I am in my father's arms.
And since I do NOT want to find out what kind of milk he meant and from which cursed faucet it'd come, I must act.
My mother and goblin aunty are just standing there like this is normal. No one's stopping the man.
So, the responsibility to protect my sanity and keep my soul untainted… fell onto my tiny, trembling baby shoulders.
And there's only one thing a newborn can do to assert dominance:
Golden. Shower. Initiated.
I pissed on the old man like I was baptizing him with vengeance.
The moment that steaming yellow justice hit his chest, he yelped like a dog that stepped on his own poop and dropped me like I was emotional baggage.
SIR—HAND ME TO SOMEONE, NOT GRAVITY.
Luckily, Sofia aunty has reflexes honed from dodging goblin STDs and caught me mid-air.
I almost died twice in a single day.
First Mom tried to drown me in milk, now Dad dropped me like a stock in recession.
At this point, I'd like to believe I'm adopted. Otherwise, this gene pool needs bleach.
Anyway, props where due—Sofia aunty knows how to hold a baby. Proper cradle. Gentle pats on the head. Honestly, she's got maternal instincts tucked under her idiocy.
I take it back. No more "goblin aunty." From now on, you're Sofia aunty.
Respect, slime-face.
"He really is my son," my dad said, laughing like a proud war criminal. "I used to piss everywhere too. Keep pissing like that on those Aliens when you grow up!"
Aliens? What kind of PTSD do you have, old man?
"But," The man's shoulders dropped. "This was my only pair of clothes… he ruined it."
One pair of clothes?!
Bro… I knew we were poor but damn, this much? Poverty speedrun complete. What's next, shitting in leaves?
"Well, it'll dry. Doesn't matter," he said with a shrug.
It doesn't matter?! You're wearing Eau De Piss and you're cool with it?!
Where's your dignity, soldier?
And then—THE AUDACITY—he stretched out his arms again.
No. Absolutely not. Back off, urinal man.
Sofia aunty, don't do this. I just started respecting you.
Don't yeet me back to this OnlyShirt predator.
I gave her the biggest baby eyes I could.
I was literally begging in HD.
And this traitorous goblin—
"Sure."
TRAITOR!!
She was ready to hand me over to Piss Daddy McTrauma.
Luckily, I had one move left.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
I screamed like a banshee with a stubbed toe.
My cry echoed like a pornstar running away from doing a scene… without a camera.
If you even touch me, old man, I will burst your eardrums from the inside.
"Oh. He doesn't want to go to you, it seems."
Yes. Correct. Protect me, Sofia aunty. Never let me go. You are the only one who sees me as a baby and not a f**king milk tank.
"Or maybe… he's hungry?" she said.
NOT THIS AGAIN.
"He only drank for three hours after all."
Three hours is not just. It's a war crime.
"Yes, that must be it. Give him to me. I'll feed him for five hours now."
NO! My mother's back. Armed and dangerous. She reached for me like a serial killer looking for her next glass of trauma latte.
And five hours?! Ma'am, I haven't even been alive for five hours yet.
Sofia aunty, I'm begging you—don't let this woman touch me. She'll milk me into a coma.
"Here, sis. But I think five hours is still too short. It should be at least seven."
SEVEN HOURS?!
What kind of black magic cow-training are these women under?
Who raised y'all? Homelander?!
At this point, there was no choice.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
I let out a cry so loud it could summon Cthulhu.
I cried like a kid who just found out Santa was actually Uncle Tom in a fake beard and child support debt.
I cried hard in the hopes someone—anyone—would barge in.
Neighbors. Thieves. A cult. Human traffickers. I don't care. Just get me OUT.
SLAM!
The door burst open like a divine intervention.
I looked toward the sound.
Please be a savior. Please be the child protection services.
It was... an old, short, female goblin.
Why are there so many Goblins?!
Is this world just one big green convention?
She came closer, frowning like she smelled tax fraud.
"What are you doing with my grandson?" she asked, snatching me away like she was collecting coupons.
Oh… she's my grandma?
So Grandpa's the one who entered a goblin camp and came back with a wife.
Alright. Guess we're just genetically bold like that.
"My mother-in-law! Where were you?" my dad asked.
Mother-in-law?!
So this goblin lady is my mom's mom?
Bruh. Grandpa got game.
"I went to inform your father-in-law of the good news. He was so happy, he started doing me."
Ma'am, you are in a room with your daughter. And her husband. And a f**king newborn.
"Yeah, he does that. Haha," my dad chuckled.
What kind of open-minded soap opera is this?
At this point, I stopped crying. Maybe Granny is the one sane being here.
Let's see.
"Why was he crying?" she asked, shaking me slightly like a pissed-off maraca.
"I was going to feed him for seven hours and just then he started crying," my mom said with the confidence of a serial breastfeeder.
Granny's green eyes widened.
Finally, finally someone sees the absurdity.
"Are you MAD?!"
Yes. YES!
Finally, a voice of reason.
Call the police. Call Gandalf. Call anybody.
"What happened?" Sofia aunty asked, confused.
"He's a Human, not a goblin! He'll DIE if you feed him that long! Five to ten minutes, MAX!"
Granny came in swinging logic like a frying pan.
A warrior. A scholar. The Savior of Nipples.
"But he drank for three hours just fine," said my mother, as if surviving near-death was proof of strength.
Granny turned to her and nearly dislocated her neck from the whiplash.
"You're all idiots. It's a miracle he's alive. I'll teach you how to raise a baby before you idiots raise a corpse."
She did kill her original grandson, Grandma.
Like, literally breastfed him into the afterlife.
"Lol. I didn't know that," my mother said… and stuck out her tongue.
Woman. You killed a baby, not lost a sock.
And why the fcuk do you know what "lol" means? Are you part of the TikTok algorithm?
"Lmao. I also didn't know that. I was treating him like a goblin."
Sofia aunty, you too?
LMAO?!
What is this? Is the goblin education system running on memes?
Is this world a fever dream coded by Gen Z Discord mods?
Anyway, my grandmother—the only living creature with brain cells—held me in her arms and turned into a baby-raising drill sergeant.
She made my father sit down like a schoolboy and write down survival notes.
"Rule 1: Five-minute milk max.
Rule 2: Don't drop the baby unless he's on fire.
Rule 3: No father milk. Ever."
She recited, he scribbled, and I vibed.
After finishing the 'How Not To Kill A Human Baby' checklist, Grandma handed me back to my mother.
For once, I didn't resist. The air was calm.
Boobs were holstered.
Everyone was alive.
Grandmas are the GOAT—Goblin Of All Time.
TIME SKIP – 1 DAY LATER
Now listen—every MC needs action.
You don't wanna read three more chapters of me dodging boobs like it's "Nipple Dodgeball Simulator 3000."
So I slept. Peacefully.
No milk-boarding. No goblin chants. No trauma.
And then, I woke up the next day…
…to the one thing that changes everything.
The one thing that makes you stick around.
A floating text box appeared in front of my eyes.
A SYSTEM.
[ Congratulations, you fulfilled the condition to acquire the System! ]
[ You successfully survived 24 hours in this World called Moral and hence you are being rewarded with Overpoweredness! ]
[ You got Ac— ]
No. No. If you reveal everything now, these people will scroll away like heartless swipers on dating apps.
[ Right. So.. ]
[ You got... ]
Nice. Now this is a cliffhanger.