Chapter 39: Monster Hordes Part Three

Chapter 39: Monster Hordes Part ThreeChapter 39: Class S Heroes Are Monsters

At the outskirts of a city, ten A-rank heroes stood firmly, guarding the gates. Their expressions were grim as a thunderous tremor shook the ground.

Rushing toward them was a living nightmare — a monster horde of overwhelming scale. The chaotic energy they radiated made it clear: there were multiple A-rank beasts among them. This wasn’t just dangerous. It was catastrophic.

"Why are there so many? Just how many portal breaks are happening?" one of the heroes muttered, gulping hard.

Despite all ten being elite A-rankers, the sheer number of enemies made their odds abysmal. The best they could hope for was to delay the inevitable.

Weapons drawn, skills ignited, they braced for impact as the first wave of monsters charged. But just before the creatures made contact—

FWOOOOOM!

A blazing beam of fire fell from the sky, vaporizing the front lines of the horde in a single sweep.

The heroes froze, eyes widening as they looked up.

Floating above on a massive bird made entirely of flames stood a man with crimson-red hair, probably in his late twenties. A signature black cigarette with glowing red lines dangled from his lips, lit by the fire within him. He never needed a lighter — he was fire.

He was one of the most famous heroes on Earth.



The Undying Flame

Class S Hero — Rank 3

He exhaled a puff of smoke, his expression indifferent as he surveyed the battlefield.

"This is getting irritating," he muttered. He had already neutralized monster hordes in three other cities today. And now, this one.

"Let’s end this quickly."

He raised his palm. A small orb of flame formed and began to rise into the air. As it ascended, it grew—first the size of a ball, then a boulder, then a boulder-sized sun. When it had swelled to a terrifying magnitude, he snapped his fingers.

The flaming orb split into hundreds of smaller fireballs that rained down on the horde like divine punishment.

"Burn to ashes," he said softly.

BOOOOOOOM!

The resulting explosion sent shockwaves across the field, blasting the A-rankers off their feet. When they scrambled up, eyes wide and mouths agape, they couldn’t believe what they saw:

Nothing remained of the monster horde. Not a single limb. Not a single breath.

All of it... gone.

And the man responsible? He was already flying away on his firebird, casually exhaling smoke.

"S-rankers are monsters..." one of the A-rank heroes whispered, stunned. "The gap... it’s like an unbridgeable chasm."

Suddenly, the hero’s phone buzzed. He answered mid-flight.

"Hello? Oh, it’s you."

He listened for a few moments, then responded in a calm, weary tone.

"Alright. I’ll be there. But your real worry should be whether the others show up."

With that, he ended the call, his gaze turning cold.

"This madness... it all needs to stop."

---

Elsewhere...

In another city, chaos reigned.

A group of terrified civilians huddled inside a crumbling building, the roars of monsters echoing all around them.

"Have you contacted the Hero Association yet?" one man whispered urgently.

"I did! But this is happening everywhere — the heroes are stretched too thin!" another snapped.

"So what? Are we just going to die here!?" the first man shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

Their only hope was the building they’d hidden in, shielded from the monsters’ view... for now. But once the creatures noticed them, they were finished.

Then—

"I can help... if you want."

Everyone turned. Standing near the back wall was a figure dressed in a strange blend of ninja and samurai cloth. His ash-gray hair swayed slightly, though there was no wind. His eyes — void of emotion — gave off an eerie, lifeless aura.

"What do you mean, help us?" the man asked, half-ready to curse at the stranger. He checked for a hero badge — there was none. But something in the man lifeless gaze sent a chill down his spine.

"I’ll take care of the monsters," the stranger said. "For a price."

"The monsters... outside?" the man asked, thinking the guy misunderstood. Those weren’t just monsters — they were an entire horde.

"Yes."

"What’s your price?" the man asked, half out of curiosity, half in disbelief.

"Ten million yen," the man said calmly.

The room fell silent.

Everyone stared at him as if he were insane.

"That’s an outrageous amount!" one of the townspeople shouted. "Requesting help from the Hero Guild only costs about a million yen at most. But you’re asking for twenty?"

The middle-aged man stepped forward—clearly the city mayor—and tried to reason with the stranger. "We can’t afford that kind of money."

"Alright then," the stranger replied flatly, already turning to leave. "Good luck surviving."

BAM! BAM! BAM!

A series of thunderous shockwaves shook the ground. The hideout trembled. It was clear now—the monster horde was closing in.

"Wait!" the mayor called out.

The ash-haired stranger paused but didn’t turn around. His blank gaze remained fixed ahead, unmoved.

"What is it?" he asked, voice calm and detached.

"We accept your conditions," the mayor said, swallowing his pride. "Kill the monsters, and we’ll pay the full amount—give us three months."

"Why should I believe you?" the stranger replied, still expressionless.

"Because..." the mayor hesitated, then said with conviction, "Because lives are at stake. I would never stoop so low as to deceive someone if it meant the death of my people."

Silence.

Then, just as hope seemed lost, the stranger finally spoke.

"All debts must be paid," he said quietly. "Trickery leads to death."

With that, he vanished.

---

A moment later, the ash-haired man stood silently atop a tall building, staring down at the rampaging monster horde. His lifeless eyes reflected nothing—not fear, not anger, not even excitement.

It’s just like back then, he thought, exhaling softly.

He raised his hand and drew a glowing circle in the air with a single finger.

"Silent Void: Sealed."

As the circle closed, a wave of soft, vibrant energy surged across the battlefield. The monsters froze, disoriented, confused. Then—swish, swish, swish—they dropped, one after another, lifeless.

No roar. No bloodbath. No resistance.

They simply... fell.

From inside the shelter, the survivors watched in stunned silence. Not a single attack was seen. It was as if the monsters were part of some strange illusion that had ended.

Cautiously, they stepped outside.

Upon closer inspection, each monster bore a faint slash across the head—so fine it was barely noticeable.

"Were they just weak?" a man beside the mayor asked, bewildered. "Heroes usually have to strike multiple times, with large wounds before a monster drops. This is... different."

The mayor’s expression darkened.

"You’re missing something," he said grimly. "I don’t think that man was a hero."

"Then what was he?" the other asked, unease creeping into his voice.

"I don’t know," the mayor admitted. "But if he’s not a hero... then he’s either an assassin—"



"—or a villain," the other finished, swallowing hard.

---

Elsewhere...

A grotesque mountain made entirely of fallen beasts and monsters stood high above the plains. Bodies were stacked—hundreds of them. Heads crushed, chests obliterated, limbs twisted beyond recognition.

Many of them had been A-rank monsters. A few B-rank. All of them were dead.

"Gulp... gulp..."

Several onlookers stood frozen, jaws dry, unable to comprehend the destruction before them.

"He killed them... with mere punches?" someone muttered.

"All Class S heroes are monsters," another replied. "But this guy... he’s a whole different level."

Atop the grotesque mound sat a massive, muscular man. A thick black braid hung down the center of his otherwise bald head. On his back, a striking tattoo—a red ’X’ pierced by a black spear.

Buster – Class S Hero, Rank 7.

He rose, muscles flexing with power, but his face showed only disappointment.

"Tch... too weak," he muttered. "What a waste of time."

Just then, his phone buzzed. He answered, listened briefly, then hung up.

"So... those sly bastards are making a move," he said with a grin.

"Maybe... just maybe... something fun is finally about to happen."

Elsewhere...

A man stood before a sea of monsters. In one hand, he held a gourd, from which he took slow, steady sips. A massive blade was strapped to his back, and his long green hair was braided down to his shoulder.

He walked like a drunk—staggering from side to side, eyelids heavy, as if he could fall asleep at any moment.

One of the monsters roared and charged him. He lazily raised his blade and slashed—missing entirely. He tumbled backward, then casually turned his back to the monsters, strolling drunkenly toward the terrified crowd behind him.

Panic spread. The civilians clutched their heads, certain they were doomed.

With a deafening roar, the monster that charged earlier brought down its massive claw.

Spurt.

They opened their eyes to a miracle.

The so-called drunkard was still there, calmly drinking from his gourd—but the monster, along with several others, had been reduced to countless tiny chunks scattered across the ground.

"Behhh..." the man exhaled, like someone fully satisfied after a long drink.

He turned toward the remaining monsters and began swaying back into the horde. This time, he tossed the gourd into the air, drew his sword—its edge gleaming with a strange, radiant aura—and vanished.

Only a blur of green and silver flashed across the battlefield.

The gourd came back down. He caught it effortlessly and took another sip.

Behind him, the monsters—now in millions of pieces—collapsed, silent and dead.

He sheathed his sword and walked away, staggering like he might fall any second.

The crowd could only stare, wide-eyed, mouths agape.

Then someone finally spoke, his mind catching up.

"I... I think I know who he is."

"That’s... Drunky Samurai. A Class S Hero."

The others fell silent, all nodding slowly.

"Yeah... all Class S heroes really are monsters."

---

Minutes later....

"Heh... I heard there’s going to be a gathering," a hiccuping voice said.

"Maybe I’ll show up. Or maybe not. Depends if I’m busy."

He took another swig from his gourd. His words were slurred, but his tone playful.

"Who am I kidding? I’m always just busy."

It was Drunky Samurai.

He hiccupped once more and hung up, then murmured to himself.

"A gathering, huh? All those freaks in one place... should I go?"

"You won’t make it," came a calm, quiet voice.

He turned. A tall man in a thick black overcoat stepped forward. A single black eyepatch covered his right eye.

"Who—hiccup—are you?" Drunky Samurai asked, staggering toward him.

"You’re Drunky Samurai. Class S, Rank 12," the man said flatly.

"Wow, you do know me. Sorry, I don’t sign autographs," the samurai joked, swaying. "Catch me later maybe."

But the man kept walking, calm and unwavering.

"You Class S heroes... you’re all the same. Arrogant. Flashy. Thinking you’re untouchable."

"You’re an assassin, aren’t you?" the samurai asked, more sober now.

Silence.

That alone confirmed it.

In the blink of an eye, Drunky Samurai closed the gap. His sword flashed out and across the man’s body—then was sheathed before most could even blink.

But something was wrong.

The assassin stood unharmed. No injury. No blood.

Drunky Samurai’s drunken haze faded as tension replaced it. His eyes narrowed, truly alert now and jumped back.

Then the man removed his eyepatch.

His right eye glowed with a deep, swirling purple.

"I’m impressed you dodged the first strike," the assassin said. "But you won’t escape this."

He raised his hand.

"Core Zone: Chrono Grave."

The air shifted.

Gravity warped.

Time itself twisted—slowing, bending, freezing.

The world felt wrong. Unnatural.

Then... silence.



Drunky Samurai dropped to his knees, coughing violently. Blood poured from his mouth,nose,ear and eyes.

They’re real... he thought.

They’re really real...

That was his final thought before his eyes lost color and his body collapsed, lifeless.

The assassin walked away, his expression unchanged.

"You Class S never learn," he murmured.

"When you meet S rank assassin..."

He paused, then looked ahead.

"...you run."

Because Class S or not—

All targets will be eliminated.


To be continued...