From Slave to King: My Rebate System Built Me a Kingdom With Beauties! Chapter 189: Grimgor, The Son Of Naz

The child had grown at a rate that defied normal goblin developnt, thriving in the farm environnt where Gribnox and Naz had settled into a peaceful routine far removed from the settlent’s political complexities. The crops were booming under Naz’s expert care—rows of wheat swaying golden in the breeze, vegetables ripening fat and healthy in well-tended plots, fruit trees bearing their first promising buds. The land responded to her orc strength combined with genuine agricultural knowledge, yielding harvests that exceeded even optimistic projections. And Naz had taught the goblins who worked the farm how to make different dishes beyond their usual bland fare—stews seasoned with mountain herbs, bread baked with nuts and honey, roasted vegetables that actually tasted of sothing beyond survival.

The farm goblins ate better now and looked a lot healthier for it, their green skin taking on vibrant tones rather than sickly pallor, bodies filling out with proper muscle instead of wiry desperation. But more remarkable than the agricultural success was how Naz’s child was growing at an impressive rate that shocked even those familiar with growth.

At only one month and a few weeks old, he could already speak in full sentences and walk with steady coordination that should have taken a few months to develop. He was conscious in ways that transcended infant awareness—his eyes tracked conversations with understanding, his questions demonstrated reasoning ability, his reactions showed emotional complexity beyond his physical age. He learned things quickly, absorbing information faster than the average goblin child who might take years to master concepts this boy grasped in days. The speed showed he possessed superior intellect, a hybrid benefit combining orc ntal capacity with goblin adaptability and sothing else—perhaps whatever Byung’s evolved blood had contributed during gestation.

The goblin child was nad Grimgor, the na chosen by Naz from old orc tradition aning "fierce grower," and he was already proving quite capable despite his young age. He helped in small ways around the farm—carrying water buckets sized for his small fra, pulling weeds under supervision. His coordination and strength exceeded what his size suggested, another hybrid advantage.

Grimgor was a curious one, his bright eyes always watching, always questioning. He often hung around the farrs to pick up a thing or two, shadowing the experienced goblins as they worked, asking endless questions about soil composition, crop rotation, pest managent. The farrs indulged him patiently, chard by his enthusiasm and impressed by how quickly he retained information. Show him once, and he rembered. Explain a principle, and he understood the underlying logic.

No one looked at Grimgor like an abomination despite him fitting that description quite well by traditional standards—a hybrid born from goblin seed and orc mother, sothing that shouldn’t exist. But rather, they saw him as a miracle, living proof that the curse could be broken, that a new future was possible. Children approached him without fear, adults smiled when he passed, and even the most traditional goblins who might have once recoiled now nodded approvingly at his developnt.

Gribnox settled into farm life nicely, finding peace in the simplicity after months of fear and violence. All he had to do here was sleep when tired and fuck when desire struck—simple pleasures without the weight of leadership crushing his shoulders. He didn’t need to make tactical decisions, didn’t need to navigate political tensions, didn’t need to prove himself constantly. The goblins here respected him naturally because he had seen battle firsthand, had fought against enemies when it mattered, had stood his ground during Kraghul’s assault rather than fleeing.

They naturally submitted to him because to them, he was a hero who had stood against overwhelming odds. His presence carried authority earned through action rather than title, and the farm goblins looked to him for guidance on matters of security and defense.

Gribnox had lost considerable weight despite being surrounded by abundant food, his body transforming through physical labor and deliberate training. The soft middle had lted away, replaced by functional muscle developed through daily farm work and rigorous combat sessions. He had gotten into proper shape, and was personally trained by Naz in combat fundantals so he could defend his child and people if threats erged. She drilled him in staff fighting, unard techniques, basic tactics—nothing fancy, but practical skills that could save lives.

Their son watched these training sessions with rapt attention, small body mimicking movents from the sidelines, absorbing principles of balance and leverage without formal instruction.

One evening after training, as the sun set in brilliant oranges and purples across the valley, Grimgor approached his mother where she sat cleaning her practice staff. His small face was serious, more solemn than any child’s should be.

"Mother," he said quietly, settling beside her on the bench. "I keep having dreams."

Naz looked down at him, wiping sweat from her brow. "All children have dreams, little one. What do you dream about?"

"A king," Grimgor said, his young voice steady and certain. "A king who will change everything. He’s tall, taller than other goblins. His eyes... they see things others can’t. And everyone follows him, not because they have to, but because they want to."

Naz’s hand stilled on the staff, sothing cold trickling down her spine. "What does this king do in your dreams?"

"He brings an end to the world." Grimgor’s eyes—so like hers—t her gaze without fear. "He will destroy everything and build it anew."

The description matched Byung too closely for comfort. Naz forced herself to breathe normally. "This king... what does he look like?"

"Green skin, but different green. His face is sharper, more like the tall ones who visit sotis. He has scars that glow sotis in the dark. And when he speaks, people listen like they have no choice." Grimgor tilted his head. "It’s the goblin king, isn’t it? The one who saved us?"

Naz’s throat went dry. "Byung? You’ve only seen him a few tis since you were born, Grimgor. How do you—"

"I don’t know," Grimgor interrupted, his brow furrowing with genuine confusion. "But in my dreams, I know him. I know what he wants, what he’s building. And mother..." His expression shifted then, taking on an intensity that looked profoundly wrong on soone so young. "I will help him bring it to pass. The world he wishes for—I’ll help make it real."

The certainty in his voice sent chills racing down Naz’s spine. This wasn’t a child’s fantasy or innocent daydream. This sounded like programming, like absolute conviction that transcended conscious choice.

"Grimgor," she said carefully, setting the staff aside to grip his small shoulders. "Why would you help him? What makes you so certain?"

The boy seed genuinely puzzled by the question, as if she’d asked why he breathed or why the sun rose. "Because... that’s what I’m supposed to do. It feels right, mother. Like it’s the only thing that matters."

She forced herself to laugh, the sound coming out more strained than she intended. "Grimgor, sweetheart, they’re just dreams. Byung isn’t going to destroy the world—he’s here to protect it, to build sothing better for all of us. You don’t need to worry about helping him with anything like that."

Grimgor studied her face for a long mont, then nodded slowly. His expression shifted back to sothing more childlike, innocent smile replacing that unsettling intensity. "Okay, mother."

He hopped off the bench and ran toward where other goblins played near the chicken coops, his laughter carrying on the evening breeze. But as Naz watched him go, she couldn’t shake the mory of how his face had looked when he’d said those words.

"I will help him bring it to pass."

Unknown to everyone—to Naz, to Gribnox, to the settlent’s leadership—this was a side effect of those who took Byung’s blood before birth. The evolved biology carried more than survivial; it imprinted loyalty at cellular level. Whichever child was given birth to after the mother consud his blood would be sired to the one who gave them life, bound by invisible chains stronger than conscious choice.

They would be sired to Byung, not through magic or explicit control, but through biological programming that made serving him feel natural, right, the only acceptable path. An evolved army only loyal to him, incapable of betrayal, devoted beyond reason.

And Grimgor was only the first.