My planet is infested with Goblins

Several years passed after the massacre at the hunting lodge, and the central tribe changed more quickly than it had during the decades before it.

The old settlement beside the river still stood behind its wooden palisade, but almost everything inside had expanded. Grain stores that once occupied a single building now filled an entire section near the eastern wall. Animal enclosures spread across the open ground beyond the settlement, while workshops produced stone blades, wooden tools, bone needles, baskets, leather containers, and crude farming implements.

The permanent guards Chief Drok created after Vargan’s rebellion became a familiar sight. They patrolled the walls, watched the grain stores, and moved between the surrounding farms. Unlike the old hunting bands, they answered directly to the chief rather than to individual elders or clans.

At first, many goblins resented the idea.

Hunters complained that Drok had created warriors whose purpose was to watch other goblins instead of fighting beasts. Farmers complained whenever guards demanded that roads remain clear or prevented families from building structures on unused lands near the walls.

Drok had no intention of allowing another armed conspiracy to develop beneath his nose.

Noah continued observing from above while the accelerated years flowed around him.

The tribe’s greatest changes did not come from Drok’s warriors.

Every successful harvest allowed more goblins to survive winter. Every new enclosure filled with domesticated animals reduced the number of hunters required to feed the settlement. Mothers who once lost several children to hunger now raised larger families.

The population increased faster than the valley could comfortably support.

Fields spread along both sides of the river. Trees were cut down near the settlement until the closest forests became open ground. Herders drove animals farther from the walls in search of grass.

Eventually, Drok gathered his advisers inside the chief’s hall.

Nekk stood among them.

The young goblin who had once carved simple marks to record grain was no longer young. His back had begun to bend, and white hairs appeared along his chin, but his mind remained sharper than almost anyone surrounding him.

Flat wooden boards covered the table.

Each board carried lines, symbols, and carved notches.

Drok ran one claw across the marks.

"There are too many mouths to feed."

A farmer representative nodded. "More fields can be cleared east."

Nekk tapped one of the wooden boards. "The river villages already send lesser number of grain back than before."

One elder frowned. "Because somebody are stealing it."

"No."

Nekk turned the board toward him.

"More goblins are starting to live there."

The elder stared at the symbols as though they had personally insulted him.

Nekk had spent years improving the system he created as a youth. Different marks now represented grain, animals, weapons, families, and settlements. The records were still crude, and even Nekk occasionally forgot exactly what an old carving meant, but they gave the tribe something it had never possessed before.

A method to store knowledge outside the mind.

Drok understood its value.

He ordered more young goblins to learn Nekk’s symbols despite complaints from hunters who considered carving marks a poor use of time.

The records revealed what Drok had already speculated.

The central settlement could not hold everyone forever.

"We shall make new villages," Drok decided.

Not everyone is keen on the idea.

Some feared that distant settlements would eventually stop obeying the chief. Others argued that splitting the population would weaken the tribe.

Drok ignored them.

Groups of farmers followed the river toward fertile ground. Herders moved west into open grasslands. Hunters established frontier camps near forests rich with game. Each group included craftsmen capable of repairing tools and building shelters.

The first new villages remained dependent on the original settlement.

They requested seeds, tools, livestock, and guards. Their chiefs were chosen from families loyal to Drok.

Within a generation, several villages produced enough food to support themselves. Some became larger than old hunting camps had ever been. Paths appeared between them as traders and messengers carried grain, hides, livestock, stone, and news.

The original tribe was becoming something larger than a single settlement.

Noah watched Drok grow old while this happened.

The chief who had once stood over Vargan’s body gradually lost the strength to personally patrol the walls. His scars remained, but his shoulders narrowed and his movements slowed.

Younger warriors began fighting in his place.

His sons and grandsons argued over which of them would eventually inherit his authority.

Drok refused to choose for years.

He spent more time speaking with farmers, guards, craftsmen, and village leaders than hunting. The old traditions Vargan had tried to defend continued fading around him.

Near the end of Drok’s life, he stood once more upon the palisade overlooking the valley.

The view had changed beyond recognition.

The original fields extended far into the distance. Smoke rose from settlements beyond the river. Herds moved across grazing grounds that had once been wilderness.

Drok died before the next winter.

No beast killed him, and no rival drove a spear through his chest. His body simply failed after a life longer than most goblins were fortunate enough to receive.

The tribe burned him on a raised platform beside the river.

Thousands of his clansmen gathered.

Priests declared that the Lord Above had called the chief to stand beside the First Chief in the sky.

Noah conjured lightning high in the sky subtly suggesting what the priest said was true.

Noah watched as the Faith Points rise.

Drok’s death did not destroy what he had built.

His successors fought over authority, and some proved incompetent, but the settlements continued expanding. The tribe had already become too large to return to what it had once been.

As decades passed, Drok became legend.

Stories claimed he had personally defeated hundreds of rebels at the hunting lodge. Some said the sky god had whispered Vargan’s plan directly into his ear. Others claimed Drok had known about the coup because he could hear lies inside another goblin’s heart.

Noah allowed the stories to spread.

The belief behind them continued flowing toward him.

The acceleration chamber did not stop with Drok’s generation.

Years became decades, and decades became centuries.

Noah widened his perception until all four continents filled his awareness.

The central continent expanded fastest.

The descendants of the original tribe spread along rivers, across plains, and into forest valleys. Settlements separated by several days of travel developed their own leaders and customs.

Some continued recognizing the authority of the original settlement. But other goblins settlement chose to separate.

Arguments over farmland, hunting grounds, river access, and livestock occasionally became wars.

The wars were small by the standards of the God Civilization. A conflict involving several hundred goblins could determine ownership of an entire valley.

To the goblins, these battles were enormous.

Villages burned. Fields were destroyed. Families fled across rivers and forests.

Yet the population continued growing.

The northern continent developed differently.

Its harsh climate prevented the explosive growth seen in the central lands. Northern goblins remained concentrated in sheltered valleys, caves, and areas near hot springs.

They improved the techniques their ancestors had developed for surviving winter.

Animal hides were stitched into layered clothing. Walls became thicker. Smoke channels were carved into caves so fires could burn without choking entire families.

The northern goblins became skilled at preserving meat for months.

Their herds also changed.

For generations, goblins selected the calmest thick-furred beasts for breeding. Eventually, the domesticated animals became smaller and easier to control than their wild ancestors.

Northern settlements used them to carry food, firewood, and stone.

The sacred flames remained at the center of their culture.

Each major settlement maintained a fire that priests claimed descended from the original flame Noah had given their ancestors centuries earlier.

Whenever a new village was founded, goblins carried burning coals from an older sacred fire to ignite the new one.

The southern continent remained more violent.

Jungle diseases killed entire families. Mana-touched predators continued growing stronger. Some settlements disappeared after enormous reptiles entered their territory.

The southern goblins adapted through caution.

They improved poisons until hunters could kill animals far stronger than themselves with small wounds. Certain plants were cultivated specifically for venom production.

Raised villages became common near rivers.

Farming developed around roots, fruit, and plants suited to wet ground.

The southern tribes remained divided, but trade appeared wherever neighboring settlements trusted one another enough to exchange food and poison ingredients instead of attacking immediately.

Across the ocean, the isolated continent produced the most different culture.

The goblins there spread along coastlines and river systems.

Boats and sailing mproved slowly.

Bundles of reeds became hollowed logs. Hollowed logs became wider vessels reinforced with wooden ribs. Some boats could carry more than a dozen goblins along sheltered coastal waters.

Fishing villages became some of the largest settlements on the continent.

Goblin families learned to dry fish in the sun, preserve it with salt gathered near coastal flats, and transport the preserved food inland.

These developments should’ve happened quickly. That frustrated Noah.

Several hundred years had passed, yet the goblins remained technologically primitive.

They were far beyond the frightened creatures of the first night, but progress occurred in short, uneven bursts.

Noah eventually understood why.

Goblin lives were short.

A talented craftsman could spend years discovering a better way to shape stone, only to die shortly after mastering it.

A healer might learn which plants reduced fever, but if disease killed her before she taught enough apprentices, much of that knowledge vanished.

An exceptional builder could discover how to reinforce a wooden roof, while the next generation copied the shape without understanding why it worked.

Knowledge fails to survive and be succeeded by the next generation.

One Percent Genius continued producing exceptional goblins, but even brilliance could not completely overcome the problem.

Noah watched a central goblin discover a simple irrigation method by digging narrow channels from a river toward dry fields.

The idea transformed his village.

For several years, crops improved.

Then the goblin died during a territorial dispute.

His sons maintained the channels but failed to understand the importance of controlling water flow. One generation later, poorly maintained channels flooded fields and caused several villages to abandon the system entirely.

Nearly fifty years passed before another unusually intelligent goblin independently developed a similar method.

The same pattern appeared everywhere.

A northern craftsman designed an improved sled. His tribe used it for two generations before part of the design was simplified incorrectly.

A southern healer identified a combination of plants that treated infected wounds. After her death, the proportions were forgotten, and several apprentices poisoned patients while trying to reproduce the medicine.

An isolated boatbuilder developed a stronger method of joining wooden planks. A storm killed him and most of his apprentices before the technique spread beyond his village.

Progress advanced, stumbled backward, and advanced again.

Noah watched with growing impatience but resisted direct intervention.

If he simply delivered knowledge from the sky, the goblins might advance quickly. This might lead to civilization ruin as excessive interference of the god creates unknown consequences.

They would also become dependent on him for every discovery.

The purpose of One Percent Genius was not to let Noah think for the goblins.

It was to give the world enough exceptional minds to eventually think for itself.

The problem was preserving what those minds created.

Nekk’s primitive symbols had been a beginning.

Over the centuries, similar systems appeared across different tribes.

Central goblins carved marks onto wood and bone. Northern priests recorded sacred fires through repeated symbols on stone. Southern poison-makers marked containers to distinguish dangerous mixtures. Isolated traders developed signs representing fish, salt, boats, and quantities.

None had created true and systematic writing.

Different settlements often used completely different symbols for the same objects.

Even neighboring tribes sometimes could not understand one another’s markings.

Noah watched one trading group from the central continent attempt to interpret a record carved by another village and completely misunderstand the quantity being requested.

The argument ended in a fistfight.

Despite these failures, the direction remained clear.

The goblins were slowly learning that memory was not enough.

They start to improved their tools.

Made farms larger.

Animal husbandry became deliberate.l and systematic.

Wooden buildings grew stronger.

Settlements developed roads, storehouses, workshops, shrines, and defensive walls.

Trade carried ideas alongside goods.

Population spread across larger portions of every continent.

Their religions also multiplied.

Noah possessed hundreds of names now.

The Lord of Wind, Keeper of Flame, Hidden Hunter, Great Light, Sky Father, First Guide, and dozens more were all directed toward the same divine connection.

Faith Points flowed continuously into his Planet Seed.

The amount produced by one goblin remained small, but there were now far more goblins than during the first century.

Noah could feel the difference.

The planet no longer seemed empty beneath him.

Across four continents, fires burned beneath thousands of roofs while children were born into cultures their ancestors could never have imagined.

They were still primitive.

They were still violent.

Their short lives continued stealing knowledge faster than Noah wanted.

Yet civilization was advancing.

Noah looked across the four continents as another generation replaced the one before it.

The goblins did not lack intelligence.

If their civilization was going to take the next great step forward, they would need something stronger than memory to carry knowledge across the centuries.

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