Damien's brow twitched slightly at the word, his expression unreadable as the faint murmurs around him grew louder.

At first, it was a single voice — someone shouting from the corner, excitement cutting through the fading smoke. But then, it spread like a spark through dry leaves.

"Yeah! He's the one who saved us!"

"The hero who cut down all those monsters!"

"If not for him, the whole village would've been wiped out!"

"Did you see the way he moved? Not even the guards could do that!"

Soon the entire crowd was murmuring his name, awe and disbelief tangled in their tones. The fear that had choked them moments ago was now replaced by frantic praise and gratitude.

'In the game,' he thought, 'this was where Stanley came into the picture.'

After the protagonist saved the village, the villagers had of course sang praises of his name, and cheered for him.

He was the one who had been labeled a "hero."

But this time…

Damien's gaze swept over the crowd — the faces of people who had scorned his mother and whispered behind his back, now looking at him with admiration.

This time, it was him standing in the spotlight.

'How ironic,' he mumbled inwardly, a dry chuckle leaking from his lips. 'The villagers' hero wasn't the so-called chosen one… it's me.'

Still, he couldn't help but find the word distasteful.

"Hero."

He almost scoffed aloud.

It was such a corny title — one that never fit him in the slightest.

He wasn't someone who saved others out of noble intent or righteousness. He didn't fight for glory or admiration.

The only reason he even existed was to claim MILFS, and not some sort of noble idiocy like Stanley or the knights.

He had never considered himself a hero. Not then. Not now.

But still, whether he liked it or not, the villagers' voices only grew louder, feeding into one another.

'Well,' he thought with a faint shrug, 'it's not like I can stop them from saying it anyway.'

If anything, their misunderstanding could prove useful. The hero label would spread fast — and with it, his influence.

'With this… it'll be even easier to secure a good rank within the guild later on,' he thought, eyes narrowing slightly as his mind ticked forward in calculated precision.

He was already strategizing, already seeing how this event would ripple outward. Being branded a hero might be irritating, but it could open doors faster than any achievement points or accolades could.

However, not everyone shared the villagers' enthusiasm.

The "brave" guards, who had only just arrived after the danger had passed, didn't seem particularly happy about the crowd's cheers.

Their fake smiles faltered, and their brows creased as they exchanged uneasy glances.

Whispers reached them too — words that stung their pride.

"They're useless!"

"Arriving late again, as always."

"Meanwhile, that boy… he's the one who did everything."

The bald guard standing at the forefront clenched his jaw, his expression tightening. He forced a smile that barely reached his eyes and stepped forward.

His armor clanked slightly as he straightened his shoulders, puffing up his chest to project authority he didn't feel.

"Well then," he said loudly, his voice carrying through the crowd. "Whoever this… hero is, let them step forward and show themselves!"

The tone was polite on the surface — but beneath it, there was a strain of irritation.

The guards couldn't stomach the idea of being overshadowed by a lone villager, no matter how extraordinary.

For a moment, there was silence. The murmuring crowd hesitated, their eyes darting between one another — and then, as if answering the call, Damien moved.

The sound of his footsteps was faint, but deliberate.

He stepped out from the shadowed doorway of Claire's house, his black coat swaying slightly with the breeze, the faint light of the dying flames glinting off his silver blade.

Every head turned as he crossed the scorched street with calm, measured strides. When he stopped, he was standing right beside the group of guards.

The bald man's forced smile froze in place.

Damien's blue eyes met his — calm, emotionless, unreadable. The faint heat radiating from his still-active sword made the air between them shimmer slightly.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then the bald guard's pupils dilated slightly in recognition.

'Isn't this… that kid?' he thought, his breath catching in his throat. 'The one who awakened a unique class?!'

The realization hit like a hammer.

His gaze flicked downward — to the ground littered with mangled corpses of beasts, their metallic jaws still glinting in the light.

The sheer number of dead monsters around the area was staggering.

He swallowed hard.

'He… he killed all of these monsters himself?!'

The thought sent a chill crawling up his spine. The stories about people with unique classes had spread throughout the kingdom, but to witness the results firsthand — that was something else entirely.

A bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple. He didn't dare meet Damien's eyes again.

'I knew unique classes were terrifying,' he thought, trembling slightly. 'But to think they'd be this terrifying… this overwhelming…'

The air between them felt heavy, almost suffocating. The crowd watched in silence as the guard hesitated — then, in an act of barely contained fear and forced respect, he lowered his head slightly.

"This guard…" he began, his voice stiff. "Thanks you… for fighting those monsters and saving the lives of the villagers."

The words came out awkward, trembling, but sincere enough to quiet the whispers in the crowd.

The armored guard's face stiffened the moment Damien turned to him.

The air around the young man was sharp—so sharp that even the few guards behind him instinctively took a step back.

Damien's expression was indifferent, as if he hadn't just massacred dozens of monsters by himself.

Then, with a faint exhale, Damien scoffed.

The sound was light, but it carried a weight that made the bald guard flinch involuntarily.

The silence that followed was awkward—palpable even among the other guards.

The bald man's jaw tensed slightly, his eyes twitching at the clear disregard.

'So rude… bastard.' he cursed inwardly, barely holding back the irritation brewing inside him. But he didn't dare say a word.

Not to this man. Not to the one who had just single-handedly done what their entire guard unit failed to do.

He straightened himself instead, forcing a smile, though a strange glint flashed across his eyes as he quickly recovered his composure.

"The village guards," he began, tone overly polite, "will diligently help you clear all these monster bodies."

He exhaled through his nose, pretending to be earnest as he added, "We may not have been here early, but we can still help… by taking care of all these corpses."

Damien's footsteps halted.

"The bodies are mine," Damien said flatly. "Don't even think of taking them for yourselves."

The bald man's brows twitched. For a split second, the forced smile cracked, and a bead of sweat formed near his temple.

'Shit… he got me,' he thought, his expression stiffening.

He'd been planning to "help" clear the monsters, of course—but only so he could take a few of the corpses for himself.

Monster bodies, even F-rank ones, were valuable materials. Claws, fangs, pelts—everything could be sold for coin.

His plan had been to divide the spoils with his team, covering it up under the guise of cleanup duty.

But the young man before him wasn't naïve.

Damien's gaze didn't waver, and he turned fully, his eyes sweeping across the blood-soaked clearing.

"There are exactly twenty-nine corpses around," he said, his voice precise and calm. "Mostly F-rank monsters."

He glanced back at the guards.

"If you really want to help," he said, "then you can help me arrange the corpses for trade."

The bald guard's mouth opened slightly, as though he wanted to say something—perhaps a retort, perhaps an excuse—but the cold glint in Damien's eyes stopped him cold.

He swallowed hard, his lips trembling for a second before he forced another strained smile.

"Of course… of course," he stammered, bowing slightly. "The village guards will be of any help you want."

"Good," Damien replied simply, his tone dismissive.

He gave them one last look—one that sent shivers down the spines of every guard present—and then turned around, walking back toward the house without another word.

The once fearful cries of the villagers had quieted, replaced now by whispers—whispers about the young man who had slain the entire horde alone.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances. None of them dared to move until Damien disappeared behind the wooden door of the house.

Only then did the bald guard let out a shaky breath, wiping the sweat off his brow. "That… that kid's something else," he muttered under his breath.

His men didn't reply.

They only nodded in silence, glancing again at the piles of monster corpses scattered across the field.

Even with their armor, their swords, and their training, they all knew one thing—

Damien's strength was overwhelming… too overwhelming!

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