This world isn’t home to advanced civilizations; various races fend for themselves, while some creatures have no allegiance to any race. The strong devour the weak every day. If a monster slaughters a weaker group, many might join forces to hunt it down—not because it did something wrong or for revenge, but because such a dangerous being poses a threat to them, necessitating its destruction.

Humans, though generally weak, have a unique quality that lets their civilization surpass that of most other races. They have cities, nobles, kings—a human king, to be precise.

But even with civilization, in this world, humans struggle just to protect themselves. How could they have strict laws that ensure justice for individuals?

And me—a nameless, inhuman being with overwhelming power. If I kill the son of some city official and then quietly slip away, no one will come looking for me.

People dying here is as common as stepping on ants. Only faint, lingering impressions of past memories tug at me.

“You killed a life.”

“A human life is sacred; you should be uneasy, fearing capture.”

Indeed, my humanity is weakening. I take lives so casually, though these people are all despicable bullies.

But it doesn't matter.

I was never human to begin with, and I don’t belong to that world anymore.

There are no laws here. It’s survival of the fittest. The strong dominate the weak.

I may be losing my humanity, but isn't that just a shackle? If I tried to retain my former morals, I’d have to pay with my life for every life I take. Even with my current power, such restraint is impossible.

It’s not that I’m becoming depraved; rather, I’m adapting to this world, blending into this time. It’s not reckless abandon—if anything, it’s the opposite. I’m adapting.

Perhaps “humanity” is nothing more than the chains of societal expectations, instilled in us from childhood.

Without humanity, only pure self remains.

Alea, Parker, and I walk down a narrow path through the forest, aimlessly wandering without any clear destination.

Alea asks me where we’re headed, if we’ll stop in a specific city. I can’t answer immediately because I have no such intentions.

After a long silence, Parker speaks up, stealing glances at me as if gauging my reaction.

“Or…perhaps Lady Aino just wants to travel without staying anywhere?”

Travel, huh?

Before that, there’s another question.

I look at Parker, who appears somewhat uneasy. He’s a scruffy young man, actually tall and sturdy, though his timid demeanor hides it.

He’s nothing more than a lowlife—a delinquent in human society.

“Parker, let me ask you something.”

He jerks his head up in alarm, forcing a grin I’ve seen him wear countless times with his “brothers.”

“When we first met, you tried to get rid of me, didn’t you?”

It was back when I’d first entered Dante. I’d just met him on the street; he’d toyed with me in an exaggerated manner until his friends showed up.

“What? Our first meeting…I…”

He recalls something but hesitates, as if choosing his words carefully.

Of course, for him, this is a matter of life and death.

“You’d better make yourself someone I can tolerate. Your ‘brothers’ are all dead.”

“Ahem…my lady, I’m nothing like them,” he mutters, a bit awkward but without insincerity.

Troublesome. I’ll take it one step at a time. In this short period, I’ve made too many decisions and faced too many unexpected turns. None of these choices guarantee a clear outcome.

No one knows if these choices are right or wrong. Only time can tell.

As night falls, the forest around us becomes eerie.

“If you two need anything, I can prepare some food. I have a few adventuring tools on me,” Parker suggests again.

It seems he noticed we’re traveling light. I’m not sure when he managed to gather these supplies, or if he carries them regularly.

I turn and glance up at him. His greasy hair, slightly damp with sweat from the long walk, reflects the firelight, and he smells faintly unpleasant.

The limitations of a mortal body.

“I just ate. You and Alea should go ahead and have some.”

Without saying much, the two of them settle on a dry, flat spot, light a fire, and Parker hands Alea half of a ration-like piece of food.

Parker even has three sleeping mats, though they’re simple—just thick pieces of cloth.

Still, they’re much better than sleeping on the ground, especially since they’re dry.

The three of us lay around the fire. Alea uses a piece of clothing as a blanket, while Parker wraps himself in a large robe, covering himself completely.

The silence feels a bit awkward, so I try to make conversation.

“Parker, how is your hair still so greasy?”

“My lady, I washed it just yesterday. It’s genetic…and after so much walking, I tend to sweat a lot,” Parker replies, looking a bit helpless.

“I can go a week without washing and still wouldn’t look like you,” Alea chimes in, smiling.

“Lady Alea is naturally beautiful, but people like me and the other lowlifes are just more prone to grime,” he retorts.

“Lowlifes? Aren’t they just commoners? Nobles love degrading commoners by any means possible, making you feel inferior,” Alea replies, a hint of frustration in her voice.

Parker scratches his head awkwardly at her words, knowing full well he’s not exactly an upstanding commoner.

“I haven’t lived the cleanest life…but it was just for survival. Nobles are always flaunting their etiquette. It’s annoying.”

“It’s not just etiquette. You’re still young; you’ve seen so little. Let me tell you…”

I lay quietly on my mat while Alea and Parker sit on the ground, talking. It’s mostly Alea expressing her frustration with nobles, and Parker nodding along.

Alea seems quite happy. She and I never have conversations like this. Today, she seems to have found a kindred spirit in Parker, even if he’s just humoring her.

Now that I think about it, Parker must be utterly terrified of me. Chatting with Alea must offer him some relief, and Alea, whether she realizes his compliance or not, is having a good time.

With a moment of quiet, I begin to “think” as I usually do.

I review every magical memory in detail. Each spell requires understanding its creator’s thoughts and methods. Without proper background, even a lifetime may only reveal a handful of spells.

Magic is rare here; it’s hardly widespread among humans. Only a few discover they have talent, and with luck, they manage to learn a few basic spells, allowing them to explore.

They then search for more magic on their travels or earn money to buy the spells humans have discovered and publicly trade.

Each spell is invaluable.

Tananorn’s memories contain many spells he once mastered. If I recorded them, each could stir up bloodshed. Some spells are innate to Tananorn, exclusive to black dragons or perhaps to him alone.

This is a treasure trove, precious beyond measure, that I quietly absorb each moment.

Beyond learning spells, I also simulate their combat applications, considering how to cast and counter each one. I study some of humanity’s spells and combat tactics, though I find little of practical use here.

Aiming to remain inconspicuous, I won’t gain combat experience quickly; it requires time. Immersed in these thoughts, I open my eyes to see both Alea and Parker asleep.

A witch consumed by hatred for nobles, dedicating her life to revenge, and a scruffy, yet somewhat unique ordinary man.

Neither of them are reliable allies, but they’re good enough.