The sound of wagons, horses, and people talking outside woke me up.

  I groggily opened my eyes, stretching my arms. Why do I feel so… heavy?

  I blinked. No, seriously. I feel heavy.

  Something was wrong.

  Slowly, I looked down at myself.

  …

  I was fat.

  WHAT?!?!

  I scrambled out of bed—well, I tried to. The moment I moved, my stomach jiggled. My arms felt thicker. My face felt rounder.

  I rushed to the small mirror by the wash basin.

  What greeted me was a pudgy version of myself.

  I grabbed my now-chubbier cheeks.

  "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME?!"

  Then it hit me.

  Skill Eater.

  It didn’t just improve my combat abilities… it also adapted to whatever I experienced.

  I spent an entire night eating like a starving beast—so my body optimized for storing energy.

  In short, Skill Eater made me absorb the concept of getting fat.

  I cursed my own broken ability.

  Let’s just say…

  I skipped breakfast that morning.

  And then I RAN.

  I didn’t jog. I didn’t speed-walk. I fucking sprinted.

  The moment I realized Skill Eater had optimized me for weight gain, I bolted out of the inn like a madman.

  Through the streets of Aurewyn, past confused merchants and startled pedestrians—

  "Why is he running?"

  "Did he steal something?!"

  "Wait, isn’t that the guy who brought in all those High-Orc heads?"

  I ignored them all.

  I ran until my lungs burned. I ran until my legs screamed. I ran as if my very existence depended on it.

  Because in a way? It did.

  I refused to be the first isekai protagonist taken down by his own metabolism.

  It took me half the damn day to burn everything off.

  Half a day of nonstop running, push-ups, squats, and whatever else I could think of to undo the damage.

  By the time I finally stopped, my body had returned to normal.

  I placed my hands on my knees, panting. "Never. Again."

  Then—

  GROWL.

  I slowly looked down at my stomach.

  I was hungry again.

  Was this going to be a full cycle? Was I doomed to repeat this nightmare forever?!

  I dragged myself to a small food stall, glaring at the food like it had personally betrayed me.

  This time, I ate just enough to be satisfied. No feasts, no overindulging—just normal eating.

  Skill Eater better not mess with me again…

  ...

  Back at the Adventurer’s Guild, I took another Goblin Nest Subjugation quest.

  Easy work.

  Walked in. Killed everything. Walked out.

  Three gold coins. Simple.

  But now, I had a choice.

  Do I immediately head for Korthyn Mire, where my real mission awaits?

  …Or do I reassess my strength with Garrus?

  I tapped my fingers against the counter, thinking.

  Yeah. Let’s go with the second option.

  After all, last time I fought Garrus, I got wrecked.

  This time? Things might be different.

  ...

  The familiar sight of Garrus stood before me, arms crossed, his ever-present smirk in place.

  "Are you ready?" he asked.

  I took a moment to double-check everything.

  Mask? Check.

  Overly edgy cloak that makes me look way cooler than I probably am? Check.

  Nameless, non-cursed sword that I have to use around people so they don’t immediately assume I’m a villain? Check.

  I exhaled, rolling my shoulders.

  "Let’s do this."

  Garrus grinned, rolling his neck as he stretched his massive arms. “Good. Let’s see how much you’ve improved.”

  He cracked his knuckles—a sound that sent a very real warning through my instincts. The last time I fought him, I got ragdolled. But this time?

  I wasn’t the same.

  I tightened my grip on my nameless sword, steadying my stance. Unlike before, when I felt stiff and inexperienced, my body naturally adjusted—Skill Eater had drilled better movements into me through all my fights.

  Garrus lowered his stance. No wasted movement. No hesitation.

  Then—he vanished.

  FAST.

  I barely caught his movement before he appeared right in front of me, his fist already swinging toward my ribs.

  Last time? That hit sent me flying.

  This time?

  I blocked.

  Our collision sent out a shockwave, my boots grinding against the training hall floor. My arms strained from the impact, but I didn’t budge.

  Garrus raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  I grinned. “Told you—I learn fast.”

  He laughed. “Good! Then try and keep up!”

  Holy shit…

  I barely managed to stay on my feet, my arms aching from blocking Garrus' relentless blows.

  "Are you really B-Rank?" I asked, panting.

  Garrus just grinned, rolling his shoulders like he hadn't even broken a sweat.

  "Hah, I choose to be B-Rank!"

  I twisted my head in confusion. "He chooses to?"

  Murmurs spread through the guild members watching.

  "What does that even mean?"

  "Is he saying he could be higher?!"

  "Wait… is he actually holding back?!"

  Garrus smirked, stepping forward. "Ranks are just labels. Strength is what you make of it."

  Before I could respond—

  BOOM!

  He disappeared—and then reappeared right in front of me.

  I barely had time to react before his fist came crashing down.

  Garrus' fist stopped just inches from my face. The sheer force of the air pressure behind it rattled my bones.

  I tensed, readying myself for the next attack, but—

  He grinned and pulled back.

  "And I love this job, where I get to see the future generations grow," he said, crossing his arms. "So there's no need for a higher rank!"

  The crowd around us stared.

  "Wait… so he stays B-Rank on purpose?"

  "That’s insane."

  "But kinda badass."

  I blinked. "So you're telling me... you're strong enough to be A-Rank, maybe even S-Rank, but you just don't rank up?"

  Garrus chuckled. "Exactly."

  I stared at him for a moment. Then sighed.

  "You’re just as weird as the rest of us."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He laughed loudly. "Damn right! Now—" He clapped his hands together. "You done resting? Or do I need to knock you into another training session?"

  I exhaled, rolling my shoulders.

  "Alright, round two then."

  Garrus grinned, slamming his fist into his palm. "That’s what I like to hear!"

  I tightened my grip on my nameless sword, resetting my stance. Last time, he overwhelmed me with raw power. But now, I wasn’t just going to block—I was going to counter.

  He moved first.

  A straight punch—fast, controlled, and aimed at my chest.

  This time, I saw it.

  I twisted my body at the last second, letting the punch graze past me, and swung my sword—a perfectly timed counterattack.

  CLANG!

  He blocked it. With his bare hand.

  I felt the impact rattle my arms, but Garrus just grinned.

  "Good reflexes," he said, pushing my blade away effortlessly. "But not enough!"

  He slammed his knee into my stomach.

  Pain exploded through my core as I was sent flying back, crashing into the wooden floor. Dust kicked up around me.

  I groaned, coughing. "That… hurt."

  Garrus cracked his knuckles. "Then get up and hit back harder."

  I forced myself to my feet, gripping my sword tighter. Skill Eater was kicking in.

  I had just taken a full hit. My body was already adjusting. I could feel my stance shifting, my footwork getting sharper.

  I smirked. "Alright then."

  I moved first.

  Pushing off the ground, I dashed toward Garrus with newfound speed. My body was adjusting. The way he fought, the way he moved—Skill Eater had already begun refining my reactions.

  I swung my sword in a clean arc, aiming for his side.

  CLANG!

  Once again, he caught the blade with his bare hand.

  But this time—I was ready.

  I let go of the sword with one hand, pivoted my stance, and drove my fist straight into his ribs.

  BOOM!

  The impact shook through my arm, and for the first time—Garrus actually slid back.

  The room went silent.

  The crowd watching from the sidelines all collectively froze.

  Even Garrus blinked in surprise before grinning wide. "Now that had some weight to it!"

  I flexed my hand. It still stung from punching a guy built like a fortress, but I could feel it—I was finally able to push him back.

  "Not bad, huh?" I smirked.

  Garrus cracked his neck. "Yeah. But now I’m done holding back."

  I barely had time to process those words before he vanished.

  A split second later—

  BANG!

  His fist slammed into my stomach.

  My entire world exploded.

  The force sent me rocketing across the room, smashing through wooden training dummies and tumbling across the ground. I barely managed to roll onto my feet before stopping myself.

  Holy shit.

  I coughed, feeling my ribs scream in protest. That hit was on a completely different level than before.

  I wiped my mouth, exhaling sharply. "Alright… yeah, I deserved that one."

  Garrus rolled his shoulders. "Still standing?"

  I cracked my neck. "Barely. But I learn fast."

  He grinned. "Then keep learning, kid. 'Cause I’m not done yet."

  Neither was I.

  I took my stance again.

  The fight was far from over.

  Garrus vanished again.

  I saw it.

  Not just his movement—but the angle, the timing, the intent.

  This time, I didn’t just block.

  I moved.

  His fist came for my ribs again—I twisted my body, letting it graze past me. His other hand followed with a hook—I ducked.

  Dodge. Read. Adapt.

  I stepped in—my turn.

  My sword flashed—a quick thrust to his side.

  CLANG!

  He caught it. Again.

  I expected that.

  I yanked my blade back, twisted, and—kicked him in the knee.

  His stance faltered.

  NOW!

  I reversed my grip and slashed upward—his forearm blocked it, but I was already moving again.

  Elbow to his gut.

  Impact.

  Didn’t hurt him much. But it staggered him.

  "Good!" Garrus laughed mid-fight. "But—"

  His headbutt nearly took mine off.

  BANG!

  My vision blurred—my body flew backward, rolling across the ground.

  Fuck. That hurt.

  I forced myself up, wiping blood from my nose.

  But I was grinning.

  "Getting serious now?" I asked.

  Garrus cracked his knuckles. "You tell me. Still wanna go?"

  I exhaled, resetting my stance.

  "Always."

  And then we clashed again.

  Garrus watched me carefully, his smirk never fading.

  I adjusted my mask, feeling the familiar weight settle against my face. Unlike before, when I first fought him, this time, I wasn’t just reacting—I was reading him, predicting, and planning my next move.

  But Garrus wasn’t just strong—he was smart.

  "You’re fast," he admitted, cracking his knuckles. "But you still rely too much on instinct."

  I rolled my shoulders, gripping my nameless sword tighter. "Then I’ll stop relying on instinct."

  I vanished.

  Not literally. But to the untrained eye, it probably looked like it.

  I dashed low, closing the gap between us instantly—Skill Eater had already memorized the best way to move. My sword flashed—a precise, controlled slash aimed for his ribs.

  Garrus reacted fast.

  He sidestepped, but I expected it.

  I pivoted, twisting my body mid-air, bringing my elbow crashing toward his jaw.

  He blocked with his forearm—but the impact forced him back.

  I landed smoothly, exhaling.

  He touched his arm where I hit him, then grinned. "Now you’re fighting."

  He moved faster than before.

  I barely saw the punch before it slammed into my stomach.

  BOOM!

  I flew back, boots skidding against the wooden floor. My breath hitched—that one hurt.

  But I caught myself.

  I straightened, adjusting my mask.

  "Alright," I exhaled. "Round three."

  Garrus grinned.

  "Come at me, then."

  I steadied my breathing, keeping my stance firm as I asked, "Hey, let me ask you something—if you fought a Tikbalang, would you win?"

  For the first time, Garrus’ expression shifted. His usual cocky smirk faded, replaced by something more serious—almost like my question bothered him.

  He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he cracked his neck and exhaled.

  "They would…" he muttered. Then, his gaze locked onto mine, sharper than before. "If there were five of them."

  I tensed.

  That answer said everything.

  Even he had limits.

  But before I could think deeper, he moved.

  No more talking.

  Just fighting.

  He lunged with a straight punch—I dodged, twisting my body, bringing my sword down in a counter-slash.

  He caught the blade.

  I expected that. I let go with one hand, shifting into a close-range elbow strike.

  He blocked with his forearm. I kicked his knee. He barely flinched.

  I kept moving, my blade flashing in rapid strikes—each one sharper, faster, stronger.

  But Garrus adapted just as quickly.

  He weaved through my attacks, throwing out counters, forcing me to react just as much as I attacked.

  A punch grazed my ribs—I barely managed to turn it into a roll, avoiding the follow-up strike.

  We clashed, again and again, neither side gaining full control.

  His experience against my adaptability.

  Minutes passed, both of us landing hits but neither backing down.

  Finally—we both moved at the same time.

  My sword slashed toward his chest.

  His fist rocketed toward my face.

  BOOM!

  We both stopped inches away from each other.

  My blade hovered just above his heart.

  His fist hovered just in front of my mask.

  Silence.

  Then—we both grinned.

  "Guess that’s a draw," I said, exhaling.

  Garrus chuckled, stepping back. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."

  The gathered adventurers—who had been watching in stunned silence—finally erupted into cheers and whispers.

  "That was insane!"

  "I thought he was gonna lose for sure!"

  "A draw with Garrus? Who the hell is this guy?!"

  I sheathed my sword, my arms aching, but I felt something different this time.

  I wasn’t just surviving.

  I was catching up.

  Garrus stretched, rolling his shoulders. "You’ve got potential, Eli. But potential alone isn’t enough."

  I nodded. "I know. That’s why I’m still getting stronger."

  He smirked. "Good. Because the next time we fight?"

  His eyes gleamed with excitement.

  "I’m not holding back."

  That training answered everything.

  First—I’m still weak.

  Second… I don’t know.

  There was something missing, something I couldn’t quite put into words. I had fought stronger opponents, adapted, survived—but I wasn’t winning. Not completely.

  I wasn’t at that level yet.

  I exhaled, flexing my fingers, feeling the dull ache from my fight with Garrus. He wasn’t even going all out, and I barely kept up.

  But despite that—I felt excited.

  Because now, I really, really wanted to fight another one of those half-horse, half-human bastards.

  A Tikbalang.

  I clenched my fists, my grin hidden behind my mask.

  "Yeah… I need to fight one again."

  ...

  With that, I chugged every last healing potion I had, feeling my body slowly recover from the brutal training session. The soreness faded, my wounds sealed up, and I was good as new.

  Now, onto my next objective—

  Finding a driver to take me to Korthyn Mire.

  Simple, right?

  Wrong.

  I tried five times.

  And I got denied five times.

  The moment I mentioned Korthyn Mire, every single driver either laughed in my face, looked at me like I was crazy, or straight-up told me to fuck off.

  "Are you outta your damn mind, kid?!"

  "Hell no, I ain’t driving near demon-infested lands!"

  "I like living, thanks."

  I even offered extra gold. Still no luck.

  I sighed, rubbing my temples.

  "Guess people really don’t want anything to do with demons, huh?"

  "Now what? Walk there myself—"

  Before I could finish my thought, I felt a tug on my cloak.

  I looked down.

  A kid.

  Bright-eyed, scruffy-haired, no older than ten, grinning up at me like this was completely normal.

  "Hello!" he said cheerfully. "My name’s Finn, and I can take you there!"

  I blinked. What.

  "You?" I repeated, making sure I heard that right.

  He nodded enthusiastically. "Yep!"

  I stared at him. I stared hard.

  This had to be a scam. No way some actual child was casually offering to drive people into demon-infested territory.

  “…You got a wagon?” I asked, skeptical.

  He puffed out his chest. "Yup! My dad’s! I help him with deliveries all the time!"

  "And your dad's… okay with you going to Korthyn Mire?"

  Finn hesitated. "Uh. Well. He doesn’t know."

  Oh. Great. I was about to commit to child endangerment.

  Finn tilted his head, eyeing me curiously.

  "Are you related to K?"

  I blinked. "No?"

  He shrugged. "Oh. Well, I took him there. And we came back alive."

  I froze.

  K? The masked, B-Rank adventurer that the guild wouldn’t shut up about? The guy people compared me to?

  I squinted at the kid. "...You took him to Korthyn Mire?"

  Finn nodded like it was nothing. "Yep! He didn’t talk much, but he paid well. Real scary mask, though. Yours is kinda cool too, but his was—"

  I held up a hand. "Wait. Are you saying you actually drove through demon territory and made it back just fine?"

  Finn beamed. "Yup!"

  I stared at him, then at his small, tiny hands gripping my cloak.

  Either this kid was the luckiest driver in existence…

  …Or K was way more terrifying than I thought.

  ...

  Well, turns out this kid was also a fucking scammer.

  On the way to Korthyn Mire, Finn somehow tricked me into paying for information I already knew.

  “So, you see, the Great Divide is this huge wall that separates—”

  "I KNOW WHAT THE GREAT DIVIDE IS."

  "Oh! Well, did you know about the Divine Blessing?"

  "YES."

  "How about adventurer rankings?"

  "I’M LITERALLY A B-RANK ADVENTURER."

  "Wow! Then you must already know about demons too—wait, that'll be one more gold coin!"

  I glared at him as I handed over another coin.

  Finn grinned, completely unfazed, stuffing the gold into his pocket like a seasoned con artist.

  By the time we actually neared Korthyn Mire, I had lost a stupid amount of money.

  This kid was worse than the merchant square.

  Finn kept talking, now fully embracing his role as my unwanted personal guide.

  "Alright, listen up! First, there are the Two-Horns—weaker than a One-Horned Demon but still stronger than a Lesser Demon."

  I sighed. "Yeah, I know—"

  "Then there are the Hornless Demons—if you ever meet one, you better run."

  I frowned. "Why?"

  Finn grinned. "Because Hornless Demons might be Archdemons or even a Demon Lord."

  I paused at that. Hornless could mean stronger? That was… good to know.

  Finn continued, counting on his fingers. "Then, there are the three well-known demons!"

  He held up one finger.

  "First—the Tikbalang! Half-horse, half-human monsters that are insanely fast and impossible to predict."

  Been there, fought that.

  He held up a second finger.

  "Second—the Mananangal! They’re demons that split in half—the top half flies around hunting people, usually in packs, and they’ve got these crazy sharp claws—"

  I groaned. "Flying pack hunters. Great."

  Finn nodded. "Yup! You’re gonna have a bad time if they find you."

  Then, he held up his third finger.

  "And last—the Kapre! Giant, cigar-smoking demons that lurk in forests, watching people from the trees. Super strong, but they don’t move much unless you piss them off."

  I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "So, to summarize: Tikbalangs will outrun me, Mananangals will swarm me, and Kapres will crush me."

  Finn grinned. "Pretty much!"

  I leaned back in the wagon, already regretting this trip.

  The wagon jerked to a stop.

  Finn turned to me, still grinning, but his tone was serious. "Alright, we're here. I'll wait for you for 24 hours—if you don’t come back by then, well… you’re on your own."

  I glanced at him. "Wow, so generous."

  He shrugged. "Hey, it’s not my fault if you get eaten."

  Fair enough.

  I hopped off the wagon, my boots landing on dead earth. The air was heavy, stale, and unnervingly quiet.

  I took a step forward, scanning the area.

  An abandoned village.

  The path ahead was wide, empty, and really fucking scary.

  Crumbling houses lined the streets, their wooden frames blackened by time. Some had collapsed entirely, leaving behind skeletal remains of what once was.

  No movement. No sound. Not even the wind.

  My instincts screamed at me.

  Something was wrong.

  I tightened my grip on my sword, exhaling.

  No turning back now.

  I stepped forward, disappearing into the village.

  As I walked deeper into the abandoned village, my eyes scanning every ruined house, I suddenly heard it—

  A low, wet hiss.

  I froze.

  Slowly, I turned my head.

  Perched on a broken wooden beam was a lizard… no, a demon.

  Its body was long and serpentine, covered in dark green, almost rotting scales. Its limbs were thin but clawed, and its eyes glowed a sickly yellow.

  It flicked its forked tongue, hissing again.

  I frowned. Finn didn’t mention anything about this one…

  That could only mean one thing—

  It must be a Lesser Demon.

  Which also meant—

  It’s weak.

  I exhaled, loosening my stance. "Well, you’re not what I was looking for, but—"

  The lizard demon lunged.

  Fine. I’ll kill you first.