《Banished to a Haunted Village with My Absurd Strength!》


 Prologue: The Glorious Heroes’ Return... Except for That One Guy

    The grand Human Empire capital was filled with excitement. Glittering banners streamed back and forth with the wind, resounding trumpets echoed down the streets, and the roars of the sea of civilians filled the air to the extent that the birds took flight with a scare. It was the day of the highly anticipated arrival¡ªthe Hero Party''s glorious return, the legendary warriors that had put a stop to the rampaging Great Continent War that had ravaged the continent.


    At the head of the parade strode the Hero himself, blonde-haired Rael Starwind. His green eyes burned with the justice of a chosen warrior, his blonde tresses shimmering like the sunlight itself. At his side strode the ravissante Priestess Seraphina, the delicate beauty of her face and the sweet loveliness of her smile so entrancing that a number of the men fainted where they stood. To the other side of him, the dazzling Mage Lysandra strode with the grace of a masterpiece that had stepped out of a frame. Behind them, the eternally suave Rogue Mirielle winked at the crowds, provoking a spontaneous chorus of squeals of delight and fawns.


    And towering above them all was... a mountain.


    No¡ªwait. That was not a mountain. It was a man.


    Standing at a towering two meters tall with his body brimming with muscles like sculptured boulders clad by his armor was the Hero Party''s swordsman¡ªBalfour Ironhide. His unruly dark locks framed intense blue eyes with a fierce intensity to them. His very presence was sufficient to spread a long shadow of intimidation upon the raucous celebration, and involuntarily the group drew back away from him.


    "Mommy, why is a frightening demon following the Hero?" a little boy asked softly while holding on to his mother''s apron.


    "Shh! Don''t look at it directly. If you look at it a lot, you will be cursed!"


    Balfour''s left eyebrow twitched.


    He heard that.


    No¡ªhe heard everything.


    ''Oi, oi, oi... Kidding me? I really saved this entire continent from destruction! I cut down thousands of monsters with ease, shattered fortresses with bare fists, and held off the army of the Demon King while all of you had time to finish the mission. And this is the way they reward me?!''


    He glanced at the Hero Party standing ahead of him. Members of the Hero Party smiled graciously at the cheering crowds with their faces lit by the light of admiration. The only other male among them was Rael, who luxuriated in the limelight while the women around him radiated otherworldly beauty. The so-called Hero himself struck a pose of drama with his blonde hair shining so radiantly that it could rival the very sun itself.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Balfour cautiously raised a hand to wave.


    The crowd flinched in unison.


    A tomato flew across the sky.


    ''...What the hell, man?!''


    As the parade moved closer to the grand palace, the Emperor himself was ready to greet them. With magic-enhanced voice projection, the Emperor addressed the crowds with the weight of a ruler. "Hail, Heroes of Light! You that have saved this world shall have titles, lands, and wealth beyond your imagination!"


    The audience erupted into a cheer.


    "Rael Starwind! Your title will be that of the Duke of Everglow, with vast lands and riches!"


    The Hero smiled with his teeth sparkling like highly polished jewels.


    "Priestess Seraphina! You shall be elevated to the rank of High Priestess, revered for your sacred beauty and boundless compassion!"


    The Priestess curtsied graciously, with blonde tresses cascading like silk.


    "Mage Lysandra! You shall proceed to the rank of Archmage and lead the Grand Academy of Magic!"


    The Mage smiled enigmatically, the flash of arcane magic shimmering about her presence.


    "Rogue Mirielle! You will serve the Emperor directly as his personal advisor and master strategist!"


    The Rogue winked again with a roguish grin, causing another round of swoons.


    At last, the Emperor turned to Balfour... only to quickly look away again. His face hardened as he raised a parchment to the light, holding it like a man unwilling to look at its message.


    "Ahem. And with respect to... uh... you." He hadn''t directly referred to Balfour by name. "On account of your... ahem... efforts, we have arranged a quiet retirement at a secluded area where you can, ah... relax and enjoy your well-deserved break."


    A vein throbbed on Balfour''s forehead. "And where exactly am I being retired to?"


    The Emperor coughed nervously. "An outlying village deep inside the mainland. Extremely... quiet. Picturesque, even. It has a manor house."


    Balfour''s eyes opened a little wider. ''A house? Possibly this isn''t so dreadful¡ª''


    "One that is... very much aged. It is haunted, they say. And the ground... well... is somewhat peculiar. The earth is so desolate that not even weeds will sprout upon it. But of course, a man of your... stature will find it acceptable."


    The crowd was filled with laughter.


    Balfour''s fists curled into a ball, his knuckles cracking. ''I see how it is... They''re discarding me like rubbish. After all that I''ve done...''


    His gaze turned to his so-called comrades, who were now very resolutely looking away from him.


    ''Rael, you condescending piece of... you flirted with Seraphina more than you fought. Lysandra, you NEVER moved off the backline. And Mirielle... I saw you helping yourself to all that plunder! I did ninety percent of the work! Ninety percent!''


    Balfour''s aura darkened, his body tensing with raw fury that surged within him. The earth itself creaked ominously beneath him.


    "IS THIS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!" he roared, his voice shaking the entire capital. Birds dropped to the ground, windows shattered, and the Emperor fainted on the spot.


    The Hero Party turned stiffly, their well-practiced grins now seeming very uncomfortable.


    "Oh... you''re still here?" Rael asked, blinking innocently.


    Balfour''s fists shook with fury. His face contorted into a terrifying grimace.


    "...Ah. I understand now. All of this is a joke, isn''t it? Hahaha... Ha... Ha... HAHAHA... YOU''RE DEAD, YOU SPARKLY FRAUD!"


    What followed was absolute pandemonium.


    The Hero Party fled in a panic while Balfour chased them, wildly swinging his sword in righteous indignation.


    And thus began the legend of the "Exiled Brutal Hero"¡ªa tale that would shake the entire continent to its foundations.

 Chapter 1: The Prophecy of Shock

    [After being exiled to village]


    The village was in shambles.


    Banners fluttered in the wind, the crowds screamed in rapture, and confetti rained down upon the Prophecy Hero, Balfour Ironhide. Or at least, that''s what the village chief liked to refer to him as. It was hard to tell, since all Balfour could focus on at the moment was the searing heat against his skin.


    "By the gods, why am I half-naked?!" Balfour growled to himself, his thumbs flexing on the tattered hem of his worn-out tunic, which, if anything, seemed even more like a fading memory than something he really wore.


    The village leader stood before him, beaming with a wide smile, and grasping what appeared to be an ancient scroll. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he declared, "The prophecy has come! You, Balfour Ironhide, Hero of Light, are to save our world from the coming darkness!"


    The crowd cheered. The atmosphere resounded with the sound of clapping as they looked on in awe at their great hero¡ªwell, all except the wee but vociferous minority of children who looked at his chest agog and whispered softly, "Is he? He''s. so big and bare."


    Balfour gritted his teeth. He could feel sweat welling up, his skin nearly steaming from the continual observation of every villager. And yet no one seemed to see that, aside from being twice their height, he was completely shirtless and now greatly uneasy.


    "Yeah, thanks for the ''doomed to save the world'' bit, chief," Balfour growled, already perspiring on his forehead. "But as for the no shirt business¡ªcan someone explain that part to me?"


    The chief, unmoved by his evident discomfort, continued, "Ah, yes, of course! It is written in the sacred scriptures that the Hero will walk this earth with no armor to cover his strength. His muscles will be his strength, his bare skin his armor!"


    Balfour blinked, the prophecy words filtering slowly into his brain. No armor? Naked skin? His muscles his shield?


    "Got to be kidding me." Balfour growled, looking at the entire village as if it was some gigantic joke he couldn''t escape.


    "Alright, let me get this straight," Balfour''s voice went flat. "I''m supposed to walk around. with my muscles bulging? I''m the hero and you''d have me walking around without a shirt? Just like that?"This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The chief nodded, absolutely convinced by the prophecy. "Yes, indeed! Because the world will see your power, and your courage, by seeing you in your lowest form!"


    Balfour looked at his physique¡ªhis abs, his biceps, raw bone mass of his chest. And for the first time in a long time, he considered what was required of him.


    So you''re saying. all this power," he waved his arm across his body dramatically, "must be on display for the world to admire? My abs are supposed to be. my shield?"


    The chief smiled broadly. "Right! You''re a symbol of unbridled masculinity, and the prophecy requires you to be naked to cloak it!"


    The crowd erupted. Absolutely loved it.


    Balfour, in total disbelief, let out a long sigh. "This is the dumbest thing I''ve ever heard."


    But the villagers, blissfully unaware of the absurdity of it all, took his silence as a declaration of acceptance.


    The chief gestured, and a group of overly eager villagers, all with varying degrees of excitement, tore his shirt off¡ªwhether Balfour liked it or not.


    Fabric tearing echoed through the air as Balfour struggled to preserve his dignity.


    "Wait! What are you¡ª" he tried to bellow, but too late. The shirt was ripped away.


    "Now, you are the real hero!" the chief declared with triumphant cry.


    Balfour stood helpless and vulnerable, surrounded by a wave of clapping villagers. His eyes scanned the horizon, with a desperate hope for some miraculous divine intervention that would sweep him off. But none such arrived. No exit was to be had from the ridiculous prophecy.


    "Someone. someone give back my shirt to me." Balfour cursed under his breath, feeling the sharp sting of humiliation mixed with a strange sense of helplessness. He couldn''t wear any armor, couldn''t even wear a simple shirt, and yet was somehow supposed to take this seriously.


    The village women, young and old, however, looked at him as if he were the very literal embodiment of the sun itself.


    "Oh, my, what a masculine hero you are!" one of them breathed.


    "Yes! What a beautiful specimen! I''ve never seen such a chest so¡ªso well defined!" another swooned, batting her eyelashes.


    Balfour''s face turned redder than a beetroot. Why was this happening to him?


    And yet, the absolute worst of all was when the chief stepped up again, bearing a ceremonial "macho crown," a crown so ridiculous-looking that it appeared to have been crafted with the use of an extravagantly huge comb and plumes.


    "Ah yes, now that you''ve embraced your fate, the world will know you as the Hero of Strength! The ''Macho Man of the Prophecy,'' if you prefer!" the chief declared, placing the crown on Balfour''s head with unbridled pride.


    "Great," Balfour growled, fighting the urge to yell. "I''m the Macho Man of the Prophecy, and I''m shirtless. What''s next? Do I have to start flexing to seal the deal?"


    Before the chief could answer, a stray cow walked by, gazing at Balfour as if he were some sort of strange animal. A child pointed.


    "Mommy, is that the hero? The big, shiny man with no shirt?"


    The mother, similarly confused but amazed, nodded. "Yes, dear. That''s the one. He''s the one who''ll save us. All thanks to his power."


    And Balfour''s fear began.