Haren sat blankly in his chair, staring out the window.
What the hell had just happened?
He'd been given a death sentence, buried under debt.
In a fit of desperation, he'd unleashed a torrent of curses at Trenba, the guy who'd always picked on him.
Then he saw a white flame around Trenba, grabbed it—and the bastard collapsed.
An intuition hit him.
If he'd squeezed just a little harder...
"He would've died."
There was certainty in his grip.
That white flame—it was Trenba's life force, his very soul.
He'd nearly snuffed it out.
Instant death.
Trenba wouldn't have even realized what killed him.
Why did he have this power now?
The question didn't linger long.
The mana stone from the monster.
Something humanoid inside it, with red eyes just like these.
'Is it some kind of parasitic monster?'
At least it didn't seem visible to anyone else.
Terminal illness on top of a parasitic monster infestation. What a run of luck.
He raised his hand and slowly dragged it down his face.
His mind was a whirlwind.
Trenba had been carted off unconscious.
By tomorrow, the rumors would spread like wildfire.
Problem child Trenba, taken down by the weakling Haren.
The gossip would snowball.
But what did it matter?
He had months to live, tops.
Let them talk.
Leaning back against the inn bed with that thought, something flashed through his mind.
'Wait a second.'
Assume that flame was a person's soul and life force.
Then couldn't he see his own?
The idea struck, and he rolled up his sleeve in a hurry.
There it was on his wrist: the closed eye.
Recalling the sensation from before, he focused his will on it.
Tsss—
The eyelid cracked open, revealing a thin red pupil.
His vision swam.
Dizziness from the new sight flooding his brain.
But he endured, peering through the eye on his wrist.
Moments later, his field of view expanded.
'I can see it.'
Deep inside his body.
A tiny crimson flame flickering.
And it was pathetic—minuscule, on the verge of winking out.
Compared to Trenba's, it was a candle in the wind.
"Damn it."
Was the eccentric mage right? Was this truly a terminal life?
Mana stone hardening disease.
Destined to petrify into mana stone. Darkness closed in.
One way to survive: become a mage.
But for an ordinary person like him? Near impossible.
Bitter sighs filled his mouth, no answers in sight—
"Kyaaaaaaaah!"
A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air.
He rushed to the window. Far off, space warped.
Dimension shift.
Monsters incoming.
And they were already pouring out.
Small fry charging down the street, snatching people.
But these were just the opening act.
The real threat: the large monster herding them.
Two outbreaks in one day? Bad luck.
He reached for his gear—then froze.
Doomed to die from the disease anyway.
Why bother hunting monsters?
No point earning money—it'd just pay off debts.
The thoughts rattled his skull.
Yet his hand gripped his sword.
Right before blacking out from that mana stone, one memory surfaced.
A boy in the same boat, begging a mage for his life even as he died.
That regret burned deep enough to haunt his final moments.
He'd wanted to live justly, but betrayed his own principles.
A knot that wouldn't untie.
So what if he was weak?
His body might fail, but his heart should've stayed strong.
Deathbed thoughts always cut to the core.
What he'd lacked: justice.
The small voice against injustice.
Like his father shouting at that mage.
He'd craved that justice for years.
His hand tightened on the hilt.
He bolted down the stairs.
People fled into the inn, dodging monsters.
He ran the opposite way.
Outside: chaos.
Civilians scattering, small monsters in hot pursuit.
Half-human-sized, hunched, emaciated wolf-like things.
Small, but numerous.
Monster hunters popped up here and there, but overwhelmed.
Then he spotted one lunging at two kids.
Tears streaming, they pumped tiny legs in desperation.
Too slow for the wolf.
His legs coiled with power.
Body lunging forward, he swung with all his might.
Aiming for the heart—the mana stone.
One strike to kill.
Claaang!
Sword met tough hide.
Even small, it was a monster.
Damn.
Any other hunter would've pierced it.
His frail body hit home again.
A lifetime of training, gorging food—muscles never came.
Puny frame, sickly constitution.
Born this way, always a regret.
Still, the ambush landed.
The wolf recoiled, snarling.
"Run!"
He yelled at the terrified kids.
They snapped to, fleeing anew.
The wolf's eyes tracked them.
He charged to intercept.
Seizing the opening.
But what a miscalculation.
The wolf's cheek.
An eyelid split open.
It had been feigning the whole time.
Monsters were born hunters.
He remembered that now.
The wolf's paws scraped the ground.
Fangs hurtled toward him—rusted, grotesque.
One bite, and he'd scream his last.
He yanked back desperately, slashing wildly.
Claaang!
Fangs and blade clashed; both staggered.
But he was outmatched in strength.
This was a monster.
No contesting raw power.
It shoved him back relentlessly.
The wolf grew fiercer, intent on crushing him.
Humans or monsters—prey was prey.
No mercy for the weak.
Die or kill.
Those were his options.
Then it opened.
The eye on his arm, born from the mana stone.
The monster's life force burned in it.
A deep violet flame.
Like Trenba's, like his own.
Trenba's collapse flashed back.
Grasping that flame had dropped him.
A gamble?
No—certainty.
The perfect way to fell a monster.
No hesitation.
He dropped his sword mid-standoff.
The wolf lunged forward at the sudden absence.
But it seized the chance without pause.
Primal instinct.
Fangs closing in.
His hand shot out first—for the flame.
Extinguish it.
Must extinguish it!
The flame raged in his fist.
The wolf froze for the first time.
It twisted, howling in agony.
He clamped harder.
Pure killing intent unleashed.
Whoosh!
The flame sputtered its final blaze—and died.
Thud!
The wolf crashed lifeless to the ground.
Its life ended in his grasp.
Instant death.
He gasped at the corpse.
"Hah... hah."
Dead.
By his hand alone—a monster felled.
Just a small fry.
Still, thrill surged through his veins.
And not just that.
'Power.'
Vitality coursed differently now.
Stronger grip, straighter back.
For the first time, strength dwelled in his hands.
An electric shiver pierced him.
Victory high?
'No.'
It felt like his very caliber had risen.
As if the small monster's life force flowed into him.
He turned the third eye on himself.
His flame blazed fiercer than before.
Stronger.
Fueled by the monster's life, his own had grown!
It had been on the brink.
Now it burned with renewed vigor.
'Maybe...'
If he kept hunting monsters, could he escape his death sentence?
The thought ignited.
Death loomed close.
Now, a path to flee it.
"Aaaah!"
"Run—run away!"
Screams echoed again.
Boom!
Another rift tore open—a house-sized monster emerged.
The large one.
Monumental, beyond human reach.
But fiery meteors rained from the sky, shifting the tide.
"It's a mage!"
"We're saved!"
A mage who'd sensed the rift.
Large monster versus mage—the clash began.
Hunters focused on the small ones.
Haren too.
The large beast's massive flame gleamed clear.
Could he snuff that?
Not impossible.
But it'd take time.
Someday, though.
Like the mage's spells now.
A chill froze him.
The mage's golden blaze.
Vast, interfering with the world itself.
What kind of life force was that?
The large monster looked puny.
He clenched his fist.
That's why he yearned—for that power.
Mages had life flames too.
Monsters and mages—cut from the same cloth.
Someday, he'd extinguish theirs.
Stand against the wicked.
'Instant death magic.'
He'd always looked up to mages.
Hated their injustice despite the power.
But envied their strength.
He'd desperately wished for it.
So he named this power instant death magic.
A small resolve from one reborn from death.
For now, hunt like a true monster slayer.
One more kill—that was his justice today.