Bete wasn't originally from Orario. He was the son of the werewolf chieftain from the northern ice plains.
Born into this world as the heir of the werewolf tribe, he was steeped day and night in the tribe's survival-of-the-fittest ideology. From childhood, he believed only the strong deserved to live.
His parents loved him dearly. He had a sister who constantly opposed him yet never changed despite his countless harsh words, and a rare golden-haired, blue-eyed childhood friend in the northern ice plains.
Admiring his strength, his childhood friend had actively approached him. Young Bete also adored this extraordinary girl, and they soon became lovers, with even his parents approving of their future daughter-in-law.
But their happiness was short-lived.
When he was twelve, their entire tribe was attacked by the "Lord of the Plains," one of the world's three great mysteries alongside the Dungeon.
The monster's feet trampled, its claws tore through flesh, and its wings stirred violent winds.
Bete fought bravely against the dragon, only to be swatted away by a single wingbeat.
When he awoke, the entire tribe had become a sea of blood.
Parents, sister, tribesmen—corpses littered the ground.
His lover's body had been bitten to pieces by the monster, not even leaving a whole corpse behind.
In that moment, Bete truly understood the meaning of "survival of the fittest" for the first time.
To never again be stripped away by the strong, he came to Orario and became an adventurer.
Luckily, the first Familia he joined was an excellent one. Everyone cared for each other, always helping one another in the Dungeon, rushing to aid teammates in danger without hesitation.
"Hmph, only the weak gather in groups. True strength needs no help!"
But Bete despised these people.
He saw them all as weaklings.
And indeed, after joining the Familia, he quickly rose above most of his companions, earning the title "Gray Wolf" and becoming a core member of the Familia.
It was then he met the second girl in his life.
A human from the same Familia, she—like the other "weaklings"—enjoyed helping others. Even when Bete berated her, she paid no mind, still smiling as she assisted him when cultural differences left him flustered.
Bete still hurled insults, but his rigid mindset began to soften.
With their Familia's support, the two eventually became lovers. By then, at just sixteen, Bete was already a renowned Level 3 second-class adventurer throughout Orario.
Upon reaching Level 3, Bete felt ready.
Bidding farewell to his Familia and her, he returned alone to the northern ice plains. After a day and night of fierce battle in the freezing cold, he finally slew the monster.
Having avenged his deep hatred, Bete returned to Orario in triumph, eager to share his joy with her.
But what greeted him was her corpse.
According to companions, they'd encountered danger in the Dungeon, and she had died horribly beneath a monster's fangs.
In that moment, Bete was forced to embrace the philosophy that "the weak deserve to die."
From that point on, he became irredeemably disgusted by the weak, by the insignificant, by the worthless.
Bete angrily berated his Familia comrades, cursing them for failing to protect her.
The guilt-ridden chief god Vidar and his companions were eventually driven out of Orario by his relentless accusations.
Once again, Bete found himself alone.
He became utterly convinced—he didn't need comrades at all.
Because comrades were nothing but weaklings who would inevitably die.
"Rather than gaining something only to lose it, it's better to have nothing from the start? You're one interesting wolf!"
At that moment, Loki came knocking.
She was acquainted with Chief God Vidar, who had entrusted Bete to her before leaving Orario.
This Familia was the strongest in the city.
Bete met the most renowned adventurers of Orario—the heroic Pallum, the elven royalty, the dwarven great warrior—each so powerful they stirred his heart.
Here, he wouldn't have to worry about weaklings.
With that thought, Bete joined Loki Familia.
And then, he encountered that girl.
Golden hair and emerald eyes, just like his childhood friend.
But her strength was nothing like hers.
Her sword held no emotion—merciless against monsters, sparing no unnecessary words, cold as ice, relentlessly pursuing strength.
Bete had met his ideal.
Ais was the perfect woman in his eyes.
Ais, who was strong, would never die.
"Ais, just stay like this," Bete told her.
"This isn't enough. I'm still not strong enough," Ais murmured.
Back then, Ais was so single-mindedly focused on strength that she seemed like an emotionless doll. People called her the "Doll Princess."
Bete blinked in surprise, then broke into a delighted smile.
Ais was even more remarkable than he had imagined.
He admired her.
Yet he never once thought of approaching her.
It was enough just like this—as long as she remained strong, as long as she kept displaying that strength.
That was all Bete needed.
Just seeing that strength filled him with peace, banishing the fear of loss.
—But everything changed when Eiji joined.
Eiji was strong.
Even Bete had to admit it. Though just a low-tier adventurer, he fearlessly fought high-tier monsters, his might leaving the entire Familia in awe.
Yet because of him, Ais changed.
Feminine smiles began appearing on her face—she was losing her strength.
That smile was so infuriating it sent Bete into a rage.
He had tainted his ideal!
Overcome with fury, Bete repeatedly picked fights with Eiji.
Unfortunately, every time he did, he ended up the one getting schooled.
He was no match for Eiji's shameless, slanderous tactics.
"I like you."
Valletta grinned as she extended an invitation.
"Come with me. You don't like that Familia either, do you? Don't want to rot away here, right? Then let's escape together—let's hunt down Loki Familia, from the lowest adventurer to the highest, killing them one by one! Just imagine Finn clutching his head in agony! Kehahahaha—!"
Picturing Finn wailing in despair, Valletta laughed heartily.
BOOM!!
A sudden explosion of force!
A silver boot shot out like a cannonball, delivering an unstoppable kick.
"Wha—?!"
Valletta's soul nearly left her body.
She instinctively raised her arms in front of her, but was still sent flying by a silver boot, crashing into the wall with a resounding boom like a tolling bell.
"You... ugh—!"
Valletta tried to speak but suddenly vomited a mouthful of blood.
Her right arm was clearly broken, hanging limply at her side.
Shock and fury surged through her.
"What kind of joke is this?"
Bete withdrew his right foot, a cold smirk curling at the corner of his lips as his eyes turned vicious. The tattoos on his face seemed to writhe.
"Who would team up with trash like you? Trash should know their place—get smashed to pieces right here!"
A savage grin spread across his face before a storm of kicks rained down like hail.