In a remote alley within the Zor City State, a few Zor had cornered one of their own.

He didn’t look very old. At sixty-eight, he was still a child.

"What are you doing here? Freak! This is our turf!"

The leader, a burly teenager, put on a fierce expression and sneered at the skinny Zor he had cornered.

When no Extraordinary Power is involved, size is what guarantees victory in a fistfight.

And this kid, whose forearms were thicker than other Zor’s calves, clearly had that guarantee in spades.

If he played football, he’d be the quarterback with a cheerleader girlfriend, no question.

"Listen up. The Queen and Red Dragon Zog are holding a huge concert. Every Zor who can sing is going to be there. But guess who didn’t get an invitation?"

One of his lackeys, a real suck-up, immediately jumped in.

"You!"

"HA HA HA..." The laughter that followed wasn’t remotely funny, but they forced it out anyway to seem "cooler."

Then came the spastic, overly aggressive posturing, like they were having some kind of fit.

"Take your crappy instrument and go home, you skinny monkey who can barely strum a few chords."

"Don’t go hiding in your room and crying by your lonesome, little Elf."

"Whoa! You really scared him."

"The Priest is coming!" a shout came from outside the alley.

Hearing the shout, the bullies glanced at the Zor cowering in the corner and spat on the ground in contempt.

"Let’s go. We gotta get ready. Maybe we’ll be the ones Lord Zog picks."

With that, they swaggered out of the alley.

It was the kind of walk where they hunched their backs, craned their necks forward, and shoved their hands in their pockets. But they made sure to flare their elbows way out, as if their non-existent lat muscles were too massive to let their arms hang straight. They walked with bow legs, kicking their splay-feet forward.

Any trash or pebbles in their path had to be kicked.

Still, guys like that usually don’t stay on top for long.

Once they got a little older and struggled with their studies, they’d have to grab the first menial job they could find.

Later in life, they’d either have a sudden awakening and wish they could beat the crap out of their younger selves...

...or they’d stay clueless and unrepentant, and that would be all they’d ever amount to.

They didn’t leave because they thought a Priest would intervene in a case of schoolyard bullying.

These were the Zor, after all. Preying on the weak was the way of their ancestors—an immutable law.

Neutral Evil. Social Darwinists, every last one of them.

It was simply that when a Priest was out and about, any Zor who saw them had to pay their respects. The alternative was a flogging.

「Back in the alley.」

"They didn’t do anything to you, did they, Xiaode?"

The friends of the Zor who’d just been cornered rushed in. They were, of course, the ones who had shouted about the Priest.

"Heh, a Priest. What a great excuse," said the Zor called Xiaode, stretching muscles stiff from tension. "If a Priest had *actually* shown up, you’d be the one getting flogged."

"My aunt wouldn’t whip me."

"Oh, that’s right, I forgot. My deepest apologies. Please forgive my impertinence, my esteemed lady."

He was the one who’d been saved, yet he was acting like a total jerk.

Maybe he was just an asshole. Or maybe he was using aggression to hide his own deep-seated insecurity.

"Xiaode! Don’t call me that!" The girl’s face flushed with anger.

Judging by her clothes, she was clearly the one with the most distinguished status in their group of friends.

But she hated being treated as special.

"Sorry," Xiaode mumbled, turning his head away. "I’m going to the concert."

"What concert?"

"The one the Queen and Zog are holding, obviously."

"But you weren’t invited, were you?"

"So what? What if Zog chooses me? You guys coming?"

Xiaode was clearly just saying this out of spite toward those other Zor.

Still, being chosen by Zog was a genuinely good path in life. For the Zor, it was the best job you could get, second only to becoming a Priest.

But since only females could become Priests, serving Zog was the undisputed top choice for every male Zor.

Zor City State (×)

Zog Group Talent Market (✓)

Following an Ancient Red Dragon around the world on a robbing spree was absolutely evil—and incredibly prestigious.

Although recently, any Zor working abroad who came home to visit family refused to talk about what they were actually doing.

But since they brought back more Gold Coins than ever, it was still incredibly prestigious.

"Of course we’re coming! We’re a band!" the girl chimed in enthusiastically.

"But will we actually get picked? We’re not very good at the traditional Zor songs. We’re actually pretty bad," another friend said, sounding uncertain.

In truth, they weren’t bad. Their fundamentals were actually quite solid. They just didn’t stand out in the hyper-competitive Zor music scene.

To make matters worse, there was the tone of their lead singer, Xiaode, which clashed horribly with the traditional Elf aesthetic.

As their schoolteacher had put it, his voice was like a chipped dagger grinding against a rusty old Shield.

Xiaode, however, was perfectly happy with it. He insisted it was a singing style filled with power, and that he simply hadn’t found the right audience for it yet.

"No," Xiaode said firmly. "We’re going to play our own song."

"Well, get ready to be booed off the stage, then."

The Zor community didn’t think much of their amateur band’s songs.

The reason was simple: compared to the complex Elf compositions, their arrangements were too sparse, usually using just a few chords and lots of repetitive sections. It was considered low-skill.

Their only saving grace was that their music was full of emotion—so full it felt more like an outburst.

The band members carried their far-from-exquisite instruments: a bass, a drum kit, and an Arpeggio Harp. They were all cheap, common items from side-street shops. In trade speak, they were only a small step up from firewood. The drum kit was even cobbled together by themselves.

The group hurried toward the Queen’s theater.

The concert was being held in the square in front of the theater. It was an audition, and besides the performers, the square was packed with a crowd of onlookers.

Relying on their small, nimble frames, Xiaode and his friends squeezed their way to the very front.

"Is that Zog?" Xiaode wondered, staring curiously at the red figure beside the Queen.

"I think so?" a bandmate replied, equally unsure.

’Something that small attacking cities and plundering territory? The thought was kind of hilarious.’

The audition had already been going on for a while.

Xiaode watched the Zor performing in the square, and the more he listened, the more his heart sank.

He wasn’t a fan of the traditional Zor songs, but he had to admit, the woman currently singing was on a completely different level from them.

And yet, even for a performance like that, Zog, sitting on the high platform, simply shook his head.

’If even she isn’t good enough, what chance do we have? It would be a total joke.’

Xiaode lost his nerve. He’d only come here on a hot-headed impulse, and now that initial fire had mostly burned out.

’The plan was to just rush onto the stage and perform. Well, if I don’t rush up there, I can’t fail.’

’Makes sense.’

Xiaode was about to retreat, but as he turned, he happened to glimpse some familiar faces.

It was the gang of Zor who had cornered him in the alley.

’So they weren’t invited either. They were just part of the audience, same as me.’

Putting arrogant fools in their place is a primal urge.

The impulse that had been about to fade came roaring back at full strength.

Just as the Zor on stage finished her performance, Xiaode stormed into the open area.

Every eye in the square turned to him.

CRACK!

He’d dropped his instrument. It lay cracked on the ground.

The gazes of both Zog and the Queen shot toward him. In that instant, Xiaode wished he were dead.