The Hero-Slaying Bandit
Synopsis: The protagonist is an adventurer and a bandit. A rascal of sort.
Varde is the third son of a noble, and is a bastard who was born of an affair with the maid. Still, his family did take care of him until he was five years old, allowing him to live, although with much shame. On his fifth birthday, however, his magic affinity was tested, and his affinity was found to be poor. In the end, he was chased away from his house, sent to his mother’s relatives, and forbidden from associating his name with his noble relatives.
After that, he went out on an adventure with the brother of his mother, his uncle. As his uncle was an adventurer, he was able to learn many techniques to allow him to survive.
Before long, he was able to stand up by himself. And in order to live in this world of injustice, he dirtied his hands.
This is the tale of living in a fantasy world based on the moral values of the protagonist, Varde.
This story is R15 and will have brutal depictions, as well as light sexual descriptions.
TL Note: Not picking this up, but will translate it from time to time unless someone else picks it up.
Author’s note: It’s my first time, so this is sort of an experimental post. I’ll keep posting chapters for as long as I can.
Prologue: Until I Killed a Hero
On a pleasant day with good weather, I stopped by a certain town.
That town was currently under attack.
(These guys sure picked an interesting place to come out)
This world is a world of irrational mayhem and mysterious power. Which goes to say that it’s a world made up of magic. There are monsters, and there are also species other than humans living normally in this world.
I don’t have any intention of fighting for the villagers here though. As for why, well that’s because I’m sort of a bandit myself.
On the outside, I’m an adventurer, so I won’t steal or mug people while I’m in the village. But in places like the highway, the forest, or the labyrinths, well that’s a whole another story. If there’s someone I don’t like, I’m gonna beat him black and blue. If there’s something to plunder, I’ll take it. And if there’re good women, they’re mine.
It should be easy to understand if you just categorize me under a stereotypical evil adventurer.
There’s no reason for someone like that to interfere in the pillaging and massacring that’s currently taking place before me. But if it becomes disadvantageous for me, then things change.
As I watched on with apathy, I heard consecutive screams and roars bellow out.
(Did the villagers start fighting back? It feels a bit late though.)
The sound of the echoing sword was brimming with might. It was not the sort of sound you’d hear from villagers fighting.
(The exchange is a bit odd…)
It doesn’t really suit my character, but my attention was piqued. So I moved my legs, and I headed toward the source of that sound.
I met a seemingly small fry bandit along the way who attacked me, but I dealt with it easily. I continued deep into the village like that, swinging my sword in high spirits as I made my way. Then as I was walking, I spotted a boy dressed in unusual clothing. He fought the bandits with strength that exuded the aura of invincibility.
From a glance, there were times when he was being swung by the blade, but he’s definitely attacking well. However, the way he handled his body reeked of a beginner, and his fighting style was a bit reckless.
I don’t really care much what sort of person this guy is, but he gets on my nerves.
“Ha–ha ha!! It’s useless, bandit-scums. You are all nothing but trash before my power!”
The boy over there was jeering for some reason.
Apparently he fancies himself a hero or something. Normally I’d just let it go saying, “Right, right…” but for some reason I seem to be physically unable to tolerate this guy.
The boy who cut the Mohawk-cut bandit with a lone stroke seemed to be grumbling to himself as he continued to attack the bandits that entered his vision.
The friends of Mr. Mohawk over there continued the fight with the boy. Eventually they managed to bring him to a position that was convenient for me. They seemed to be resisting well, but from the looks of it the boy was fighting while trying something out.
Slowly, I wielded my crossbow, and I aimed it. When a suitable time appeared, I fired it. Without even checking whether it had hit his shoulder or not, I immediately ran toward the boy. As I calculated the amount of time the boy would need to turn around, I swept his legs away, and broke his posture. Then as he fell, I landed a “fatal” wound on him.
“…!!”
The boy groaned out a voice that could not be voiced, and then he collapsed.
There’re plenty of people like this. They have plenty of power, but have little experience.
Just as I was about to pierce the boy again to make sure he’s dead, his body fell apart like sand, and then he vanished.
(Huh? Wasn’t he human?)
Human aside… this is actually my first time seeing a corpse fall apart as if it were sand.
Even monsters would leave behind a corpse. That’s why it’s possible to cut their body up, and bring back some spoils that could be sold for much coin.
While I was having my common sense overturned, I noticed that something resembling a monocle was left behind.
Winner keeps everything.
Following the philosophy of adventurers, I picked up the monocle. And while the bandits were still pillaging the village, I put it on.
“The hero that was undergoing tutorial has died. Confirmed. The bonus power granted has now been materialized. Now confirming the new owner.”
Apparently I… killed the hero?
