Because of this, in this realm, we humans are looked down on, discriminated against, and viewed as the most inferior of the races. In fact, the eight other races often referred to us as “inferiors” as shorthand. The Concord of the Tribes was different, however. The party was famous for rejecting bigotry and recruiting members of all races in an attempt to embrace the lofty aspiration of creating a world where all are equal.
Garou, who looked like a wolf standing on two legs, would yell at any beastfolk who made fun of me when we were walking around town. Sasha, a beautiful elf with pointy ears and blonde hair cascading down her back, would console me whenever this discrimination brought tears to my eyes. Sionne, who had silver hair and tan skin, would help me study, teaching me everything she knew about drug making.
But in that moment, they all seemed like complete strangers to me, belittling me and leering at me as if I were some kind of nasty insect or a pitiful animal they were about to start hunting. This whole situation was shocking to me, and I felt like I’d been whacked around the head with a blunt object out of nowhere.
“Wh-Why would you three—” But before I could finish my question, I was cut off by the four party members who hadn’t spoken yet.
“C’mon, do we really need to spend all day talking about this? We don’t need the kid, so let’s just kill him already. We can’t have another party waltzing in here and seeing us like this.”
That was Naano, a dwarf with a shaggy beard that was tied to a point. He was urging everyone to kill me, acting as if he were merely tossing out a tool he didn’t need anymore. Naano had been the one who’d patiently taught me how to sharpen swords and keep armor maintained at the party’s manor.
“Naano is right. I can barely stand breathing the same air as this inferior, so I would prefer it if we brought this to a conclusion soon.”
That was Diablo, a tall, lanky, young demon with pale skin and devil horns growing out of his head. He had been the one who taught me proper table manners and etiquette. Sure, he had a habit of muttering the occasional snide remark directed toward me, but I’d never heard him speak about me with such indignation and murderous intent before.
“Agreed. This is a complete waste of time.”
The next to offer their thoughts on the matter was Oboro, an oni who’d taught me how to fight with my bare hands and melee weapons in his spare time. He wasn’t just a fellow party member to me, he was my mentor—an expert instructor in combat techniques. Yet, with just a few short words, he had dismissed me as a pest.
“Hold your horses. This inferior’s taken up too much of our valuable time to dispose of him quickly. I’d feel much better if we made him feel every last ounce of our pain before bumping him off.”
The last to speak up was Santor, a two-legged centaur who was the biggest of all the party members and who seemed to want me to die a slow, gruesome death. He had been the one who’d taught me how to use a bow and arrow and how to hit a moving target.
I turned my gaze once more to the party leader, Drago, and fully aware that my teeth were chattering, I spluttered another question.
“Th-This is a joke, right, Mr. Drago? It’s all an act, isn’t it? A prank at my expense? After all, there’s no reason for you to kill me, is there?”
“Sure there is,” Drago said without missing a beat. “As it happens, we were told to kill you. Just to make sure.”
“You’re killing me j-just to make sure?” I said, trembling. “Make sure of what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Light, you know that, unlike most other inferiors, you have a Gift.”
“Uh, yeah. The Unlimited Gacha. But you all know it’s a useless Gift that only produces junk.”
Once in a blue moon in this realm, a human gains what is known as a “Gift” when they turn ten, and I was lucky enough to be one of those humans. But the Gift I attained turned out to be this weird skill called the Unlimited Gacha. All I had to do to use this Gift was summon it up, push a gacha button, and out pops a card. Whatever’s on the card becomes a real-world item, which might seem really neat from the way I’m describing it, but trust me, it isn’t. I’d had this Gift for two years by this point and all I’d ever gotten from it was junk, such as moldy bread, a single sock with a hole in it, and a broken spoon. Talk about an utterly useless Gift.
“Our superiors initially suspected you were a Master since you possessed this curious Gift called the Unlimited Gacha,” Drago explained. “So we brought you into the party in order to observe your Gift, your temperament, and your actions at close quarters. Unfortunately, your Gift only brought forth rubbish, and your stats remain at the same level as your other inferiors. As such, it has been determined that you are not a Master, and we were given orders from above to dispose of you. They wanted to eliminate any possibility of a calamity that may result from letting you wander around freely.”
I wasn’t following even half of what he’d said! All I’d managed to glean from his explanation was that I wasn’t a Master and I was going to be done away with, just to be on the safe side. Also, what was a “Master,” anyway?
“My nation was disappointed he wasn’t a Master, but it was a huge weight off my shoulders,” said Sasha. “If Light had been a Master, they would’ve ordered me to marry an inferior just so the bloodline would be theirs. Ugh, just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.”
“Heh heh heh! The elven nation would be disappointed, wouldn’t they?” Garou said. “You elves and dark elves sure do love yer Masters, don’tcha?”
“N-Nation?” I stuttered. Were these “superiors” Drago mentioned the authorities of a nation? Were Masters highly sought after by a nation? What did Masters do, anyway?
Drago glared at Sasha and Garou, whose faces immediately turned grim as the two of them trembled with fear under his gaze. They knew better than to get on the wrong side of the highest-level member of the party. Naano, Diablo, and Oboro stared incredulously at the loose-lipped pair, while Santor let out a derisive snort. Relations between the beastfolk and the centaurs were every bit as bad as between the elves and dark elves, which likely explained why Santor’s first reaction to Garou’s predicament was to laugh.
“I swear, elves and beastfolk always open their mouths before engaging their brains, don’t they?” said Naano.
“Compared to inferiors, they have silver tongues. Though I think the way these two speak out of turn is more charming than it is offensive,” Diablo said mirthfully.
“Not so charming if it causes trouble,” Oboro shot back.
“Haw-haw! That’s beastfolk for you!” Santor sneered.
Drago ignored the interjections of the other four and continued lecturing the two troublemakers. “You two need to exercise more discretion. What happens if our secret gets out?”
“F-Forgive me, my leader,” said Sasha. “It was a slip of the tongue.”
“Y-Yeah, sorry. Got a li’l carried away there,” Garou admitted. “Tell ya what: what if the two of us take care of the little puke for you? Then, our secret’ll stay nice and safe, yeah? It’ll be on us.”
“Yes! What a great idea, Garou!” Sasha agreed. “His blood will be on our hands!”
“Eek!” I shrieked as Garou jerked his arms out wide and flicked out the steel blades attached to his gauntlets. Sasha unslung her bow and took aim at me. They were really going to kill me!
I started backing away slowly, then turned around and ran for it.
“Aha ha ha!” Garou roared. “This here’s the Abyss, human! Even if ya do manage to get away from us, the monsters’ll finish ya off!”
“Yes, but they won’t get a chance if we kill you first!” Sasha called out as she unleashed an arrow.
“Gaaah!” I screamed in pain as the arrow speared through my left leg, and I fell to the ground, unable to run anymore. It was a really hard landing too, the jarring impact with the rock-littered floor of the cave-like dungeon drawing blood and turning the ground around me red. It was the arrow stuck in my leg that hurt the most, though.
“Ah, nothin’ beats that look on their faces and all that screamin’! I really get a kick outta huntin’ humans for sport! Monsters and animals ain’t half as fun ’cause they can’t talk!”
“Indeed, Garou,” Sionne agreed, nodding along to the wolfman’s sadistic remarks. “I enjoy hearing the screams of the inferiors I do my experiments on so much, I can’t help applying even more pressure to them in response. Light’s screams and pained expressions are especially delicious.”
Sasha seemed repelled by the dark elf’s words. “Honestly, you dark elves are far too obsessed with experimentation. This is neither the time nor place. Our cover story is supposed to be that a monster landed a fatal blow on one of our party members while we were questing in the Abyss, the most dangerous dungeon in the world. But that won’t convince anyone if we take our sweet time over it and another party shows up before we finish the job!”
“Okay, okay, I hear ya. Relax,” Garou replied before turning to me. “Truth is, kid, I wanted to toy wit’cha some more before wastin’ ya. On the other hand, ya did give us all a good laugh by taggin’ along like an idiot with no clue of what we were really up to. So I’ll put ya outta yer misery quick. Call it a ‘thank ya’ gift if ya like.”