Reject Humanity, Return to Monke

Gunshots, squelching meat, screams of the anguished, cries for mercy, bloodthirsty yelling.

Everything blended in inside the mind of one demon known as Sogtharoch.

He was garbed in tattered clothes, unfit for even a token of protection. In his hands, he held a short sword and a buckler, his sweat pooling behind his back.

He took one good look around the area, right after unsheathing his sword from the body of his enemy in front of him.

The battlefield was a wasteland of corpses, blood painting the ground red. The smell of iron, feces, and urine were thick in the air.

But that wasn't enough to stop the mindless battle undergoing in the large wasteland.

Sogtharoch wanted to run. Where? Anywhere but here, but the damned collar stuck in his neck prevented him from doing so.

Another soldier attacked him from behind, but his superior mental and physical capabilities as part of the demon race alerted him to the attack from behind.

He leaned to the side, barely dodging the blade about to pierce his body, and quickly retaliated with extreme prejudice, namely; swinging his crappy short sword at the well-protected soldier.

His armor did crap though against the sword which slashed against his exposed skin, blood gushing out of the wound he obtained.

The soldier did not stop though, whether from fear of death, or the high of adrenaline, the soldier pushed through the pain and yelled at his enemy.

Sogtharoch never wavered and stood on guard, various wounds decorating his body from the multiple attacks he endured over the course of the battle.

The soldier stepped in once more, his sword pointed at the demon's body. Sogtharoch quickly brought his buckler towards the sword's trajectory. Flicking his buckler upward, the approaching sword was forced high, the sword arm of the soldier following suit.

Pressing for the opening, Sogtharoch quickly stabbed the soldier in the stomach, an area of his body that was unprotected from his chestplate.

Twisting the blade, Sogtharoch pulled out the sheathed sword and scattered the innards and organs of the soldier into the ground. The demon was already used to the smell by now.

The soldier gasped out once, before tumbling into the ground, his breathing slowing and finally, stopping after a few seconds.

Sogtharoch stared at the body with no mor but indifference. After all the lives he had claimed over the course of this war, he grew distant to death. In fact, he was waiting until the time came when an enemy (or ally) claimed his as well.

Sogtharoch swapped his nearly broken sword for another nearby among the pile of corpses, and continued to defend himself against the enemies who would come for him.

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It was a few years later when the war ended, and Sogtharoch was alive to see the end of it.

The war wasn't won by his master's country, however, but by the foolishness of the country that they were fighting against. Creating a curse that limits the growth of an individual for eternity was a price too steep for them to pay.

But the specific details, he had no idea, only that the opposing country fell because of a mistake no mortal should have made.

Here he was now, in front of his owner, a scowl plastered on his face.

"Well then, filthy demon, it seems that you've done a great service to the crown by fighting in the war and laying low countless enemies with your sword." The man, his owner, said with blatant disgust.

Sogtharoch stayed indifferent, but in his mind, he was furious at the man he called an owner.

'First, he enslaved me, then forced me to fight against the enemy while he hides, and now he's angry I took the credit for fighting against the opposing country?'

If the collar wasn't stuck to his neck, he would've murdered the man right here, and right now.

"So as payment, you are to be set free." The man took a key out of his pocket and threw it to the ground in front of the groveling Sogtharoch. "Unlock that collar, and leave. Never let me see your face again, or suffer the consequences."

The man left the demon, who was confused at the sudden freedom he was given. Various emotions went through his mind, but he knew one thing for sure.

He was glad to be free once again.

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The curse had been a great blow to his pride as a demon. He could no longer go above a certain limit, forever stopping himself at the level of D-rank Hunters. No matter how hard he tried, he never got stronger, no matter how hard he trained, he never got better.

It was driving him insane. He was now a D-rank Hunter after years of registering, but the curse made it impossible to go further. He had been joining parties left and right, and at some time, was left behind because the other party members got too strong and he was a liability in higher-ranked quests.

Most of the time, people felt for him, what with being subjected to that horrible curse of limiting growth, but some, who were too drunk on their power, forced him to beg, kneel, and obey, otherwise he suffered.

Of course, those Hunters quickly got the stick from the Hunters Association, but feeling weak because of a curse was driving him nuts!

It was only then, a friend from an old Hunter party approached him and gave him some sort of orb.

"This is called the Orb of Transference, a gift from the Gods themselves." The female mage said in hushed whispers. "It can copy a target's power if you insert it into a person with said power. It is only a one-time use, so use it carefully."

With that, the female left the demon with his thoughts.

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A few more years later, he had taken up a branch of magic called Mind Magic. As the name says, it dabbles in the manipulation of the minds of sentient beings, whether by implanting false memories, reading one's thoughts, or diving into their memories. It took him a good half-a-century to reach about average in the skill, and sadly, because of his curse, he was unable to advance to the next stage.

But it was enough.

Reading thoughts, and diving into memories, even if limited, was all he needed to check whether or not to use the orb at said target.

Also, during the course of the 5 decades, a year ago, he was able to join a Hunter party known as Last of Abandonment.

Truly, a party which has its odd experiences here and there. Especially those elves…

Damn if he ain't ever seen elf incest before…

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His eyes opened, a headache forming.

"Ugh… She didn't say anything about this side effect…" Sogtharoch groaned as he got up from his bed.

He was currently in another country; thanks to the teleport stone he was gifted by the same female mage who he befriended before. She was an ordinary human, one who now had an incredibly high position within the courts of mages.

Those stones were expensive. He had no idea how that Hunter party were able to save for one.

"Sog, you feeling alright?" Sogtharoch turned his vision to the voice. The teenage voice he was familiar with before now turned into a mature and elderly one.

"Feeling as good as ever, Lindine." Sogtharoch grinned as he stared at the holographic screen in front of him.

Name: Sogtharoch

Age: 79

Gender: Male

Race: Demon

Class: Lancer

Level: 10

…

"Yep… Feeling as good as ever…"