Mages were all selfish and arrogant.
That was a conclusion I'd reached since childhood.
Mages looked down on those who couldn't wield magic.
It was a sad truth, but ordinary people were little more than monkeys compared to mages.
No matter how much a person trained with a sword, could they slice through flying flames or bolts of lightning?
They'd just burn to death or get electrocuted.
That was the harsh reality—and the reason mages lorded over the entire world.
Even the renowned emperor of the Empire was just a monkey to them, a slave offering tribute.
The world revolved around mages.
To reiterate: mages were selfish and arrogant.
I harbored such blasphemous thoughts even today.
As I watched the mage in the distance savagely hunting the rampaging monster.
In Laoren, the remote northern border city of the Runeheim Kingdom.
There, the mage cloaked himself in lightning, mercilessly slaughtering the monster.
"Whoa, as expected of a mage. We'd have been goners without him."
A chatty voice came from behind me.
A rat-faced guy stood there, looking sly as ever.
We'd been monster hunters together for quite a while now.
His name was Oble.
He'd gotten married last year and always had that dopey grin plastered on his face.
I was sick of hearing his marriage sermons.
"They did die, though."
"Just a few."
A few or many, they were dead.
They'd charged at a monster beyond their means and met a dog's death—knowing full well what would happen.
That was our role. Our life.
Mages were arrogant, using their power solely for personal gain.
Justice meant nothing to them.
Then again, for the weak, even crying out for justice was a sin.
Justice was ultimately the privilege of the strong.
The monster's rampage had shattered glass nearby, reflecting my image in the fragments.
Jet-black hair.
Bright amber eyes.
Since birth, childhood illness had left my body frail beyond measure—no muscle, just bones poking through skin.
I looked nothing like a monster hunter.
"If the mage hadn't dawdled, everyone would've survived."
"Sigh, Haren, watch your mouth around the mage. You might end up dead without a trace."
He'd always been a nosy one.
"Yeah, yeah, weakling Haren."
Then came another familiar voice.
Squinting, I saw a burly man approaching.
He slammed his pot-lid-sized hand onto my shoulder.
It went numb with pain.
He'd hit hard on purpose, flexing his strength.
Damn bastard.
His name was Trenba.
The problem child Trenba.
I was small and scrawny.
To me, his gesture was like a raging storm.
"Weaklings like you could die in front of me, let alone a mage."
A trash heap who never stopped mocking the weak.
Today, Trenba was trash as always.
"Why not quit monster hunting? You're not pulling your weight anyway."
I ignored his words.
No point listening to empty noise.
Instead, I watched the mage finally pierce the monster's head with a lightning bolt.
Magic truly had a mystical power to captivate the eye.
If I'd been strong like them, would my life have been different?
I didn't know.
Even if I went back in time, I'd still be a worthless monster hunter.
A monster hunter who couldn't save his dying parents.
A monster hunter left with faded ideals of justice.
"Tch, boring guy."
Trenba left me alone once I ignored him.
Off to pick on the next weakling, no doubt.
That was all he was good for.
And yet, he was far stronger than me—a proper monster hunter.
"Does Trenba have nothing better to do?"
"It was a monster that needed a mage."
"True. When a mage steps in, we got no job. Thanks, I guess."
"He's here on our taxes, after all."
"Haren, you're gonna get yourself killed."
Oble was genuinely worried for me.
Don't worry.
Would a mage care what monkeys chattered about?
Not a chance.
The mage finally snuffed out the monster's life.
With that, he turned and vanished into the sky.
A person flying away—it was still hard to get used to.
And I knew full well one like him could devastate the kingdom.
"Anyway, today's done. I'm off for drinks. Coming, Haren? They give better service with you around."
Oble stretched as he spoke.
His wife had chewed him out for boozing recently, yet here he was.
"Gotta clean up the corpses."
"Ugh, aren't you past doing cleanup duty? How many years now?"
"Can't deny I'm not scoring results."
I was weak as hell.
My sword shattered against monsters constantly, and I ended up injured every time.
Trenba pissed me off, but "weakling" was a nickname that stuck to me.
Born frail—no amount of training fixed that.
Not that I'd given up training, of course.
But talentlessness was undeniable fact.
"Off to clean, then."
"Yeah, be careful."
With Oble's encouragement, I grabbed my tools and headed back to the street.
In the distance, villagers gathered, hoping things wrapped up early.
To them, I wasn't a monster hunter—just a janitor.
Nothing new there.
"These monsters... what a hassle every time."
"Sigh, yeah. Without mages, we'd all be dead by now."
My sharp ears picked it up from afar.
Mage worship again.
Mages could do no wrong, huh.
"Is it really thanks to mages, though?"
A young boy spoke up.
I turned to see what the fuss was.
A ragged orphan boy, clothes in tatters.
He muttered blankly.
"I heard monsters crossing from another world was caused by mages."
"What're you saying, kid?!"
The crowd panicked, trying to shut him up.
But the boy shook his head, eyes brimming with tears.
"My mom and dad died to monsters too.
If mages caused this, they're the ones selling the poison and the cure.
Why thank them?!"
His cry echoed desperately.
Monsters invaded via bizarre dimensional gates.
They caused countless casualties, devouring humans like snacks.
Humans were easy prey, so they hunted without mercy.
These gates had appeared out of nowhere one day.
Rumors swirled lately that a mage's failed experiment caused it.
Of course, no one dared say it to a mage's face.
Just drunken gripes among folks.
"The monkey says amusing things."
Right. It was just talk among monkeys.
Something you'd never utter before a mage.
Behind the boy stood a man.
Wearing a disarmingly friendly smile.
The mage who'd slain the monster had returned.
"M-Mage, sir!"
The crowd flattened themselves to the ground, bowing low.
Unless monsters appeared, even glancing up at a mage was blasphemy.
The boy trembled, staring up at him.
Too late, he realized his mistake.
"Any other monkeys agreeing with this one?"
He posed the question.
Naturally, not a single soul spoke up.
"I see. Not even accepted among his fellow monkeys. How pitiful."
He patted the boy's head.
The boy's body exploded into pieces.
He died without so much as a scream.
The prostrated crowd just shuddered in silence.
They knew speaking up meant they'd be next.
The mage's gaze swept over them, then landed on me.
I hurriedly bowed low.
Mages were at least lenient with monster hunters.
They needed the mana stones from monster cores.
He nodded approvingly at me.
"Hm, for a monkey, you're working hard."
"...Thank you."
Thanking the man who'd just burst a child apart.
I knew how repulsive it was, but what choice did I have?
Mages and ordinary humans were different beings.
With that, the mage departed, business done.
Why had he come back, though?
No idea.
"H-He's gone."
"...We survived."
The crowd sighed in relief.
Not one mourned the boy.
"Damn that brat. Nearly got us all killed."
"What rotten luck."
Most were just pissed.
No shred of justice among them.
Including me.
With that, everyone dispersed.
I started cleaning the monster corpses.
Gazing at the boy's shattered remains, feeling a stark contrast to myself.
Then, the boy's blood trickled along the ground's grooves toward me.
Caught off guard, I realized where it was pooling.
A chill!
Hairs stood on end.
The monster's corpse.
The blood gathered there.
A bad premonition hit.
Was the monster using the boy's blood to revive?
All other hunters had left.
I was the only one here.
I drew my ever-ready sword from my belt.
This could escalate.
Strike now while the corpse was still.
Slice it open, extract the mana stone core.
No hesitation—I swung, carving into the monster.
The mage's lightning had charred the tough fibers, making it easier.
Deep inside, a blue glow appeared.
Shaking blood from my hands, I looked up.
My face froze.
Inside the massive mana stone.
Something human-shaped huddled there.
Bald, curled up like a fetus.
Five years as a monster hunter.
Even more as a cleaner.
I'd seen countless monster corpses.
But this? Never.
"What the hell is this?"
Why was there a person inside a mana stone?
I approached for a closer look.
Something caught my foot.
Clunk!
I pitched forward, hand slamming into the mana stone.
Splurt!
"Ugh!"
My fingertip sliced open, blood welling.
Sharper than it looked.
I yanked my hand back, seeing the wound.
Fumbling for bandages at my belt.
Then, something felt off. I slowly looked up.
A dizzying sight met my eyes.
Inside the mana stone.
A human eye snapped open, staring right at me.
Shit.
I'm screwed.
The thought hit as I tried to stand.
"Gah!"
Vision flashed red.
Strength drained from my body, balance shattered.
Nausea surged; senses spun wildly.
I face-planted; consciousness faded.
Did the mana stone spew poison?
'Why'd I play the dutiful hunter...'
So this was how my worthless life ended.
What meaning had it all held?
In my dimming mind, only regrets for a life unlived.
I should've lived better.
More justly.
Like my righteous father in childhood.
Like my mother, who sacrificed herself for village kids.
Their justice was crushed by raw power, sure.
But I wanted to be someone who saved others without bowing to strength...
Regret swallowed me as consciousness snapped.