《The Retired Villain Needs To Comeback》 Chapter 1: The song that wasnt sung The village of Iltown sat on the quiet border between two kingdoms, nestled in the shadow of old battlefields. Long ago, war had torn through this land, leaving its scars on the people who remained. Some bore them as missing limbs, others as old wounds that never quite healed. But war was a thing of the past. Now, Iltown was a place of peace, a place where those who had suffered could live without fear. Winter had settled heavily over the village, burying rooftops and pathways beneath thick blankets of snow. Icicles hung like jagged teeth from the eaves of houses, and the river that once carried merchants between kingdoms now lay frozen, its surface reflecting the dull gray of an overcast sky. The scent of burning wood lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp bite of cold, as the people of Iltown huddled indoors, escaping the bitter frost. At the very edge of the village, far from the bustling market and the blacksmith¡¯s forge, stood a small, lonely house. Its roof sagged under the weight of snow, and frost clung stubbornly to its windows, but the land around it remained strangely untouched by winter¡¯s grasp. Al, once a name that inspired dread, now belonged to nothing more than an old man with dirt under his nails and a grumpy bird perched on his shoulder. Unlike the rest of Iltown, his land was warm¡ªunnaturally so. The greenhouse behind his home, a tangled fortress of vines and rare plants, pulsed with life even as the world outside lay frozen and dead. It was Al¡¯s pride, his refuge, the only thing he had left. He hummed softly as he worked, his hands deep in the soil. The tune was old¡ªolder than the war, older than the village, perhaps. A song of the sea, meant to be sung in laughter and drunken joy, but here, in Al¡¯s voice, it was slow and wistful. "Yo-ho-ho-ho¡­ yo-ho-ho-ho¡­" Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The bird on his shoulder, Yvon, tilted its head at him. "Your turn," Al said. Yvon, a Skychime, was supposed to be a perfect mimic. It had memorized the mayor¡¯s grumbling, the butcher¡¯s sneezes, and even the sound of a chair scraping against the tavern floor. Yet, when it came to this song, it refused to learn. Yvon fluffed its feathers, then whistled¡ªhorribly off-key. Al scowled. "That wasn¡¯t even close." Yvon clicked its beak and turned its head away, pretending not to hear. "You little bastard," Al muttered. "You¡¯ll sing Theo¡¯s whining but not this? I should¡¯ve eaten you when I had the chance." Yvon let out a sharp squawk, clearly offended. Al sighed, shaking his head as he returned to his work. Life was peaceful. Life was simple. And life was about to be ruined. He felt it first¡ªthe strange prickle at the back of his neck, like the air had shifted around him. Then he heard it: the crunch of snow beneath hurried, unsteady steps, the snap of a brittle branch, and the quiet, desperate panting of someone hiding nearby. He turned. A boy stood at the edge of his greenhouse¡ªsmall, filthy, and trembling. His clothes were in tatters, his bare feet red and raw from the cold. Snow clung to his hair and lashes, and steam curled from his breath in uneven gasps. But it wasn¡¯t his pitiful state that made Al pause. It was the way the boy flickered. For a second, he was there. Solid. Real. Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished. Al¡¯s eyes narrowed. And when the boy reappeared, crouching over his precious potatoes, clutching one as if it were a lifeline, Al had seen enough. "Hey!" His voice was sharp. "Put that down." The boy flinched, his wide golden eyes locking onto Al¡¯s. There was no defiance in them¡ªonly fear. But he didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t run. Instead, his body flickered again, like a flame about to go out. A cursed child. Al¡¯s gut told him to turn away, to pretend he hadn¡¯t seen. Curses were never simple, never safe. But as the boy collapsed, his fragile form barely holding together, Al knew¡ª He was already too late to ignore it. Yvon let out a low whistle beside him, this time perfectly clear, as if to say, I told you so. Al scowled. This was going to be a problem. Chapter 2: The Rotten Men and the Ruined Potatoes From the shadows, something stirred. A grotesque figure twisted unnaturally as it stepped into the dim light, its form stretched too thin, as if its body had been pieced together wrong. Frostbitten skin clung to sinewy muscle, cracked and peeling to reveal dark, pulsing veins beneath. Its limbs were long, unnatural¡ªjoints snapping sharply with every movement, like a marionette being yanked by unseen strings. Its face was worse. Hollow, sunken sockets gleamed with a sickly, icy glow, void of reason or recognition. Then its mouth¡ªjagged, uneven¡ªunhinged with a sickening crack, revealing rows of serrated teeth, shifting and multiplying as if they had a life of their own. Long, clawed fingers twitched, curling as though already grasping for flesh. A suffocating cold clung to its presence, distorting the air with an eerie frost, ice creeping along the ground where it stood. Yet despite its gaunt appearance, its movements were anything but weak¡ªpredatory, deliberate, fast. Then¡ªits head jerked, snapping toward them with unnatural speed. It had seen them. And it was already moving. Al grabbed a flimsy tree branch¡ªbarely more than a twig¡ªand pointed it at the approaching figure. The reaction was immediate. The thing jerked to a stop, its movement stuttering, limbs twitching unnaturally. The tip of the branch pressed against its forehead, yet it refused to move past it, its clawed fingers stretching desperately, its mouth opening and closing in a grotesque, mindless motion¡ªlike it was trying to bite, trying to devour, but the branch held it back. Then the stench hit. Rot. Damp, frozen decay. It clawed at Al¡¯s throat, thick and suffocating, a rancid mix of something long dead and something that should have never been alive in the first place. His stomach lurched, and he instinctively covered his nose with his sleeve, eyes watering. Then¡ªthe full horror of it. Its frostbitten skin was stretched too tight over brittle bones, cracked and blackened in places, as if frost and rot had waged war across its flesh. Its joints popped with each erratic twitch, bending at angles that no living thing should be able to. And its eyes¡ªif they could even be called that¡ªwere hollow pits, empty yet somehow brimming with a sickly, unnatural glow. Al tightened his grip on the branch. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°¡­Great,¡± he muttered, voice muffled behind his sleeve. ¡°Just what I needed today.¡± Al wasn¡¯t a hero. Nor was he particularly patient. So when a rotting, half-decomposed, corpse stumbled into his precious farm, his first instinct was to complain. "Mister, you smell." Yeah no kidding. He smells rotten flesh, and not that he judging the man''s look but he clearly a dead body walking around with rotten flesh. And it smells. Did i mention that already? It stared at him, or at least, Al thought it did. Hard to tell when one eye socket was empty, and the other had something suspiciously glowing wedged inside. Ybon flapped his wings and screamed. ¡°UNWELCOME! UNWELCOME!¡± Al pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Yeah, seriously.¡± The thing continued forward, its remaining eye locked onto the greenhouse, which stood in stark contrast to the frozen wasteland outside. Snow buried the rest of the farm, but Al¡¯s greenhouse, his life¡¯s work, was still warm, still thriving, still untouched by winter. Al¡¯s gaze flicked to the faint, pulsing text crawling across the creature¡¯s sickly, frostbitten skin. Ancient magic? Some disease? Or just really bad hygiene? ¡­Didn¡¯t matter. What did matter was that it had stepped too close to his potatoes. Al swat the hand that keep reaching him. The thing wobbled, then¡ªplop. But it didn''t stopping it in its tracks. An arm fell off. Al blinked. ¡°Huh.¡± The thing didn¡¯t care. It just kept reaching him forward. Al pushed the stick harder. Plop. A finger fell off. Ybon cackled. ¡°Limb soup! Limb soup!¡± Al gagged. ¡°Gods, I hate you sometimes.¡± The thing stumbled again, its remaining hand reaching for the greenhouse. The moment it crossed the threshold, Al felt it. His magic¡ªhis carefully maintained greenhouse magic¡ªwas being sucked away. The damn thing was stealing it. Al¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°You rotten bastard.¡± The thing did not understand insults. But that didn¡¯t stop Al from yelling at it anyway. ¡°You come into my farm, you steal my magic, and you dare step near my potatoes?¡± The thing took another step. Al had had enough. "Alright, that¡¯s it." Raising a hand, he conjured a controlled burst of flame, enough to engulf the walking corpse. Instantly, the rotting thing twitched. Then, from behind him¡ª "NO, WAIT¡ª!!" The cursed kid, who Al had completely forgotten about, shouted too late. The fire hit. For half a second, everything seemed fine. Then¡ª It SCREAMED. The air shuddered. The once-sluggish corpse suddenly moved at unnatural speed, its limbs snapping back into place like a marionette yanked by a violent puppeteer. Al took a step back. ¡°¡­Oh.¡± THEN IT CHARGED. ¡°WHAT THE HELL?!¡± The cursed kid scrambled to his feet. ¡°I SAID FIRE MAKES IT GROW STRONGER!!¡± ¡°YOU SAID IT TOO LATE, YOU DAMN BRAT!!¡± Al dove sideways, narrowly dodging the attack. Al screamed. Yvon screamed louder. The greenhouse erupted into chaos. Al was flailing with the flimsy stick, dodging flying limbs and burning, rabid corpses, while the cursed kid was yelling instructions he should have given earlier. Meanwhile, the eret he originally attacked had gone stronger, destroying everything in its path. Including his potatoes. Al watched in horror as his precious crops were trampled under rotting feet. His beautiful, thriving, ever-good potatoes. A piece of the greenhouse collapsed. The cursed kid ducked. ¡°Uhh, Mister?¡± Al slowly turned, flames burning in his eyes. ¡°¡­I¡¯m going to kill something.¡± Chapter 3: The Potato Thief’s Perspective The potato thief, Ren flickered in and out of existence. He struggled to stay. His fingers phased through the dirt, his feet barely touching the ground. It was exhausting. Then, suddenly¡ª A weight on his head. Warm. Feathery. ¡°Squawk! STAY STILL!¡± A Skychime bird had landed on him. And just like that¡ªRen solidified. His body stopped flickering, his fingers no longer slipping through objects. He blinked, dazed, looking up at the ridiculous bird now sitting comfortably on his head. The bird pecked at his hair. ¡°Dumb kid! DUMB KID!¡± Ren scowled. ¡°Get off me, you feathered menace!¡± Before he could argue, an explosion of heat filled the air. The boy flinched, head snapping toward the battle. Meanwhile, Al, fighting for its life, raises a hand, he conjured a controlled burst of flame, enough to engulf the walking corpse. Instantly, the rotting thing twitched. ¡°NO,WAIT! DON¡¯T USE FIRE!¡± The fireball already touch the eret and explode on the monster. The eret twitched. For half a second, everything seemed fine. Then¡ªboom! Ren panicked. Who didn¡¯t know Erets gets stronger in heat!? Why didn¡¯t this person know that!? The more heat it consumed, the stronger it got. It was common knowledge, a basic survival fact drilled into every child. Yet here they were, recklessly feeding the very thing that could tear them apart. And based on how it exploded¡ªnot only was the fireball massive, but its sheer force was overwhelming. The heatwave slammed into him, scorching the air in his lungs. This wasn¡¯t just a simple reaction; the Eret had absorbed more than enough energy, and now it was unleashing it in full force. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°GRAAAAAAAGHHH!¡± The air shuddered. The Eret''s body convulsing as the heat it devoured twisted it further. It swelled to twice its previous size, its once-gaunt frame now more solid, sinewy muscle replacing its former brittle form. Its pale, frostbitten skin blackened into charred flesh, cracked and splitting in places where small tongues of fire flickered to life. Its movements, though still uneven, carried a newfound weight¡ªeach step heavier, each lunge more forceful. Its fingers thickened into clawed hands, no longer fragile but solid, capable of rending through anything in its path. Embers clung stubbornly to its body, flaring up where the heat still burned strongest, yet it lacked the raw, uncontrollable power of a fully transformed beast. It was stronger, more dangerous, but still incomplete¡ªstill starved for the heat it needed to reach its true monstrous form. Alric took a step back. ¡°¡­Oh.¡± The once-sluggish corpse suddenly moved at unnatural speed, faster than what it was before. Its limbs snapping back into place like a marionette yanked by a violent puppeteer. THEN IT CHARGED. ¡°WHAT THE HELL?!¡± The cursed kid scrambled to his feet. Running as he screamed at the man. ¡°WHO DIDN¡¯T KNOW ERET BECOMES STRONGER WHEN IT WAS HIT WITH FIRE!? ¡°YOU SAID IT TOO LATE, YOU DAMN BRAT!!¡± The man¡¯s voice ripped through the air, raw with frustration as he twisted his body, barely dodging the lunging Eret. Its grotesque form skidded against the frozen ground, clawed limbs tearing through ice and dirt as it let out a shrill, inhuman screech. But it didn¡¯t stop. With a violent jerk, the creature shifted, its eyes locking onto a new target¡ªRen. ¡°Shit¡ª!¡± Al cursed. Ren¡¯s breath hitched as the monster bolted toward him, limbs twitching unnaturally, its jagged mouth unhinging with a sickening crack. The snow beneath its feet melted from the sheer heat of its presence, blackened sludge sizzling where it landed. It was too fast. Too close. Ren¡¯s body already at its limit as he run. His breath burned in his throat, his legs sluggish against the snow. The cold bit at his skin, but the real terror came from behind¡ªthe Eret was closing in. Too fast. Al was too far. Too damn far. Ren could hear the thing gaining on him, the wet, unnatural crack of its joints as it lurched forward. The heat of its breath ghosted against his back, its claws stretching toward him¡ª He wasn¡¯t going to make It. The moment stretched. Slowed. The Eret¡¯s fangs parted, ready to clamp down¡ª Then¡ª He felt it first, the weight that he hadn¡¯t noticed on his head vanished. Something small and warm¡ªsomething he¡¯d barely registered in his panic¡ªwas suddenly gone. Then he heard the soft flutter of wings. His entire body flickered¡ª A hand grabbed the back of his collar, yanking him violently off the ground. Ren¡¯s vision blurred. Then he was airborne. The world spun as Al swung him in a sharp, brutal arc, his muscles tightening with effortless strength. The motion wasn¡¯t graceful¡ªit was forceful, like throwing a sack of grain. Ren barely had time to yelp before his body was flung across the snow, crashing against the frozen earth and rolling to a rough stop. For a moment, the world felt distant. His body ached from the impact, but something else caught his attention. Something tumbled with him, bouncing against the ice¡ª Thud. Thud. Thud. The potato. It rolled ahead of him, stopping just a few inches from his outstretched fingers, as if mocking him. For a long moment, he just lay there, dazed, watching the stupid thing settle into the snow.