Isekai.

Good ‘ol isekai, with its many tropes that rotted the mind…

In most eastern light novels, the term “isekai” had come to parallel itself with quite a variety of colorful words, such as “overpowered protagonist”, “wish fulfillment”, “harem”, “cat girls” and, you guessed it, “slavery”…

Hohhh boy…

I badly wanted to start a rant about those last two in particular, given the amount of migraines they had given me during the past week alone. Yet, before that, I believed it was only fair to clarify something first.

“Cat girls” – or “beastmen” to be more inclusive – was very much an equivalent of the oppressed few that so many western comic books and movies loved to portray during the 18th and 19th, though shades of it still existed even to this day.

And the hero who would help these poor, poor folks?

Why, it could be none other but our beloved white savior, of course!

Yup…

As you could see, the notorious tropes that plagued the isekai genre had existed long before the latter was even considered mainstream. Worse still, one could even argue that said clichés only grew to such prominence due to how popular they were in the west!

Now, you might be saying, “Stfu and get to the point, you twat”. Yes, yes, please forgive my rambling, but I wouldn’t have brought this up had I deemed it to be unnecessary. So, please hear me out for a bit longer, alright?

Ok, here came the big reveal.

I was no hero.

I wasn’t a Mary Sue, or Gary Stu, or whatever the fuck kids these days called those hacks.

Mary Sue and Gary Stu could charm people left and right with their “mundane” looks that would make a model blush. The first time I met a local in this world, my unkempt beard and dead-tired face had the constables sicced upon me in record time.

Mary Sue and Gary Stu could blindly stumble upon a hopeless situation and still come out on top. When I tried to help someone in a dark alleyway, I got beaten to a bloody pulp.

Mary Sue and Gary Stu would insist that their destiny was nothing special, only to get a powerup that could put even isekai protagonists to shame.

My first dive into the dungeon, believing that I would get my cheat there, ended with my left arm chopped off for good…

Mary Sue and Gary Stu had not even finished puberty while I was already in my mid-twenties, yet I could never pull off half the feats someone like them could…

I was no one special… and it took me far too long to realize that…

Heh…

I crouched low and put my fake beard on again, ignoring the phantom pain as it continued to linger - even as I made myself known to one bewildered mass.

“yes... Yes... YESSSSS...!!!”

“That’s the cursed seer! When did that bastard get here?”

“... Why’s he dancing around like that? Is he high or something?”

“Shh! Don’t you know? The last time that heathen did something similar, it was when-”

“No way! So you’re saying that-”

Bit by bit, the crowd turned towards me.

If I had been given a cheat or some kind of system, a line saying [ You have drawn aggro upon yourself! ] would have appeared right now.

Alas, reality was often disappointing.

Plus, it wasn’t like I needed a system to recognize the many murderous gazes thrown at me anyway.

“Outworlder, what do you think that you’re-”

“WAR HAWK!!!”

Whatever the old archpriest wanted to say quickly got drowned out by the pack leader in charge of my more radical following. Then, much to my dismay, said overexcited grown-ass puppy disappeared in a flash, leaving me no choice but to brace myself for the inevitable…

*Bam*

*CrUncH*

The show of “reverence” was as bone-crushing as always, and my poor back could only cry in painful protest. Fortunately, the wolfkin didn’t linger on the hug too much this time, given how eager he was to introduce me to his new frens.

“War hawk! These two. Pack leader of tribe far from Front tear. Came to join! Horde grow stronger!”

“First of all, it’s pronounced Frontier, D’a W’eenes.”

“That what me said. Front tear!”

“… Right. Secondly-” I grunted while trying to relocate my poor old bones back into their proper place. “-would it kill you lot to add some s while using plurals? Ugh… You know what? Forget it. Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

“Following order! Cull weakling, exert dominance over the weak!!!”

“…”

Dead silence swiftly descended upon the town square following a loudmouth’s declaration, and I could barely resist smacking a hand onto my forehead at his slanderous words.

[ | | ]

Beastmen.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Such was the term used to describe various tribes of wildkins who possessed animalistic strengths and features. Yet, it might come as a surprise to learn that the word itself was coined by some elven mystic and not the usual human suspect.

What was even more shocking could only be the fact that “beastman” basically meant “beast of a human” – aka a savage animal in human form...

Of course, while beastmen did indeed look like simple humans with extra beastly parts... it certainly spoke volumes of the elves that they could say and popularize stuffs like this, while still being exalted as first-class citizens of the Golden Empire.

... Then again, perhaps it said a lot more about how much of a simp the first emperor was, given the elven scholar in question was one of his wives.

Anyway.

Putting my thoughts regarding the bunch of snobs known as elves aside, even I had to admit that the way they called wildkins, “beastmen”, wasn’t without merits.

A glaring example of their brutal practice could be seen right now, after all.

“No...! Please...!!!”

*Crunch*

A small and shaking wildkin - who was bound by ropes and branded at the side – found his pleading short-lived. And, soon enough, even his body could only meet the ground with a lifeless thud.

Not far from the corpse, one lionkin had begun to snarl at the approaching faith militants with his bloody mouth. It was also plain to see that the lionkin’s body had grown to a bulky size, similar to the bear kid whose heart he just snacked on.

Welp.

This mess was bound to happen sooner or later, I suppose...

When I first heard of wildkins’ unique ability to devour and call upon the power of their own kins – no matter how fleeting – the first thought that entered my mind was simple enough.

“Why don’t they work together with the Church to abuse the heck out of this cheat!!?”

Of course, my second thought was, “Ouch! It was just a suggestion! Just a suggestion, boss!!!” given how swift Mr. Entor was in correcting my naivety.

As it turned out, the enlightened empire looked down on outlanders and their savageness.

What a shocker, amirite?

To make things worse, this wasn’t just the usual “We are better since we’re more advanced” one had come to expect. Instead, aside from a difference in ideology, it was very much the clash of culture that prevented these people from seeing eye to eye.

Case in point:

“Go back to your rotting forests, you bunch of bloodthirsty animals!!!”

“You claim, give shelter! Forest dead, no more food... Came here, yet got treated, like trash!!!”

“Learn to speak properly, good-for-nothing troublemakers!”

“You kill, heal, not let die. Hypocrite! At least, we hunt, respect our food!”

“Rich of you to say that after constantly begging for handouts! The town’s gate is over there, go ahead and hunt for your food in the darkness! See how long it’ll take before the boogeymen swallow you whole!”

“Heh, buffoons... All of ye, buffoons! Pups like ye always think yerself know best, huh? Go, gent. Bite each other’s throat off! Keheheheh!!!”

“Uhm... Which side are you on again?”

“You stupid!”

“Nuh uh!!!”

“Yuh huh!!!”

See what I meant?

Turning around, I took in the view of my surroundings.

Whatever tranquility that once graced the town square had long been replaced by a thick tension, and two opposing forces stood at the center of it all.

On one side, a steadily growing group of beastmen bared their sharp claws and fangs – both of which were inches away from emergency power snacks that hadn’t stopped whimpering in terror.

On the other side, several heavily armed forces had joined in with a mob full of righteous zeal - who could call upon honest-to-god holy orbital bombardment with just a snap of their fingers.

Not so far away, bystanders watched on with bated breath. The wildkins - who didn’t deserve to be called beastmen - looked especially anxious, for they knew that no matter how this ended, things could only go downhill from now on.

Needless to say, this was a complete and utter mess...

It also didn’t help that I was standing smack dab in the middle of the weaker side...

Truly, getting the title of “war hawk” against my will had done wonders for my career! I could only thank my loudmouthed followers for believing that I was the second coming of the First Eagle!!!

NOT.

Amidst drunken fervor full of shouts and screams, I chanced a peek at the archpriest on the other side.

As expected, the kind old man hadn’t stop looking in my direction.

His gaze was full of mistrust and disappointment, just like always...

“If it means anything... I’m truly sorry that it has to end up like this.”

A frown was the only answer to my whisper, which was far more than I deserved.

.

.

.

To be honest, I would love to call this madness off.

But, frankly speaking, I never had the power to actually dictate how the dice roll in the first place.

Just from suggesting my followers to pick a less violent path and free their slaves, many disgruntled beastmen had already questioned their war hawk’s words. Some, to my utter horror, had even contemplated slicing my throat open to see if I could rise from the ashes like that certain hack of an emperor, which could have easily been the end of me.

It was always meant to end with a little blood being shed, or a river of gore being filled... Thus, this would have to do.

No... This will have to do!

“You all want a warlord? Better not be disappointed, then...”

Ever since I made myself known to the crowd, many had been staring at me nonstop, in either awe or wariness.

Now, fear, dread, and no small amount of anticipation were also thrown into the mix, as I spread my only remaining arm wide.

Silence.

Complete and utter silence reigns, as people held their breath, awaiting the inevitable opening act that would throw the peace of this town into bits and pieces...

Thus, with one villainous laughter, I got myself down on the ground, and started muttering nonsense like a loon.

[ | ]

“Muhahahah! Yes... YES...!!! I SEE! I SEE IT NOW!!!”

The comical hysterics sounded completely out of place in such a tense atmosphere. And, soon enough, everyone traded murderous glares for puzzled looks, even those with only violence and bloodshed in mind.

All eyes turned towards the one-armed seer. Yet, none could understand why this strange turn of event had happened.

“Is this a ploy?” asked one devotee.

“Signal to slaughter?” chimed in another.

“Silence!”

Amidst constant mutterings, a huge and brutish wolfkin snarled out, swiftly silencing any guess to this bizarre show of act.

“War hawk... Doomsday prophet… soon give prophecy, now!”

Gasps of amazement, as well as grimaces of distrust, filled both crowds.

Yet, a simple revelation caused all to freeze in place.

“THE FRONTIER WILL FALL! OUR END DRAWS NEAR!!!”

The baseless words felt like countless bolts of thunder, shocking everyone to their very core.

Then, pandemonium broke loose.

Shouts of terror mixed with screams of disbelief. Cries of denial went hand in hand with prayers for salvation, as well as curses of accusation...

No one wanted to believe this was to be their end...

Not even the one who started this madness...

“Who can save us...? WHO CAN SAVE US!!?”

Someway, somehow, the seer’s howling screech managed to rise above all, causing everyone to once again look at him in silence and, perhaps, in desperation.

“Who can put aside the anger, the hatred, the pettiness... Who can be the saviors that help us all...?”

Each new word - uttered in a sad voice - seemed to grow ever more quiet, as if the speaker himself didn’t know if such heroes truly existed.

For a moment, a brutish wolfkin panicked... fearing that the prophet was not as omnipotent as they all believed.

For a second, a golden archpriest softened his brows... thinking that the devious trickster was speaking from the heart.

For a time, the people despaired.

After all.

Who could actually bring about such a miracle?

...

... And yet.

Two young souls - who had not even finished puberty - never once wavered.

“We will help!”

Unfaltering conviction oozed forth from the bold shout, and everyone couldn’t help but turn and stare at a duo of youngsters in adventuring gears.

Soon enough, the crowd parted, revealing a pair that looked as ordinary, yet somehow so much more, than any teenager their age.

Countless gasps of recognition could be heard, of course.

“Our rising stars at the guild!” someone realized.

“The miraculous siblings!!!” exclaimed another.

Yet, for a one-armed seer, only one whisper - as small as the grin at the corner of his lips – could be heard.

“Finally...”

Then, with silent words that were invisible to anyone else but himself, the schemer chuckled.

“My biggest investment... I’m counting on you both.”

And so, to a hopeful crowd’s amazement, Mary Stew and Gary Stool took center stage.