Steven had no idea that his laughter had left the Inquisitors in shock.
At this moment, his only thought was to vent his inner craving for battle.
And fortunately, the Seaborn known as The First To Talk seemed sturdy enough to take a beating.
Its fluid-like body allowed it to barely endure Steven's sudden attack, and its remarkable regenerative ability had already begun patching itself back together.
But that didn't stop Steven from swaggering forward.
He reached out with one hand, grabbing the creature by what he assumed was the underside of its head, lifting it effortlessly into the air.
"Are you still planning to go after my daughter?"
Steven's gaze flicked to the surrounding monsters—
They had instinctively taken a few steps back in fear.
Yet the Seaborn in his grasp remained unwavering.
"Rescuing… my kin… is my… duty."
Even as gelatinous, blood-like fluid oozed from its broken body, the creature continued speaking, albeit in a halting and strained manner.
—Huh.
Hearing that, Steven almost felt like he was the villain here.
Like these things were some kind of self-sacrificing heroes fighting to save their people.
—Yeah, he should've just started punching instead of asking.
Without another word, Steven raised his fist and slammed it straight into the monster's face.
CRACK
The sickening sound of shattering flesh echoed through the battlefield.
The creature's entire head collapsed into a pile of sludge.
Finally.
Silence.
But then, from within its chest cavity, a voice, still devoid of any emotion, rasped:
"Kin… must be… saved."
Steven sucked in a sharp breath.
"—The hell?!"
Were their heads just for decoration?!
What kind of biological nonsense was this?!
He didn't get it, and he wasn't about to start trying now.
With an annoyed grunt, Steven tossed the monster to the ground.
Its massive body landed with a heavy thud, flesh colliding against the earth.
Steven didn't even bother drawing his sword this time.
Instead, he simply clenched his fists.
This was on it.
It chose this.
No more words.
No more nonsense.
Steven's fists rained down, like a soulless pile driver, pounding mercilessly into the Seaborn's body.
With every punch, the sheer force of the shockwaves sent any surrounding monsters flying before they could even think of sneaking up on him.
And as for The First To Talk itself?
No one could even begin to imagine the suffering it was experiencing.
<+>
Even the three Inquisitors, who had been watching from the sidelines, turned their heads away.
None of them wanted to witness the scene any longer.
The sheer brutality, the way flesh and blood sprayed with every impact, It was too much.
"...Was he always this violent?"
Carmen, the elderly Saint, finally broke the silence.
His tone was… conflicted.
He turned toward Irene, the one who had spent the most time with Steven.
"Only in battle, I think."
Irene frowned slightly, uncertain.
"But this… this feels… personal."
Previously, Steven only ever threw rocks at enemies.
He never seemed to target a specific individual like this.
She wasn't sure what to make of it.
"...I see."
Carmen sighed.
"Let's just hope he never turns against Iberia."
He had originally wanted Steven to spare the creature.
After all, this was the first Seaborn he had ever seen that could speak Iberian fluently.
If they could interrogate it, they might have learned something valuable.
But now?
Carmen wasn't even sure if there would be enough of it left for interrogation at all.
This wasn't an exaggeration, Steven's punches had so much force and momentum that it honestly didn't look like he was going to leave that thing with a whole body.
Even if he wanted to, the creature's physical limits might not allow it.
For nearly a full minute, Steven hammered away at The First To Talk.
By the time he finally stopped, the ground beneath him had sunk several meters deep into a crater.
As for what was left of the creature inside?
Just a mangled, pulpy mess of flesh and fluids.
Steven let out a satisfied sigh, as if he had just gotten something off his chest.
He wiped his forehead—despite not having a single drop of sweat—and glanced down at the delayed system notification.
[Story Boss "The First To Talk" Eliminated. World Acknowledgement Point +15,000]
Huh.
If not for this notification popping up, he probably would've gone for a few extra hits, just to be sure.
But the point amount caught his attention.
That was the biggest single reward he had seen since arriving in this world.
Was this frail-looking, actually-still-frail thing supposed to be some super important boss or something?
Steven raised an eyebrow, stretched lazily, then climbed out of the deep crater he had created.
And that's when he saw it, the remaining horde of Seaborns, still unwilling to give up, swarming toward him.
Steven blinked.
Then, with the brightest, most insincere grin, he waved at them.
"Sorry, I'm done now. Don't feel like fighting anymore. Bye-bye."
Before any of the monsters could react, Steven blurred into a streak of motion and vanished.
By the time they processed what had happened, he was already back at the Inquisitors' camp.
If these monsters had even a shred of intelligence, they'd probably be fuming.
How could a warrior just ditch a fight like that?
Where was his honor?
His battle pride?!
But Steven?
He didn't care.
This feeling of having his fun, then leaving the mess for someone else to clean up was exactly what he had always wanted.
Why should he take responsibility for everything?
It wasn't his job.
Besides, the boss was already dead.
If the Iberian forces couldn't handle the leftovers, that just meant they were trash.
As he casually reappeared beside Carmen, Steven opened his mouth and immediately blindsided Irene with his next words.
"Where's my food?"
Irene nearly blacked out on the spot.
How did his brain even work?!
<+>
Meanwhile, the battle was slowly drawing to an end.
Maybe it was the lingering terror left by Steven's massacre, or maybe it was the death of The First To Talk, but the remaining monsters, after one last failed charge, began retreating back into the sea.
As for Steven?
He sat comfortably with Gladiia, bowl of Pork Chop Rice in hand, and watched the rest of the battle unfold.
It was a great opportunity to observe how Iberian forces actually fought and how the Inquisitors conducted battle.
His verdict?
"Surprisingly entertaining."
Honestly, the battle style here felt a little primitive.
They were still stuck in the cold weapon era.
The only firearm he saw was the hand cannon used by Dario, the High Inquisitor, and even then, he only fired it once or twice.
Most of the fighting was just swords clashing against claws and fangs.
Not even crossbows were widely used.
And this was supposed to be the official military?!
This was all they had?
And as for this world's "Arts", as Irene called them?
Yeah, they were even more disappointing.
Those so-called Inquisitor Casters could barely cast a fireball without running out of breath.
Steven seriously doubted their magic could compete with a single block of TNT.
Was this world's industrial level… really this pathetic?