Hunting MILFs in a Trash Eroge

Damien leaned slightly against the wooden wall near the window, his eyes faintly narrowing as his gaze swept over the field outside.

The guards were still busy gathering the monster corpses he'd ordered them to arrange—dragging, stacking, and hauling the remains with trembling arms.

A faint grin tugged at his lips.

'I can already imagine how much money I'll gain from selling those corpses,'he thought, the corners of his mouth curving a bit more.

Monster hides, claws, cores—all of them sold well could easily fetch him quite an amount of gold coins.

That was no small fortune… but a grand one!

With that, his financial status would soar, and he would probably become the wealthiest man in the village!

He could have simply stored some of them inside his inventory but doing that in front of all those villagers and guards would have been foolish.

There were too many eyes watching him now—too many whispers already calling him something he didn't particularly care for: a hero.

There was no need to do that when he could just get the useless village guards to do the dirty work for him.

He exhaled and turned his gaze from the window, his attention returning to the two women who still stood frozen by the corner.

His gaze drifted down to their huge breasts, and he gulped.

But then, he quickly swallowed those desires, knowing they couldn't do anything for now… especially with more than half of the villagers outside their house.

"Nora. Claire."

His voice came out softer now, cutting gently through the silence that had lingered since his return. "Are you two okay?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, unanswered.

The two women only kept staring at him, their eyes wide, their expressions a mix of disbelief and awe.

To them, the man standing before them wasn't the same Damien they knew.

Claire was the first to swallow, her throat tightening slightly before she managed to find her voice.

"You've gotten…" she murmured, her tone trembling. "So strong."

Nora nodded slowly beside her, her eyes flickering as she studied him from head to toe. "I can't believe it…" she whispered.

It felt unreal.

It felt like yesterday when Damien was the quiet boy who was helplessly bullied by Brad and his group.

And now…

Now he was the village's protector. The savior. The one everyone now whispered about in reverence.

Damien's gaze softened, and a faint, warm smile crossed his lips as he looked at the two women.

"I told you," he said quietly. "Things are going to change for us."

Damien's smile lingered for a second longer before fading, his eyes flickering strangely—his entire demeanor shifting from warmth to cold in an instant.

"But first," he said, straightening his posture slightly, "I need to go somewhere."

The tone in his voice carried no doubt or hesitation. Whatever it was he needed to do, it was important.

And though neither Nora nor Claire could bring themselves to ask what he meant, they both nodded slowly, understanding in silence that he wasn't someone they could stop now.

Damien's gaze softened again briefly as he looked between them, a quiet confidence flickering behind his eyes.

He knew that even if he left now, nothing would happen to them.

His name now carried weight in the village—power. No one would dare cross him, not after what everyone had witnessed today.

The guards, the villagers, even the other kids who once mocked his name would now think twice before even breathing wrong in his presence.

The only lingering thought that pulled slightly at his attention were the monster corpses outside.

But he was certain the village guards wouldn't go back on their word. They were too terrified of him to even try something so foolish now.

He turned toward the door, his expression sharpening as his eyes flickered faintly with crimson light.

In front of him—visible only to him—several faint red, smoky lines shimmered in the air.

They twisted and writhed faintly like serpents, all converging toward the same direction far beyond the edge of the village.

Each one pulsed faintly with the trace of mana that lingered in the wake of the fleeing monsters.

Damien's lips curled slowly into a smirk.

"Don't think you escaped me…" he muttered. eyes narrowing with determination as his hand rested on the hilt of his sword once more.

When he'd been fighting earlier, amidst the chaos of snapping jaws and shattering bones, Damien had already expected that the horde wouldn't last forever.

Their retreat wasn't just likely—it was inevitable.

The same thing happened in the game when Stanley was fighting them.

The beast waves suddenly pulled back at a point, the person controlling them from the shadow finally deciding to retreat.

That was why he had deliberately held back. He'd made sure that at least a few of them survived.

He could've annihilated the entire pack easily—he knew that—but that would've been shortsighted. He needed information more than carnage.

In the game, Stanley never bothered to chase them, or even find out where they actually came from.

He was more bothered with relishing in the villager's praises, even going on to make a few dramatic poses just to get more cheers.

It wasn't until later in the game when the truth was revealed, and by then, it was already too late.

But that was Stanley, and unlike him, he wasn't stupid.

And that was exactly why he'd prepared.

During the battle, while the monsters had been raging and the villagers screaming in panic, Damien had opened his system shop.

He'd needed something specific—a way to trace the source of the attack, to track down the puppeteer pulling the strings.

And that was when he found it.

[Hunter's Trail (B-rank)]

[Level: 1]

[Description: Plant a red trail on any target of your choice, making it possible to track them wherever they may be. Note: Trail expires after 24 hours.]

[Cost: 1500 mana]

The skill costed quite an amount of Hunter points, but after his little encounter with Sophie, he had more than enough points to spare on a B-rank skill.

And then while fighting the beasts, he made sure to plant the trial on their bodies, leaving the leaving the glowing mark invisible to all but him.

Now those very marks had become the red trails floating faintly before his eyes.

'By following them,' he thought, 'I'll find those monsters… and whoever is controlling them.'

The idea sent a low thrill down his spine. Finally, he'd get to see what he was truly dealing with.

He stepped forward once, the red lines trembling faintly in response—as if sensing his intent. Then, with a low breath, he vanished from his spot.

The villagers barely had time to blink.

A loud whoosh of displaced air echoed as Damien's body blurred into motion, kicking off the ground with explosive force.

The dirt beneath his boots cracked under the sudden pressure, scattering dust and ashes into the air as he bolted forward, following the trails like a streak of light.

"W–what the—!" someone shouted.

Another gasped, their voice trembling. "Did you see that speed?!"

"By the gods… he's so fast…"

"He's really our hero!"

The murmurs spread instantly, filling the air with excitement and awe.

To them, the figure darting through the fields wasn't Damien, the quiet boy who once mumbled his way through conversations, who avoided eye contact, who'd been pushed around by Brad and the other thugs for sport.

Their "hero," as they now called him, was already something beyond human to their eyes.

And yet Damien didn't care about any of that.

The red trails in front of him remained his only guide—twisting and bending, leading him through the scattered debris of fallen trees and smoldering earth.

Minutes passed.

His breathing was steady, his stride relentless. The faint shimmer of the trails burned bright in his eyes as he followed their every shift, every curve, every turn they made through the wilderness.

Then, his expression shifted.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Something was… changing.

The air ahead of him grew heavier—thicker. The once-clear landscape began to blur faintly, and soon, his vision was enveloped in a soft, rolling mist.

A white-gray fog had begun to spill across the terrain, twisting and curling like smoke rising from an unseen fire.

It was dense—unnaturally so.

His boots slowed slightly as he stepped into it, the red trails dimming but still faintly visible through the haze.

'A fog… here?' he thought, his eyes flickering with alertness.

The air was colder now. Moisture brushed faintly against his skin. The faint sound of insects and distant rustles disappeared almost entirely, leaving only the sound of his own footsteps echoing through the mist.

It wasn't natural. He could feel it immediately.

There was something within this fog—something that made it.

He raised his sword slightly, the flames along its edge flaring to life again, casting a faint orange glow through the white-gray shroud around him.

The trails continued forward, cutting straight through the fog's heart.

Damien exhaled softly, his lips curling into a faint, sharp grin.

"So that's where you ran to…"

Suddenly, the flames around his blade flickered, before vanishing, replaced by a brilliant blue lightning.

The lightning coiled around the blade like snakes, causing loud crackles of electricity.

"Show yourself… or I'll make you." he said, his voice growing colder with each word.

In response, the lightning around his sword spread even more, until they covered his body in a dense layer.

Five sharp spears of pure lightning materialised behind him, each one pointing towards a certain direction.

"S-stop… I'm sorry!" a loud, soft voice suddenly from his front.