With a sudden lunge, his hands shot forward through the bars, and the weakened section of the chain snapped apart from his ankle under his brute force.

His claws gripped the front of her brown hair as she had tilted her head to his level, yanking her violently toward the cage.

Thud

Her face slammed into the cold, rusted metal with a sickening sound.

"Kugh—!?" She let out a strangled cry, her free hand flailing as pain exploded across her features.

drip drip

Blood trickled from her nose, smeared against the bars.

"Y-You filthy goblin!" she spat, her voice trembling with both rage and shock.

SWOOSH

Her pendant glowed faintly, a soft green light pulsing at her chest.

Suddenly, a shimmer of energy surged through her hand, and with a flash, a small dagger materialized in her grasp.

The blade was jagged and crude, a sickly green hue running along its edge.

Keith's sharp eyes caught the faint glint of the weapon even in the dim light.

Although he was momentarily startled by how a weapon had seemingly appeared in her hand following that dazzling display, he refused to hesitate.

Before she could lunge, Keith yanked her forward again, slamming her head against the bars with even more force.

"Ugh!" she grunted, her hand jerking as the dagger swiped uselessly at the air.

The blow disoriented her, and blood now streamed freely from her face, painting the rusted metal in crimson streaks.

Her body sagged slightly, her grip on the dagger loosening.

But Keith wasn't done.

Cold and intense, he yanked her closer yet again, her body a mere ragdoll hitting the bars, bringing him close in the dimness.

His face glowed an unsettling green under the flickering light as he murmured, his voice dropping.

"YoU'Re nOt iN CoNtRoL AnYmOrE."