Our Kids Have Become Too Twisted!!
Our kids have gone way too twisted!! --Rumble!!-- THUD!
“Boss~♪ That job you gave me last time? I smashed all those trash bastards to pieces!~♪ Did your big sis do good?”
…
“Rina sis. If it’s the job from last time… I told you to just rough up their hands, not kill them all?”
“Aw, c’mon~ You think your big sis would really do that? I just snapped a few arms and legs. Not like Mira and Shera, ripping their lives away completely?”
…
Why are all the kids under me so damn brutal, dense, and a walking disaster zone?
The one who burst into the office like she was gonna kick the door down was Rina sis, now towering at 2.6 meters with a massive, muscular build. Turning twenty this year, she’d fully grown into something that could rival a true ogre, to the point where she had to duck slightly just to move around the mansion. Lucky for us, this place was a huge estate. In any normal home, there’s no way she could even fit inside—her frame was just that enormous.
Her height nearly scraped the ceiling, and her shoulders were as wide as a castle gate, over a hundred centimeters across. The legs propping up that colossal body were as thick as elephant trunks. The clothes she wore now were custom-made by Estelle sis herself, woven from her spider silk and tanned monster hides to match Rina’s size. Regular clothes couldn’t handle her movements—they’d shred into rags in seconds.
Another bizarre change had hit her two years ago. One day, out of nowhere, all her teeth just… fell out. No warning signs at all. Unlike Mira and Shera’s growing pains that came with their muscle spurts, Rina’s chompers poured out like a waterfall, leaving her mouth empty. Freaked out and clueless, I spent the whole day nursing her, double-checking the forbidden tomes Pladeus had compiled.
But the next morning? Her mouth was full of razor-sharp, serrated shark teeth that had grown back overnight. Curious, I tested their strength on a suit of plate armor we’d snagged from the Colorado count’s place. She chewed through it like it was tenderloin. Insane bite force and tooth durability.
She was a bit shorter than a real ogre and lacked the horns, but otherwise? Perfect ogre physiology confirmed. Soon enough, Mira and Shera might sprout shark teeth too once they hit their next growth spurt.
And her personality’s turned full feral monster now. Yesterday, Mira and Shera tore some poor bastards limb from limb ‘for my sake,’ even though they didn’t need to die…
“Hehe~ Our boss. You mad? Big sis messed up~♪ But I couldn’t stand those fuckers badmouthing our family~♪”
“What’d they say?”
“That we’re monsters made from scraping up beggars.”
“…Kinda true, but that doesn’t mean you snap their limbs off?”
“But they were picking fights with the poor kids we took in! You said it yourself, boss—this world kills you if you look weak?”
“Sigh~ Fine. Just tone it down next time.”
“Yaaay~♥ Whatever boss orders, I’ll do happily!~♥”
Rina sis batting her lashes and winking like that was her idea of cute aegyo. Same as ten years ago—huge body, but her brain was still on the same level as the rest of our kids. We might’ve turned into monsters physically, but our hearts? Still human.
Ten years back, when we first settled in this city, we took in sixty abandoned kids and beggars from the streets. Most were crippled, ditched to thin out family numbers, or born from whores and tossed like trash—same as me. We knew the agony of cold and hunger better than anyone, so we couldn’t just ignore the little beggar kids littering the city.
Older beggars could hustle as errand boys for gangs like Ian or Libert back in the day, but the young ones? Just mouths to feed, dead weight. Nobody gave a shit about them, so we scooped ’em up, let ’em live with us. No free rides, though. In exchange for food and beds, they worked as mansion servants. Later, they’d toil as serfs in Vanessa’s vineyards and orchards.
It was a steal—at least they got warm meals and shelter. The estate was originally a knights’ barracks, complete with squires’ quarters, so it was massive. Plenty of rooms for sixty easy.
We survived on Big Daddy’s jobs, our superhuman powers letting us rack up insane rep as a new North Continent outfit in just three years. Once the kids grew up, they begged to join officially. I obliged.
Peeling faces off scum during those gigs taught me swordplay, archery, spearmanship, horsemanship—you name it, knights’ and mercs’ tricks. I drilled it all into our kids and crew. For magic, I crammed Magus Civitas’s curriculum down their throats like rote Korean education from my past life, churning out solid magician-grade mages.
Magus Civitas treated mages like noble truth-seekers with bloated egos. Me? Modern sensibilities intact—I focused on practicality.
Magic’s talent-based anyway. Effort gets you to mage rank max; beyond that, it’s spell comprehension, mana pool, affinity—all innate gifts. No point chasing lofty archmage bullshit. Cram formulas, hit combat-ready levels fast, pump out battlefield grunts.
‘Memorize this formula. No excuses. Don’t get it? Memorize anyway!’
‘Uh… boss. Why?’
‘Reason? You won’t grasp it anyway. Formula alone lets you cast. Just memorize!’
…
They think I’m nurturing truth-seeking mages? Nah. Pure combat utility. Same for Jean, Pablo, Allen—they instinctively wield fire, ice, dark magic but don’t know the hows. Shove theory in, show the output, let instinct fill gaps. Rest of the crew? Knife-and-sword melee with magic combos. That’s North Face Family—our outfit.
Fixer crew? Problem-solvers for hire? Mercs who take any dirty job, no questions. Magic’s just max-damage tool. With sixty killers like that, I ruled as the Faceless Demon, infamous across the North Continent.
Oh, ‘North Face’? Pun city. Boss has no face (no face), continent’s north (north). Mash ’em: Northface.
“…So yeah, Mary. Looks like you’re handling this job.”
“Got it, boss. I’ll wrap it up clean.”
This time, for sniffing out spies hiding in the city, I’d called in Mary—who’d bloomed over ten years into a silver-haired stunner with a killer body rivaling Vanessa’s. Black cloak over a vintage black shirt, her abs and sculpted frame blending into perfect S-curve lines.
Pladeus’s experiments swapped her congenital blind eyes for basilisk ones—now anyone meeting her gaze turns to stone. Plus, she’d mastered every sword style from my face-peeled knights and mercs, forging her own genius blade art. Best sword in the family, hands down.
“Please… no massacres this time. Yeah? Yesterday Mira and Shera wiped everyone, so we lost the trail back to their boss. And Rina sis pulped ’em into meat paste. Don’t go there too, okay?”
“Seriously! Don’t lump me with Rina sis and those bloodthirsty psychos!”
“Last time you diced some guy into five pieces just ’cause he eyed your body sleazily!-”
Maybe from her blind days, but Mary’s senses were off the charts—near precog. She caught gazes, emotions, air shifts, tiny sounds, weaving it into superhuman swordplay. Hostile or pervy looks? Instant decapitation.
Ten years in the North Continent taught us nice guys finish dead. Brutality was survival. But lately? Overkill city. Even I, the boss, was begging the kids to chill daily.
“But boss. Pervy stares from randos? Hard to stomach. And I didn’t kill last time!”
“Wait… so you’re saying I can stare?”
“Obviously! Want me to strip right here for you—”
“NO STRIPPING!! And I don’t stare sleazily! Plus, quit gouging eyes or killing over leers! Mary, you weren’t like this before?”
“Everyone’s changed, no? Estelle sis melted an enemy crew into vulture chow with venom last clash—no bodies left. I at least leave clean corpses! And my body’s not even that hot?!”
…
Our kids have gone way too twisted!!
Mary drove home how personality warps with your surroundings. Be soft here? Sucker’s death. But the casual disregard for life was getting worrisome. And around me? She had exhibitionist vibes!