1 Shadow-Ogre Cona
In the middle of the ocean, in the expanse between Goldland and the Ruined continent, a small but sturdy ship was gliding across the blue waters.
With a crew of only five people, and with no armaments in sight, such a ship should be easy prey for pirates.
In this world, however, no one would dare to get near it, after all, a crew this small surviving alone in the ocean could only mean one thing: Adventurers.
On top of the bow stood a man so large that if not for his smooth tanned skin and his exquisite bronze colored equipment, because of his build one could easily mistake him for a short orc or ogre. Still, no one would dare comment on it, especially since in his breastplate a crimson magic circle occasionally glowed, representing his adventurer rank.
Someone from earth could compare his physique to the likes of Chris Bumstead or Arnold Schwarzenegger, but in this world only him had such references, and so his muscles were seen as that of a monster.
His emerald-colored hair and golden earrings fluttered in the wind as he looked at the horizon with a calm expression.
The matching equipment he was wearing, fashioned with inspirations from Earth's roman generals but modified to make room for his two enormous arms, showed an exaggerated concern with vanity that could put some people off.
Even so, it was undeniable that his countless adornments, accessories, and even painted fingernails contrasted in an interesting way with his absurd size.
The man's appearance was a mixture between a JRPG protagonist, a pirate, and a bodybuilder. Certainly, an acquired taste, but not ugly in any way, and anyone who implied so would be met with laughter, for this particular adventurer's ego was even larger than his muscles and would not be wounded easily.
"Cona, what are you doing standing there like an idiot! Didn't I tell you I needed your help downstairs?"
His expression turned from serene to sour as he heard the angry shouting attacking his ears from the back. He was reminiscing about the past, his adventures had been many after all, and he had come a long way, so often he would stop to look back and remember the old times and sometimes his past life.
It was also a cool excuse to be lazy and not do anything for hours.
All great things had to come to an end, however, and he knew that if he did not obey the tiny woman with golden ponytails and red devil horns, he would regret it later.
None of the "redpill" books about women and relationships he had read could protect him from the angry girl, none of that worked on her. She was part demon, and her irritation was unmatched.
As he descended the stairs to head below deck, his frown quickly gave way to a smile as he met three other people working varied small jobs.
All of them were precious to him, even the angry demon girl glaring at his back, and the things they all went through together were destined to be told in bards' songs for generations to come. Their story, however, was very far from done.
