Chapter 1

Chapter 1

At the forest's edge, where the path led to the village, a fiery orange glow flickered in the distance, piercing the darkened sky.

Swoosh—

"Lu Solar, by the heavens... I knew I smelled something burning," murmured a member of the vigilante group, his lone eye fixed on the scene. It was clear that beyond the forest lay a raging inferno.

"Didn't you say the swordsman was alone, captain?" asked the one-eyed man, turning to his leader.

Leaning against a tree, the vigilante captain with a beard flecked with gray, furrowed his brow. "Must be a spellcaster with a sword. Saw it myself. Don't you believe me?"

His eyes glinted, ready to draw his sword at any moment.

The one-eyed man forced a sly smile, "Just double checking, you know, just in case.”

Unlike him, the captain was a deserter from the distant imperial army, a skilled swordsman despite his past.

"Captain," interjected a burly, bald man beside him, eyeing the forest nervously. He too was a member of the vigilante group. "Shouldn't we change our plans? Mages are rather troublesome...."

"Exactly, captain. It seems to be in the direction of the kobold stronghold," added the one-eyed man, seizing the opportunity. "If the mage can single-handedly set a stronghold ablaze, perhaps it's best to retreat?"

“...” The captain's frown deepened. Encouraged by his silence, the one-eyed man continued, "No need to risk our lives for a side job, right? He didn't look like he had much on him anyway." Read latest chapters at novelhall.com Only

“...Sigh.” The captain conceded. He had formed this vigilante group to protect the village from kobolds. The danger seemed real, but in truth, it wasn’t. Kobolds, small demonic creatures, rarely ventured out of the forest and would flee at the slightest threat.

Their group was profitable. They received free food and drink as payment, and the side business was lucrative. They would often rob weary mercenaries who had failed to destroy a kobold stronghold. No one had ever succeeded. Kobolds became fiercely protective of their home when threatened, charging in like demons without fear of death.

So, the captain and his men waited at the path, preying on the battered mercenaries who escaped the stronghold. They disposed of the bodies in the forest, leaving them for the kobolds, which made cleanup easy. Even if they found nothing, scavenging the corpses during the day was enough. Kobolds cared only for the flesh, not the belongings.

It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. And today was to be no different.

“These fools.” Their shoulders tensed at the captain's remark, not realizing the full extent of the situation until they witnessed the blazing spectacle.

"If that's really the kobold stronghold burning, who cares about our side job? We might lose our main gig by tomorrow,” said the captain.

Both the one-eyed man and the bald man were wide-eyed in alarm. The captain, clicking his tongue, continued, "That's why we need to silence that spellcaster. For now, the villagers mustn't learn about the stronghold's destruction."

They nodded in understanding. The bald man, swallowing hard, asked, "Can we really keep... deceiving them?"

"We'll just pretend to raid the stronghold tomorrow. Bring back some loot and say it was easy, thanks to that spellcaster. Who's going to know?" the captain answered.

"...!"

"...!"

Their eyes widened again. The captain shrugged nonchalantly.

"Then we can continue as the village's vigilantes. Maybe even get officially recognized for our efforts," said the captain.

"Smart as always, captain," the one-eyed man muttered, admiringly.

But soon after, the bald man voiced his concern. "Can we really win, though? Against a red mage...?"

"That's exactly why we strike now, you cowardly baldy. Magic isn't some endless miracle," the captain cut in sharply. "With flames like that, he must've exhausted himself clearing the stronghold. He won't have recovered his Mana yet. We're in the twilight of magic now. A mage without Mana is weaker than a child.”

He ran his thumb across his throat. "Just a few stabs with a sword should do. I've seen plenty of spellcasters die pathetically on the battlefield."

"What if he still has some Mana left?" asked the bald man.

"Red magic takes time to cast. If something seems off, we throw our swords first,” replied the captain.

Finally, a spark of resolve lit in the bald man's eyes. He nodded firmly. "Understood, captain."

That was a lie. The captain planned to use his men as bait if necessary, to create an opportunity to strike the mage. He trusted his own swordsmanship more.

"Don't worry.” Hiding his true intentions, the captain patted the bald man's shoulder. "No great mage would bother coming to such a remote place. The real deals are holed up in the towers. Just stick to the plan as usual..."

Suddenly, the captain's voice trailed off. Peering into the darkness, he crouched down. "Shh, he's coming."

"...!" Startled, the bald man and the one-eyed man quickly ducked to either side of the path.

Thud— Thud—

Someone was approaching them with uneven, slow footsteps

"Fuck, this is heavy..." a grumbling voice followed. The stench of blood, burning, and sweat mingled together, assailing their nostrils. As the vigilante captain frowned, the mage’s figure emerged. He was a mess, covered in ash and blood. His hood from earlier, and even his sword, were nowhere to be seen. He was limping on one leg and cradling something in his arms: a head with horns on its forehead. It was the head of a kobold, much larger than any the captain had seen before.

That spellcaster really did destroy the kobold stronghold. Insane... The captain realized it was the head of the kobold chieftain and felt a wave of relief.

Now is the only time to kill him.

It was clear the mage was in no state to cast spells. Waiting for the mage to come within striking distance, the captain signaled to his men. The bald man and the one-eyed man silently rose, swords drawn. Even in the darkness, the blades faintly shimmered.

“...?” The mage tilted his head in confusion. But it was too late for secrecy. They were only six or seven steps away. A single leap would bring them within striking distance. The captain, confident of victory, finally stood up.

"It's better if you stop right there,” he spoke firmly, gripping his sword. The mage stopped.

Using the captain's sword as a walking stick, the mage limped away, leaving the bodies behind.

***

Squeak— Bang!

The door to the tavern was flung open with force. The chatter inside ceased abruptly, as if sliced by a knife. The eyes of the drunken patrons unanimously focused on the man who had entered, smashing the door open. Yet, no one shouted or expressed anger.

“...”

They simply blinked in stunned silence. The man, looking like he had returned from hell itself, was not only alarming in appearance but also carried a gruesomely large head in his arms. A monster's head, with its face frozen in an expression of pain and fear from its final moments.

Thud— thud—

Ignoring the stares, the man made his way into the tavern and headed straight for the counter.

Bang!

He carelessly dropped the monster's head onto it. The muscular innkeeper, who had been nodding off, jerked awake.

"This is...? Oh. Huh.” Initially confused, the innkeeper looked at the chieftain's head and then let out a forced chuckle.

"You really wiped out the stronghold. Wasn't expecting that. Thank you.” Despite the innkeeper's gratitude, the man offered no response. Instead, he raised his right hand.

Crack!

A sword was embedded into the counter.

"......?” The innkeeper's frown turned into a realization as he gazed at the sword. A sigh escaped his lips. "You encountered the vigilantes."

He recognized whose sword it was.

"Yeah,” the man finally replied curtly.

"Are they all dead?"

"Yeah,” the man replied, fixing his gaze on the innkeeper. The silence in the tavern grew even heavier. Despite the man being smaller, the innkeeper found himself unable to move under his gaze.

"Is that all you have to say?" the man asked.

The innkeeper met his eyes. They were calm, deep black pools, but the murderous intent within them was just as tranquil and profound.

"...You did well,” the innkeeper responded, barely managing to withstand that intense gaze.

"Those bastards. They did nothing but guzzle meat and drink without contributing anything, right?"

Several of the patrons quickly agreed.

"Yeah! They called themselves vigilantes, but they were no different from thieves. Good riddance to those scoundrels!"

"A burden on the village gone, two for the price of one!"

This also served as a passionate plea for their innocence. None of them had the courage to confront the man who single-handedly annihilated the kobold stronghold and wiped out the entire vigilante group.

"...I see.” Finally, the man nodded. As he pulled the sword out of the counter, he spoke. "You haven't forgotten the payment for the job, have you?"

Swallowing a sigh of relief, the innkeeper nodded. "As promised, room and board in our tavern will be free for life. And if you want, we can scrape together some extra coins. It won't be much, times are tough."

"That’s alright. I just want a good night's rest," said the man, casually reattaching his sword at his waist. "Just prepare a hot bath for me. Right now."

"Right away. How much should I keep it ready?" the innkeeper signaled nervously to the barmaid, asking the man.

"Until I say it's enough," the man limped up the stairs.

"By the way, we never got your name. What is it?" the innkeeper asked, watching him go.

“Ian.” His reply was brief, as before.

***

"Let's hang this head on the wall! Hahaha, it's so ugly!"

"It looks like you. Got any kobold ancestors?"

"What did you just say, you bastard?"

The noisy chatter reverberated clearly up to the floor.

"...So damn noisy.” Ian, sitting in the bathtub, clicked his tongue. Even as he grumbled, he continued scrubbing his body. It was his third change of bathwater, and he had washed away most of the grime, but the feeling of dirtiness still had not gone away.

"If only there were even a cucumber soap, I'd have no more wishes.” Ian chuckled to himself at the thought.

"No more wishes, my ass...” His greatest wish was something else—to return to his original world.

Ian slumped back into the tub, staring at the cobweb-filled ceiling and muttered softly, "...I shouldn't have used illegal downloads in the first place."

It was about a year ago that he had found himself in this world—one that lacked a couple of unimportant things like basic hygiene and fundamental human rights.