Markus the Minotaur looked around his farm with a sense of pleasure.

Sure it wasn't the biggest, that belonged to Brutur Bekky, the son of the rich elf several roads down. But it was fairly good, having helped produce around eleven percent of all the crops in town. He couldn't sell it directly though. That belonged to the elves and gnomes he hired.

Just because elves were pretty and nice didn't mean they weren't racist.

In fact, they were above racist.

Half the laws passed that denied orcs the ability to settle down in the civilized world were passed because of them. Minotaurs were only spared cause they were allies in the Hill Wars. And that was only temporary. Elves had far loner lives than most mortal races. With many living for thousands of years if they manage to level high enough.

So their plans took on average far longer, being more focused on getting everything right for their plans. So by while Markus wouldn't have laws passed against him in his life. His children and grandchildren would.

The fact that the elves had slowly been building up public mistrust of minotaurs for the past centuries also didn't help.

He couldn't even show his face in the town proper without being looked at weirdly and whispers abound around him.

Granted, they had been attacked several times by bandits led by minotaurs. But that wasn't enough reason to discriminate against him!

Markus let out a huff of anger at his situation. He so wished to go to a Dungeon and beat the ever-living shit out of a few monsters, but that wasn't happening anytime soon.

You see, Markus happened to live in Haven, which, while not having many monsters that required serious skill to kill. Also had Dungeon's randomly spawn in hard-to-reach areas.

This meant, that while most monster waves would disperse due to where they were placed. The citizens of Haven didn't have a reliable way to level up. With the only way to take long and risky hunting trips out into the wilds.

Any way you slice it, Markus didn't have a lot of options in life. As Markus started to harvest plants that had reached maturity. He heard something crunch to the north.

While people expected Minotaurs to hold an average hearing, and to the rabbit men and women, the Minotaurs natural enemies. To be superior in that regard, it was actually the Minotaurs who held the superior hearing.

Markus slowly walked over to take a look. The trees around his small clearing towering over him like giants as he made his way to where he had remembered setting up his traps. Meat was rare out in these parts, with it being unreliable at best. So a good piece of mutton, steak, or some other delicacy would help him immensely in his sales.

As soon as he reached the area where he had set the traps up. He saw an elf woman clutching her leg, a bear trap having sunk its metal teeth into it like a ravenous wolf thirsty for blood, and gulping down every bit of sweet crimson ichor that was leaving the marvelous chicken leg in the making.

Oh yeah, Minotaurs were also notorious cannibals to themselves and other sentient races.

Markus looked up to see a lone dark and twisted figure, phasing in out of reality as the light touched and folded around its being. Chunks of its being looking like misshapen glass.

Shit.

It was a fucking fairy.