In a small town called Dieter located in the Southern Lands, a Demon who had long black hair with two bull horns that curved from the top of his forehead to his back was currently sitting in a bar with a drink in his left hand as his right hand laid on his black cape.
"Any new intel on an uprising party?" Samiryan asked an old woman who was cleaning a glass.
"Your excellency, there is a new party on the rise that even has an elf as their member."
Samiryan, who was swirling his glass, stopped when he heard the old lady's words and a look of interest appeared on his face.
"Oh, does this elf go by the name Frieren?" He asked, taking a sip from the glass.
The old lady had a surprise look on her face and swallowed slightly at his words and nodded her head.
"Yes, the elf name is Frieren. I heard that she is a great mage with tremendous skill and is in the party that hopes to defeat the demon king. With her skills, she can surely satisfy my lord."
Samiryan let out a slight "hmm" and took another sip of his drink.
"How long has she been in this party?"
"Not long, maybe a year at most."
Samiryan tapped his finger on the table as his interest kept increasing. It's been a long time since he met anyone strong, and Frieren is a very familiar name to him.
He didn't originally come from this world, but another world and was a human, so he knows very well the complex emotions of them. He had a very strong craving for fighting strong opponents, and not before long, he had no more opponents left in his original world, so he challenged his local police force and was shot dead.
He had heard of the story of Frieren before passing, but had no idea about the plot, but since the main character's name is Frieren, and the story is named Frieren, she should be strong right?
A hint of heat appeared in his eyes which made the old lady across from him feel uncomfortable.
Those eyes of his reminded her of their past encounters in her young days. No matter who you were, as long as you had his interest, he'd make you your personal fighting toy.
Thinking about what happened to her parents 45 years ago, she shivered and prayed that the elf would at least die quickly.
As Samiryan was caught up in his personal fantasies, a young boy with tattered clothes walked into the bar with a downcast face, but when he saw Samiryan's horns, a fore a rage poured through his body and rushed at Samiryan with all his strength, taking a knife out of his pocket as he got closer.
The knife was getting closer and closer to Samiryan, and the boy's eye showed joy, but when the knife reached his clothes, the sound of metal clashing at each other sounded, and the knife in the boy's hand stumbled out of his grip.
"Oh- this stupid child." The old lady said, shaking her head as she sighed.
"Do you think a demon is so easy to be killed?"
Samiryan was brought back to reality by the boy, and looked behind him to only see a small child that looked roughly 12 sitting on his ass as his left hand held his right wrist. His gaze then fell on the knife on the ground, causing a mocking smile to appear on his lips.
"My clothes are made out of small iron fibers, do you think a kitchen knife can tear through my clothes?" He asked the bot mockingly, and got up from his seat and bent down in front of the boy.
"You demons deserve to die! All of you!" The boy said, his nails dragging on the hardwood floor.
"Oh? What made you have such hatred for us demons?" A hint of interest appeared in Samiryan's eyes, and looked down on the boy as he was looking at a new toy.
The boy didn't respond and clenched his fist and threw a punch at Samiryan's face.
Samiryan didn't dodge and let the fist hit him directly on the face. As the fist clashed against his face, the boy felt a tremendous amount of pain coursing through his right hand.
"Ghaa!" The boy screamed out in pain, but his left arm reached out for the knife on the ground and grabbed it and quickly retreated.
"Hmm, not bad. A very good seedling to grow." Samiryan said as he approached the child who was holding the knife towards him. "Say child- what's your name?"
The child's body trembled as his eyes gleamed with hatred as he stared down Samiryan.
"Cole- my name is cole."
"Cole huh?" Samiryan said, and suddenly appeared in front of Cole and picked him up by the neck.
Cole dropped his knife in shock, and felt a huge force coming from his neck which made it hard for him to even breathe. Before he could react any further, Samiryan raised his fist and slammed the boy in his stomach, sending him flying over to the nearest hard oak wall.
Cole coughed heavily as he tried to gasp for air. His body laid flat on the ground and couldn't move even if he wanted to.
Samiryan didn't walk any closer to the boy, and only watched from afar. It was as if it was a hunter stalking his prey. No, it was a hunter playing with his food.
Cole gasped for quite a while, and the interest in Samiryan's eyes slowly faded.
Such an injury would make a normal person not be able to walk for a while, but in this world, as long as you have the will and can imagine yourself standing up in this state and killing him, they'd raise to their feet for their very last time in a heartbeat. This clearly proves that this boy has no drive in him, only guilt and hatred remain.