Avur Syofor lives in a world without magic.
He is fifteen years old, attends a rebellious school, and loves villains.
He gets up to all sorts of mischief, such as vandalizing the classroom, bullying other students, and getting into fights.
He calls himself “The monster.”
His school uniform is mostly black with a few white stripes, and his jacket is the same.
Underneath, he wears a white T-shirt.
The word “MONSTER” is written on the back of his jacket.
Avur has black, spiky, shaggy hair and yellow eyes.
As usual, he’s bullying a girl named Kihishiro Haname.
She wears the usual blue and white school uniform and has her hair tied back in a ponytail.
She has blue eyes and blonde hair.
Kihishiro leads a good life, apart from Avur’s bullying.
Avur doesn’t go too far, though; he’s not the type to seriously hurt anyone.
Even so, he does the most ridiculous things because he thinks that at fifteen, he won’t get into much trouble and can get away with a lot at such a young age.
Avur pushes her to the ground, calls her a “wimp” and even makes her do his homework while he lazes around.
At the end of the school day, he writes “Lazybones” on the teacher’s forehead.
He gets detention, but skips it and goes home.
There, he watches TV about villains and heroes then he mutters, “I hate that the heroes always have to win.
Why can’t the monsters win?
What’s so bad about that?”
He was annoyed and about to go shopping at the supermarket when he noticed a blue light on the way, but ignored it.
When he blinked, he suddenly found himself in another world.
A beastman stood before him and was startled.
He thought it was a dream and, thinking it was a dream, struck the beastman.
The beastman roared, “What the hell is wrong with you, brat?!” Avur didn’t listen, as he didn’t understand his language.
This world was, after all, completely different from his own.
A few minutes later, loud footsteps could be heard, guards arrived and tried to detain Avur.
He fought back, but was too weak.
The guards were armed and possessed magic Avur had never seen before.
He kicked the guards in the legs and bit them to free himself.
When the people in the kingdom saw the guards bringing a fifteen-year-old boy to the king, they made way to let them through; some even went home.
Avur was taken to the king, who was fat and lazy, but ruthless—the very embodiment of sloth—and didn’t care about Avur in the slightest.
He declared Avur a slave for life.
They abused him for everything imaginable, used him as backup for the guards, and sacrificed him countless times.
During the first week, they were not at all gentle with him.
Whenever he refused to follow their instructions, they chopped off his fingers, because although Avur didn’t understand them, he could interpret their gestures or movements.
Why didn’t Avur die?
Because they had a healer known as Isoka Hunter, the Devil’s Priest.
He could heal any wound, and that meant he brought Avur back to life whenever he was near death.
Avur suffered terribly; after all, he was only fifteen.
Even someone like Avur, who loved villains, had his limits, but these people didn’t know them.
They didn’t care what happened to him.
Avur stopped speaking and did as he was ordered; his eyes were empty, he could no longer defend himself.
Days bled into a year of endless cycles—bones snapping under guard boots, followed by the terrifying, glowing hands of the Devil’s Priest stitching him back together just so they could break him again.
Avur went through hell.
Every night, his throat aching and dry, he whispered: “I will kill them all,” “I will kill them all,” “even if it is my last act,” “They don’t deserve to live.”
Avur tried everything to escape, struggling miserably to get his hands on knives or the guards’ swords.
One night, someone had accidentally left his cell open after bringing him food.
He seized the opportunity to escape and silently choked the guard who was supposedly watching him.
However, the guard was asleep in a chair, making him an easy target for Avur.
His hair turned white.
Avur had succumbed to madness.
Finally, he could fulfill his wish and kill every single one of those bastards who had tormented him for the entire twelve months.
His bare feet floated silently through the cell corridors as other slaves watched his escape; they didn’t believe he would make it out of there.
Avur’s plan was to kill the king and ensure that every single guard, including the Devil’s Priest, would pay for their actions.
That’s why he carried the sword of the guard he had previously strangled to death.
He managed to kill more guards whose vigilance had waned because they didn’t believe anyone would escape.
He killed most of them one by one, taking care to make no noise.
When he found the throne room where the king was sitting lazily on the throne, eating some kind of meal in the middle of the night, Avur entered the room from the back, as it had two entrances and exits: one led to the cells from which Avur came, the other to the corridors of the castle.
Avur crept closer, his yellow eyes flashed in the darkness.
He was within range when suddenly a guard entered.
Avur hid behind the throne.
It was a close call, but the guard refused to leave; they talked about something Avur couldn’t understand.
Avur wasted no time and killed the king right in front of the guard.
He only wanted his revenge, not caring about surviving.
The blow of the sword that severed the king’s head was the only sound that broke the temporary silence in the throne room.
Avur laughed maniacally: “Finally, FINALLY I’VE KILLED HIM!
Now it’s your turn!” he said to the guard, inclined his head in their direction.
Avur was covered in blood and wore the tattered brown robes worn by every slave.
The guards raised their sword.
They were more experienced than Avur; they had no idea what Avur had been going through all this time.
Avur began fighting the guard with his sword.
They were very skilled, but Avur’s attacks were brutal.
He tried everything to hit the guard, even though he didn’t even know how to wield a sword.
Then he struck the guard’s helmet, which flew off, revealing a man with long green hair, angry-looking green eyes, and a scar above his mouth.
The man shouted something loudly that Avur couldn’t understand, but he did understand the word “bitch” and paid no further attention to it.
Avur simply used the sword to kill him.
The man then deliberately shot Avur in the arms and legs, whereupon Avur sank to one knee and looked at him with a gaze of pure hatred.
As the guard was about to kill Avur and swung his sword at his neck, a loud bang was heard from above.
BOOM!
Someone flew from the deck into the room.
It was an unknown man in a purple cloak.
Avur couldn’t see his face; the room was too dark to make out any details.
While the guard was distracted, Avur got to his feet and fled through the back exit, while the swirling dust made it difficult for the guard to find him.
He found his old clothes hanging in front of the royal castle, so before he left completely, he took them back and quickly put them on again.
After a year he was finally free, but still angry at everyone who had tortured him, and especially at the Devil’s Priest whom he could not find.
However, he tried to see the world in a positive light and realized that the life of a villain was anything but desirable.
Avur had given up by becoming a villain; he had endured too much to continue.
After spending a few days free from slavery, he joined an adventurers’ guild, hoping to gain a rank and lead a good life.
He achieved rank E.
He possessed some skills and was physically strong, even for his slender frame.
But that wasn’t enough to defeat monsters.
He sighed and said, “Man, why do I have to get one of the lowest ranks?
I can’t be that bad, can I?” He looked at the badge with the single letter E on it.
In this world, they also used the alphabet from Avur’s world: F was the lowest rank and S the highest.
They had even introduced a Z-rank, which was reserved for god-like abilities.
Avur didn’t know what had happened to the guard, but he was certain the stranger had killed him.
He was standing there wondering what to do when he suddenly felt a hand around his shoulder.
That made him flinch slightly.
The lingering ghosts of his torture rushed back; he could still feel the phantom slice of his fingers being severed, and the sickening memory of Isoka Hunter smiling warmly while doing it, as if mutilation were perfectly normal.
“I have something beautiful to show you,” a sultry voice purred in his ear.
“But only if you don’t tell anyone, okay?”
Her name was Bironica Wagner.
She was stunning, wearing revealing clothes that turned heads across the tavern.
Avur, still possessing the naivety of a sixteen-year-old boy beneath his scarred exterior, believed her when she offered companionship.
When she offered him a beer, he shook his head.
“I’m sixteen.
I’m not allowed to drink yet.”
This is how the two introduced themselves, became friends, and spent a lot of time together.
This is the first time Avur can actually learn simple conversations, as talking to her could help him understand more words in this new world; after all, he is still learning.
For six days, they traveled together.
She shared his room, whispered sweet promises, and used her body to keep him close.
Avur thought he finally found a friend.
He was wrong.
On the sixth night, Bironica grabbed his wrist.
With surprising strength, she slammed his palm flat against her chest, holding it there for a single, confusing second.
Then, she screamed.
“Help!
Security!
He’s forcing himself on me!” she wailed, tears streaming down her face with theatrical perfection.
The guild security rushed in.
Bironica pointed at her chest, crying out about modern fingerprint authentication magic.
The crowd instantly turned on Avur.
Nobody believed the strange, white-haired boy with the yellow eyes.
Avur stood frozen as they dragged him into the alleyway, watching Bironica smirk as she claimed the pouch of gold he had left on the table.
“Now I understand,” Avur whispered, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy register.
He looked at her with pure, unadulterated disgust.
“So you’re just a damned gold digger, aren’t you?
A slut without morals who takes advantage of others.
You’re even worse than me.”
The guards threw him into the dark alley, laughing.
They shouldn’t have laughed.
They didn’t know what Avur had survived.
They didn’t know about the Devil’s Priest, or the fat king whose blood still stained Avur’s memories.
In the shadows of the alley, Avur’s yellow eyes flashed.
The madness, neatly tucked away for a week, rushed back to the surface.
Ten minutes later, Avur walked out of the alley alone, wiping fresh crimson from his knuckles.
The security guards remained in the dark, silent forever.
He was a monster again.
Because this world refused to let him be anything else.
I hope you liked it…
I tried my best