The Forgotten Dragon Kingdom had been filled with the sounds of clashing fists and trembling earth. Deep in the heart of its stone-carved arenas, Yujiro Hanma, the Ogre of Calamity, was relentlessly drilling his philosophy of absolute domination into every warrior, but most especially into one Demon Lord—Milim Nava.
She had grown immensely in strength. The chaotic wild energy that once surged uncontrollably from her was now refined, mastered through the Beast King's Art, a brutal martial discipline Yujiro developed specifically for her. It combined raw power, instinctive movement, and overwhelming presence into a style that only a monster like Milim could use.
Yujiro, ever the stoic, said little. But when he looked at Milim now, there was something different. A subtle softness in the eyes, a sense of responsibility—though it never reached his mouth. He never said it, but he had started seeing her as more than just a student. She was family. And that meant something, even to a man like him.
"Oi, Milim," Yujiro said one day, arms crossed as he stood atop a mountain, watching clouds roll below like waves.
Milim hovered beside him, kicking her legs in the air playfully. "What's up, Uncle?"
"I'm bored," Yujiro muttered. "We're done here. Time to stretch my legs. Travel."
Milim's eyes sparkled. "Oh yay! Let's go to Dwargon! It's super cool—it's a dwarf kingdom built inside a mountain, but they're crazy advanced! Like, their forges go BOOM and they have so many things!"
Yujiro raised an eyebrow but gave a slow nod. "Fine. Lead the way."
The next morning, the skies split as two figures flew at impossible speeds. As the great gate of Dwargon came into view—massive steel doors embedded into the living mountain—it was already swarmed with travelers and merchants. A long line stretched far across the rocky pathway, filled with chatter and complaints.
As the winds calmed, a pulse of pressure rippled through the crowd. Heads turned. Whispers silenced. Two figures descended from the heavens.
Yujiro Hanma—towering, hands casually stuffed into his pockets, that arrogant, maddening smirk glued to his face—walked with the gait of a man who owned the world. And beside him, skipping with delight and twirling in the air, was Milim Nava, clad in her usual pink outfit, carefree and innocent-looking… yet radiating terrifying energy.
They didn't stop at the back of the line.
They walked past it.
One man, fed up after hours of waiting, growled and took a step forward. "Hey! You can't just cut in like that! We've been—"
The moment Yujiro turned his head, the man's voice died. His body locked. His knees shook.
It was as if the air around Yujiro became alive. Hungry. Predatory.
The man's pupils dilated. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He could feel the difference. This wasn't someone you scolded. This was a monster wearing skin.
Yujiro stared at him, that grin never fading.
The man collapsed, face drenched in sweat.
"Smart," Yujiro muttered and kept walking.
At the Gates of the Mountain Kingdom...
Two armored guards stood before the giant doors of Dwargon, collecting travel papers and interrogating visitors. When Yujiro and Milim approached, the temperature seemed to drop. The guards stiffened, already sensing something unnatural about the approaching pair.
Milim floated forward, hands on her hips. "Hi there! We're here to visit! I'm Demon Lord Milim Nava, and this is my uncle, Yujiro Hanma."
The guards blinked. Their jaws slackened. One of them even dropped his clipboard.
"W-what did you say?" the taller one stammered.
"I said—Demon. Lord. Milim. Nava," she repeated cheerfully, pointing at herself, "and Yujiro Hanma." She tilted her head innocently.
The name Yujiro dropped like a nuke.
Everyone around—citizens, merchants, guards, even a few adventurers—froze. Conversations died. People turned, wide-eyed, at the sound of that cursed name.
Yujiro Hanma.
A name whispered in dread. A name feared even among the Demon Lords.
One robed man among the crowd—eyes sharp, a hidden spy of King Gazel Dwargo—vanished in a flicker, dashing toward the royal citadel to report.
The two guards stood trembling. Not from doubt, but certainty.
No one would dare impersonate Milim Nava, and certainly no one could fake the aura—that dreadful, suffocating force—radiating from Yujiro.
"W-welcome to D-Dwargon," one finally managed to say, bowing low. "We… we hope you enjoy your stay."
Yujiro said nothing. Just nodded and kept walking.
Milim gave them a playful wink and followed.
Meanwhile, in the royal castle, the spy burst into the war chamber where King Gazel was reviewing the defensive reports.
"My liege!" the scout gasped.
"What is it?" Gazel asked, not looking up.
"The… Demon Lord Milim Nava has arrived—at the front gate. But she is not alone…"
Gazel's head rose.
"She came with a man," the scout said. "He said nothing. Just walked… but the crowd trembled, and one man fell. The name she gave was…"
Gazel's eyes narrowed. "Speak."
"Yujiro Hanma."
Silence.
The grand chamber of Dwargon's royal palace was frozen in time, heavy with an invisible pressure as the spy's words settled like lead in the air. No one moved. No one breathed. King Gazel Dwargo, the steel-hearted Dwarven monarch known across the world for his unshakable composure, sat still on his stone throne — but a single bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
His voice was hoarse but firm.
"What... is the Demon Lord of Destruction Milim doing in Dwargon? And even worse..." he clenched his fists on the throne's armrests, "She is with that man... Yujiro Hanma."
The very name sounded like thunder in the minds of those present.
The spy, still catching his breath from his dash across the city, stood pale and trembling in the center of the war room. Behind him, Gazel's generals and top advisors began to murmur—one by one until a sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade.
A tall elf woman stepped forward. Her long silver hair and emerald eyes usually calmed the room, but this time her face was pale.
"Your Majesty... Demon Lords only visit nations for two reasons. One..." she paused, everyone leaning in unconsciously.
"...is to destroy it."
Gasps echoed around the room.
"The second," she continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "is to take it over."
Silence returned — even heavier than before.
King Gazel slowly stood up, his cape dragging behind him like the weight of his people's lives. He looked over his court and nodded once.
"So far, there's no destruction. No bloodshed. Not even raised voices. We will not provoke them. Instead..." he turned to his guards, his eyes narrowing, "We give them a proper welcome. Keep your distance, but watch everything. If they so much as look at the castle wrong, I want to know before they blink."
One of the generals, a heavyset dwarf with a thick black beard, frowned.
"Your Majesty... is it wise to spy on them?"
Gazel didn't hesitate.
"It's not like we have anything to lose if they do decide to destroy us." He looked at the man, unwavering. "From the rumors I've heard, Yujiro Hanma isn't evil. He's trained armies. Helped people get stronger. Not once has he attacked a nation unprovoked."
He paused.
"But that doesn't mean he won't. And we're not going to test his patience."
Meanwhile, in the bustling heart of Dwargon, far from the tension at the palace, Yujiro Hanma and Milim Nava casually strolled through the mountain-city's crowded streets.
The stone paths echoed under their feet as Milim hopped around like a kid on a sugar rush, peeking into shops, dragging her uncle from stall to stall, while Yujiro simply walked — hands in pockets, wearing that confident, spine-chilling smirk of his. He was the calm to Milim's chaos. The unstoppable to her unpredictable.
People parted around them like water around a stone. The civilians may not have recognized them immediately, but they felt them. Something primal in every creature screamed "danger" at the presence of these two beings. Even without any violent action, the sheer weight of their existence made people instinctively step aside.
They turned into a side street and entered a famed blacksmith's workshop. The shop was filled with the sharp scent of molten metal and oiled leather. Swords and armors gleamed under glowing crystals hanging from the ceiling.
The blacksmith, a muscular dwarf with a thick hammer hanging from his belt, looked up from his worktable.
"Welcome! Welcome, travelers!" he called out, his merchant instincts overriding caution. "You've come to the best shop in all Dwargon! Finest blades, strongest armors — tested in battle, forged with ancient runes!"
Yujiro said nothing, his eyes scanning the walls with a mild curiosity. Milim bounced behind him, occasionally gasping and pointing at shiny helmets.
Then Yujiro's eyes paused on one display — a full set of jet-black armor lined with crimson etchings. The plaque beneath it read:
"The Dragon's Veil — Immune to Magic, Resistant to Blades. The Strongest Armor in Dwargon."
The blacksmith noticed.
"Ah, I see you have an eye for true craftsmanship, my good sir!" he beamed. "That there is our pride! Can withstand the strike of a dragon, forged in the lava pits of Mount Kharok! Truly—"
Boom.
A noise rang out that stopped everything. Everyone froze — the only sound now was the soft creak of steel bending.
Yujiro had picked up the chestplate with one hand — and with a flash faster than anyone could track, drove a single punch through it.
A hole the size of a cannonball sat smoking in the center of the "indestructible" armor.
The merchant stood there. His eyes twitched. His lip quivered.
His pride... was gone.
And he may have peed himself.
Yujiro casually tossed the ruined armor back onto the counter.
"The strongest, you say?" he said with a grin.
He turned and walked out. Milim followed, trying to hold in her laughter. "Uncle, you're so mean sometimes!" she giggled. "That guy's face was priceless!"
After wandering through a few more streets, Milim's eyes sparkled as they passed a small bakery. Inside, the shelves were filled with colorful cakes, cookies shaped like animals, and fluffy bread rolls steaming with warmth.
"Uncle! Uncle! Please! Let's get some cake!" she tugged on his sleeve.
Yujiro glanced at the shop, then at the crowd of kids inside.
"Tch. Fine."
They stepped in, and the atmosphere changed instantly. The bakery owner, a plump and cheery woman, looked up — only for her smile to freeze halfway. Her instincts screamed, but she couldn't move.
"H-Hello! Welcome to HoneyCrust Bakery!"
Milim ran up to the display.
"One of these... oh! And that one! And those five!"
Yujiro stood behind her, not saying a word, but his presence alone made the entire shop dead silent. Even the kids quietly took their cookies and left, dragging their parents behind them.
Milim plopped a mountain of sweets on the counter. "Uncle, you gotta try the strawberry cream cake! It's sooo good!"
Yujiro took a bite of the cake she handed him — and for a single second, his expression changed. Not much. Just a twitch at the corner of his lip.
"Hmph. Not bad."
Milim gasped dramatically. "Was that a compliment?! Did you just admit it was good?!"
Yujiro didn't answer. He just kept chewing, calmly devouring the cake while his eyes scanned the streets outside — aware of the watchers in the shadows, the glances from rooftops, the soldiers pretending to be civilians.
He knew he was being watched.
He simply didn't care.
Back at the palace, Gazel received another report. The two were just eating cake in a bakery now.
One of his generals whispered, still stunned.
"They're just... sightseeing? Eating sweets?"
Gazel leaned back in his throne, rubbing his temples.
"This might be worse than if they were here to destroy us. If they're just 'relaxing' — what happens if someone interrupts their relaxation?"
He looked up at the ceiling, praying to whatever god would listen.
"Let's just hope no idiot decides to test Yujiro Hanma's patience today."