Chapter 2 — A Body That Wasn't Mine
When I woke up again, the forest was louder.
Not louder in sound—
louder in presence.
Every tree felt alive. Every shadow felt like it was watching me, not with intent, but with awareness. Jura Forest wasn't hostile by default. It was simply old. Old enough to notice when something didn't belong.
I sat up slowly.
My body still felt wrong.
Shorter. Lighter. My center of gravity was off, and when I stood, I nearly tripped over my own feet. The goblin body—Gopta's body—was clumsy, underdeveloped, and painfully weak by this world's standards.
Cursed Sage activated without me asking.
"Body analysis complete"
"Muscle density: low"
"Mana circulation: immature"
"Growth potential: abnormally high"
That last part caught my attention.
Abnormally high.
Not infinite. Not overwhelming. Just… unusually open-ended.
I exhaled slowly and looked at my hands again.
They weren't mine.
But they were all I had.
In my past life, I'd spent forty years in a body I barely acknowledged. Now, every movement required attention. Every breath felt deliberate. Maybe that was fitting.
I tested walking. Then running. Then stopping suddenly.
Clumsy, but improving.
The forest didn't attack me. Small monsters watched from a distance—direwolves, horned rabbits, something reptilian slithering between roots. None approached.
Cursed Sage supplied a quiet explanation.
"Passive effect of Unique Skill "Shadow Monarch" detected"
"Lower-tier monsters instinctively avoid"
So even without intent, I was… something.
That unsettled me more than it comforted me.
A Memory That Wasn't Mine
As the sun shifted through the canopy, another presence surfaced.
Memories.
Not mine—
but not foreign either.
Gopta's memories were simple. Hunger. Fear. Admiration. A vague hope that someday someone strong would appear and make things better.
I felt an odd pressure in my chest.
He wasn't ambitious.
He wasn't cruel.
He wasn't special.
He was just… alive.
And now, he was gone.
I sat against a tree and stayed there longer than necessary.
"I'll live properly," I said quietly, unsure who I was talking to. "At least… better than before."
Cursed Sage didn't respond.
That silence felt intentional.
Side Scene — The Goblin Scout
I wasn't alone.
I sensed it before I saw it—not through Shadow Monarch, but through something simpler. Footsteps that were too careful. Breathing that tried to hide.
A goblin.
Older than this body. Scarred. Thin. A scout, judging by the spear and nervous posture.
He froze when our eyes met.
We stared at each other.
This was the first time I realized something important.
To him, I wasn't Kanzaki Seiryu.
I wasn't a reincarnated soul.
I was just Gopta—a familiar face acting strangely.
"Gopta?" he asked cautiously. "You… okay?"
My mouth opened.
Words failed.
In my past life, I'd attended meetings with executives without fear. Now, speaking to one goblin felt harder than any presentation.
"I… got lost," I said finally. The voice was rough, immature. "Thinking."
The scout frowned but relaxed slightly.
"Village's worried. Orc scouts spotted nearby. Elder wants everyone back."
Orcs.
So the timeline was moving.
Not yet Rimuru.
But close enough that danger was real.
"I'll come back," I said.
He nodded, hesitated, then added, "You feel… different."
I almost asked him what he meant.
I didn't.
The Village, As It Was
The goblin village was smaller than I remembered from the anime.
Cruder. Dirtier. Tired.
Huts leaned like they were giving up. Children played with broken sticks. Adults sharpened weapons that wouldn't matter if real danger came.
No banner.
No name.
No hope.
I felt something tighten inside me.
Not ambition.
Responsibility.
Cursed Sage activated again, softer this time.
"Observation: tribe survival probability—low"
"Intervention recommended"
"Don't," I whispered.
I didn't want to become a savior overnight.
Didn't want to replace one dependency with another.
But doing nothing wasn't neutral.
It was a choice too.
A Quiet Experiment
That night, while others slept, I tested something small.
Not Shadow Monarch.
Not Anti-Skill.
Skill Creation.
I focused on a simple desire: understanding mana flow without damage.
No grand declarations.
No dramatic activation.
Just intent.
The response came slowly.
"New Skill Created: "Mana Sense (Minor)""
"Efficiency: low"
"Stability: high"
I almost laughed.
Not because it was powerful—
but because it worked.
No price.
No backlash.
No divine warning.
Just creation.
That scared me more than power ever had.
Side Scene — The Shadow That Watched
As I slept, I dreamed.
Not of my past life.
Of a vast, empty throne.
Shadows knelt—not in submission, but in acknowledgment.
A presence stirred behind me.
Not speaking.
Not commanding.
Waiting.
I woke with my heart racing and my body drenched in cold sweat.
Cursed Sage reported calmly:
"Shadow Monarch authority remains sealed"
"Reason: host mental state unstable"
"…Good," I murmured.
I wasn't ready.
Morning, and a Choice
At dawn, the Elder called everyone together.
Fear hung in the air. Orcs had been sighted closer than expected. The village didn't have the strength to fight. Running would scatter them—and likely kill the children.
I listened.
Not as a ruler.
Not as a god.
As someone who had failed to act in his last life far too often.
I stepped forward.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
"I can scout," I said. "I'm small. Fast. If I don't come back, you lose nothing."
The Elder stared at me.
The village stared at me.
Someone whispered, "That's Gopta?"
I felt the weight of it.
Not destiny.
Expectation.
And this time, instead of rejecting it—
I accepted only what I could carry.