The Weakest Reincarnator Builds the Strongest Nation

The tension after Lady Steeljaw's departure was like damp wool—heavy, uncomfortable, and impossible to ignore.

No matter how confident my words had been in front of her and the other adventurers, deep down I knew bluffing could only carry us so far. We'd bought time, nothing more. And time was a currency that ran out fast.

I didn't waste a second.

I moved through the village, checking preparations, reinforcing barricades, double-checking traps. Bonk and Guk helped me set up a few crude spike pits along the trails leading into Underleaf, disguised with leaves and branches. Riri kept notes on every move we made, scribbling furiously with charcoal and bark.

"Do you think the humans will really come back?" she asked quietly as we tightened ropes for a net trap.

"They will," I said honestly. "The real question is, will we be ready?"

She nodded, her eyes sharp with determination. "We'll be ready."

But no amount of optimism erased the dread creeping up my spine. We weren't warriors. We weren't soldiers. We were builders, thinkers, scavengers. The odds weren't just stacked against us—they were towering.

That's why I taught the goblins simple signals: a clenched fist for danger, two fingers raised for silence, three taps on the chest for retreat. They learned quickly. Survival had a way of sharpening even the dullest minds.

Gresh found me later, his expression unreadable but grim.

"The village is scared," he said bluntly. "My people think maybe we joined the wrong side."

I sighed, wiping sweat from my forehead. "And what do you think?"

He stared into the forest, thoughtful. "I think humans kill anything that scares them. And you scare them a lot."

"Do I scare you?"

He grunted, then slowly shook his head. "No. You annoy me. But I trust you."

Coming from Gresh, that felt like high praise.

We stood together in silence, surveying the preparations around us. Goblins were working tirelessly—digging trenches, sharpening stakes, storing provisions underground. It felt desperate, but it also felt strong. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.

Gresh spoke again, softer this time. "In the mountains, we met humans many times. They never asked questions. They came with fire and blades, left nothing behind but ashes and silence. Your way might be strange, Soft-Skin, but maybe it's better."

I glanced sideways at him. "Better enough to work?"

He hesitated, then nodded once, firm. "Better enough to try."

…

The next morning shattered our cautious optimism like brittle ice.

One of our scouts stumbled into the village, breathless and covered in blood. It wasn't his.

"Humans coming!" he gasped, collapsing into my arms. "Not scouts—soldiers. Armored. Many. Siege weapons."

My heart clenched. "How far away?"

"Two days, maybe less. They come from the big city. Serious, angry."

Panic flared in the village, spreading like flames. Goblins dropped their tools, shouting, running in circles. Bonk started screaming something about hiding in the river. Sho looked ready to pack up the village and run into the deepest woods.

I stood on a tree stump and shouted until everyone quieted down. My voice shook, but I kept it strong.

"Listen! We knew this day would come. We're prepared. We have a plan. Now isn't the time to lose our heads."

"But they have metal!" someone cried.

"And fire!" another wailed.

I raised a hand. "And we have brains, and bricks, and each other. We've already beaten them once. We can do it again."

The panic faded to nervous murmurs. Grak gave me an approving nod from where he leaned against a tree, silent but watchful.

Sho was still skeptical. "So what do we do? Talk at them again? Last time they almost killed us."

"No," I said firmly. "We'll show them strength without steel. They expect mindless monsters. They'll find something else entirely."

Bonk punched the air enthusiastically. "What they find?"

I managed a tired smile. "A kingdom."

…

That night, a stranger arrived.

I was awake, restless, when I noticed a shadow slipping silently between the trees. It moved differently—not goblin, definitely not animal. Human.

I grabbed a sharpened stick, heart racing, but before I could call out, the figure held up its hands in peace.

"I mean no harm," a woman's voice said quietly.

She stepped into the moonlight, pushing back her hood. She was young, dressed in adventurer's gear but with no weapons visible. Her eyes were steady, intelligent, wary.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"My name is Elena. I'm with the Adventurer's Guild, but I'm not here to fight."

"Then why are you here?"

She glanced around, taking in the sleeping goblins. "Because I've heard strange rumors—of monsters building towns, not tearing them down. I had to see for myself."

"And?"

"I see a village, not monsters. And you—you don't look like someone who wants war."

I relaxed slightly. "Then you see better than most."

She stepped closer, voice dropping even quieter. "The Guild is divided. Some think you're a threat. Others think you're a curiosity. The city lord, though, sees you as a challenge. A dangerous example. They've sent soldiers to crush you and ensure no monster ever thinks of living openly again."

My throat went dry. "So they mean to wipe us out completely?"

"Yes. Unless you give them a reason not to."

I stared at her, trying to read her face. "And what reason would that be?"

"Show them strength, not violence. Prove that monsters can be allies, not enemies. Prove them wrong. If you don't, they'll justify every cruelty they've ever committed against your kind."

"Why help us?" I asked cautiously.

"Because monsters aren't the only ones tired of bloodshed," Elena said simply. She gave me a small nod and melted back into the shadows, leaving me alone with her words.

…

The next day passed in frantic preparation. We built fake barricades to mislead the soldiers, lined scarecrow warriors along the forest edge, and laid traps so thick a mouse couldn't slip through. Goblins practiced evacuation drills until they could vanish silently into hidden shelters.

I watched it all, knowing deep down it might not be enough. But we had no other choice.

On the evening before the battle, I gathered the village one last time. Goblins crowded around me, eyes wide with hope and fear.

"I won't lie to you," I began, voice steady despite the fear twisting in my gut. "Tomorrow will decide everything. The humans will come to destroy us, but they will find no monsters here—only goblins, builders, friends, families. They'll see that we've created something worth protecting."

I looked into each face—Riri, Bonk, Guk, Sho, Gresh—and finally, Grak, whose eyes held quiet strength.

"We are small, yes. We are weak individually, yes. But together, we have built something strong. And tomorrow, we will show them our strength."

Cheers erupted, hesitant at first, then louder, bolder. Gresh nodded, fierce determination on his face. Riri raised her fist in defiance.

And for the first time, I believed my own words completely.

…

The dawn broke with drums.

Deep, resonant, threatening. Human drums. Soldiers marched into view, armor gleaming in the morning light. Siege engines creaked ominously behind them—catapults, ballistas, battering rams.

At their front rode Lady Steeljaw, armor polished, face cold.

She stopped at the edge of our defenses, gazing across the silent village. Her voice rang out clear and authoritative.

"Surrender, monsters. You have one chance. Lay down your arms, leave this place, and your lives will be spared."

The goblins looked to me. I stepped forward, shoulders back, meeting her gaze without wavering.

"We have no arms to lay down," I called back. "And we have nowhere else to go. This is our home. Leave us in peace, and we'll never bother you."

Steeljaw hesitated, eyes narrowed. Her lieutenant whispered something in her ear. She shook her head sharply.

"You leave us no choice, then. Soldiers—"

"Wait!" I shouted, voice echoing over the field. I held up a hand. "Before you attack, look around you! Is this the den of monsters you expected? Or do you see something else? Think carefully—because what you do next can never be undone."

Her soldiers shifted uneasily, glancing at each other. Steeljaw's jaw tightened, but doubt flickered in her eyes.

I stepped closer, heart hammering. "We want peace. But if you attack us today, know this: it won't be monsters you destroy. It will be people."

Silence stretched between us, fragile and tense.

Finally, she lowered her sword slightly, uncertainty flickering across her face. For a heartbeat, it felt like hope.

Then, from behind her ranks, a deeper horn blew sharply—a horn of war.

Soldiers surged forward.

Time had run out.