Under the incredulous gaze of the man in the trench coat, Glen dragged him into a dark and gloomy alley.

After about a minute or two, the man's terrified voice drifted out with the wind:

"Wait! What are you doing?! You're a devil! Stop! Aah—!!!"

The heart - rending cries continued for a long time.

When Glen emerged from the alley, his hands and the front of his chest were covered in filthy blood, which, of course, was not his own.

Casually wiping the thick, sticky blood from his hands onto the cuffs of his trousers, Glen furrowed his brow and fell into deep thought. There was no doubt that under his ruthless methods, even the most loyal lackey would be forced to confess.

A group consisting of over fifty people was under the control of a certain individual named Glass. One day, somehow, he obtained a terrifying power, his appearance became hideous, and he continuously abducted children under the age of eighteen... Hmm, it's obvious that there's a mastermind pulling the strings behind the scenes. This Glass is clearly just a pawn... He roughly organized the information in his mind and summed it up.

From the surrounding houses, some bold residents peeked out of their windows, craning their necks to observe the scene.

They were all people with an insatiable curiosity.

Glen paid them no heed and went straight back to Mrs. Ryan's house.

As soon as he pushed open the door, he found that Mrs. Ryan had been listening just behind it.

When she saw Glen enter, she was initially a little nervous. But upon recognizing him, she patted her chest and said,

"I was really worried about you. That guy seemed like a ruthless character. Are you all right? You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Glen felt a warmth in his heart. He said to the kind - hearted woman, "I'm fine. I'm actually a rather cautious person. I wouldn't engage in a fight without being confident of victory."

Mrs. Ryan couldn't help but laugh at his self - praise. "I've never heard anyone describe themselves as cautious like that."

Then, her expression turned serious as she asked, "What happened to that man?"

"Hmm..." Glen paused to choose his words carefully before saying, "He was extremely dangerous, so... I had to kill him."

Upon hearing this, Mrs. Ryan's hand trembled slightly. Finally, she let out a sigh. "This is the retribution they deserve. Don't worry. I'll explain the situation to Dogli. He won't hold you accountable."

"Thank you, madam," Glen said sincerely.

Even if there were any consequences, it wouldn't be a major issue. However, this was an act of kindness from someone else, and he felt it was only right to express his gratitude.

"Madam, it seems you'll need to have the door replaced again," Glen said after a few seconds of silence, pointing at the damaged front door.

"I'm sorry to trouble you again," Mrs. Ryan said with a wry smile.

"No problem," Glen replied. He had no reason to refuse. Then, he became serious again and said, "I still have some matters to attend to, so I have to leave now."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Mrs. Ryan didn't think much of it and nodded in agreement.

...

On the second floor of a noisy and dilapidated tavern.

Glass, whose appearance bore a striking resemblance to an orc from World of Warcraft, was idly playing with a machine composed of numerous intricate parts and gears.

"Humans these days are so dull. They spend all their time tinkering with these useless hunks of metal," he said.

A disembodied voice echoed in the room, breaking Glass's momentary daze.

He put down the object in his hand and said in a low voice, "This is the trend of the times. In the kingdom, many so - called inventions have already come to the fore, changing our lives. The old king seems to have a fondness for such things, and to curry favor with him, the ministers also attach great importance to them."

"Instead of focusing on researching more powerful magic, they're wasting their time on these things. This country is doomed to destruction sooner or later!"

The disembodied voice sounded extremely disdainful.

"That's not something we should concern ourselves with," he said, turning to look out the window. "By the way, I've fed you enough children, haven't I? Why do you still seem to show no signs of change?"

The room fell silent. It was not until five minutes later that the voice sounded again:

"I... I need more..."

Glass was about to respond when the commotion downstairs suddenly grew several times louder.

He had an ominous premonition. Just as he was about to go downstairs, a head crashed through the second - floor floorboard, its face covered in blood and stuck in the hole.

"B... boss..." The head spat out blood as it spoke.

Glass's pupils constricted sharply.

What's going on!?

Before he could think further, a figure sauntered up the stairs, hands in pockets.

Glen was even more covered in blood. When he saw Glass, he too was momentarily taken aback.

This is... an orc? But shouldn't it have green skin? And its physique should be more robust. Come to think of it, are there even orc tribes in this world? There's no mention of it in the original owner's memories.

He forcefully shook his head, casting aside these unbidden thoughts. Then, he addressed Glass, saying,

"Are you their leader? This place is actually concealed with magic. No wonder those police officers couldn't find you. Now, tell me, where are those children? I might consider sparing your life."

Glass composed himself, emerging from his shocked state, and spoke in his gruff voice,

"Who are you? Do you know whom you've offended? And how did you manage to find this place?"

Glen hadn't expected the other party to turn the questions back on him. He immediately sneered, "It seems I'll have to beat you into submission before asking my questions."

With that, he extended his werewolf claws and lunged directly at Glass.

It was a straightforward attack, and Glass chose to confront it head - on.

He raised his left arm to block, and the sharp werewolf claws clashed against it, producing a metallic clang.

Glass was pushed back by the force, his body swaying slightly. He quickly formed a rough estimate of his opponent's strength.

Glen, on the other hand, wore an expression of mild surprise.

He hadn't anticipated that, despite the unremarkable appearance of this fellow's skin, it was as hard as steel.

"If you think you can cause trouble with just that bit of strength, you're not making a wise decision!"

As Glass uttered the last word, he suddenly grabbed Glen's wrist, exerted a powerful pull, and slammed him against the wall!

Glen, who was flung into the air, remained calm throughout. In less than a second, he adjusted his posture, his feet meeting the wall. He began to cushion the impact and dissipate the force.

Not hearing the expected explosion and sound of impact, Glass was clearly irritated. He was about to use even more brute force to hurl Glen around.

However, his opponent was extremely agile. Using the wall to gain momentum, Glen delivered a powerful knee strike to Glass's face!

In pain, Glass naturally released the hand that had been gripping Glen.

Temporarily blinded, Glass was rubbing his eyes when he suddenly felt something sweep across his feet. His body lost balance, and he fell onto someone. Then, he was thrown through the window, shattering the glass.

With a dull thud, the pain told him that he had landed on the ground.

...

At the Dude Police Station.

Dogli was analyzing with his subordinates where the group that had abducted the children might be hiding when a police officer rushed into the conference room, interrupting their conversation.

"Captain, something's happened at your house!"

Dogli's eyes widened, and he abruptly stood up.

Half an hour later, Dogli, accompanied by several police officers, arrived at his house at a jog.

"We should really ask for a small vehicle to be assigned to us. I heard that some police stations in the main cities already have them," one of the officers, panting heavily, complained.

"Come on, how long has that kind of thing been around? We don't even know if it's any good. And does this tiny town really need something like that? We should be grateful to have a carriage," another officer retorted irritably.