him as a righteous figure, a hero in the traditional sense, whose unwavering efforts to combat evil and humility set him apart—akin to the paladins revered by the church.

However, unlike those paladins, Brutols was just an ordinary person from another world, albeit not a typical one. Many who crossed over were reckless, disregarding the local societal and economic nuances, acting like mere plunderers. Brutols refused to be that kind of a disruptive presence. He believed in embodying justice wherever he went—a principle he held close to his heart.

Brutols’ attacks were decisive, lacking any hesitation; after all, these weren't living beings. Had they been, he might have paused, since he wasn't a cold-blooded assassin. He only killed evildoers, and non-humans posed no moral dilemma. Besides, the grotesque nature of these zombies helped clear any qualms about exterminating them, especially with the delicate woman watching. Despite his disinterest in her, a manly display seemed appropriate.

“Brutols, you were incredible! You took down all those zombies,” the fat man exclaimed, nearly vomiting from a mix of overeating and exertion. Brutols dismissed the praise. 'If these zombies gave me trouble, I'd not survive here long,' he thought, rolling his eyes and readying for the next wave.

Sure enough, more vile creatures emerged, beyond mere zombies. These reanimated masses of flesh resembled the Warcraft Abominations, though far less appealing. Their grotesque appearance, with fleshly mounds and multiple long claws, sprang at the group far faster than public-transit pickpockets, but Brutols was faster.

Brutols evaded their claws and conjured several mini-tornadoes with his Wind Sword, shredding the flesh creatures instantly into piles of meat. Unfortunately, the unfortunate fat man was splattered by chunks of flesh. Despite his usual love for meat, now he could only grimace and wipe it off his face. Brutols’ display of strength profoundly impressed his companions.

“That was close! Had we chosen either door, we’d be trapped between adversaries. Occupying this advantageous position near the entrance is wiser.” The grim-faced man, brushing sweat off his brow, lamented, “But we still don’t know what’s behind those doors.”

Brutols nonchalantly replied, “We'll find out once we clear these enemies. Exploring is part of the adventure.” To him, spending another hour or two was manageable. He wasn’t in a rush, unlike typical adventurers chasing excitement. Being thorough was crucial to uncovering the truth.

More enemies soon appeared, this time werewolf-like creatures, their ferocity evident. Their speed posed a challenge even for Brutols, but his fire abilities provided the edge. Conjuring a massive fireball, he roasted one werewolf instantly. Delicious smells 

 Prev. P 22/103 next