John wandered deeper into the woods, the trees growing thicker around him, their branches weaving together overhead to form a canopy that blocked out most of the fading sunlight. The forest floor was soft with fallen leaves and moss, muffling his footsteps as he walked. Birds called out somewhere in the distance, and the occasional rustle in the underbrush suggested small animals scurrying away from his approach.
He had been walking for about ten minutes now, and he was already bored.
"So," John said out loud, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet woods. "How far am I from where those two bastards are? Zedrik and Alrick. The tax collectors."
The system's response appeared in front of him, blue text floating in the air.
Calculating current location. You are in the Muslil Forest, which surrounds the country of Thornheim. Zedrik and Alrick are currently at a banquet in the heart of Thornheim, in the capital city. The straight-line distance between your current position and their location is approximately 1956.67 kilometers.
John stopped walking. He stared at the number, his mouth falling open slightly. "Almost two thousand kilometers? Are you serious?"
Deadly serious. Would you like me to convert that to miles for you? It's approximately 1216 miles.
"I don't need a conversion! I need a ride!" John threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "There's no way I'm walking almost two thousand kilometers. That would take weeks! Months! I'd lose my mind!"
You could always teleport.
"I know I can teleport, but I can't teleport directly into the middle of a banquet, can I? That would cause a scene. I need to be sneaky about this. I need a plan."
So far, your plans have consisted of 'show up and kill everyone.'
"That's not true! I had a plan for Elrin! I pretended to be an advisor and everything!"
And then you gave up on pretending and just chloroformed him.
John opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. The system wasn't wrong. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his silver-gray curls. "Ugh. Fine. Whatever. I need to figure something out."
He stood there in the middle of the forest for a long moment, thinking. The sun continued to sink lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that filtered through the trees in beautiful patterns. John barely noticed. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a solution.
And then it hit him.
He teleported.
The world folded around him, the forest vanishing in a blur of green and brown, and then he was back in his mansion. The familiar black marble floors, the gold sconces, the quiet hum of magic in the air. He was still in his goblin body, still wearing the armor, still covered in a thin layer of forest dust.
John walked through the halls, his boots clicking on the stone, until he reached his office. The gaming chair was still there, the monitors still glowing, the whole room exactly as he'd left it. He dropped into the chair with a heavy sigh and stared at the ceiling.
"Okay," he said. "I need a way to be in two places at once. I need to keep my promise to the goblins, hunt food for them, make sure they don't tear each other apart while I'm gone. But I also need to go deal with Zedrik and Alrick."
That sounds like a personal problem.
"Shut up. Can I make a clone? Like, a copy of myself that I can give instructions to? Something that will act exactly like me until I get back?"
The system paused for a moment, and John could have sworn he felt it thinking.
You are a fucking overlord. You can do anything. Why are you even asking me? Just do it.
John blinked. "Fair point."
He pulled up the system interface, his fingers flying across the blue screen as he navigated to the creation menu. There it was, a sub-section he hadn't noticed before. Clone Creation. He tapped it, and a new window opened up with a simple text field.
Clone Parameters:
John thought for a moment. He needed something that could pass for him, that could interact with the goblins, that could hunt and lead and keep the peace. But he didn't need it to be perfect. Just functional.
He started typing.
Appearance: Identical to current goblin form. Silver-gray curly hair, handsome green features, armor and weapons included. Personality: Friendly, confident, protective of the goblins. Prioritizes their safety and well-being. Skills: Hunting, basic combat, basic leadership. Not as powerful as the original, but strong enough to handle wolves and bears. Instructions: Hunt enough food to feed five hundred people for one day. Keep the peace in the village. Do not let anyone get hurt. Act exactly as I would act.
John read it over, nodded, and hit confirm.
The air in front of him shimmered, folded, and then a second goblin appeared. It looked exactly like him, same silver-gray curls, same handsome green features, same armor and weapons. The clone blinked once, twice, and then its face split into a wide grin.
"Hey boss," the clone said, its voice identical to John's. "What's the word?"
John pointed at the clone, then at the door. "You're going to the goblin village. You're going to hunt food for them. You're going to keep them safe. And you're going to act exactly like me. Got it?"
The clone saluted. "Got it, boss. Easy money."
You're a bum, the system said, the text appearing off to the side.
John's head snapped toward the screen. "What did you just call me?"
A bum. A lazy, good-for-nothing bum who can't even be bothered to hunt for his own goblins. You're literally making a clone do your chores for you. That's bum behavior.
"I am not a bum!" John stood up from the chair, pointing at the screen with one finger. "I'm being efficient! There's a difference!"
Sure there is. Tell yourself that while your clone is out there doing the job you promised to do.
John's face flushed with anger, his jaw clenching. "You know what? I don't have to take this from a floating text box. I'm an overlord. I have drip. I have a twenty-inch futa servant in the other room. I have two femboys sleeping in a broken bed covered in MY cum. I am literally living the dream right now."
And yet you're still making a clone do your work.
"Ugh!" John threw his hands up in the air, then turned to the clone. "Just go! Go do the thing! Hunt the food! Keep the peace! Don't mess it up!"
The clone gave another salute, then teleported away in a flash of blue light. John watched the space where it had been for a moment, then slumped back into the gaming chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Bum," he muttered under his breath. "I'm not a bum."
Whatever helps you sleep at night.
John ignored the system and pulled up the map again. The globe spun lazily in front of him, continents and cities blurring past as he zoomed in on Thornheim. The capital city was marked with a glowing red dot, indicating the location of his targets.
"Alright," John said, cracking his knuckles. "Pull up where Zedrik and Alrick are right now. I want to see what they're doing."
The system hesitated.
Are you sure? It uh... gets a little graphic.
John laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Graphic? System, I've watched a man get his head pulped by a bear punch. I've watched a god murder an entire family in front of me. I've watched a noble get railed so hard he forgot his own name. You're warning the wrong person. Just show me."
Suit yourself.
The screen flickered, and the image resolved. John leaned forward, his yellow eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.