Byeon seethed, caught in a suffocating mix of annoyance and deep, gnawing shame. Beneath it all, he was terrified. Being an isekai protagonist wasn't supposed to be this ruthlessly difficult.
He raised a trembling hand, half-expecting—half-praying—that a surge of almighty magic would erupt from his palms and obliterate this miserable, backward town.
Nothing happened.
I hate it. I hate it! I want power! Just give it to me!
"Hey, you! The smooth, big-skulled fellow!"
Byeon jumped. The booming voice belonged to a gruff, heavily muscled dwarf equipped with an iron helmet, a standard axe, and a shorter hand-axe strapped to his hip.
Oh, duck! Byeon panicked internally. He really has an axe!
"That was funny! Are you with those guys, you knuckle-dragging, long-bodied beanstalk?" the dwarf guffawed.
Byeon desperately wanted to snap back, Stop insulting me, you son of a gun. But he kept his mouth firmly shut. No normal human in their right mind would lash out at a guy wielding a weapon—even if that guy was barely five feet tall. The dwarf's muscles had muscles; he looked like the missing evolutionary link from before Neanderthals even existed.
"Sir, I'm... I'm going to go rest now," Byeon stammered.
Before the dwarf could launch into another booming laugh, a Hobbit stepped forward and gently patted the dwarf's thick arm. "You can see he's not with them. Sigh... forgive me, sir, for his antics."
Byeon forced a painfully tight smile, trying to project the image of a patient man as he casually began to walk away. Inside, his mind was a storm of irritation.
"Hey, where are you going?" asked another dwarf, stepping into view. This one was larger—wider, if not taller—than the first, hoisting a massive pickaxe over his shoulder. He reached out to pat Byeon's back as if he were a small child.
Byeon flinched and sidestepped the massive hand. Was he afraid? Absolutely.
"I'm just going to rest," Byeon lied, his voice cracking slightly. "And prepare for a... a great plan. Of success."
What else am I supposed to say?! he thought. I'm going to go hide and cry alone about how embarrassing this all is.
"Well, I don't know you, otter!" the larger dwarf boomed cheerfully. "But I may have made a mistake thinking ill of you smooth, tall-skinned people. You'll get through this! Want to grab a beer, you humoring otter?!"
As Byeon awkwardly waved goodbye and scurried off, the Hobbit watched him go. A heavy sigh escaped the small creature's lips. Times are changing, the Hobbit thought, looking down at his worn hands. I guess it's bound to happen.
It was the tragic cycle of their world: first came the genocide at the hands of the tall people, then the desperate rescue by the Witch. But even that salvation soured, slowly turning into enslavement simply because they were weaker. And now? Who would have ever thought the Witch would be taken by the demons?
Back in the alley, the dwarves bickered. "What a rude fellow," Thorfin muttered, watching Byeon disappear.
Smack. The older, helmeted dwarf hit him over the head with the dull side of a hammer. "Stop being so rude, Thorfin!" Instantly, a familiar, chaotic brawl broke out between the two.
Meanwhile, Byeon had finally found a secluded spot behind a thicket of bushes. He dropped into a wide, dramatic stance, thrusting his hands into the air.
"System!" he hissed into the quiet air. "Power up! Administrator, where are you?! Show me the magic power!"
Silence. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves.
He dragged his hands over his balding head, clutching his thinning hair in pure distress. He was rattling with stress, desperately trying to calm his racing heart. It can't be like this! Was he just going to be the same mediocre man he was back home? Why?!
All he wanted was a carefree existence. A life where he had endless money without the soul-crushing weight of a job. He dreamed of living in luxury hotels, eating at fine restaurants, and being so financially stable that he didn't need to worry about a mortgage or a car loan. A 24/7 vacation, 365 days a year, with all the time in the world for his hobbies.
Why can't I have that? he lamented. Back home, all he did was kiss up to management just to cling to the absolute bare minimum of the financial ladder. And now he was stuck in this medieval nightmare, utterly powerless!
Suddenly, a sharp crackle echoed from the bushes directly in front of him.
Byeon froze. He immediately dropped into the most obvious, amateurish fighting stance imaginable, his fists raised awkwardly near his chin. Panic flooded his veins.
"Who is that?!" he shrieked, his mind instantly running through a hundred horrific ways to die in an untamed world.
But then, a spark of delusion took over. Oh, right! This is a fantasy world!
His terror melted into sudden, giddy anticipation. In all the manga he'd read, this was exactly the moment the pathetic protagonist found a ridiculously overpowered, cute magical pet hidden in the woods. A cheat ability in a fluffy package!
Here it comes! Byeon thought, his eyes shining with renewed, desperate hope.
...
...
...
...
It feels like a sudden drop of a heartfelt reunion.
What felt like a happy face turned into dread. Before the change finished across its face, the expression tightened—then collapsed
A creature, as if the muscles had simply given up on pretending to be alive. What remained looked wrong in a way the mind struggled to name: a crocodilian shape without scales, pale and human-like, but rotting at the edges. Its mouth hung slightly open, drool stringing down over broken, decaying teeth.
It was larger than the Korean man it once resembled—absurdly so. Its legs stretched to twice the proportion of a normal body, and its arms hung long and heavy, ending in hands that had warped into sharp, anatomical claws.
In that instant, there was only one thought left in him.
He was going to die.
Fear didn't settle—it exploded. Byeon face twisted into something almost animalistic, breath breaking apart as he turned and ran.
No—he didn't run. He sprinted.
Sprinting blindly, his movement clumsy and desperate, like a gazelle that had just realized the cheetah was already in motion behind it.
"AH—! AHHHH—!"
His voice didn't form words anymore. Only raw sound. Primitive panic. The kind of screaming that belonged to something that had stopped thinking and started surviving.
Behind him, the thing moved.
Not rushing at first—just adjusting. Then it dropped low, hands striking the ground. Its body launched forward in unnatural bursts, faster than any human sprint should allow.
The distance collapsed.
"HELP! ANYONE! I'M GOING TO DIE!"
The plea tore out of him mid-run, but there was no answer. Only the sound of pursuit closing in.
A shadow slid beside him.
For a brief, unbearable moment, it matched his speed perfectly—silent, effortless. An emotionless face turned slightly toward him.
Then its jaws opened.
"AHHHHHHHH—!"