Chapter 3: Tracking Goblins
The dense, verdant Emerald Forest’s towering ancient trees barely let sunlight through.
The cold, ominous atmosphere made Gauss shiver, as if a freezing dread lurked behind him.
Compared to those novice adventurers visiting the Emerald Forest for the first time, Gauss had a natural advantage.
As a hunter active on the forest’s outskirts, he was not at all unfamiliar with this environment.
He had several accustomed “hunting grounds,” and he’d left various markers in the wood leading to those grounds.
Plus, he had the “map” guide from the Adventurer’s Handbook—any region he traversed on the map would illuminate the surrounding terrain.
This meant he never faced the hidden danger novice low-level adventurers did: becoming lost.
Yes, compared to the monsters he might encounter in battle, this vast, boundless forest itself was a potential hazard: impenetrably thick trees and repetitive scenery meant an ordinary person could never determine their location, let alone find the main forest path to return to human civilization.
Countless novice adventurers lost their lives each year, swallowed by this forest. When hunting here before, Gauss had stumbled upon human skeletons several times.
Their clothes and equipment had vanished—likely scavenged by the forest’s native inhabitants: various monsters.
If not for those creatures, Gauss could probably fund his dream of owning a house just by looting adventurers’ items.
As he thought this, his steps remained steady.
Relying on the memories he’d inherited and various markers on oak trunks, he reached a seldom-visited hunting ground.
He was certain goblins were nearby—and not in large numbers.
Gauss had chosen to come here first, guided by relevant intel stored in his mind.
The events dated back only a month—still recent.
He’d gone several days without any prey, so he opened this hunting ground, set traps several times, and caught some game.
But one early morning, when mist still blanketed the forest in dim light, he came to check his traps only to find only bloodstains by triggered traps.
The prey had obviously been stolen—by a “person” who had beaten him to it.
He quickly deduced the thief was a goblin.
The humanoid footprints on the ground weren’t numerous but clearly visible.
They were smaller than Gauss’s, only about the size of a human teenage boy’s footprint, barefoot—probably left when rain had recently softened the soil, making the prints crisp.
Clearly, it was highly unlikely that a barefoot teenage boy was wandering deep in the Emerald Forest; ruling out that preposterous notion, the remaining likely culprit was a humanoid monster.
The footprint size most matched that of a goblin, a common monster.
Suspecting this hunting ground lay within the territory of a small goblin group, cautious Gauss abandoned it and never returned.
He refocused, returning his thoughts to the present.
“It’s still best to be careful. Even though I didn’t see many footprints that day—and they seemed from the same goblin—that doesn’t mean only one goblin is active nearby.”
Gauss thought silently, recalling information about goblins in his mind.
Goblins were pointy-eared, dark-green skinned, with murky eyes and thin limbs—males not particularly strong—group-dwelling creatures.
They preferred meat, occasionally foraged berries, but their low intelligence and inherent ignoble traits meant these infamously thieving monsters lived their whole lives stealing from others.
They didn’t just pillage food; they couldn’t even reproduce within their own species. They relied on abducted females of other races to propagate.
And they especially favored humans—whose bodies were similarly sized to theirs.
That’s why many villages suffered prolonged raids by goblins: they looted food, tools, women, and threatened human settlements and caravans time and again.
As for goblins’ combat power:
In Gauss’s memory, these green-skinned creatures were about as strong as he had known them in his previous life.
Ordinary individuals had limited strength; one-on-one, a farmer with a weapon could deal with them easily.
But because of that, goblins compensated by using numbers: they excelled at ambushes and group attacks.
Once they gathered large numbers, they became a terrifying force.
Even worse, these filthy creatures reproduced like rats or cockroaches: a single mother could birth several offspring at once.
Goblin infants had a high survival rate; within less than a year, they could grow from tiny rodent-like infants to reproductively capable adults.
As adults, goblins were driven by primitive desires to abduct females and continue reproduction.
In short, they were a race that couldn’t be eradicated—like a primal sin of nature.
Because goblins loved to harass humans—especially small villages—humanity's understanding of this monstrous race was among the deepest of all monsters.
Even children in villages who couldn't read could still properly describe a few of their traits.
“Goblins, you’ll be my first prey!”
Whether it was the original owner of the body or Gauss, who had received modern education, neither could feel any sympathy for goblins.
Forget theories about disrupting the balance of nature—only complete extermination of this species would be the best outcome for humanity.
Though he gave himself a mental pep talk, Gauss didn’t let down his guard.
In memory, goblins were weak, but knowledge came from practice. He had never killed a goblin before, so he needed to take it seriously.
There was only one life—for both himself and the goblin.
Every creature had a survival instinct.
This was a true fight to the death—not some adventure.
Gauss took a deep breath.
He first removed his pack and buried it under fallen leaves at the base of a large tree.
The tip of his wooden spear had already been coated with a paralytic poison.
During lunch, he had chosen a sunny windowside seat specifically so the herbal juice could dry and harden on the spear tip.
Now, the once dark tip gleamed with a sinister green sheen.
He didn’t place too much hope in that cheap paralytic poison.
You get what you pay for—perhaps it would have some effect, but nothing miraculous.
The real fight would still depend on the weapon itself.
As he gripped the wooden spear tightly, memories of how this body once used it began to resurface.
After a brief adjustment, he squatted down and brushed aside the pile of fallen leaves, searching the ground for traces.
This was a hunter’s habit: any creature activity would leave traces—especially those with low intelligence, who wouldn’t know how to conceal themselves.
Footprints, fur, feces, food scraps, signs of movement.
The seemingly calm forest actually hid countless pieces of information.
Though young, Gauss had trained with his father since childhood. So even if he was a fledgling hunter, he had passable tracking skills.
After all, as the second son, Gauss would inevitably have to venture out and make his own way.
For a hunter or mountain dweller dealing with nature, intelligence gathering was the most crucial skill.
Hunting techniques and trap-making came second—if you couldn’t gather information, you weren’t even a qualified hunter.
“Got it!”
Gauss was delighted to find another clear footprint.
It looked fresh—probably left just a day or two ago.
That meant the goblin was still active nearby.
“Maybe stealing my prey last time left such a deep impression that it’s now returning occasionally, hoping for more easy gains?”
Gauss felt he had figured out the reason.
With this clue in hand, he began a more thorough search around the footprint and quickly found more prints and droppings.
The subtle signs on the ground guided him deeper into the forest.
Before long, he reached a small pond not far from his “hunting ground.”
Cautiously pushing aside the bushes, a scene unfolded before him.
He had found his target.
A green-skinned little monster was leisurely sitting on a rock about knee height, sharpening a stone weapon—a stone spear.
Goblin, I’ve found you!
Gauss held his breath, and the eyes hidden within the bushes gradually lit up.
To him, this wasn’t just a goblin—it was the beginning of his career in another world.