As one of Puppeteer's forms, <Brutal Predator> seemed to grow larger the more it consumed; it was still expanding even now.
If it kept growing at this rate, it wouldn't be long before it achieved its dream of becoming a human.
"Puppeteer, I'm going to leave for a bit. Is that all right?"
"Yeah, sure thing, Master!"
"Good."
Seeing Puppeteer nod, I shifted my gaze toward Dalga.
He seemed completely catatonic, his entire body trembling violently from sheer terror.
"Hey, Dalga. Get up."
I gave the order, but Dalga didn't react, continuing to shake where he lay.
I sharpened my voice and commanded him again.
"Get up."
"Y-Yes!"
He scrambled to his feet as if he’d been electrocuted.
"Lead me to the Village Chief."
"Huh?"
"Don't talk back. Don't think. Just do as I say."
"Y-Yes! He... he should be this way!"
Completely cowed, Dalga stammered his obedience and began walking. I followed closely behind.
Our destination was the Adventurer's Guild.
I knew the place existed, of course, but I’d never actually stepped foot inside. I’d never had any reason to.
The interior of the Adventurer's Guild was in an absolute uproar.
They were likely arguing over how to handle the <Brutal Predator>.
I spotted Village Chief Rizrutt at a central table. He appeared to be in the middle of a heated dispute with several adventurers.
"I said hurry up and subjugate that monster!"
"And I told you, it’s impossible! We need to request reinforcements from the neighboring guilds!"
"Dammit! I sent for help ages ago! You useless lot!"
The room was filled with the sounds of their angry shouting.
Amidst the chaos, a frantic voice cut through the noise.
"I beg of you! Help me!"
It was Dalga, who had been walking ahead of me.
"This silver-haired bastard teamed up with a monster to attack the village! Please, kill him! Kill him right now!"
Dalga sprinted toward the adventurers as if they were his only salvation.
"Wait, isn't that... Kiska?"
"Kiska? I thought he was exiled to the dungeon depths."
"Hey, what the hell is he doing here?"
The men finally noticed me, murmuring amongst themselves as they stared.
"Is it true? Did you unleash a monster on this village?" Rizrutt demanded.
"Yes! It's true! I saw it myself—he was giving the monster orders!" Dalga cried out.
The adventurers began to chuckle.
"Haha! This kid, commanding a monster? Like hell."
"Telling us a useless commoner can summon monsters... that’s a bit much."
"The Chief’s son must have lost his mind from fear."
I thought to myself that the <Brutal Predator> isn't exactly a monster, but I suppose the distinction was lost on them.
"Hey, Village Chief."
Ignoring the others, I addressed the man directly.
"You’ve got a lot of nerve, exiling me to the dungeon depths on a false charge."
"W-What are you—"
"You know perfectly well that the one who raped and murdered Namia wasn't me. It was your own son, crawling right there."
"Someone, stop him!"
The Village Chief didn't even let me finish before barked orders at the surrounding adventurers.
I calmly evaded them as they lunged to restrain me, continuing my explanation as if I were merely discussing the weather.
"I only came here for one reason: to take revenge on every single one of you."
"W-What kind of nonsense—"
Village Chief Rizrutt started to retort, but a scream drowned him out.
"He... he came back alive from the dungeon depths! And he brought a monster with him! Kill him now! If you don't, we're all dead!"
It was Dalga’s terrified shriek.
Hearing Dalga’s explanation, the adventurers finally seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation—and the impossible reality that someone exiled to the depths of the dungeon was standing right in front of them.
"Restrain this man immediately! Kill him if you have to!" Rizrutt ordered.
The adventurers instantly drew their weapons.
"Pfft... hahahaha! Too bad for you, Kiska! You might have survived the dungeon and gotten a bit stronger, but there’s no way you can win against this many adventurers! Your death is already decided! My deepest condolences!"
Emboldened by the wall of adventurers protecting him, Dalga’s face twisted into a smug, taunting sneer.
No way I can win against this many, huh?
Then let’s put that theory to the test.
The battle began.
The adventurers didn’t hesitate. They lunged at me with weapons drawn, spitting vitriol like "Die!" and "Drop dead!"
In response, I gripped the <Sword of Raging Flames> and met them head-on.
The only thought that crossed my mind during the fight was this:
"Compared to the monsters in the dungeon, this is pathetic."
Fighting a pack of Bugbears or a room full of Golden Living Armors was hundreds of millions of times more grueling than this.
With that thought in mind, I cut down every last adventurer in the blink of an eye.
"Hey, what’s going on?! Why are you all down?! It’s just one guy! This shouldn't be happening!"
Dalga’s voice rose in a high-pitched wail.
"So, what was it you said earlier? 'No way you can win against this many adventurers,' right? Oh, that’s strange. Can you still say that after looking at this?"
"Ah... ahhh..."
Both Dalga and the Village Chief were paralyzed, their faces twitching with terror.
Then, a foul stench hit my nose. They’d wet themselves again.
"Oh, I know. Since we’re all here, why don't we play a game?"
"A... a game?" the Chief stammered.
"Yeah. I’m going to torture one of you. As for which one... I'll let you two decide. Go ahead, have a chat and let me know who it’s going to be."
They were father and son.
I made the proposal half-expecting to hear something noble, like "Do whatever you want to me, just spare him." But...
"You take the torture! This is all your fault for killing Namia in the first place!"
"Don't screw with me! You’re the one who pinned the crime on Kiska, Dad! You take responsibility!"
"I only did that for your sake!"
"Then take the torture for my sake, too!"
The two of them descended into a physical brawl.
They punched and scratched at each other, hurling insults in a display that was as pathetic as it was ugly.
Watching them was farcical, but it didn't do much to quell the rage simmering in my gut.
"If you don't decide in ten seconds, I'll torture both of you."
I began to count. "Ten... nine... eight..."
Their struggle grew even more desperate and unsightly.
"You take it!"
"No, you!"
When the countdown hit "zero," I gave them my verdict.
"Too bad. Since you couldn't decide, I guess I have to torture you both."
"I am so sorry! My son has caused you a terrible amount of trouble! I apologize from the bottom of my heart, so please... please, just let me go!"
It was a truly spectacular dogeza.
The crown of his head was pressed firmly against the floor, his elbows bent at a perfect ninety-degree angle. It was such a flawless display of submission that I doubted anyone else in the world could have matched it at that moment.
"You can do whatever you want to my son! Anything! Just please... spare me! I beg of you!"
"Dad! You bastard! You piece of shit!"
I was genuinely moved.
The Village Chief had sold out his own flesh and blood with a single bow.
I doubted there was a more hideous sight in all the world.
And because it was so hideous, I felt I had to honor it.
"Fine. I’ll accept the Village Chief’s proposal."
"Haaaah?!"
Dalga let out a scream of pure disbelief.
He immediately scrambled into action, throwing himself into a dogeza just like his father.
"I’m sorry! I apologize too! Please, torture my father instead!"
As if a second-hand apology like that would carry any weight. The value was in being first; coming in second made it utterly worthless.
"Dalga! You think a pathetic excuse like that will work?!"
See? Even his father agreed.
"Village Chief, I’m going to tie him up. Assist me."
"Yes! Of course!"
Dalga tried to bolt, but I snatched him up. Together with his father, I hauled him over to a pillar and bound him tight.
"Dad! You bastard! I’ll hate you forever! Damn you!"
Dalga screamed curses at his father, but the Chief acted as if it were nothing more than a mild breeze.
"Now then, Village Chief. I want you to cut your son exactly as I tell you."
"I... I have to do it?"
"Oh? You'd rather not? In that case—"
"No! I'll do it! Please, let me do it!"
He cut me off before I could suggest that he take the son’s place.
"Then, if you please," I said, handing him a blade.
"First, let’s start by removing all his fingers."
And so, the father began to torture the son.
"This is your fault for being such a screw-up! Learn some goddamn reflection! You piece of shit!"
The Village Chief spat vitriol as he willingly carved into his own son’s flesh.
"Ugaaaaaah!"
The son screamed in agony, occasionally sobbing out threats: "Dad... I’m going to kill you... I’m going to kill you for this!"
The torture continued for several hours.
The Chief was remarkably precise, ensuring he carved in a way that kept his son conscious for as long as possible.
I watched the entire thing.
And all the while, I couldn't help but think: God, humans really are ugly.