Lord of the Foresaken

Reed never expected to become a lord.

For 18 years, he had lived by his own rules—stealing, fighting, and killing to survive. The world had never given him a damn thing, and he had never asked. The noble-born trained with swords and magic, dreaming of the day they would receive their domains. But Reed? He had expected nothing.

That was his first mistake.

Now, he stood in the Summoning Hall, surrounded by newly anointed lords. Towering columns of golden light erupted around them as they summoned their first Hero, the legendary warriors bound by loyalty to their masters.

A boy next to him grinned as a knight in radiant armor stepped from his portal. A girl gasped as she summoned a nine-tailed fox spirit. One by one, the lords claimed their champions, each more impressive than the last.

Then it was Reed's turn.

The system's voice echoed through the hall.

[Title Granted: Goblin Lord]

[Domain Assigned: Goblin's Hollow]

[Summoning Hero…]

The moment the words appeared, laughter rippled through the crowd.

A jagged, sickly green portal cracked open at Reed's feet. From its depths, a figure emerged, stretching her limbs as she stepped forward.

She was a goblin, but unlike the weak, pathetic creatures Reed had seen before, she had an edge to her. She was taller, stronger—her limbs toned, her yellow eyes sharp. Long green hair flowed behind her, tied back for practicality. Leather armor hugged her frame, and two short daggers rested at her sides.

The hall fell silent as she knelt before him.

"My lord," she said without hesitation. "I am Shia, your Hero. I am yours to command."

More laughter.

"A goblin hero?" a noble scoffed. "That has to be the worst summon in history."

"He's already finished," another sneered.

Reed ignored them. He only cared about what the system had shown him.

[Hero: Shia – Rank F]

Strength: 9

Agility: 12

Intelligence: 7

Loyalty: 100%

That last number was all he needed to see.

Absolute loyalty. No matter what.

The laughter grew, but Reed barely heard it. His mind was already moving. He didn't care about pride, honor, or fairness. He had survived the slums because he understood one simple truth—power wasn't given, it was taken.

He looked at Shia.

"Stand up," he ordered.

She obeyed instantly.

Then he turned to the nobles still laughing at him. He had no reason to wait. No reason to play fair

He cracked his knuckles.

"Shia," he said, voice calm. "Kill the nearest lord."

Shia moved before anyone could react.

The laughter died.

And the screaming began.