Tuskless—the filth of the Noland Trolls—hid behind the boulder and peeked over, checking the situation on the battlefield below the cliff. The humans trampled over the trolls with the expression of triumph. They had all the confidence when the Artist supported their back.

Behind those humans, a man in a red hood watched over the high ground with a stony expression. He lifted the long staff in his right hand as he chanted the spell, covering other humans with protective magic armors.

It was impossible for mortals to harm the Artists. They were beings with the power to conjure miracles and bring down destructions. Each of them had a long lifespan and could outlive mortals. Their bodies were magically enhanced, so they had a sturdy defense.

Even knowing them all, Tuskless had a mission to assassinate the Artist. It was a suicide mission, but he didn’t mind doing it. It wasn’t for his people. The fellow trolls treated him like filth just because he had no tusk and was skinnier than average trolls, so they could just die for all his care. This mission was the thing he did for the order.

No one loved him, but he didn’t mind. Tuskless still loved himself as much as he loved the order. The filth him was still alive today because the laws protected him from injustice. He hated his fellow trolls, but no one could erect the order if all trolls died. For that reason, he didn’t mind sacrificing himself.

Of course, Tuskless didn’t agree to do this mission without the chance of success. He didn’t want to kill himself for nothing, but this mission had one percentage of success. The chance was slim, but he didn’t mind doing it as long as the number wasn’t zero.

The plan was to ambush him from behind and push the Artist off the cliff to the forest far under the mountain range. Even if Artists had a sturdy defense, they couldn’t survive the fall. However, he was aware the mere skinny troll like him couldn’t move him a bit, even if he pushed with all his might. For that, he had a countermeasure.

Grabbing the bottle of strength potion, Tuskless sneaked to another boulder. This potion could boost his strength. It was probably not enough to match an Artist’s strength, but he could push the man if he drank it.

Opening the lid, Tuskless drank the potion. Immediately, he felt a supernatural force flowing in his veins, strengthening him. He had a skinny body, but he had a feeling he could lift a weight two times heavier than him. However, he still reminded himself to not act arrogant. Even with double strength, it wasn’t enough to overpower the Artist.

“The plan is to push the artist off the cliff,” Tusk reminded himself as he put down the empty bottle carefully. Before he began his plan, he had to sneak behind the Artist first successfully.

The Artist was still looking at the wide platform below him, observing the war, and it was a chance for Tuskless to sneak behind him. He walked to the cliff, and he made sure his steps were soundless. Not long after, he arrived behind the Artist, and his heart raced, thinking things couldn’t be easier than this.

Tuskless couldn’t help but think it was a trap, but he immediately put his suspicion aside. The back of the artist was unguarded, and he couldn’t waste his chance. He rushed to the man’s right side and pounced on him. The ravine was on the left, and he could throw him with a little push, or so he thought. In reality, the artist didn’t flinch from his position.

Tuskless looked up and saw the golden armor covering the artist, making him heavier. He immediately jumped back, but the artist suddenly grabbed his neck and slammed him to the ground.

‘Crack’ Tuskless heard the cracking sound from his back. He wanted to scream, but the man’s fingers pinched him harder, preventing him from uttering a sound.

The Artist laughed, sitting on his chest. “You have no idea who you are dealing with. Do you think I will be as careless as letting myself without protection?”

Tuskless didn’t answer his question. He was busy thinking about how to get out of this situation, wriggling his body with all his might, but the man didn’t move from his sitting position. Frustrated, he hissed at the man.

Seeing Tuskless’ impudent attitude, the Artist felt offended. He raised his hand and slammed his fist onto the troll’s tuskless face, creating a dent in the center of his head.

Tuskless heard the cracking sound of his skull, and he roared in pain. His voice came out of his throat and vibrated through his dented face, doubling his pain. He tried lifting his hands, hoping he could escape this hellish torture, but the Artist’s knees locked on his elbows, disabling him.

The Artist enjoyed his pain and laughed maniacally. He wouldn’t kill the troll yet because he still wanted to hear his scream more, so he only sat on him.

After a while, the troll stopped screaming, and he grew bored with him. Looking at the battlefield, the humans had killed most troll enemies, so he felt it was time to end it. He raised his hand and looked at Tuskless for the last time. His next attack would kill the troll, and he didn’t hesitate to do so.

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“It was fun while it lasted. You have my gratitude for entertaining me. Now, you can die in honor,” the Artist said. He was about to slam his hand onto the troll’s face, but he stopped when he saw a knight approaching him.

The Artist saw the knight’s panicked expression and felt something wrong. “What happened?” he asked.

The knight panted and exclaimed, “The army force of D’zal academy is coming, my lord, and the Artist—Freya Villian—leads them!”

The Artist frowned. “Ugh, that woman.”

“What should we do, my lord?” the knight asked in a hurry.

The artist stood up and slapped the man through his helmet. “Watch your tone. Do you think I am afraid of her?”

The knight spat out blood and saw his teeth falling to the ground. He looked at the Artist in horror. Even though he was wearing a helmet, the man could still injure him. He immediately bowed and said, “Forgive this lowly servant, my lord.”

As those two were chatting, Tuskless took a glance at them. His vision swayed up and down, and he felt a stinging pain in his head. As his blood dripped down his head, he felt he could die at any moment, and the memories of his life flashed in an instant.

“Am I going to die?” Tuskless asked in his heart, and he suddenly felt sad. He knew the chance of success was only one percent, but he still did this mission because he hoped a miracle would occur.

A miracle. Tuskless had always been an unlucky fellow throughout his life, as if something suppressed his luck. He knew it was just a superstition, but for once, he wanted to believe he could get good fortune in his life. Living a worse life than a rat, he couldn’t help but feel tired.

Or maybe he just wanted to escape from reality, hence he accepted this mission, knowing how dangerous it was. No one forced him to do it, so he brought this aversion to himself.

Even if the Artist didn’t give him a finishing blow, he would still die like a rat. He couldn’t do anything about it, so he comforted himself by remembering the good things he had experienced throughout his life.

“That meat pie was delicious. Too bad I could only taste a bite,” Tuskless thought. He worked as the tribe leader’s personal translator, even though an Artist could understand other languages magically, so he had gone to various places and learned many things. Once, he had attended the alliance party in a certain orc tribe, and he had snatched a piece of meat pie from the trash. It was the most delicious dish he had tasted.

Realizing his life wasn’t full of misfortune, Tuskless widened his eyes. Sure, his tuskless and frail appearance disgusted people, and they rejected him to work as a warrior. However, his job as a translator wasn’t half bad.

Because of that, the leader entrusted him with the job to assassinate the Artist. Because of that, he got to taste the expensive strength potion that ordinary people couldn’t taste in their entire life. Even at this moment, he learned something good; as long as he was grateful, he was happy. With happy thought, he could pass away at ease.

And then Tuskless stood up. As he calmed his mind, he found out the strength potion’s effect still affected him. Thanks to that, he could move his limbs at ease. If he could move, he’d rather complete the mission.

Looking forward, the Artist’s back seemed blurry in his vision, but he knew the man was still busy talking with the knight. Thanks to his skinny figure, the knight didn’t notice Tuskless’ presence behind him. More importantly, they seemed to be occupied with something, so this was a chance to do it.

Tuskless pounced at the Artist, hugged him tightly, and jumped off the cliff. As they both were falling, the Artist swore at him. However, Tuskless couldn’t hear him. Darkness crept into the center of his vision, and he could only think of one thing.

“This is my end. At least, I have completed this mission. Good job, me.”

…….

Opening his eyes, he found his body completely healthy. In fact, he felt refreshed, his body bursting with energy. Tuskless didn’t know what happened, but he realized one thing: he should have died. If he was still alive, that meant a miracle had occurred.

Miracle. Thinking about it, his eyes became teary, but he held his breath, preventing himself from crying. He felt touched. This miracle proved that his life wasn’t bad, but he couldn’t relax yet.

At that moment, Tuskless was sitting on the unfamiliar ground surrounded by tall trees. Around him, red mist wandered in a circle, and he noticed red mist covering his body too. Close to him, the Artist lay on his stomach, and his blood drowned him. In front of him, a creature—that was as tall as the trees—looked down at him, his eyes emitting red lights.

“The conditions aren’t met. You don’t even have qualifications to make a contract with me,” the creature said.

Tuskless gulped when he looked up at the creature. Trolls were one of the tallest beings he knew, but even the elder trolls could only reach half of the mysterious creature’s height, making Tuskless curious about him. The creature had horns on his head that were shaped like a crown. His skin was jet-black, and his arms were slender yet muscular. His lean body emitted enormous terrifying pressure, inducing fear in nearby living beings.

Tuskless knew the creature could kill him easily, so he retracted his curiosity. “Did your excellency save me?” he asked in humanity’s honorific dialect. Trolls were known for their barbaric attitudes, so he imitated humans’ polite attitudes in front of the unknown, terrifying being.

The giant creature looked at the lying human corpse and then at him. Feeling amused, he grinned. “In a way, I did save your life.”

Tuskless immediately prostrated, hoping he could get to his good side. “Thank you,” he said. Normally, a human would say ‘what can I do to repay you?’ or something in a line with that, but he had a feeling he would fall into a catastrophe if he didn’t watch out for what he said.

His suspicion became true when he heard the creature’s demand. “So what can you do to pay me back? I wouldn’t do a trade for free, but I don’t mind taking free sacrifices. If you cannot finish the contract, then you will pay with your soul.”

Drops of sweat dripped down the troll’s black skin, and his face stiffened. Tuskless had miraculously survived the fall, so he didn’t want to waste it. The creature hadn’t killed him yet, so there was a glimmer of hope in saving himself. First, he needed to calm down and think clearly.