From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin’s Guide to Getting a Harem

'By the way, why is he called Peach? He's more grumpy than Grumpy himself.'

Rae squinted, scratching his head like the answer might be hidden somewhere in his scalp.

He thought about Grumpy for a good long second.

Yeah, Grumpy was a good guy. A solid dude. Probably smelled like wet socks, sure, but he was reliable.

This traitor human, though? Not even close.

This guy didn't have "good guy" vibes. He had "I will sell you to a necromancer for science" vibes.

But Rae's brain had already locked onto one thing like a dog on a chew toy—

The tablet.

Oh, yes. The Holy Tablet of Zap-Zap.

His first, second, and third instincts all screamed the same thing: steal it.

He could already imagine it. Him, strutting around with the tablet, zapping goblins just because they sneezed too loudly. Zapping them because he felt like it. Zapping them because the zap button looked so damn shiny and red—

Hell, he'd probably zap himself once just to see what it felt like.

Meanwhile, the two electrocuted goblins were groggily pushing themselves off the dirt floor like they had just crawled out of the ninth circle of hell.

They gave each other the stink-eye, glaring like two kids who both wanted to snitch but were too scared to open their mouths.

Then, simultaneously, they whipped their heads away and limped forward, pretending nothing happened.

Because as much as they wanted to rip each other's faces off, with Peach standing there like the Goblin Warden of Hell, they couldn't do jack shit.

"Don't make me repeat, okay? Don't make me repeat..."

Peach raised a fisted hand like he was about to summon divine goblin punishment, glaring at the crowd one last time.

And then he turned.

And Rae finally understood.

'Oh.'

'Ohhh.'

That's why they called him Peach.

The back view said it all.

Round.

Plump.

Perfectly shaped.

Like someone had sculpted it just to mock every starving goblin in the arena.

Rae's jaw almost hit the floor.

Somewhere, one brave goblin snickered. Then another.

And within seconds, the entire arena was trying to hold in their laughter, shoulders shaking, until a small chorus of goblin giggles escaped like steam from a kettle.

Because once you saw it—you couldn't unsee it.

Peach.

This skinny-looking man had all the fat, nutrients, calories, and maybe even the hopes and dreams of his ancestors stored in his peach… just like that.

Rae blinked once. Then twice.

'Damn,' he thought, genuinely awestruck, 'that must be Alice-level booty…'

He felt like saluting it.

If this Peach guy had been a girl, then—

'Nope! Nope nope nope!' Rae mentally slammed the emergency brakes so hard his brain almost flew out through his ears.

'I am not thinking that. I am not a homo. I am a proud, peach-appreciating straight man. This is just… anatomy appreciation. Scientific observation. Cultural research. Yeah.'

He took a long, shaky breath, calmed himself down, then immediately had to take another breath because the first one wasn't enough.

Meanwhile, Peach had turned around, and the entire room went colder than a dungeon freezer.

His death stare hit the goblins like an AoE spell.

Every last giggle died on the spot.

Even Rae felt guilty for a crime he hadn't committed yet.

Then, Peach turned back around and started walking toward the door, every step slow and deliberate, like the final boss exiting the stage.

But Rae wasn't going to let him go.

Not a chance.

The door was open now. The gates of heaven had parted. If he let it close, he'd have to find some complicated way to get in later, and that sounded like effort.

No, this was destiny handing him a golden, peach-shaped opportunity.

So Rae did what Rae does best—

He acted like a little shit.

Using the conveniently cleared path, he popped into existence between the two goblins who were still recovering from being fried like cheap bacon and whispered, with all the malicious energy of a middle school bully,

"Tiny teeny little bitch."

The effect was immediate.

Both goblins froze mid-step, twitching like someone had just insulted their ancestors.

Then, slowly, they turned toward each other with the kind of snarling hatred normally reserved for blood feuds and arguments about who ate the last piece of meat.

And then they lunged.

Chaos.

Perfect, glorious, bitey chaos.

And Rae?

Rae was already gone.

He reappeared just a step behind Peach, careful—very careful—not to bump into that ripe, majestic peach in front of him.

Because some lines you simply do not cross.

Once again, the goblins erupted into motion like someone had kicked over a green, shrieking beehive.

And just like that, the two unlucky idiots Rae had provoked were now throwing hands like their entire bloodline depended on it—scratching, biting, headbutting, basically doing goblin MMA right there on the dungeon floor.

The rest of the goblins, naturally, did what goblins do best: they formed a screaming, chanting circle, hyping up the fight like it was prime-time entertainment.

Peach growled, a low, annoyed rumble, and spun around so fast Rae thought he might backhand someone just for breathing too loud.

"What?! What?! What did I say?? What did I say??"

He was looking left, right, up, down—anywhere he could find a gap—but the little green idiots had formed a perfect goblin barricade.

He couldn't see a thing.

"Move! Move! I said move!! I said move!!"

His voice cracked a little, which would've been funny if Rae wasn't too busy making himself invisible and resisting the urge to laugh.

Peach shoved forward, barking orders like a very angry general whose soldiers had just decided to break into a mosh pit in the middle of a war.

Rae could feel the guy's stress level from here.

It was already hectic enough that Peach had been tasked with healing the damn Goblin King—who, judging by the look of things, wasn't exactly a patient patient. Now his bodyguards were acting like toddlers fighting over the last piece of candy.

It was too much.

Way too much noise.

Too much stomping.

Too much shrieking.

Peach wanted peace and quiet to focus on his work, maybe some soft background music, a scented candle or two.

Instead, he got a front-row ticket to Goblin Fight Club, Season Finale.

And judging by the vein popping on his forehead, Rae had a sneaking suspicion that someone, possibly everyone, was about to die if Peach didn't get his way.

As soon as Peach got close to the goblin mosh pit, Rae moved like a man possessed by the spirit of pure trolling.

He stepped right in front of Peach, bent slightly, and oh-so-casually rextended one leg like some kind of discount Looney Tunes villain laying a trap.

Peach didn't even have time to process it.

There was a very satisfying thud followed by an even more satisfying splat as the poor man went down, face-first, eating dungeon floor like it was part of a well-balanced breakfast.

And then—oh, then—his precious tab went flying out of his hand, spinning through the air in slow motion like it was in some kind of tragic war movie.

'Ohhh? Damn, look at that jiggle physique?!'

Obviously, Rae was talking about the tab's flying path and nothing else. He promise.

"My tab! My tab!"

Peach scrambled forward on all fours like a man crawling across a desert for the last drop of water, stretching his arm out as though sheer willpower might stop it from tumbling away.

But just before his fingers could touch it—poof—it vanished.

Literally vanished.

Gone.

Like a magician's final trick.

"What the—! What the—!"

Peach rubbed his eyes, blinked once, blinked twice. Nope. Still gone.

All he saw were goblin legs stomping around like they were doing some kind of victory dance over his dignity.

Rae, meanwhile, was biting his tongue so hard he thought he might draw blood.

Because this was bad.

Very bad.

That tab wasn't just a shiny toy, it was the shiny toy keeping Peach alive in this room full of murder-happy goblins.

And without it? Yeah. The guy was basically a corpse on layaway.

Peach knew it too. Rae could see it in the way his face went pale, in the way his eyes darted toward the hallway, calculating.

He needed to get back to the room.

He needed to get back, lock the door, maybe barricade it, maybe cry a little in the corner, maybe pray to whatever dungeon god was still listening.

Because if these goblins realized that Mr. Miracle Healer no longer had his magic tablet?

Yeah, the whole room was going to turn into a reenactment of "How to Cook a Human in 10 Easy Steps."

What Peach didn't notice—what he couldn't notice—was that two figures were already slipping away toward the room.

What he didn't notice was that the door, his only sanctuary, was slowly—oh so slowly—sliding shut.

And thanks to the goblins still yelling, roaring, and basically having the time of their lives cheering on the fight, no one heard the faint creak of the closing door.

Two were safe, while one was about to eat dust.