The sky above the goblin village was painted in soft twilight, streaks of amber and violet washing over the horizon. Smoke from freshly lit fires curled into the air as the goblins gathered in the village's center, forming a semi-circle around their new protectors: Jiro and Rimuru.
Jiro observed them carefully—thin bodies, trembling hands, eyes full of fear and awe. These weren't warriors. Not yet. But they could be.
"They're all looking to us," Jiro said, his voice quiet and thoughtful.
"They need more than power," Rimuru replied. "They need identity. Purpose. We're going to give that to them."
Jiro raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about the naming thing, right? How does that even work?"
Rimuru turned slightly. "Well, it's weird. I just… say a name, and they change. Their bodies evolve, their minds stabilize. It's like the name shapes their destiny."
Jiro looked at the goblins again. "Then let's do it. They've earned that much."
So it began.
Rimuru stepped forward first, placing himself in front of the scarred young goblin who had first spoken to them.
"You're brave and loyal. From this day forward, your name is Rigur."
The moment the name left Rimuru's mouth, a rush of magical energy exploded outward. The goblin cried out, his body glowing bright green, twisting and morphing as if something ancient had been awakened within him.
His frame grew broader. His limbs thickened with muscle. His posture straightened. No longer a hunched creature of desperation—he stood tall like a proper warrior.
"Woah," Jiro murmured. "He looks… completely different."
"Yep. This is what naming does," Rimuru said, slightly out of breath.
"Are you okay?"
"It… takes magic. A lot more than I expected."
Jiro stepped forward next, staring down at a shy goblin girl who couldn't even meet his gaze.
"You're quiet, but I can sense your spirit," he said gently. "I name you… Lina."
Light erupted again, softer this time. The goblin girl's body shimmered, and she grew taller, her hair lengthening slightly, her eyes glowing with faint green clarity. Her form was still slim, but her aura had changed—stronger, steadier.
Then, Jiro felt it.
A tug in his chest. A cold exhaustion crawling through his core like ice water.
He stumbled slightly.
"Jiro?" Rimuru moved toward him.
"I'm fine," Jiro muttered. "It's… draining. A lot more than I thought."
"Yeah," Rimuru said, catching his breath. "Turns out naming isn't just magical—it's personal. We're giving them a part of ourselves."
Jiro's dragon-vampire hybrid core was sturdy, but even he could feel it—the naming process was sapping mana and stamina like a leech. Still, as goblin after goblin approached, eyes hopeful and trembling, neither of them turned anyone away.
One by one, names were given. Rigur, Rigurda, Lina, Garm, Haruna, Dold… and more.
By the time the last goblin was named, Rimuru had collapsed into a small puddle. Jiro wasn't far behind, his slime form flickering slightly from mana fatigue.
"You alive over there?" Rimuru groaned.
"Barely," Jiro replied, laughing weakly. "This world doesn't give you anything for free, does it?"
"Nope. But look at them."
They did.
Where once stood a broken, ragged tribe now stood dozens of evolved goblins—taller, stronger, determined. They looked up to Jiro and Rimuru not as monsters to be feared… but as leaders to be followed.
In that moment, Jiro didn't feel like a reincarnated soul or a summoned hero.
He felt like a king in the making.