The Weakest Reincarnator Builds the Strongest Nation

The frontline was chaos. Goblin shouts, clashing metal, the stink of smoke and sweat—like someone threw a tavern brawl into a fireworks factory.

And in the middle of it, Guk roared like a beast out of legend, swinging that massive club of his like it owed him money. Soldiers scattered like startled pigeons, and for a moment, I let myself feel it—pride. The good kind. The kind that makes your chest swell and your brain whisper, "Hey, maybe we won't die today after all."

Then I spotted Lady Steeljaw.

She wasn't charging. Wasn't yelling. She just... stood there. Watching. Her sword at her side, face unreadable, like she wasn't entirely sure why she was here anymore.

So I gambled.

I stepped forward. Out of cover. No armor. No weapon. Just my best "I swear I'm not bluffing this time" face.

"This doesn't have to end in bloodshed!" I shouted. "Call them off, Steeljaw! There's still a way out of this!"

She looked at me like I'd just asked her to hug a troll. Her voice cracked when she finally replied. "Peace? Between monsters and humans?"

"Yes," I said, heart pounding. "We're not asking to be friends. Just to be left alone."

Her grip on her sword tightened. Her soldiers stared, waiting. The entire battlefield held its breath.

And then... she whispered, barely audible.

"Advance."

Damn it.

The soldiers surged forward. Her hesitation was gone, replaced by bitter duty. I turned back to my goblins—my family—and raised my voice as loud as I could.

"Hold the line! This is our home—we don't run!"

They roared back. Tired, wounded, terrified—but roaring all the same.

The humans were pushing harder now. Smarter. They avoided the traps this time, sliced through our barricades, and sent flaming arrows into our thatched rooftops. I shouted orders. Reinforced positions. Fought off a creeping sense of doom with pure adrenaline and bad ideas.

Then I heard it.

A scream.

Guk.

I turned in time to see him drop, an arrow buried deep in his shoulder. Bonk was already sprinting to him, panic written all over his dumb brave face. Riri was right behind, ripping cloth, pressing it to the wound, hands shaking.

I dropped to my knees beside them.

"Guk," I said. "Come on. Not now."

He gave me a bloody grin. "Big stick... didn't work this time, huh?"

Bonk sniffled hard. "You're not allowed to die, you giant idiot!"

"We need you," I added, gripping his hand. "Please."

He coughed, eyes fluttering. "Protect... Taku…"

Riri shouted something about blood loss, but I didn't hear the rest. I stood up, every part of me screaming. Not from pain—just fury.

"NO MORE!" I shouted. "We stand here! We hold!"

Somehow, that sparked them. The goblins rallied again. Not because we thought we'd win—but because giving up wasn't in our blood anymore.

And then… salvation.

A horn. Deep. Resonant.

I turned—and nearly dropped from disbelief.

Mountain goblins. Dozens of them. Covered in furs and bones and roaring like wild animals. They charged into the flanks of the human line like a tide of angry nature spirits.

Riri gasped. "Reinforcements!"

I blinked. "I didn't even ask for reinforcements."

The battlefield flipped. Humans faltered. Goblins surged. Steeljaw's soldiers crumbled into confusion.

She stood in the center, trying to hold them together, yelling orders that no one was listening to anymore.

"Why?" she shouted across the chaos, her voice raw and breaking. "Why do monsters fight so hard? For what?!"

"For the same reasons humans do!" I shouted back. "Family. Home. Survival. It's not complicated."

She stared at me. Long. Silent. And then… she dropped her sword an inch, raised her hand—and signaled retreat.

They vanished into the trees.

And just like that, it was over.

We didn't cheer. Not right away. We just stared. Breathing. Bleeding. Alive.

One by one, the goblins collapsed in the dirt beside their wounded. Riri cried openly as she worked to stabilize Guk, whispering something I couldn't hear.

Bonk sat next to them, shoulders shaking, holding Guk's giant hand like a lifeline.

Then, from the trees, one last surprise.

A hulking goblin with a bone helmet stepped forward, flanked by mountain warriors. "We heard rumors," he growled. "Of a human who fights without sword or spell."

"That's me," I said, collapsing to the ground. "No sword. No magic. Just nerves, lies, and city planner trauma."

He stared.

Then he laughed. Loud. Full-belly. "Maybe you're not so soft after all."

I smiled faintly, feeling the bruises for the first time.

We had survived.

For now.