Under the skeptical gaze of the man in the trench coat, Glenn dragged him into a dim, narrow alley.

  A minute or two later, a terrified scream drifted out with the wind:

  “Wait—what are you doing?! You demon! Stop! Ahhh—!!”

  The harrowing cry lingered for a long, dreadful while.

  When Glenn finally stepped out of the alley, his hands and chest were smeared with filth and blood—none of it his own. He wiped the sticky stains from his palms onto his trousers, brow furrowed in thought. There was no doubt that under his merciless methods, even the most loyal hound would confess.

  A fifty-man organization, controlled by one called Glass, had somehow obtained a monstrous power—transforming their appearance into something grotesque. They had been relentlessly hunting for children under eighteen… It was obvious there was a puppet master behind it all. Glass was merely a pawn, Glenn concluded grimly.

  Some of the braver residents peeked from their windows, curiosity gleaming in their eyes. Glenn ignored them and returned straight to Mrs. Ryan’s house.

  As he pushed open the door, she was standing behind it, listening.

  When she saw him, her face first tensed, then relaxed. Patting her chest, she said anxiously, “I was so worried! That man looked absolutely ruthless. You’re not hurt, are you?”

  Warmth flickered in Glenn’s heart. He smiled gently. “I’m fine, ma’am. I’m actually quite a cautious man. I never fight unless I’m certain of the outcome.”

  Mrs. Ryan chuckled at his self-assured tone. “Who praises themselves for being cautious?”

  But her smile soon faded. “And that man?” she asked solemnly.

  Glenn hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “He was dangerous… so I killed him.”

  Mrs. Ryan’s hand trembled slightly before she sighed. “That’s the fate those people deserve. Don’t worry—I’ll explain everything to Douglas. He won’t hold you accountable.”

  “My thanks, ma’am,” Glenn said earnestly.

  Even if they did pursue the matter, it wouldn’t have troubled him—but kindness, he thought, always deserves gratitude.

  “Looks like you’ll be needing a new door,” Glenn added, nodding toward the shattered entrance after a brief pause.

  Mrs. Ryan gave a weary smile. “I’ll have to trouble you again, won’t I?”

  “No problem at all,” he replied. Then, more seriously, “I’ve got some unfinished business to handle. I should go.”

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  She nodded without question.

  In a raucous, dilapidated tavern, on the second floor, a creature bearing an uncanny resemblance to an orc from World of Warcraft toyed with a contraption made of countless gears and intricate metal parts.

  “Humans these days are truly dull,” Glass muttered. “They spend their lives tinkering with these useless hunks of iron.”

  A phantom voice echoed through the room, shattering his idle gaze.

  “This is the way of things,” Glass said, voice low. “The kingdom parades these so-called inventions around as symbols of progress. They’re changing how we live. The old king seems to adore them—and to please him, the ministers follow suit.”

  “Instead of mastering greater magic, they waste time on such toys. This kingdom will destroy itself!” sneered the disembodied voice.

  “That’s none of our concern,” Glass replied, glancing toward the window. “By the way—haven’t you had enough of the children I’ve been feeding you? You still show no change.”

  Silence filled the room. Nearly five minutes passed before the eerie voice returned, weaker this time:

  “I… need more…”

  Before Glass could respond, the noise downstairs swelled. His instincts screamed danger. He moved toward the stairs—only for a severed, bloodied head to crash through the floorboards, hanging grotesquely before him.

  “B–Boss…” the head gurgled, choking on blood.

  Glass’s pupils constricted sharply.

  What the hell—?!

  He had no time to think. A figure with blood-stained hands shoved into his pockets ascended the stairs at an unhurried pace.

  Glenn.

  Blood covered him even more than before. He paused at the sight of Glass.

  An orc? But that can’t be right. Not green-skinned, not bulky enough. Wait—this world even has orcs? The memories of the body’s former owner held no such thing…

  He shook off the stray thoughts and said coldly, “You’re their leader, aren’t you? No wonder the police couldn’t find this place—you’ve cloaked it with magic. Now, tell me where the children are, and I might let you live.”

  Glass regained his composure, voice rough and defiant. “Who are you? Do you even know who you’ve crossed? How did you find this place?”

  Glenn smirked. “Still daring to ask questions? Fine—perhaps I’ll make you talk after I’ve beaten you into the floor.”

  With a snap, the steel claws extended from his gloves, and he lunged.

  A simple, direct strike—Glass chose to take it head-on.

  He raised his left arm to block, the claws shrieking against his skin like steel on steel.

  The impact shoved him sideways. Both men gauged each other’s strength in that instant.

  Glenn’s eyes widened slightly. The creature’s skin looked ordinary, yet it was as hard as iron.

  “If that’s all the power you’ve got,” Glass growled, gripping Glenn’s wrist, “you’ve made a very poor decision!”

  He hurled Glenn toward the wall with monstrous force.

  But even midair, Glenn’s composure didn’t falter. In less than a heartbeat, he twisted his body, feet bracing against the wall to absorb the impact.

  The crash never came. Enraged, Glass charged again, ready to smash him to pieces—

  —but Glenn was already moving. Using the wall’s momentum, he spun and drove his knee squarely into Glass’s face.

  Pain exploded through the orc’s skull, forcing him to release Glenn.

  Blinded for a moment, Glass stumbled—then felt his legs swept from under him. His huge frame crashed backward, slamming into a man behind him, before both were hurled through the window in a shower of glass.

  Thud!

  The heavy crash and searing pain confirmed he had hit the ground.

  At the Dodd Police Station, Captain Douglas and his men were still analyzing where the child-trafficking ring might be hiding when an officer burst into the meeting room.

  “Captain! There’s been an incident at your house!”

  Douglas’s eyes widened. He shot to his feet.

  Half an hour later, he arrived home, a squad of officers in tow.

  “They really ought to assign us a carriage,” one of them panted. “I heard the main city stations already have them.”

  “Quit whining,” another muttered. “Those contraptions just came out—who knows if they even work? This little town doesn’t need them. We’re lucky to have horses.”