That time I got reincarnated as the Monster King

The verdant hills surrounding the fledgling settlement hummed with the industrious energy of its inhabitants. Each passing day, the village of the Goblins burgeoned under the guidance of Arceus, its benevolent sovereign.

From my vantage point atop the cliff, I observed the ceaseless activity, a testament to the dedication of every monster under my protection.

Kaijin, the master dwarven craftsman, along with the three dwarven brothers, Garm, Dord, and Myrd, toiled diligently. Their hammers rang out, crafting sturdy tools and intricate garments, while new homes, each an improvement on the last, steadily rose from the earth. Below, under the astute leadership of Rigurd, the Goblin Lords were meticulously devising a system of governance, their discussions a murmur of burgeoning civilization.

"Even without my direct orders," I mused aloud, a faint smile playing on my lips, "everyone is performing their duties with commendable zeal."

My gaze drifted from the thriving village to the familiar porcelain mask I kept tied to my pocket. Shizu's mask, now whole once more. Only moments ago, its cracked surface had been a painful reminder of loss. I had gently traced the fractured lines, a faint purple glow emanating from my fingertips as my magic seamlessly mended the delicate ceramic.

"Shizu," I whispered, the name a soft caress on the wind, "I'll take good care of this keepsake, for you." The mask, now pristine, seemed to reflect the sunlight, a silent promise held sacred.

I leaned back against the rough bark of a sturdy tree, my eyes still fixed on the panorama below. The rhythmic sounds of construction, the distant shouts of the Goblins, and the gentle murmur of the wind through the leaves created a symphony of progress.

It was then that Elder Rigurd, ever diligent, approached me, his stride purposeful. "That concludes my report, Great Arceus," he stated, his voice respectful.

"Good work, Rigurd," I replied, my smile unwavering. His efforts, and those of his Goblin Lords, were truly commendable.

Suddenly, a guttural cry pierced the tranquil air. "Master! There's an emergency! My brothers are in need of aid, and the hunting team is in danger!" Ranga, my loyal Tempest Wolf, materialized from my shadow, his voice laced with urgency.

My eyes narrowed, the gentle warmth in them replaced by a cold, sharp glint. I rose swiftly, my attention immediately drawn to the direction of the forest, a foreboding presence now hanging heavy in the air. The hunting party. Danger. The two thoughts intertwined, sparking a fierce protective instinct within me.

Deep within the shadowed embrace of the forest, the hunting party was locked in a brutal engagement. The air was thick with the stench of fear and the clash of steel.

"Hyaa!" Gobta cried out, his voice a strained gasp, as the blade of an aged Ogre severed his hand with a swift, brutal slash.

I materialized before him, the scene unfolding in a horrifying tableau. Gobta lay on the ground, his arm clutched tightly to his chest, his face contorted in agony. Without hesitation, I extended a hand. "Ent," I chanted, the ancient word a low hum. A soft green light enveloped Gobta's severed limb, the wound knitting itself together with impossible speed, leaving no trace of the grisly injury.

My gaze flickered to the two figures that stood before us: a red-skinned Ogre, his muscular, athletic physique clad in striking red samurai armor, a katana sheathed at his hip; and an elderly white-robed Ogre, his face etched with the wisdom of ages, also grasping the hilt of his own katana.

"O-oh! It's you, Great Arceus! Did you come because you were worried and came to help?" Gobta stammered, still clutching his arm, a lingering phantom pain, despite its complete healing.

My attention shifted to the other Goblin hunters strewn across the forest floor, unconscious but thankfully not grievously wounded. With the same healing spell, I brought them back to consciousness, a collective gasp echoing through the clearing as they stirred.

A guttural howl ripped through the canopy above, and I looked skyward to see Ranga, a formidable blur of fur and fangs, locked in a fierce struggle with two other Ogres. One was a hulking brute, his massive frame rippling with muscle, wielding a monstrous wooden club. The other, a dark-skinned, slender Ogre, moved with lithe grace, twin blades flashing in his hands.

As Ranga lunged forward, a shimmering wall of azure flame erupted between him and his opponents, forcing him to recoil. My eyes immediately located the source: a pink-haired Ogre girl stood partially concealed behind a towering tree, her palm still glowing with residual magic.

"Ranga," I called, my voice calm despite the escalating situation.

"Master! Forgive me!" Ranga's voice was tinged with shame. "While I was preoccupied—"

My attention was drawn to the sharp clang of metal nearby. Rigur, ever courageous, was locked in a desperate duel with a light-purple-haired Ogre woman, whose mace swung with deadly precision.

"Rigur, return," I commanded. He dodged a sweeping blow, his movements fluid, and leaped back towards me, landing with a respectful bow.

"G-Great Arceus… I am sorry," Rigur stammered, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Don't worry," I assured him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Leave this to me and get some rest." A soft green glow enveloped Rigur, restoring his strength and mending his minor injuries.

"Ranga," I inquired, my gaze sweeping over the recovered Goblins, "what happened to the others on the ground?"

"They've been put to sleep with magic," Ranga replied, his voice a low growl. "That pink-haired one did it." He pointed a paw towards the Ogre girl, who was now partially obscured by her comrades.

A heavy silence descended upon the clearing. My eyes, now devoid of any warmth, fixed on the group of Ogres.

"How humiliating," Rigur muttered, still crouched beside Gobta. "I never thought we would run into Ogres."

I took two steps forward, my stance radiating a quiet authority. "I don't know what transpired here, but I apologize for any actions my people may have taken. Would you be willing to resolve this with a conversation?" My voice was calm, my expression gentle, despite the palpable tension.

Their eyes, however, remained cold, filled with an unwavering hostility.

"Show us who you really are! Evil Majin!" the red-armored Ogre roared, his voice laced with venom.

"Hm?" I murmured, a flicker of confusion crossing my face.

"Enslaving monsters is not a feat just any human can accomplish," the red Ogre spat, pointing an accusing finger. "You may hide your appearance and suppress your aura, but it won't work!"

"Reveal your true identity," the elder white Ogre added, his voice rough, echoing the younger Ogre's sentiment.

"For the mastermind to approach us himself is most convenient," the dark-skinned Ogre chimed in, his tone dripping with malice.

"Listen," I began, my eyes narrowing, the previous hint of confusion replaced by a growing chill.

"We have no intention of listening to you," the red Ogre interrupted, his hand already on the hilt of his katana, poised to draw. "That mask tells us everything we need to know!" As he spoke, his blade hissed free of its scabbard.

"Huh?" My gaze instinctively dropped to Shizu's porcelain mask, still tied to my pocket, now visibly exposed. "Are you mistaking me for someone else?"

The red Ogre leveled his katana at me, its point unwavering. "If it will serve to repay even a billionth of what was done to our brethren, we will have your head! You friend of those evil pigs!"

"What shall we do, Master?" Ranga whispered beside me, his concern evident.

"There's no need," I replied, my voice calm, almost detached.

"But that would mean you would face the six Ogres alone," Ranga pressed, his worry palpable.

"It's not a problem, Ranga," I stated, a cold resolve settling in my eyes. "I've faced far worse."

"That's my master! Understood!" Ranga praised, his tail giving a low, excited wag.

"You underestimate us," the red Ogre sneered, his stance shifting into a battle-ready posture. "Are you truly brave or just foolhardy?" He paused, a strange glint in his eyes. "Out of respect for your sheer nerve, I'll go along with your provocation. I hope you don't regret it later!"

With a guttural shout, the red Ogre charged, his katana flashing down in a devastating arc. But his blow met only air. In a single, imperceptible step, I had moved, reappearing directly in front of the large Ogre with the wooden club.

"Forgive me about this. Orinthal," I chanted softly, my palm resting against the massive Ogre's chest. Silver-white lightning crackled from my fingers, a silent, potent current that surged through his body. There was no burn, no visible injury, only a tremendous, unseen force that sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious. I withdrew my hand.

"Hm?" I turned my head just as the purple-haired Ogre woman's mace slammed against my skull. The impact was jarring, but not for me. Instead, the heavy mace fractured and split in two, its wielder staring at the broken pieces in disbelief.

"Gijel," I intoned, and before she could recover, glowing magical chains erupted from the earth, binding her wrists and ankles, securing her to the ground.

A whisper of air announced another attack. A blade, honed to razor sharpness, flashed inches from my face. I caught it effortlessly between two fingers, my gaze cold and unwavering as I met the eyes of the dark-skinned Ogre. With a single, decisive snap of my wrist, the blade shattered into fragments. My other palm gently pressed against his stomach, a powerful, unseen force erupting outwards, sending him hurtling backward to collide with a tree, unconscious.

"So, that just leaves the three of you," I stated, turning to face the remaining trio: the pink-haired Ogre girl, the red samurai-armored Ogre, and the elder white-robed Ogre, their katanas now fully drawn.

"He is an undeniably powerful monster," the elder Ogre warned the red Ogre, his voice strained with caution. "Please do not let your guard down, young master."

They only recognize me as a monster when I reveal my power, how ridiculous... I thought to myself, a flicker of exasperation mixed with amusement.

"My offer still stands," I said aloud, my voice calm and even. "Let's settle this with a conversation."

"Quiet, Evil Majin!" the red Ogre roared, his hostility undimmed.

"I admit you're strong," he continued, his eyes narrowed. "That makes me all the more certain."

"Certain of what?" I questioned, my gaze sharpening.

"You are one of them!" the red Ogre declared, his grip tightening on his katana.

"Them? Who?" I pressed, genuinely confused.

"It is unthinkable for us Ogres to be defeated by mere Orcs!" the red Ogre seethed, his voice thick with rage. "I know it was all the work of you and your Majin comrades!"

"Majin? You've got the wrong—" My sentence was abruptly cut short as the elder white Ogre, with surprising swiftness and silence, appeared behind me. His katana, a blur of silver, aimed for my head. But his precise strike was met by two of my fingers, which caught the blade mid-air, halting its lethal trajectory.

"What?" the elder Ogre gasped, his eyes wide with shock.

I released his blade and instantly moved back, creating distance.

"I must have gone senile," the elder Ogre muttered, regaining his composure and readying his katana once more. "I'll cut you with the next swing."

"He stopped the elder's sword..." the red Ogre muttered to himself, a new wariness entering his voice.

"The pride that compelled you to take us all down," the red Ogre proclaimed, his blade poised for attack, "I will cut through it."

A small, knowing grin touched my lips. "Pride is the monster's origin source. I wouldn't be here now if I wasn't proud of my own."

"F-foul beast! Ogre Flame!" the red Ogre chanted, his hands moving in a complex pattern. A whirlwind of crimson flame erupted, engulfing me completely.

"Young... Master..." the elder white Ogre whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

"Did I... Get him?" the red Ogre stammered, maintaining the intense conflagration. But their eyes widened in unison as a silhouette, unmistakably mine, remained standing within the heart of the raging inferno.

I walked out of the flames, completely unscathed, a faint, almost imperceptible grin on my face. "Let me show you. What true flame is." As I spoke, a subtle, yet undeniably monstrous aura began to emanate from my body, a silent declaration of power.

"What terrifying aura..." the elder white Ogre muttered, a primal fear creeping into his voice as they looked at my eyes like prey staring into the abyss of a predator's gaze.

I pointed my finger upwards to the sky. A colossal, square-shaped magic sigil materialized above, shimmering with arcane energy. From its depths, a miniature sun, dark and intensely hot, descended.

"Jio Graze," I chanted, the word resonating with ancient power.

"That... That ball of flames is... It's not produced by the surrounding magicules!" the pink-haired Ogre girl whispered, her voice laced with awe and disbelief. "The only one forming that ball of flame is his own strength!"

"And the size of the ball of flame is mirroring the size of his power..." she continued, her voice trailing off in wonder.

"This is my power," I stated, compressing the miniature dark sun until it was no larger than a marble. With a gentle flick of my wrist, I sent it hurtling towards a nearby boulder. The subsequent explosion ripped through the forest, leaving a crater where the rock once stood, a testament to the raw, concentrated power I wielded.

"Even if I can't win," the red Ogre shouted, his voice hoarse with a desperate defiance, "I will still fight back!"

"Young master, if you fight, I will fight by your side!" the elder white Ogre declared, his loyalty unwavering.

"Wait! Brother!" The pink-haired Ogre girl suddenly rushed forward, placing herself squarely between the red Ogre and me, her arms outstretched, a fragile shield. "This individual may not be our enemy!"

"Move!" the red Ogre demanded, his eyes still fixed on me.

"No!" the pink-haired Ogre girl refused, her voice firm. "Why? He's a masked Majin just like the one that attacked our village! You said so yourself!"

"Yes... But please think this through calmly," the pink-haired Ogre girl pleaded, her eyes filled with an earnest sincerity. "Why would such a powerful Majin use such underhanded tactics as forcing pigs to attack our village? It doesn't make sense." She gestured towards the massive crater. "He surely has the power to kill us all on his own, if he so desired!" A gentle smile formed on my lips as I watched her, a quiet admiration for her discernment. "There is no doubt he is unlike us, but I don't think he has any connection to the ones that attacked our village."

"Can we now have our conversation?" I asked, my gentle smile returning in full.

"Who are you?" the red Ogre asked, his eyes narrowed, still wary, but a hint of doubt now tempering his hostility.

"I am just a king that the monsters followed," I replied, my hand instinctively caressing Ranga's soft, snow-white fur mane. "This mask," I continued, withdrawing Shizu's porcelain mask from my pocket, "is a keepsake from someone I knew." I extended it towards him. "Feel free to see if this is the same one as your attacker had."

"All right..." the red Ogre muttered, cautiously taking the mask from my hand and inspecting it closely.

"It's similar, but..." he began, his voice trailing off.

"This one contains anti-magic power," the pink-haired Ogre girl interjected, her keen eyes discerning the subtle magical properties of the mask.

"But the Majin that attacked didn't conceal their magical aura," the elder white Ogre mused, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Then... Forgive us, Monster King," the red Ogre said, the last vestiges of hostility draining from his face, replaced by profound humility. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "It seems our desperation caused a great misunderstanding. Please accept my apology."

"I accept," I replied, my smile unwavering. "Come with me back to our town so I can hear your story."