Melody was overjoyed at witnessing this event.

'Yes... they are everything I could have ever hoped for in a host... I must cling to them... I must follow them... they are overwhelming... overarching.... dominating... and yet.... they are... compassionate. I can tell, they care for those underneath them, and only them. They have no concern for the ones they have not selected, however the ones they offer their protection to, will never see disappointment.'

Melody understood the antiheroes well, from only having been with them for but a few brief encounters.

This was of course, because she too had been through difficulties, and while she cared greatly for those she had taken under her wing, she could not care less about others.

She too had to sacrifice her own sanity in order to push herself forward, until she found her comrades.

In a way, they saved her.

They saved her from herself.

During her life as an assassin, Melody slowly began to lose her own humanity.... or rather, it never developed in the first place.

After killing the man who raised her, and living her life as an assassin working through the black market, she shut off her emotions one by one until she became a machine. It was a coping mechanism. The only person she was ever allowed to interact with before this merely viewed her as a tool which he had crafted.

She was raised to be a tool, and she became a tool. However, her use soon derived from the original intention.

Kill.

Get paid.

Eat.

Sleep.

Train.

Kill again.

From 13 years old, her life consisted of this, and this alone. While Oliver was reluctant at first, and tried to convince Melody to not pursue such a career, she had nowhere else to go.

"What I said about assassin work... forget about that. I don't know what I was thinking. Let me try to find something else for a young girl like you. Something more fitting."

She had no skills aside from basic house cleaning and cooking, however....

She had developed a twisted personality after the parasite was removed.

Oliver introduced her to some wealthy families, and tried to get her to work for them as a maidservant, yet this quickly turned sour.

"Hey, young master.... do you wanna hear about the parasite that was eating away at my brain??? Come here.... lemme tell you a bedtime story...."

The young boy she served had nightmares night after night, ever since Melody was assigned to be his maidservant, and the parents threw her out. To their surprise, as soon as they did so, the nightmares stopped.

This didn't happen with just one family, but multiple.

"Master, don't you think your tea looks a little.... tainted? You might get diseased from drinking something like this.... but don't worry! It's not like you seem to care about an infestation of filth within your own household... after all, you did allow me in here..."

"That girl... she is so creepy.... she's always talking about pestilence, disease, and parasites... it weirds me out....", one woman gossiped.

"I would stay away from her if I were you... she probably comes from some filthy background... I couldn't find any information on her, and the only reason I took her in was because a contact of mine recommended her.... I won't be going to him again for advice..."

Slowly, Melody's reputation spread through a small chain of wealthy families in the Northeastern area of the Vythguard Empire.

She was disturbing.

She had a screw loose.

She couldn't do a proper job without resorting to some sort of filthy habit or disturbing the people around her.

Whenever she cleaned the knives, she would play around with them, swinging them as if they were toys, and laughing in a horrifying manner. One time, her master even caught her juggling them around.

Oliver ran out of options, so he gave in and introduced her to work as an assassin.

"Sigh... I had a feeling things would come to this. I knew it... you truly do have the eyes of a killer... perhaps that is the only thing you will ever be good at."

Melody became skilled in the art of killing, in every way shape and form.

Whether it be melee combat, ranged combat, attack magic, support magic, brawling, blunt weapon fighting, bladed weapon fighting, she had mastered it all.

She was not a jack of all trades.

She was a master of all trades.

Her skills were on par with the most skilled warriors, and yet her magic did not lose to even the head magicians of some famous mercenary groups.

Yet, here she was, in the army led by the antiheroes, fully aware that she was nothing more than an insignificant bug to them.

But she wanted to be THEIR bug.

She wanted to be the parasite that they didn't cut off, but rather one which offered them a mutual benefit and understanding.

A symbiotic relationship.

After meeting her comrades, Melody gained a purpose in life. She ceased to be a parasite, and proceeded to be the host.

But after meeting the antiheroes, she realized what it truly meant to not be the host... but rather the parasite.

And she craved that.

'Ah.... I cannot wait....'

----

Pierre was the one who was most skeptical about the antiheroes when they had left that cavern of bandits, and for good reason.

However, despite his skeptics, he was human, and after the time and laughs they spent together, he did hope.... and wish that they were human.

He came into this campaign, believing that he understood well the difference between a monster and a person.

However, right now... he was not so sure.

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Even if they were evil... even if they would kill without hesitation.... even if they would terrorize seemingly without reason, the four who stood before him were undoubtedly human.

Why?

Why, despite the fact that they sat in positions far above thousands of subjects who bowed before them in fear, did he still not feel like they were monsters?

Why, despite having felt such a terribly powerful aura coming from them, could he sympathize with them as if he had known them as friends for a long time?

Why, despite their inhuman forms, could he tell exactly what their facial expressions and emotions were?

Pierre didn't know, nor understand.

The small quarrel which Ashley and Samantha had, for example, after they had mercilessly yet overwhelmingly slaughtered two lizardmen without blinking an eye.... and then even raised one from the dead- achievements which were both beyond belief.

Why did that feel like a friendly conversation between two young girls, joking around with each other, rather than two monsters with absolute power deciding which termites to exterminate?

Pierre couldn't understand at all. His intuition didn't match reality. What he felt didn't match what he saw.

And after seeing the civilization of these monsters, he too, just like Lance and Charlotte, was starting to wonder just what the difference between humans and monsters really was.

As he walked in the back row of an army of 1000, Pierre recalled his own memories.

He remembered the first time he killed a human. But that man was no human. He was a monster.

It was a quiet night.

Pierre was the son of a wealthy family in the Southeast Vythguard Empire, in a city near the border with the Asarith Sultinate.

Because of the close proximity between the Sultinate and the Empire, this city had a certain culture that wasn't necessarily a mix of them... but was instead completely unique.

Perhaps some influence from the Kingdom caused this, but the wealthy of this city wore excessively fancy clothing, with frills and buttons, as well as hats made from silk- particularly berets. The shoes worn were a slick black leather dress shoe, and almost all the wealthy families seemed to have this aristocratic look to them.

There were no 'nobles' so to speak, as in the Empire, there were only the rich and the poor, as wealth had no direct association with political power. While those in positions of political power were wealthy as a result, it was not the other way around. In the Kingdom, those with enough wealth could establish themselves as a noble family and gain a seat in the court, so long as they owned a large enough plot of land, however the Empire was not like this. Just because one was rich, didn't mean they held any say in politics.

Pierre's father worked an honest trade as a merchant, slowly but surely working his way into fortune.

One night, Pierre woke up in order to get a glass of water.

On his way up the stairs, he heard the sound of shattering glass, followed by a series of screams come from his parent's room.

He rushed up, in order to see what had happened, dropping his glass of water and bursting into his parent's bedroom.

His mother laid dead on the floor, with a deep cut straight across her neck and blood seeping out from the wound.

His father was in the corner of the room, crouching down with his hands raised, and in front of him was a man who wielded a bloodied knife.

On opening the door, the man threw his head around in surprise. Pierre's father was too scared to react to the distraction, and instead remained still in the corner, filled with fear.

The man, however, smiled, and quickly grabbed hold of Pierre before he could make any moves or even ask what was going on.

The man held the knife to Pierre's throat, and looked over to the father.

"You cheated my family out of our money... my daughter... she died in those factories, trying to work in order to pay off the debt that we owed you... my wife became sickly as well soon after, due to overwork.... and yet here I am.... stuck with this debt, no family left... to be honest I have no reason to remain living aside from taking my revenge on you... my entire family killed themselves working due to your unreasonable rates of interest... now, I will take something precious of yours...."

Instinctively, Pierre grabbed the wrist of the man who held the knife, and twisted it in a way so that the knife flew away from his neck, and the man dropped it.

When this happened, Pierre's father jumped out from the corner, running into the man while throwing Pierre to the side. He tackled the man to the ground, and began laying his fists into the skull of the man, continuously beating him.

"You asshole!!! I was not the one who killed your wife and daughter!!! They chose that fate for themselves!!! And it was you who accepted our interest rate!!! How could you kill my wife and threaten to kill my son for something you agreed to!?!? You were the one who said you needed the money, and so I loaned it to you!!! That's all!!!"

While his father was relentlessly beating the man, Pierre was unsure what to do. His small hands were shaking, and he was on the verge of crying, but he looked over and saw the knife.

Should he pick it up?

Pierre grabbed it, and held it forward in his hands as he stood behind his father, still shaking.

The man who was on the ground suffered a vigorous beating, before looking at Pierre's father with anger. Gritting his teeth, and blocking the attacks with his arms, he kicked the leg of Pierre's father, and in the instant of confusion, threw the man backwards.

Pierre's father stumbled back, losing his balance after being thrown backwards, and landed.

His head landed right on the knife, which Pierre was holding forward.

It was an instant, however Pierre's father died on the spot.

Pierre dropped the knife, which was stuck in his father's head now, as his father fell to the ground. He stared at his father in horror as blood covered his hands, and the man in front of him began to laugh viciously.

"AHHAHAHA!!! Killed by your own son!!! That's how a scumbag like you deserves to die!!!"

No.

No...

Pierre looked in disbelief, back and forth between this man and his father, who now lie dead.

No.

No.

Pierre didn't do this.

He couldn't have.

It was the evil man in front of him who killed his father, by throwing him onto the knife.

Just because Pierre held it, didn't mean he was the one who killed him.

However, eyes filled with tears, Pierre ran.

Instinctively, his body figured that he needed to get away from this man.

He ran through the house and out the front door, crossed the yard, and burst into a tool shed where he hid in a corner, curled up in a ball with his hands covered in blood.

'No.... no.... I didn't just kill father.... it was... that man... that man did it!!! That's right! I have to kill that man! I have to avenge father!!'

Pierre looked around, his hands still vibrating with terror, and saw a metal wire.

Pierre grabbed it, and went up a ladder in the shed, up to the second floor, where there was an attic like area, covered by the roof, which looked down on the first floor.

Pierre dangled the wire in the shape of a U, holding either end of it so that it was near the doorway in such a way that if anyone entered, their neck would be caught up in the wire.

The door opened, and he heard the voice of the madman.

"Where did you hide, kid!?!?"

The man walked in, however his head was caught on the wire, and he stopped upon feeling something metal and sharp grazing his neck.

Pierre jumped down from behind the man, pulling the wire as tight as he could in the motion.

It slid right through the neck of the man like a knife through warm butter, cutting his head clean off.

'I.... I did it... I avenged father... I avenged father....'

Pierre was living on the run, from this day on.

He ran away from his home, and began to live on the streets.

Eventually, he came across the prospect of mercenary work, and decided to become a mercenary in order to prevent criminals from performing any more heinous acts like the one who killed his parents.

Pierre killed, but he killed for good reason.

'I only kill monsters, and that man was a monster.'

He tried to remain cheerful, even in the face of adversity, however sometimes he succeeded, and other times he didn't. It was extremely difficult for someone of a wealthy line to suddenly pick up an everyday lifestyle, and the fact that he was the one holding the knife as his own father died ate at his soul each day.

He could never fully convince himself that he wasn't the one to kill his father.

However, he always kept his pride, and wore the clothing which his family would pride on. It showed his lineage, and even if his parents were gone, he would never give it up. Even if others looked at him strangely, and even if people mistook him for the son of a wealthy household- which he was no longer- he continued to wear it.

Eventually, he met Lance and Melody, along with Charlotte, and they all formed a squad together.

From that day on, his burden was lightened.

He no longer had to bear his problems on his own, but rather he shared them among his comrades.

Charlotte and Lance in particular had never killed anyone before, and he never wanted them to suffer from a similar trauma. So he vowed to protect them. Doing so allowed him to really think that he was doing something right, and he wanted to continue pursuing criminals like that man.

But now, as he walked alongside all these lizardmen and fishmen, Pierre's definition of what a monster was became clouded.

That man was a monster.

Yet these people around him didn't seem to him to be monsters.

But by definition, the man he killed before was a human, and the ones in front of him were monsters.

'Just what is a monster...'

Pierre continued wondering this, as the antiheroes loaded themselves into a carriage in order to lead the army.

The carriage was... disgusting.

It appeared to be made of the living and pulsating flesh of a heart. The wheels were made of bones, and the horses which pulled it looked like beings directly from hell.

However, despite this monstrous appearance, Pierre couldn't find himself to believe that the antiheroes were monsters.

He knew what a monster acted like.... and rather than monsters, they acted far more civil with their brutality.

'Whether someone is a monster is not defined by one's appearance.... it is defined by ones actions. Without a doubt, these four in front of me are not monsters.'

'They are Dictators.'