I Was Supposed to Be the Demon King, but They Made Me Save the World

Their skin was a blend of green and purple, their heads bald except for a few stray hairs, and their stature short. It was unmistakable—they were goblins. But these weren't ordinary ones.

A dark, eerie energy seeped from their forms, and Baldwin immediately noticed the difference. These goblins wielded purple shadows, manipulating them like living mist. Their movements were unnaturally fast—faster than even an advanced human with speed-enhancing abilities. Some sank into the darkness beneath them, while others used it to distort their presence.

One goblin suddenly lunged, its arrow cutting through the air at blinding speed. Baldwin raised a hand, prepared to block, but the instant the goblin was about to collide with him—it vanished. A split second later, it reappeared behind him, its weapon poised to strike.

"What the heck?" Baldwin muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "You think you can win against me?"

Instead of reacting, he casually shoved his hands into his pockets, standing as if this was nothing more than a passing nuisance.

The arrowhead was just inches from piercing his back when—suddenly—the goblin froze in place. Not just him, but all of them. The entire group stood motionless, their shadowy forms trembling.

Baldwin exhaled sharply, his voice calm yet absolute.

"I am not just a lord of shadows." He took a slow step forward, his presence pressing down on them like an unshakable force. "I am the King of Shadows. Even shadow lords bow before me."

A moment of silence hung in the air. Then—before the goblins could even react—their bodies twisted, unraveling into plumes of violet smoke.

"Pathetic," Baldwin muttered as the last trace of violet mist faded. "Whoever created you… tell them to try harder next time."

Baldwin watched as the mist dissipated, his expression unreadable. "Interesting… They weren't natural." He glanced at the fading remnants of their existence, a spark of curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"A labyrinth's creation, huh?" He muttered, turning back toward the depths of the forest. Something else was waiting for him—he could feel it.

At the same time far from their hut, deep in the forest, Olivia and her mother, Velisara, were gathering fruits and firewood. The air was damp from the earlier rain, and the leaves glistened under the faint sunlight filtering through the dense canopy.

Suddenly, without warning, Velisara's hand shot out, grabbing Olivia by the waist. In one swift motion, she leaped backward, just as a flurry of arrows struck the spot where her daughter had stood moments ago. The sharp tips quivered in the dirt, a silent warning of a lethal intent.

Still holding Olivia with one arm, Velisara's other hand instinctively reached for a sturdy branch from the pile they had gathered. Her sharp eyes scanned the treetops.

The sky had turned an eerie shade of red. A series of dark, shifting figures loomed above them, perched on the branches like specters of the abyss. They had unnaturally long ears, their skin a sickly shade of purple. Their slender forms bore an uncanny resemblance to elves, yet something about them was… wrong. Their aura exuded malice—cold, insidious, and ancient.

Velisara's expression darkened. A name slipped from her lips in disbelief.

"Shadow Elves…" she murmured. "How…? Don't tell me… A new labyrinth or dungeon has manifested here?"

The leading elf, standing in the highest branch, let out a low, mocking chuckle. "Oh? Looks like we have a sharp one here." His voice was like silk dipped in venom.

Velisara's grip on Olivia tightened. "Who are you? Why would you attack a child?"

"Excuse me?" The elf tilted his head, a twisted smirk forming. "That's a **human**, and quite a big one at that. Naturally, I'll strike the weakest first."

"Mom… They've surrounded us," Olivia whispered, her small hands clutching at Velisara's sleeve.

Velisara's golden eyes swept the area. She didn't need Olivia's warning—she had already counted them. Forty, no… at least fifty. Too many to fight head-on without a plan.

She inhaled deeply, her voice calm but edged with an icy promise.

"Don't worry, sweetie. Mama's here," she whispered, tucking Olivia closer to her. Then, her gaze flicked toward the elves, and her tone turned deathly cold.

"Not even your so-called god will be able to sketch your remains when I'm done with you."

The shadow elf's smirk widened into something more sinister. "Ugly old hag, you got one thing right—you're going to die here." He gestured with a lazy flick of his fingers.

"But first, let's see if you can even stop us. You humans love clinging to hope, but our *god*... He's something beyond your comprehension. He doesn't just grant us power—he reshapes reality itself."