The wind swept up yellow sand and battered the houses with a soft rustling sound.
The village chief of the Death God Desert Resort was squatting on the ground, tying bundles of hay with straw rope. Suddenly, the wind stopped, and a human-shaped shadow slowly fell over him.
Someone's here. Who?!
The chief looked up. Standing before him was a man of about forty in a dark denim jacket and jeans, with straight bangs and shoulder-length hair. The hair on either side hung below his ears, its ends cut into the shape of a mushroom cap.
What a fucking ugly haircut.
Almost one percent as ugly as that Beastman.
As the chief silently mocked him, he tried to guess the stranger's identity. This was sandy ground, yet the man had approached without making a sound. Even the chief's level-800 senses had given him no warning. At a conservative estimate, he was a thief or Assassin above level 500.
A tough customer.
The chief grinned, exposing a mouthful of yellow teeth.
"Welcome to the Death God Desert Resort. I'm the village chief. Are you looking for lodging or fresh fodder?"
"What rotten luck. Arrow, Gun, Bomb, and Poison were all free, so why did they have to pick me?"
Though he was complaining, the mushroom-haired man's voice had no inflection, as flat as a lousy third-rate voice actor reading from a script.
"Tell me, did anyone pass through the village just now?"
"Yes."
The interrogation-like tone made the chief frown. But his years of experience running a murderous tourist trap told him that this man was no innocent fool who had gained some cheat ability and only ever killed Monsters.
This man had killed people. Lots and lots of them.
When dealing with someone this ruthless...
The chief knew it was