"Ghahahahahah! I did it! I hit you! I finally hit you! Fwahahaha..."
The Gray-War Troll laughed tauntingly, clearly delusional. It was battered and had even lost an arm, but its eyes shone with a madness that reflected the chaos in its soul. Tyler felt a vein pop on his forehead. This entire situation was ridiculous and infuriating. He had expected to feel only mild irritation, but instead, a surge of pure rage, hatred, and unstoppable wrath consumed him.
His grip on the greatsword tightened as a large amount of mana flowed into the blade. Tyler wasn't sure why he was so angry, but the more he heard the troll's voice, the more he wanted to rip the heads off every single troll on the battlefield.
"Trash!"
Tyler spat the word through gritted teeth. His rage continued to rise, narrowing his thoughts. He felt insulted. Normally, this should feel like losing a winning streak to a weak opponent after going easy on them—a simple annoyance. Yet, this felt far worse. Something inside him felt disrespected, as if it were blasphemy. A common troll dared to reach out its filthy hands to touch the sun. How could he forgive such insolence? How could he not punish them?
"YOU INSIGNIFICANT, ABSOLUTE TRASH! HOW DARE YOU LAY YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON ME! I'LL KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!"
His fury was so intense that it left him momentarily speechless. With his volcanic roar came an explosion of energy that rendered the entire battlefield still. If not for the trembling knees and chattering teeth, one might have mistaken the stillness for a moment where time itself had stopped. Tyler's hazel eyes glowed red, narrowing on his target.
With a single step, he appeared before the Gray-War Troll and swung his blade with a skill: Burning Strike. The already cracked blade couldn't withstand the force and shattered upon impact with the troll's hardened, rune-protected skin. However, the fiery red aura accompanying the attack severed the troll's head.
Tyler let go of the broken sword and turned his gaze to another troll—an elite standing near Albert's group. Everyone who met his eyes felt their life drain away. It was a piercing gaze that made them retreat. Even Liz took a step back. She wasn't sure why, but a familiar, unsettling feeling made her skin crawl.
They weren't the targets of his rage, yet they still felt fear. So how could those who received his bloodlust directly withstand it? They couldn't. The three ordinary trolls had already collapsed, and the so-called elite trolls were on their knees, faces filled with terror.
"Not enough."
Tyler's rage couldn't be quelled by one life. The hatred burning within him threatened to drive him mad if left unchecked. He needed to release it. Seeing the fear on the trolls' faces wasn't satisfying—he wanted them to feel something worse than fear. With that, Tyler decided to use a spell.
Pointing his right index finger at the trolls, a menacing grayish-black aura wrapped around him as he uttered a phrase to the trembling, nearly collapsing creatures.
"Know Despair."
Liz's mind almost went blank. Her memories of that event might have been hazy, but she knew exactly what this aura meant. Even as a mage nearly immune to cold, a chill ran down her spine. She hurried forward, driven by her love for her friend, who might die if that spell was used now. She couldn't let him do it.
Tyler's gaze was fixed on a single troll. He wanted to release the rage within, and the first thing that came to mind was the spell that could drain him of all energy.
"Wave of Des—"
"Ice Blades!"
Tyler's spell was interrupted as several flying swords killed his intended target. His anger flared even higher, and he was about to unleash his fury when he felt a tug on his arm. Turning his head, he saw a beautiful blonde girl with tear-filled eyes holding onto him.
"Please..."
His rapidly rising emotions cooled just as quickly when he heard her plea and saw the tears streaming down her slightly red cheeks.
"If you do that... they might die... and my friend... my friend wouldn't survive."
Tyler was dumbstruck. Why had he been so angry that he was about to use a spell that could knock him out—and everyone else on the battlefield? Even if he were the only one standing, how would he move so many people across the river?
The hate and rage within him dissipated almost seamlessly, and Tyler finally regained proper cognitive function. He sighed deeply. Something's wrong with me. Why do I suddenly have so much pride? Is it the so-called demon's pride? Am I no longer human, or is there a deeper meaning to this? He pondered but found no answers.
Tyler patted Liz on the head and nodded with a faint smile. He wiped her tears, feeling apologetic for making such a beautiful girl cry. Though her cheeks appeared redder, he assumed it was from the stress.
He needed to figure out what was wrong with him, but now wasn't the time. He might find answers in the magic library, but he had more pressing concerns. For example, what to do with the remaining trolls, who were now groveling on the ground in fear.
The residents of the settlement and the leader of the red-scaled kobolds, who had managed to withstand his aura, stared at him with wide eyes and apprehension. They were both terrified and awed. Even Albert and Erin looked pale.
Albert was the first to recover. The fact that the terrifying pressure his master had exuded had vanished without a trace shocked him. He quickly approached Tyler and asked, "My lord, what do we do with the rest of these trolls? And the kobolds?"
"Kobolds?"
"Yes, the red creatures."
"Oh. Well, I don't really care, so do whatever you want."
Tyler wasn't interested in the kobolds from the start. They lived deep in the forest and likely had no useful information for him. He also felt tired and didn't want to be responsible for killing the remaining trolls. However, there was something that piqued his interest.
He walked over to the headless corpse of the troll known as Kadiz and picked up the massive weapon that had managed to hit him—the likely cause of this mess. The troll had been over 17 feet tall, so its weapon was naturally much larger than what Tyler could wield properly. However, the Hamaxe shrank to a manageable size the moment he touched it.
The chains wrapped themselves around his arm, and Tyler immediately disliked the weapon. It was slowly draining his energy, and the sensation made him uncomfortable. He walked back to Albert and the others and handed the weapon to the ogre chief, Azar, as an apology for destroying his greatsword.
Azar initially refused the magical weapon, but Tyler simply threw it at him without a word. Albert soon returned with startling news: he had given the trolls an ultimatum—submit to his master or die—and they had immediately chosen submission. This was strange behavior for Gray Trolls, but Tyler didn't care.
His only problem was why—why was Albert adding more baggage to his already overwhelming load? The bad news didn't stop there. The leader of the kobolds had also submitted, perhaps out of fear of Tyler or for their survival in the wild. Tyler didn't care. His headache only grew worse.
•••••••
With the battle over, the group quickly recovered with Erin's help. They cleaned the battlefield by storing the troll and kobold corpses in the chief's storage box, just as they had done with any monsters they had encountered so far. The magic crystal from the Gray-War Troll was given to Tyler, who now had seven in his possession.
The group boarded their carriages and left. Fortunately, no one had died, and they now had the protection of twelve large trolls riding atop the carriages. Their intimidating presence was enough to scare off any monsters attracted to their location, allowing them to make up for lost time.
The kobolds didn't seem to like the trolls much but offered little resistance when forced to share a carriage with them.
Tyler's annoyance shifted to a different cause. He didn't care how many creatures followed them, as he was still in denial about who they were actually following. He had joined this trip for a completely different reason but now found himself trapped in a carriage with ogres who had little useful information.
Tyler sighed deeply. The group of ogres sitting across from him remained, so he decided to continue from where he had left off. They seemed more respectful now, and Hart wouldn't stop smiling at him.
He wanted to ask about the closest cities and towns in the region and how they were structured, in case he needed to escape this predicament. However, he needed to be tactful. If it sounded like he was conducting an investigation, he had no idea how they would react.
"So, how did your town survive for so long on its own? Did you make everything you needed yourselves?" he asked.
Hart looked confused, as if he didn't understand the sudden question. Tyler considered adjusting his approach, but before he could, Jarret answered.
"We mostly hunt around the town and defend against monster sieges. We moved with a lot of supplies thanks to the captain's spatial storage ring. It contained enough food and materials to last the entire town for six months. During that time, we gathered all the cores and magic crystals from the monsters we killed."
"The captain let us borrow the storage ring whenever we needed it. Once a year, we send a team to Winged City in the north. With both the ring and the chief's storage box, they exchange the cores for money and buy a year's worth of supplies. We usually buy materials we can't get around the settlement—food, seeds, and rare ores for Elder Berlin. Oh, Berlin Bungo is our famed blacksmith. He claims he was taught by dwarves as a child."
"He's a very talented blacksmith, and his weapons and armor are highly sought after. Although he's not very sociable, he donates more than half of what he earns from selling his products to the town. That's why we always make sure to buy him as many rare ores and materials as he needs."
Tyler was pleased with the information. All he needed to do was head north to find a city. Given that he was likely a demon and no one could tell otherwise, he only needed to traverse the land, survive any trouble along the way, and he could buy supplies—even a mount. With that, he had a high probability of leaving the Demon Continent.
This brought him to his next problem: he had no idea what currency this continent used. Did they use silver and gold coins like the Human Continent, or was it completely different? Worse, he couldn't think of a way to ask without sounding like someone lacking common sense.