In the deep darkness of the night, an old creaking door slowly opened. A silhouette appeared in the doorway: it was a woman, exhausted, her face bearing undeniable signs of fatigue. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, forming heavy shadows beneath them. She stepped across the threshold with difficulty, her movements heavy and hesitant. The room was dimly lit by a single bulb, but she slowly made her way toward a small wooden chair, worn down by time, and collapsed onto it with a sigh filled with pain.
Her trembling hands rose to her face, gently massaging her temples in a silent gesture of despair. After a moment suspended in time, she stood up with effort, dragging her feet toward the bathroom. The water from the shower poured over her like tears, attempting to wash away her exhaustion.
Then she returned to the main room. There, she sat at a worn wooden table covered with countless papers bills, letters, hastily scribbled notes. She buried herself in them, her fatigue momentarily forgotten, as her fingers skimmed over the lines of text:
"I can't take this anymore," she whispered as tears began to fall.
Her words floated into the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. Tears, long held back, silently traced down her pale cheeks, faintly glistening in the lamplight.
Yet, amid her despair, something caught her eye. Raising her head with effort, her tearful gaze fell upon several framed photographs carefully arranged on a dusty shelf. Each frame captured a moment, a memory, a beloved face. Among them, one in particular seized her attention: it was a photo of the person she cherished most in the world.
In that image, frozen in time, was a sincere smile and eyes full of affection, as if looking back at her through the glass. That face, carrying unconditional love, reminded her of happier days, memories tinged with joy and carefree innocence. Despite the pain and exhaustion, a faint smile formed on her lips. The tears continued to flow, but now they were mixed with gentle nostalgia and a renewed resolve.
"Don't give up. He's counting on you. Even in the darkest night, light can still shine through."
She opened the fridge and took out a small yogurt, eating it hastily as her phone began to vibrate.
"Ahh... I start work again in fifteen minutes," she sighed, utterly drained.
At that moment, a small voice called out to her:
"You're going to work again? Big sister, you haven't slept properly in days. At least take a little break," asked a young boy.
"No, I can't. Go back to bed, and don't worry I'm fine," she said, kissing his forehead tenderly.
"Okay," he said as he headed back to bed.
"Good night, Logan. I love you," she said as she left once again for work.
Pov Logan
As I slowly came back to my senses, emerging from the depths of a distant memory, I began to think:
"To provide for my needs, my sister had thrown herself into a labyrinth of jobs, losing herself more and more each day. She had bound herself, voluntarily chained herself to this life of ceaseless labor, unknowingly becoming a slave to a merciless system. Money, relentless demands, and the coldness of the world had captured her. But in her eyes, I saw something different a spark of unconditional love for me. It was her choice, her sacrifice, to shield me from suffering. She burned herself out, undermining her health brick by brick, while I stood there, imprisoned by my own helplessness, a silent witness to her pain. No one should be reduced to slavery neither by money nor by human cruelty. Freedom is the right of all, but hers had been traded away... for me." I thought, burying my head in my hands.
And as these thoughts assailed me, the memory of my sister's once radiant smile—fading little by little haunted me like a bittersweet ghost of who she used to be. In this strange world, I felt as though I'd been given a new mission, because I had sworn on my sister's grave to never close my eyes again.
"If anyone tries to take away my freedom, I'll steal theirs without an ounce of compassion or mercy. But here, I must return freedom to the oppressed, and I will take it from the oppressors!" I declared, my gaze unwavering.
Now fully awake, I headed toward the guild. As soon as I stepped through the door, a sudden silence fell, and all eyes turned toward me piercing, curious.
"Well, looks like all the attention is on me," I murmured, a smirk playing on my lips at this sudden notoriety.
"With what you did yesterday, that's only natural. Completing 100 quests in a single day, and alone on top of that? You've got to tell me, share your secret!" retorted Marie, walking up to me with a mischievous smile.
I let out a short laugh, hiding behind a mask of nonchalance:
"Keep dreaming," I replied, dodging her question with feigned lightness.
"You're so secretive," she said with a laugh.
"Well, well... that wouldn't be Red," said Alfred as he approached with his group.
"Red?"
"That's the nickname we gave you after what you did yesterday. You're impressive, you know. You just arrived and you're already pulling off feats." he said, placing his hand on my shoulder.
"I won't join you, I already told you," I said, slightly irritated.
"Okay, okay... but would you like to join us on a mission?"
"What kind of mission?" I asked, finally interested.
"A rank C mission. A village was recently attacked by monsters; we need to eliminate them," he replied, showing me the quest sheet.
"What kind of monsters?" I asked curiously.
"High Orcs, around level 45."
"But isn't it forbidden to take quests two ranks above your own?" I asked, glancing at Marie.
"If the group leader has the required level, it's tolerated to some extent," she confirmed with a nod.
"What's the reward?"
"20 silver coins each."
"Alright, I'll join."
There was no way I could neglect such an amount of money, so I accepted quickly.
"In that case, meet us here tomorrow morning," Alfred concluded before leaving with his group.
Alfred left with his men, leaving me alone again with Marie.
"Be careful with him," she murmured.
"I'm already wary, but maybe you could tell me more if you're warning me against him?"
"He's taken newbies with him before, and some never came back. That's why he's been nicknamed the beginner-killer."
"Never came back?"
"He always comes back saying the mission went wrong or that the newbie didn't follow his orders and ended up killed by monsters."
"I see. Thanks for the info."
"You're welcome, it's my pleasure."
I finally left the guild, collecting the money for my exploits from yesterday.
"In total, with these 100 quests, I earned one gold coin. Time to buy some equipment and put my Encyclopedia skill to use."
Then, guided by Marie's directions, I made my way to specialized shops hidden in the heart of the city. This stroll marked my first true urban exploration, a stark contrast to my usual straight path from the inn to the guild. When I first arrived in this city, I'd been too absorbed in my thoughts to really observe my surroundings.
The stalls overflowed with activity; voices rose in a mix of dialects, and the aromas of local dishes filled the air. I watched the people go about their lives, some in a hurry, others savoring the moment.
It was a world so different from the one I'd known until now, a complex tapestry of intersecting lives, forming the beating heart of this city. Every step revealed an aspect of the city I'd never noticed before, each street corner another scene, another story.
And above all, I saw the most horrific details my eyes opening to the insidious sights I'd previously ignored. Slave traders shamelessly displaying their "merchandise," beast-girls locked in cages like trophies. The cages, too small and overflowing with young girls of various races, reduced them to mere cattle, simple objects of trade. Their eyes, filled with despair and suffering, told stories of shattered lives and stolen dreams.
The conditions in which these souls were kept were beyond atrocious—they were inhuman. Packed together in cramped cages, they seemed stripped of all hope of escape or relief. Their confined space denied them any freedom of movement, condemning each shift to be a painful reminder of their captivity.
Their bodies told stories of pain and neglect. Every scar, every bruise on their skin was a silent testimony to the brutality and mistreatment they endured. These marks, visible and cruel, were the scars of a daily life full of abuse and suffering.
Their clothes, torn and soiled, offered no protection nor dignity. These ragged scraps, barely enough to cover their bodies, only heightened their vulnerability and humiliation.
Seeing these scenes, my heart clenched with deep sadness and rage. The contrast between their pitiful state and the indifference of the passersby was striking. Every detail of their miserable condition haunted me, but in this world, it was perfectly normal. I'd read about it in the guild's books, the accounts proclaiming the so-called supremacy of the human race, crushing the others mercilessly.
Suddenly, a frail beast-girl collapsed violently to my right. She dropped a multitude of boxes filled with assorted goods, scattering their contents across the cobblestone street. Her gaze betrayed a mixture of fear and resignation an image that struck me deeply.
"You stupid whore!" a man shouted, raising his hand with the intent to strike her.
But in a movement as sudden as it was unexpected, his arm was stopped mid-swing. Surprise flashed across his face, an expression of confusion and disbelief. His arm, frozen in the air, was firmly gripped by my hand.
The passersby, who until then had been nothing more than passive spectators, stopped, their eyes locked on this unexpected scene.
"What the...?" the man exclaimed, bewildered.
"Are you alright?" I asked, examining the young girl.
The beast-girl on the ground was strikingly beautiful: stunning gray-blue eyes, a radiant white fur coat, a small delicate tail, and magnificent white ears. However, what stood out most was her malnutrition and the blood staining her skin, along with the countless wounds marring her fragile body.
Those marks of unspeakable violence awakened within me a thirst for blood, a burning desire for justice, focused with a devouring intensity on this man. How could I possibly tolerate such barbarity?
My eyes, blazing with an incandescent red, locked onto his with barely restrained fury, as if I could consume him with my gaze alone. Panicked, he stumbled back, losing his footing and crashing heavily to the ground. His face turned ashen, his breath caught in his throat, and beads of sweat began trickling down his forehead, betraying the sudden, visceral fear overtaking him. Slowly, I extended my arm toward him, a single thought consuming my mind: to make him pay for his unforgivable act.
But just as I was about to act, I felt a small hand gently tugging at my clothes, pulling me back to reality.
"It's okay, don't worry about me, sir..." the beast-girl murmured.
"But..."
"You'll only bring trouble upon yourself... and everyone is staring at us," she whispered softly.
Looking around, I noticed that every gaze was locked on us. And among those eyes, there was one in particular I couldn't ignore. Forced by this realization, I made the difficult choice to resume my walk, my heart heavy.
Yet, I had barely taken a few steps when cries of pain tore through the air. The beast-girl, once again the victim of her abuser's brutality, now suffered partly because of my inaction. Each blow landed on her echoed painfully within me, stirring a sharp, gut-wrenching guilt.
I bit my lip until it bled, struggling desperately to contain the storm of emotions raging inside, to ignore the haunting sound of her screams. But what I didn't realize was that my eyes were glowing a vivid crimson, reflecting the fury and helplessness consuming me from within.
"How much for the beast-girl?" I heard a man ask.
As the twilight draped the city in shades of orange, I finally wrapped up my busy day. The purchases I had planned were complete: supple leather, fabrics of various textures, sturdy thread, and a few carefully chosen metal plates. Inside my bag, I also carried a piece of wolf hide, a memento of my past hunts.
I paused for a moment, closed my eyes, and whispered a single word—like calling on an old companion:
"Encyclopedia."
Instantly, a flood of information surged into my mind. It felt as if a long-locked door had been thrown open, unleashing a torrent of accumulated knowledge. Images, texts, formulas, and theories from my former world flashed vividly in my head. Every piece of knowledge seamlessly interlocked with the next, forming a vast and intricate mental library.
And then I found exactly what I was looking for.
"There it is how to craft a lightweight armor with my own style."
Beyond the Encyclopedia's knowledge, I invoked another remarkable ability: my Ultra Fast Learning. This extraordinary capacity allowed me to absorb tailoring and crafting techniques instantly skills that would normally take years of practice. My fingers moved as if they'd always known the motions, dancing with the needle and thread, creating textile works of art with startling ease.
"I've gained an interesting skill... which means I can probably learn others the same way," I said, finishing my work.
The result was a garment that perfectly combined functionality and style. Lightweight to allow free movement, yet sturdy enough to provide protection—a necessity in this dangerous and unpredictable world. The design bore clear influences from my old world, with a modern touch: it included a hood, offering shelter from the elements and a degree of anonymity.
"Exactly what I wanted. Having access to all the knowledge from my former world is truly an incredible advantage," I murmured as I examined my creation.
I was fascinated by how my memories and abilities had materialized into this attire. Finally, aware of the late hour, I decided it was time to rest.
"Well, it's late. Time to sleep," I muttered as I lay down on my bed.
The exhaustion of the day weighed on me, and I quickly drifted off into a deep, restorative sleep.
The next morning, fully reinvigorated, I headed to the guild. There, I found Alfred's group gathered, ready for our mission. But an unexpected surprise awaited me. Among them stood a familiar figure, carrying bags. It was the beast-girl I had met the day before. Her sudden appearance caught me off guard.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, startled.
Name: Logan | Race: Human | Age: 18 | Profession: Avenger-??? | Level: 55
Vitality: 400 | Magic Power: 137 | Attack: 146 | Defense: 140 | Speed: 120 | Endurance: 150 | Agility: 139 | Intelligence: 290 | Physical Strength: 180 | Willpower: 210 | Calculation: 270
Skills: Analyze, High-Class Tailoring
Unique Skills: (None)
Legendary Skills: (None)
Exclusive Skills: Vector Control, Ultra Fast Learning, Encyclopedia
Elements: (None)
Acquired Titles:
• Goblin Exterminator
• Merciless
• Clay Pigeon Shooter
• Insatiable