Inside one of the houses of Frostveil Village, a bearded man with a myriad of old scars laid on a large bed with four women. This was Henry Robertson, an S-rank adventurer who belonged to the class of Beast Tamer.
Henry was clearly not a handsome man. His face was rugged, lined with the experience of many battles, and his eyes were piercing and arrogant.
His body was well built, yet his appearance suggested someone more hardened in the ways of battle. The four women that laid with him were all senile old broads, their wrinkles and aged skin a confirmation that they were all well over seventy.
Henry preferred it that way, and if he had been reincarnated in Japan, people would have instantly recognized him as a shameless gilf hunter.
Henry had been chosen as the hero of the village of Frostveil long ago.
At the young age of ten, he had become an adventurer, joining the guild. The entire village had respected him as one of their own. By the time he had turned fourteen, he had risen to an S-rank, surpassing nearly everyone in the guild.
However, Henry had reached his human limit. He sought more power, power enough to rule over Frostveil, and he knew that if he could not gain it, a large part of the guild would join together to bring him down.
While his beasts would be able to protect him against the combined might of his fellow adventurers, there were a few other S-ranks in the guild that were strong enough to slay his beasts if they all fought together.
Although Henry had heard from various merchants about other realms where powerful people and creatures roamed, he had no means of reaching them, and so he slowly descended into a monstrous killer.
Whenever the guild sent him on missions, he always brought another adventurer with him, only to return alone. They knew he was likely to have murdered his partner, but they had no proof to accuse him of such an act.
The village protected him and Henry knew so, and so the guild did whatever they could to avoid conflict with the village lest the villagers turn to the cave monsters that dwelled within the nearby lands.
That was why the monsters that had plagued the village had been sealed and bound to serve the will of Henry. He had tamed them all, from simple wolves and goblins to far more dangerous creatures.
Henry rose from the bed shirtless, wearing only old pants. His eyes were still heavy with sleep after his long nightly sessions with his ladies.
He looked at himself in the mirror with a smile on his face. He may not have been a good-looking man, but his power compensated for that fact.
One of the old crones laid on the bed sat up and took a glance at him. "Honey, I’m going to go to the guild today. I’m finally going to rid the village of that Undead Lair once and for all."
Outside the village, a dark aura was being pumped into the atmosphere like a storm.
John walked forward with wild, feral rage radiating from his very being. The chief of the village tried to calm the man down, but John had no interest in listening to him.
"WHERE IS THAT S-RANK ADVENTURER?!" he roared and shouted as he looked around. "COME OUT, YOU SCUM!"
His rage had reached its peak, and those who had heard him easily realized that he was referring to Henry, the village’s hero.
The villagers gathered from nearly all directions and surrounded John. The madman only smirked.
"So you all are harboring a murderer who killed a child?"
The villagers shouted back at John without shame.
"What gives you the right?!"
"It was just a sacrifice!"
"That girl was weak anyway!"
"Henry is our hero! Who are you to judge him?!"
"A child dies every now and then -- that’s life!"
At every word, John’s blood boiled.
"Such evil people..." he muttered quietly and coldly, his voice low but dangerous. "What kind of world is this? I shall purge it."
John released the rest of his aura.
In no need for any special skill, the young man simply walked forward and one by one, the villagers collapsed on the ground, suffocated by his presence.
To him, the lives of the people were nothing more than stepping stones as he advanced towards his goal, the S-rank adventurer that had killed his companion’s favorite person.
When the aura had finally settled, only one man remained standing.
It was the old chief, leaning on a wooden cane. This was the old man who had once allowed John, Aiko, and Lyra to stay at his house when they had first arrived at the village of Frostveil.
His name was Gilbert Hines, a former S-rank adventurer himself. His age had stolen much of his power, but his willpower remained undying, the only reason as to why he had survived to see this day.
John’s irritation grew as he neared the old chief.
He activated [Death’s Grip].
In three fast steps, he had reached the old man and delivered a barrage of punches with his bare right fist into his body, drawing out his life force with each strike. Within seconds, the old chief had collapsed, lifeless onto the ground.
John felt nothing.
He simply walked over the bodies of the villagers that had dared to oppose him and made his way further into the village.
Back in the Goblin Lair, three women sat side by side, waiting.
Airi, Aiko, and Lyra had all left the guild a while ago because Airi could no longer stand to be with them.
Airi’s thoughts were a jumbled mess.
’I wonder where John is... I can’t believe he’s going to fight an S-rank adventurer, alone. Is he stupid? He knows nothing about me... Why is he doing this for me.’
Tears continued to run down her cheeks. She had lost a little sister and now John was fighting for her.
Aiko placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Don’t worry about John, Airi. He’s strong enough even without us."
Lyra smirked from the side.
"Whoever that adventurer is... he’s already dead. My darling shows no mercy to his enemies."
Airi stood up and made her way towards the entrance of the lair. She needed some space to think.
She remembered the words that John had asked her before. If she really wanted to take revenge with them. She had agreed. And now, she tried to stop the tears that had not stopped since.
Airi Fuyuki was truly a kind young woman at heart.