Reincarnated as a oni

---

The howls of wolves echoed through the dark forest, their cries slicing the cold night air. It felt as though they were running parallel to the brothers, chasing them relentlessly.

"Why are they following us?" Juan asked, his voice trembling.

"No... It's only one," Zain replied, his eyes scanning their surroundings. "The logs!" he thought suddenly.

"The lights! Throw them away!" Zain ordered.

The other two brothers exchanged uneasy glances, their fear palpable. Still, they trusted Zain's instincts.

"How will we navigate without light? And worse, if the wolf catches up to us, we won't even see it to defend ourselves!" Shawn protested, his voice laced with desperation.

"There's no time to think!" Zain snapped. The wolf's footsteps grew closer, the sound reverberating in the eerie silence.

"Just throw them!" Zain demanded again.

Hesitant but obedient, the brothers discarded their torches. They continued their sprint toward the mines, the darkness swallowing them whole. Each step felt heavier as exhaustion set in. Juan panted heavily, nearly collapsing, while Shawn wasn't doing much better. Only Zain, with his superior stamina, managed to keep going.

"I can't leave them behind," Zain muttered to himself, his eyes straining against the blackened surroundings.

"We need to camp," he finally said. "No lights."

Juan stumbled and fell to the ground, gasping for air. "I... I can't run anymore," he admitted, his voice weak.

Zain clenched his fists. "I'll risk it," he thought. "We'll make a fire, and if the wolf shows up... we'll deal with it."

The flames of their makeshift fire flickered weakly, casting ominous shadows. Moments later, a piercing howl cut through the stillness. The wolf was near.

Zain grabbed a burning log, his hands trembling. "Run away!" Juan cried out, his face pale with fear.

Shawn considered fleeing but realized his legs wouldn't carry him far. "Damn it," he thought. "If one or two of us survive, that might be enough... but we can't all die like this."

Zain stepped forward, swinging the flaming log as the wolf circled him, its eyes glowing with malice.

"I won't let you get any closer!" Zain yelled, his voice firm despite the terror coursing through him.

The wolf darted left and right, its claws scraping the ground as it sought an opening. The fire's glow weakened, and the log began to crumble into ash.

As the wolf lunged, a flash of pink fur and sharp claws intercepted it. The beast yelped, its attack thwarted.

Zain blinked in disbelief. Before him stood a beastkin with pinkish ears and a sharp, pointy nose.

"You did well," a calm voice said, emerging from the darkness.

Zain turned to see a second figure, a woman.

"Are you guys okay?" she asked, her tone gentle yet commanding.

Zain nodded slowly. "Who... are you?"

The first woman smiled, brushing her hair aside. "My name is Aeltheris."

"And I'm Missanya," the second one added cheerfully.

"Why did you help us?" Shawn asked cautiously.

"Heh," Aeltheris chuckled, placing a hand on her chest. "It was thanks to my buddy Zereth. He's the one who sent us to save you."

"Lord Zereth," Missanya said with a soft smile.

Zain looked at his brothers, relief washing over him. Despite their exhaustion, they smiled back.

---

As dawn broke, the group continued toward the mines, the air buzzing with newfound determination.

"You don't have to follow us," Zain said to the women.

They ignored him, walking a few paces behind without offering assistance.

"They're crazy," Juan whispered.

Shawn chuckled. "Didn't think I'd hear you say that."

Their banter was cut short as they reached the mine. The entrance sparkled with raw magi crystals, their glow illuminating the path ahead.

"This place is supposed to be crawling with monsters," Zain muttered.

"Well, we're here now," Shawn replied. "Let's get to work."

The brothers began mining, their tools clanging against the crystal walls. Meanwhile, Aeltheris and Missanya sparred nearby, their movements precise and ferocious.

Juan's dreams of finding a loving wife in the future had been crushed. His thoughts spiraled as he observed the women in the group, their bright eyes filled with excitement over battle. How could beautiful women like them be war maniacs? he wondered. If the beautiful ones are like this, then the average-looking ones must be...

The image in his head sent a shiver down his spine, and he quickly shook it off.

---

The morning sun poured over the kingdom, casting warm hues across the cobblestone streets. Long shadows stretched as the world stirred to life, the soft hum of life growing louder with each passing moment. Zereth squinted at the sky, taking in the early morning glow of a summer sun already perched high above the horizon.

Summer, he thought, the season's warmth brushing against his skin.

Walking into the dwarf's workshop, the rhythmic clang of metal striking metal greeted him like a heartbeat. The air was thick with the scent of molten steel and oil. Sunlight streamed through a narrow window, catching the floating dust in its golden rays.

"A workaholic?" Zereth murmured, his gaze landing on the familiar figure hammering away at an anvil.

The dwarf barely glanced up. "It's you again," he said, his voice gruff, layered with irritation.

How does he always know it's me? Zereth thought. Aura sensing, perhaps?

Ignoring the remark, Zereth casually sat on a wooden stool, its creak swallowed by the clang of metal.

"This isn't a public place, kid," the dwarf barked, not looking up from his work.

"Hmm," Zereth replied, leaning back. "I can see that."

"Then leave," the man snapped, the hammer in his hand striking the steel with increased force.

Zereth smirked, his tone calm. "Not until you tell me the story between you and the boys."

The hammer paused mid-air, its owner frozen for a heartbeat. With a sigh, the dwarf set the tool aside and walked over. His boots thudded against the stone floor as he approached, his face unreadable. He sat down beside Zereth, his shoulders slumping as though under the weight of invisible burdens.

The sunlight caught the glint of sweat on his brow. "You'll leave after that?"

Zereth nodded.

The dwarf exhaled, his voice heavy. "Where do I start? Those three... they were born in the Dwarven nation."

Zereth tilted his head, observing the man's face as the story unfolded. They don't look like dwarves at all, he thought, recalling the brothers' taller frames and less rugged features.

"You're wondering what happened, aren't you?" the dwarf said, his gaze distant. "We dwarves believe only in ourselves. Pride is our creed. We'd rather die than ask for help—even in the direst of situations."

The dwarf's voice wavered slightly as he continued, "Those three are dwarves by blood, but my people see them as misfits. I raised them, taught them all I could. But the nation didn't accept them. I had to leave because of them. They showed no affinity for fire—or its higher form, lava. Without those traits, they weren't seen as dwarves."

Zereth frowned, the words settling heavily in his chest. The guy had it rough... but that doesn't excuse what he's doing to them now.

"Why did you raise them?" Zereth asked, his tone neutral.

The dwarf's lips twitched, his eyes glistening under the light filtering through the workshop window. "They're my brother and friend's kids. I wasn't obligated to take them in, but I did anyway. How could I not?"

Zereth leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He's not just abusing them—he's pushing them away. Does he see them as misfits too?

"Do you hate them?"

The dwarf blinked, startled. "Hate them?" His hand trembled slightly before he shook his head. "No... I don't."

"You're afraid to accept them," Zereth said softly. "Because they're misfits. If that's the case, then let me have them."

The dwarf's eyes widened, the shadows of the room deepening as the sunlight shifted. "No, they are—"

"Misfits?" Zereth interrupted. "I'm one too. What's your point?"

"They'll ruin your property," the dwarf argued. "Their work isn't as good as you think—"

"Listen, old man," Zereth said, his voice firm but steady. "One of them tapped me on the shoulder with hands calloused from years of work. If someone works that hard to improve themselves, imagine the dedication they'd pour into something for someone else. Effort and hard work—that's what matters. Now, will you give them to me?"

The dwarf hesitated, his words faltering. "They're not property... They have wills of their own."

Zereth's gaze shifted to the doorway, where the brothers stood, their eyes wide with shock. "You heard that, right?" he said to them. "What's your answer?"

Juan stepped forward, his lips trembling. Tears glistened in his eyes. "Old man... So you didn't hate us after all?"

Zain smiled at Zereth, his expression a mixture of relief and gratitude. For the first time, someone had seen the effort he had been pouring into his craft.

"Well?" the dwarf prompted, his voice thick with emotion. "What's your answer?"

"I'll go with him," Zain said firmly. "If it's houses or equipment, I'll handle them."

"Hah!" Shawn laughed. "Houses better than me?"

"I'm better than both of you," Juan muttered shyly.

The brothers exchanged looks before bursting into laughter, their voices echoing through the workshop.

The dwarf watched them, his lips twitching into a small smile. "Looks like that's your answer."

The brothers rushed to him, embracing him tightly. "Thank you," they said in unison, tears streaming down their faces.

Patting their heads, the dwarf whispered, I couldn't give you a place to belong... but I hope you'll find one with him.

Turning to Zereth, the dwarf's voice was quiet yet resolute. "I leave them to you, lad."

Zereth nodded, his thoughts interrupted by Missanya's voice.

"So, how do we get back home?" she asked, her smile bright and playful.

She needs to stop smiling like that, Zereth thought, his face flushing slightly.

"Spatial magic," he replied, raising his hand to activate the spell.

A glowing magic circle appeared beneath their feet, its light consuming the group as they vanished.

---

The king arrived moments later, stepping out of his carriage. "What was that light, Kalvack?"

Kalvack knelt. "Your Majesty, that was a teleportation spell. A young man named Zereth came looking for artisans."

"I see," the king said, his gaze lingering on the remnants of the magic circle. "And the boys? Where have they gone?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I didn't ask."

The king turned away, climbing back into his carriage. "No matter. I've seen something interesting today."

---