Hans continued to marvel at the breathtaking beauty surrounding him as he stepped out of the grave. The scent of fragrant flowers filled the air, their vibrant colors spreading across the plain before him. The trees swayed gently, their branches twisting and dancing as if celebrating his arrival, and birds flew overhead, singing harmoniously in his direction. It felt like the world itself was welcoming him, and Hans couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the new world he had found himself in.
He walked forward, drawn by the allure of the landscape. But as he ventured deeper into the forest, he noticed something strange: goblins. At first, he thought he was imagining it, but no—these goblins were real, alive, and moving. It was like something out of a myth or nightmare, but here they were, marching through the forest in full armor, carrying weapons like knights from ancient legends.
Hans stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide with amazement. He had heard stories of goblins in his childhood, but he never believed they could exist, let alone see them in action. What was even more startling was the sight of the goblins running in the opposite direction, as if fleeing from something. He could feel the unease in the air, a palpable tension that suggested something dangerous was approaching.
Before Hans could process what was happening, the goblins spotted him. A group of armored goblins, clad in shining metal plates and armed with short swords, galloped toward him on massive wolves the size of cows. Hans's breath caught in his throat as he stared at them. These goblins were far more sophisticated than anything he had imagined. Standing around Him, they looked almost human—except for their green skin. Their armor resembled that of medieval knights, and the sight of them riding enormous wolves only added to their intimidating presence.
As they neared him, Hans noticed one particular goblin among them. This one was different from the others. He wore gold armor and a crown, and there was something regal in his posture despite the obvious exhaustion written across his face. The goblin appeared to be gravely wounded. Hans, with his heightened senses—an ability he'd recently discovered after the traumatic events at the grave—could sense that the life force of the goblin in gold armor was rapidly fading. It was only a matter of time before the goblin would succumb to his wounds.
Suddenly, before Hans could act, he found himself face-to-face with the goblins. His instinct took over, and he stepped forward, trying to communicate. His voice was weak, strained from the ordeal at the grave, but he managed to say, "He... needs... help..."
The goblins paused, clearly startled by his words. The one leading the group, a goblin knight, turned to an old figure behind him. This goblin was draped in tattered robes and carried a gnarled cane adorned with skulls.
"Old Shaman!" the knight shouted. "We can't understand him, but it seems like he wants to tell us something!"
The old shaman squinted, looking at Hans with a mixture of curiosity and fear. As Hans spoke again, the shaman's expression shifted from confusion to pure terror. Hans didn't know it, but he was speaking in the ancient language of demons, a tongue long forgotten by most.
"That man speaks the language of ancient demons!" the shaman exclaimed, his voice trembling. "And look—his horn! He is a royal demon!"
The shaman's words caused the goblins to draw their weapons in alarm, their swords gleaming in the sunlight. They pointed them directly at Hans, but the young man stood his ground, determined to help the wounded goblin.
"Help... he... needs... help..." Hans repeated weakly, gesturing toward the gold-armored goblin.
The goblins, unable to understand him, remained on edge. But just as the tension reached a breaking point, a distant sound broke the stillness—thunderous footsteps, followed by a cloud of dust rising in the air. Hans squinted, trying to make out the source, but it was only when he used his newfound ability to sense life forces that he saw it: a massive creature with a shark-like head. Its presence was overwhelming, and it was charging toward them like a runaway train.
The goblins froze, their fear apparent. They could only watch in terror as the creature advanced. Its massive hooves shook the ground, and its roar was like the call of a beast from the deepest nightmares. The goblins lowered their weapons, paralyzed by fear. Even the shaman was trembling, unable to stop the impending disaster.
Hans, however, could not afford to stand by and watch. He had to act, but what could he do against such a formidable foe?
A voice whispered in his mind, sharp and urgent.
"You have to use an explosion spell to kill that beast. But make sure it's powerful enough to destroy it with one blow."
Hans blinked in confusion. "What? How? I've never used magic before in my life!"
The voice responded with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "What? You've never used magic? You're a demon, for gods' sake! Magic is your heritage. It's your only hope!"
Despite the voice's exasperation, Hans didn't hesitate. Without thinking about it, he sprinted toward the charging beast, his legs moving faster than he'd ever imagined possible. In the blink of an eye, Hans had closed the distance and was standing directly in front of the monster. The goblins and even the voice were shocked by the sheer speed and audacity of his action.
The creature's massive jaws snapped at Hans, but he dodged effortlessly, moving with a grace and agility that seemed unnatural. It was as if time itself slowed down for him, and every move he made was perfectly calculated to avoid the beast attacks. The beast, furious at being unable to catch him, whirled around, its massive teeth sinking into the earth as it tried to turn back to Hans.
The goblins, who had watched in awe, now understood the magnitude of Hans's power. He was dodging the demon beast's attacks with ease, something they thought impossible for any creature to do. Hans was matching the monster's speed and reflexes, something even the most skilled warriors could not achieve.
The battle was intense, but just as the beast charged toward the goblins in a last, desperate attempt to strike, Hans did something that none of them expected. With a sudden burst of speed, he appeared in front of the creature, He punched its massive head with a powerful blow.
The demon beast let out a howl of pain and staggered back, its head reeling from the impact. For a moment, it seemed stunned. The goblins, who had been certain they would meet their end, stood in disbelief. They were saved.
As the creature retreated into the forest, Hans turned back to the group. His chest heaved with exhaustion, but he was determined to finish what he started. He pointed once again at the injured goblin in gold armor.
"He... needs... help," Hans said, his voice still weak but full of resolve.
The goblins stared at him, dumbfounded. They didn't understand him, but they could see the urgency in his eyes. Just as Hans spoke again, a figure appeared in the clearing—a woman, radiant and ethereal, draped in leaves and vines. She had a porcelain complexion, long green hair, and a face that seemed as if it had been sculpted by the gods themselves.
"Do you truly wish to save the goblin lord?" the woman asked softly.
Without hesitation, Hans nodded. "Yes, he needs help."
The goblins and the shaman watched in stunned silence, realizing that this woman spoke the ancient demon language, just like Hans. The shaman's eyes widened with recognition, but before he could speak, the woman murmured a quiet incantation. The golden-armored goblin's wounds began to glow with a soft, golden light, and slowly, his deep injuries began to heal.
The goblins watched in awe as the goblin lord's body was restored, not a scar remaining on him. When the woman finished, she turned to Hans and smiled at him.
Hans's eyes widened in shock. "Your voice... it's you!" he exclaimed.
But as he spoke, the woman laughed softly, her figure slowly fading from sight like a fleeting dream. The goblins, confused and awestruck, were left with more questions than answers.
Meanwhile, the woman walked over to where the demon beast had fallen. Kneeling beside it, she examined the creature's body, her eyes narrowing as she saw something odd. Where Hans had struck the beast, there was a round, perfectly clean wound, as though the force of his blow had penetrated deeper than any physical strike. The woman's cheeks flushed with surprise.
"What a strange man..." she murmured to herself, a faint smile playing on her lips.
And as she disappeared into the woods, one thing was certain—The young man piqued her interest.