Battle

Under the disbelieving gaze of the man in the trench coat, Glen dragged him into a dark alley.

A minute or two passed, and then the man's terrified voice echoed out into the night.

"Wait! What are you doing?! You demon! Stop! Aaaah—!!"

The scream echoed for a long, agonizing time.

When Glen emerged from the alley, his hands and chest were covered in blood, but it was clear it wasn't his own. He casually wiped the sticky blood from his palms on his pants, a pensive frown crossing his face. No doubt, under his brutal methods, even the most loyal dog would have confessed.

He had pieced together some information. A group of over fifty people was controlled by a man named Glass, who had somehow gained a terrifying power. His appearance had turned grotesque, and he was actively collecting children under the age of eighteen... Well, it was obvious someone with darker motives was pulling the strings. Glass was just a pawn.

After sorting through the details, Glen concluded that the situation was worse than he'd initially thought. He noticed some brave or overly curious residents peeking out of their windows, observing him.

He paid them no mind and went straight back to Mrs. Ryan's house.

As he pushed open the door, Mrs. Ryan was standing behind it, seemingly listening.

When she saw Glen walk in, her face momentarily shifted to concern, but then she relaxed, noticing his calm demeanor.

"I'm really worried about you. That guy looked like a heartless bastard. Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice still tinged with anxiety.

Glen smiled softly. The fact that she didn't treat him with fear was a relief—he didn't want people to fear him. He preferred the friendly, polite interactions he'd had before.

"I'm fine," Glen assured her. "I'm actually quite level-headed. I don't make a move unless I'm sure about it."

Mrs. Ryan, hearing his self-assured words, couldn't help but chuckle. "Where have you seen someone who calls themselves level-headed like that?" she teased.

But then her expression turned serious. "What happened to him?"

Glen paused for a moment, considering his words carefully. "He was too dangerous... so I killed him."

Mrs. Ryan's hand trembled slightly, but after a sigh, she spoke again, her tone resigned. "They had it coming. Don't worry, I'll explain things to Dougly. He won't make trouble for you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Ryan," Glen said sincerely. Though even if Dougly did make trouble, it wouldn't be a problem, it was still an act of kindness.

"Looks like you'll need to replace your door now," Glen said after a pause, pointing to the damaged front door.

She gave a dry laugh. "I'm really sorry to bother you again."

"No problem," Glen replied. "I've got some other things to handle, so I'll have to leave now."

Mrs. Ryan nodded, understanding.

Upstairs in a Noisy, Run-Down Tavern

Glass, who looked like an orc from the game World of Warcraft, was idly fiddling with a complex machine made of countless tiny gears and parts.

"Humans really are boring, always fussing over these useless metal lumps," a ghostly voice echoed in the room, breaking Glass's trance.

He put the machine down and spoke, his tone dark and low. "This is the trend. The kingdom's already seen plenty of so-called inventions being pushed forward, changing the way we live. The old king seems to like these things, and in order to appease him, the ministers are paying attention to them."

"Instead of focusing on stronger magic, they're doing this. This country is doomed!" the voice responded with scorn.

"These things aren't our concern," Glass replied, turning toward the window. "By the way, the children I've been feeding you should be enough, right? Why does it seem like there's no progress?"

The room fell silent. After five minutes, the voice returned.

"I... need more..." it said.

Before Glass could respond, the noise from below grew louder. A sense of foreboding washed over him. He started to head downstairs but was stopped in his tracks when a severed head crashed through the floorboards above, blood spraying everywhere as it lodged in the ceiling.

"B-Boss…" the head sputtered, blood frothing from its mouth.

Glass's pupils shrank in shock.

"What the hell...?!"

Before he could react, a figure casually stepped up, hands in pockets, strolling up the stairs.

Glen was covered in more blood than before, and upon seeing Glass, he froze for a moment. This... was an orc? But it didn't match the typical green skin or massive build. Was there even an orc race in this world? He couldn't recall anything like that from the original memories.

His mind briefly raced with thoughts, but he quickly shook them off and focused on Glass. "So, you're their boss? Using magic to hide this place, huh? No wonder the officers couldn't find you. Tell me where the children are, and I might spare you."

Glass, shaken but trying to regain his composure, sneered. "Who are you? Do you know who you've crossed? How did you even find this place?"

Glen didn't expect the man to retort. He chuckled coldly. "Looks like I'll need to beat you into submission first, then we'll have a proper chat."

With that, Glen flicked his wrist, and his wolf claws shot out, swiping toward Glass.

The strike was simple and direct, but Glass raised his left arm to block it, the claws scraping against his skin with a harsh screech, like metal grinding on metal.

Glass was pushed back, stumbling slightly. He quickly gauged Glen's strength, but Glen showed a faint surprise. He hadn't expected Glass's skin to be so tough, almost like steel.

"If you think you can cause trouble with just this kind of strength, you've made a foolish decision," Glass growled.

He seized Glen's wrist with a powerful grip and, with a growl, slammed him into the wall.

As Glen was flung through the air, he remained calm, adjusting his posture mid-flight. His feet hit the wall, and he used the momentum to cushion the impact, making it look almost effortless.

Glass, irritated by the lack of force in the crash, was about to slam Glen with even greater strength when Glen, now fully in control of his movement, sprang from the wall. With a swift knee strike, he drove his knee hard into Glass's face.

The orc-like man grunted in pain, momentarily losing his grip. His vision blurred as his hands instinctively went to his face.

But before he could recover, Glen swept his legs from under him, sending him crashing through the window and tumbling into the street below.

Bang!

The sound of glass shattering echoed in the air, and Glass hit the ground with a thud, pain radiating through his body.

At the Duder Police Station

Dougly was with his subordinates, discussing where the child-snatching group might be hiding when a police officer rushed in, interrupting their conversation.

"Captain! There's trouble at your house!" the officer shouted, breathless.

Dougly's eyes widened. He jumped to his feet, his mind racing.

Half an hour later, Dougly and several officers arrived at his home, panting from the sprint.

"We should've been given a carriage from the higher-ups. I hear some police stations in the main city already have them," one officer complained, clearly exhausted.

"Enough! Those things just came out recently. Who knows how well they even work? Besides, this tiny town doesn't need one! We're fine with a horse and carriage," another officer replied, irritated.

As they discussed, Dougly couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency building in his chest. What had happened at his house? What was going on?