Unity

Hans blinked in surprise at the words that had just left the goblin lord's mouth.

"You... you can understand my language?" he asked, his voice tinged with shock.

The goblin lord nodded, his expression serious yet filled with respect. "Yes, powerful one. But tell me, is it acceptable for me to call you a friend, sire?"

Hans chuckled softly. "Yes, it's okay."

The goblin lord seemed relieved, but before their conversation could continue, the goblin shaman stepped forward, his ancient eyes filled with hesitation.

"My lord," the shaman spoke with urgency, his voice lowered, as if speaking too loudly would be blasphemy. "That man… he is of the ancient demon race, a race far above our own. Should we not bow before him?"

At those words, the goblin lord tensed, his fingers clenching into fists. He had been so caught up in his relief and gratitude toward Hans that he had momentarily forgotten the laws governing their world—the strict hierarchy of races.

Hans noticed the change in the goblin lord's expression. Where there had once been warmth, there was now worry, even fear. It was as if some unseen chain had wrapped itself around the young goblin leader, restraining him from moving forward.

"Lord of the goblins… my friend…" Hans spoke gently, frowning as he studied the shift in his demeanor. "I can see the anxiety on your face. Can you tell me the reason?"

The shaman's breath hitched. This monster—no, this ancient demon—was different. He had expected arrogance, cruelty, even indifference. Yet, Hans spoke with concern, as if the goblin lord's troubles mattered to him.

The goblin lord took a deep breath before explaining.

"There is a law," he began, his voice bitter. "A law that has existed since the ancient times, forbidding lower races from interacting with the upper races as equals. If I, as a goblin, treat you as a friend, I will be punished. And should the higher races learn of this… war could break out."

Hans stiffened. He understood now.

It wasn't about fear of him—it was about fear of what came after.

Goblins, already seen as weak, would be wiped out if the ruling races saw them stepping beyond their station.

Hans sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So if I continue to stay with you, you'll be in danger?"

The goblin lord nodded solemnly.

Hans thought carefully. He knew that, as a descendant of the demon race, he would not be punished. No one would dare. But the goblins… they would be the ones to suffer.

Still, he couldn't just leave them. Not now.

"Then tell me," Hans said, his eyes darkening with determination. "Who is at the top of the hierarchy? Who enforces this law?"

The goblin lord hesitated before answering. "The ogres," he finally said. "When the demon tribes mysteriously vanished from this world and when Demon Lord Marlic was slain, chaos broke out among the monster races. Without leadership, war erupted."

Hans listened intently as the goblin lord continued.

"The land was divided. The weak were forced into the darkness, hiding in underground caves, while the strong fought for control over the surface. In the end, the ogres won. They took the throne that once belonged to your people, the ancient demons."

Hans processed this information, his mind racing.

"If the demon race hadn't disappeared…" the shaman murmured, "then things would never have ended like this."

Hans turned to him, eyes narrowing slightly. "You… You can understand my language too?"

The shaman nodded. "It is a language that once ruled this world. Some of us have retained fragments of it."

Hans exhaled sharply. "Then that means I need to think of a solution… and fast."

He closed his eyes, mind whirring with possibilities.

And then… he heard it.

A voice. One he hadn't heard in some time.

"Hans…"

His eyes snapped open. His breath hitched.

That voice… It was him.

The voice that haunted his mind, the entity that had once tried to take control of his body.

"Hans, it looks like you and your friends are in trouble. Do you need help?"

Hans clenched his fists.

"No. I don't need your help," he growled under his breath.

The voice chuckled. "Are you sure about that, Hans?"

There was a mocking tone in the question, as if the being knew Hans would eventually break.

Hans had thought he had silenced this entity, thought it had faded away for good. But no—it had merely waited. Watched.

And now, it had returned.

Unbeknownst to Hans, the voice had never truly disappeared. It had only been lying in wait, observing. But something had changed.

As it watched Hans risk himself for the goblins, a new plan formed in its mind.

For the first time, it had seen a being willing to protect those weaker than him—not for power, not for gain, but simply because he wanted to.

And that… intrigued it.

Instead of forcing control over Hans's body, perhaps there was another way.

The voice hummed in amusement, its unseen gaze scanning Hans from head to toe.

Instead of taking over, why not teach him?

"Hans," the voice called again, "what is your decision?"

"You can't deceive me," Hans snapped, his teeth grinding together. "What do you want this time? Are you trying to take my body again?"

Another laugh, deep and knowing.

"No… I have no interest in taking over your body anymore. After watching you, I've come to a different conclusion."

Hans narrowed his eyes. "And what is that?"

"I want to work with you."

Hans stilled.

The voice continued. "This land… was mine once. Long ago, before the ogres, before the wars, before the disappearances."

Hans felt a chill run down his spine.

And then… the voice spoke the words that changed everything.

"This was my kingdom, Hans. Before everything fell apart."

Hans's heart pounded. "*Who… are you?*"

The voice chuckled darkly. "I was wondering when you'd ask."

And then, with an air of pride, it spoke the name that sent a shiver through Hans's very soul.

"I am Demon Lord Marlic."

Hans's breath caught in his throat.

"Wh—WHAT?!"

The voice let out a booming laugh. "Oh? Did I surprise you?"

Hans's mind reeled. He had heard the stories. The history.

Demon Lord Marlic—the once-mighty ruler of the demon race. The being who had united the monsters of the land. The one who had died.

But if he was dead… then why was he speaking to Hans?

"That's… impossible," Hans muttered.

Marlic's voice softened, almost amused. "You tell me, Hans. Does anything about your life seem normal?"

Hans gritted his teeth.

This changed everything.

The goblins, the hierarchy, the law—none of it mattered anymore.

Because standing in the shadows of his own mind…

Was the true ruler of the land.

And Hans had just inherited his voice.