My planet is infested with Goblins

Noah continued watching the goblin world as the accelerated centuries passed beneath his divine perception. The pattern he had noticed during previous generations remained the same.

Goblin civilization was advancing, but rarely in a straight line trajectory. A village might discover a better farming technique, only for the method to disappear after the death of the goblin who understood it. A craftsman could spend years improving a tool, yet his apprentices might remember only the final shape rather than the reason behind it. Their short lifespans remained one of the species’ greatest weaknesses, and even the goblins born under One Percent Genius could not completely overcome that problem.

Some knowledge survived better because daily survival depended on it. Farmers remembered useful crops because forgetting meant hunger. Hunters preserved effective traps because mistakes meant death. Along the coasts, generations of fishermen retained improvements in boatbuilding because the sea punished bad designs immediately.

Noah shifted his attention toward the western coastline of the central continent. Long beaches, rocky cliffs, river mouths, and sheltered bays stretched beneath him. Their earliest ancestors had crossed shallow water on tied logs and reed rafts, but their descendants now possessed recognizable boats. Some were hollowed from large tree trunks, while more developed settlements joined planks together with wooden pegs and plant fibers.

Despite those improvements, nearly every sailor followed the same rule: land had to remain visible. Goblins could travel north or south for days as long as the coastline remained beside them, but sailing west into the open ocean was considered foolish. Storms often appeared without warning, currents carried damaged boats away, and mana had slowly changed some of the creatures beneath the waves. Noah occasionally saw enormous shadows in the deeper water that could destroy the largest goblin vessel with ease.

Stories grew around those dangers. Some tribes believed the western ocean eventually poured over the edge of the world. Others said the Lord Above had placed monsters beyond the horizon to stop goblins from traveling farther. Most fishermen did not care which story was true. Their fathers had stayed near land and survived, so they intended to do the same.

One particular settlement stood beside a broad bay protected by two rocky headlands. It was there that a goblin named Grik was born.

Grik was the third child of a family that had built and repaired fishing boats for generations. His father spent his days scraping old sealant from hulls, replacing cracked wood, and teaching his sons how to choose timber that would not split in seawater. Grik learned quickly, but he refused to accept instructions without understanding them.

One morning, his father showed him how the front of a fishing boat had to narrow toward the water.

Grik frowned and asked, "Why does it have to be narrow?"

His father answered, "Because a broad front fights the water. A narrow front cuts through it."

Grik immediately pointed toward the rear. "Then why is the back wider?"

His father sighed. "Because the boat needs balance."

Grik leaned closer and asked, "What happens if both ends are narrow?"

His father finally lifted the wooden scraper and warned, "If you ask one more question before helping me, I am going to test whether this scraper cuts through your head as well as it cuts wood."

Grik stopped asking his father and began asking everyone else.

Most craftsmen found him equally irritating. They knew certain trees made better planks, certain sap sealed cracks longer, and badly balanced loads overturned vessels. They knew those things because their elders had taught them. Grik wanted to know why they worked, and when nobody could answer, he experimented.

As a young goblin, he carved miniature hulls from driftwood and released them into streams. He loaded them with stones and watched how each reacted to moving water. One rolled immediately, another spun whenever the current struck its side, and a third remained upright but moved slowly.

When he proudly brought the models home, his father muttered, "You wasted good wood."

Grik replied, "It was driftwood." His father grunted. "Then you surely wasted time."

Grik looked at the models and answered, " You’re wrong that wasted time has taught me which one sinks."

Noah eventually began observing him more carefully. Grik learned too quickly to be ordinary. He compared failures, changed one part of a design at a time, and remembered old experiments months later. He was clearly one of the goblins influenced by One Percent Genius.

His greatest fascination, however, was not boatbuilding itself. It was the western sea.

By the time Grik was old enough to join fishing crews, he knew much of the nearby coastline better than goblins twice his age. He memorized dangerous reefs, sheltered coves, seasonal currents, and fishing grounds. The older fishermen appreciated his memory until he began repeatedly asking what lay to the west.

One fisherman answered while pulling in a net, "More water." Another added, "Then more water after that." Grik looked toward the horizon.

"Forever?" The first fisherman shrugged. "Far enough that it does not matter." Grik asked, "How do you know?" The fisherman pointed at him with a wet hand. "Because every goblin stupid enough to test it never comes back."

Grik found that answer unsatisfying.

Every year, large flocks of birds arrived along the coast, rested in the wetlands, and eventually flew directly west across the ocean. Months later, similar birds returned from the same direction. Grik began watching them from the highest cliff near the settlement.

After one migration, he told his older brother, "Birds need food. They need somewhere to land. If they fly west and return, there must be something there." His brother laughed. "Maybe they sleep on the water." Grik stared at him. "Then you sleep on the water tonight and tell me how comfortable it is."

Other evidence followed. Storms occasionally covered the beaches with unfamiliar seeds and pale driftwood unlike any tree Grik knew. He carried the seeds to farmers and showed the wood to craftsmen, but nobody recognized them. His home gradually filled with strange objects washed ashore from the west. His mother eventually stared at the piles and complained, "If you bring one more rotten thing into this house, you can sleep beside the fish racks." Grik held up a pale seed. "This is not rotten."

She answered, "It smells rotten."

Grik became convinced that land existed beyond the horizon.

Most goblins laughed at him. A fisherman named Rakk once shouted across the beach, "If there is land west, why has no one seen it?" Grik answered, "Because no one sails far enough." Rakk laughed. "Then swim there." Grik considered the suggestion before replying, "Swimming is inefficient." The fishermen laughed even harder, although several were now laughing at Rakk.

Grik responded by studying boats more seriously. He traveled between coastal settlements, offering labor in exchange for learning different construction methods. His first full-sized experimental vessel nearly drowned three goblins after a wave rolled it in shallow water. When Grik crawled onto shore coughing, Rakk shouted, "You found your western continent at the bottom of the bay!" Grik spat out seawater and replied, "No, but I found a bad hull."

His second design remained upright but leaked constantly. Grik experimented with resin, animal fat, sap, and fibers until he produced better sealant. His third vessel survived longer, only for the mast to snap during strong winds. Each failure taught him something new.

Eventually, the failures became too numerous to trust to memory. Grik began carving diagrams and marks into wooden boards. One shape represented the hull, while other symbols represented mast height, sail size, weight, wind, and failure. The system was crude, but it allowed him to compare experiments separated by years.

A younger goblin named Kobb eventually became his apprentice. One evening, Kobb pointed toward an old board and asked, "Why keep this one? That boat sank." Grik handed him the board. "That is why I chose to keep it." Kobb frowned. "Why bother to remember it is a failure?"

Grik replied, "Because if we forget why it failed, we build the same bad boat again."

Noah found this development almost as interesting as Grik’s vessels. The goblin had independently recognized the same weakness Noah had been watching for centuries. Knowledge could not accumulate if it remained trapped inside one mind. Grik had not created true writing, but another goblin could now study an old design and understand something that happened years earlier.

As Grik improved his methods, his vessels began outperforming traditional fishing boats. They carried larger catches, remained stable in rougher water, and traveled farther along the coast. The coastal chief eventually summoned him after discovering how much timber his experiments consumed.

Chief Hark was an unusually large goblin who sat inside a timber hall surrounded by elders. The moment Grik arrived, Hark demanded, "You used twelve long trees for one boat. Why?" Grik answered, "Because a smaller boat will not work." Hark narrowed his eyes. "For fishing?" Grik shook his head. "For travelling the sea, to the west."

The elders immediately began whispering.

Hark leaned forward. "Why would anyone go west if the fish are here?"

Grik opened a leather bag and placed several objects on the floor: unfamiliar seeds, pale driftwood, and feathers from migrating birds.

"Because these feathers must’ve came from somewhere." One elder scoffed. "Birds come from the sky." Grik replied, "They return from the west every year. These seeds wash from the west. This wood came from the west, and I cannot find the tree anywhere here."

Hark picked up the driftwood. "You know every tree on this continent?" Grik shook his head. "No." Hark smiled. "Then perhaps the tree grows somewhere you have not seen." Grik nodded immediately. "Yes. That is my point."

Several elders tried not to laugh as Hark’s smile disappeared.

Grik continued, "I cannot prove there is another continent. Maybe it is an island. Maybe there are many islands. I only know that things come from the west and birds travel there. There is enough evidence to look."

Hark remained silent for a long time before finally saying, "You may finish your boat, but the tribe will not starve for your question. Fishing boats receive timber first. You get what remains. If your project harms the settlement, I tear it apart myself."

Grik bowed. "That is enough."

The following years consumed much of the life he had remaining. His hands became scarred, his face aged, and his body weakened, but the vessel slowly took shape on the beach. Its hull was deeper than ordinary fishing boats and reinforced with curved supports. Grik created storage spaces for food and water, strengthened the mast, and experimented with larger woven sails. Kobb stayed beside him, copying diagrams and learning enough to continue the work whenever Grik became ill.

By the time the final layer of sealant dried, Grik was no longer the young goblin who had once carved toy boats beside a stream. The vessel before him was larger and stronger than anything his settlement had ever launched.

One evening, Kobb remained with him on the beach after the other workers had returned home. Looking toward the darkening ocean, Kobb asked, "Do you still think there is land out there?" Grik rested one rough hand against the hull. "I think there is something." Kobb hesitated. "And if there is nothing?" Grik looked toward the setting sun and smiled faintly. "Then someone should know that too."

No crew had been selected, no supplies had been loaded, and the chief had not yet authorized the voyage. Those problems would come next. For most goblins, the western horizon represented the boundary of everything they understood about the world. Grik had spent most of his life reaching a different conclusion. The horizon was not the end of the world; it was simply the farthest point anyone had been willing to challenge.

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