"This— this is terrible… what creature could do such a thing", a woman stared at the gruesome scene laid before her.
A pile of corpses stretched across the floor of the Demeon Lord's throne room.
"It appears there are still some demons loyal to the Demon Lord".
"Then our work here isn't yet over".
"Hero's private unit B3! A demon has once again desecrated and stained the area blessed by our hero, with sin…".
"Set out on horseback, inform the nearby towns, this demon is strong and out for blood".
"Yes Sir!".
"May the Gods bless you".
3 groups of 5 set out from the throne room, marching out the castle.
"Sir, there seems to be an underground passage and the Demon Lord's body that we were to reasearch, it's heart is… gone".
"What? Why did no one notice until now?".
"There was illusion magic".
"But who would…? FUCK!", he smashed his foot into the ground, creating a small crater. "If there's a demon capable of illusion magic that's still alive, we've got more than just a small issue on our hands.
"Send a message to the soldiers, there's a demon capable of sixth scroll magic".
Astar had by this time made a 2-days' journey over the mountains surrounding the Demon Lord's castle.
The whispers in his mind had by this time, stopped. It was as if he flipped a switch when setting his goals, but the hunger he felt did not subside.
Even when he ate the rations plundered from the soldiers supplies, he still felt a sense of emptiness.
'Is this a side effect of the Heart?', he clenched his chest which provided some relief. Perhaps that could be seen as an indication of being correct.
Astar gazed off the top of the mountain, finding a small village within his view.
He glanced at the teared and crumpled clothes he still wore since the surgery. To call them clothes would be an overstatement, his shirt was basically two sleeves connected by a little patch of cloth to his back. His pants had turned into shorts, but the tears still made him look nothing more than a street urchin.
'I better find some clothes, some equipment would be nice…'
A large wooden fence surrounded the outskirts of the village. 2 guards stood on either side of a small gate, only large enough for a small donkey cart to drive through.
"Stop right there...".
Astar stepped to the side of the road waiting for the guards to approach him.
"Done be like that, I'm no one suspicious".
"You're half naked".
"I was robbed, bandits".
Their eyes grew narrow at the mention of bandits. This was no news to them. A group of Bandits had taken over a small clearing to the west of them.
They plundered, tarnished, pillaged, anything in site was fair game to them. They had gone so far as to keep some villages still standing, only to extract money from them till they were run dry.
But it didn't seem like they recognised who he was. While it left a sour taste in his mouth, it was for the best.
"You don't even have any money on you, how on earth would you even buy anything... unless you were planning on stealing?".
"No no no, good sirs, I was just hoping for some goodwill".
"Goodwill?", he burst out in laughter as if hearing the most outlandish thing in the world. It wasn't long before his eyes narrowed. "Scram, the Harrison Bandits have left us with nothing the likes of an outsider like you would want".
Astar could have easily killed the two guards in front of him, but an even better idea came to mind.
"When are these Bandits coming to collect their next pay check?", a smirk on his face as he said so.
"You!?", one of the guards grabbed Astar by the neck. "Are you trying to mock us!? Just because we can't afford any more charity? Our children are starving and...".
He let go of Astar, sighing as he did so, "This isn't worth it... he comes tomorrow morning. So just go... please".
Astar had thought about killing such pitiful men? This would leave him with nothing but a bad taste in his mouth. No, it would be much more fun to pull the Bandits off their high horses. 'A hero is meant to be heroic no? For old times' sake'.
Astar walked away but didn't go very far. A campfire lit the dark woods. The night was long.
The next morning, a loud ruckus could be heard outside the village.
"Hey! Old man get out here with the money you owe us."
Tall bulky frame, a scar that ran across his bare chest, leather equipment that had been stained with the blood of his enemies. This man was the spitting image of a bandit.
Behind him were 15 others, each dressed similarly.
An old man stepped outside of the wooden gate. "Here".
The bandit snatched the sack of coins from the man's hands, he looked inside, "This isn't what we agreed upon".
"Agreed upon? You doubled our compensation to you without warning!".
"Don't take that tone with me, geezer. Olgar will not be happy if I tell him you're short on cash. You know we could've buried you in the ground by now".
The bandit however, composed himself. He had a better idea. There was no use in arguing, just a little one-sided persuasion was needed.
"Boys", he snickered, signalling to his accomplices. "I think our friend needs another demonstration. He's an old man probably doesn't remember shit; remind him why we mean business... for his sake".
"Stop, please we'll get you the money", the old man fell to the ground, begging for mercy.
"You brought this upon yourself old man, I might even take one of your women. That could give you another day to pay us back".
He licked his lips sending shivers down the spine of a woman who stood behind the gate.
"I- I can't...".
"Hmm? It's a good deal if you ask me, no?", he crouched down to the old man, grabbing him by the little hair he had left. "You're not expecting me to just wait till tomorrow out of the kindness of my heart?".
"krgh", the old man bit his lip, what choice did he have? But who would he send-?
"There'll be no need for that".
"You are...? some beggar?", he glanced at his comrades who laughed alongside him. "Go run away while I'm still in a good mood".
"Now why would I do that?".
"Tch", he flicked his head gesturing to one of the other bandits.
"I'm sorry, but it's not my fault you're trying to act like some hero".
The irony.
"I'm sorry as well, you won't live to see another day".
The bandit chuckled at his pitiful attempt at a retort.
"Don't act so full of yourself".
*Crack*
"Ger- Gerome!?".
The bandit named Gerome, who had been given the death sentence of fighting Astar, now laid against the floor lifeless. His neck twisted backwards.
"Sir...".
"Well? What are you staring at me for? Kill that fucker".
14 bandits charged towards Astar. But who would have expected the outcome?
3 heads spun at once, 2 others found their legs bent the wrong way. 5 were thrown against tree, ground and rock. 2 had holes in their chests. 2 simply ran away in fear.
Astar had this look of euphoria as he killed them one by one, revelling in the hunt.
"You sick fuck.. You think handling a bunch of riff-raff is going to impress me? You don't know what's coming".
He readied his sword.
"Come".