The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

But no matter what, I couldn’t bring myself to kill a person.

Killing someone with a griffon’s body meant tearing them apart with these talons and this beak.

And obviously, I would feel every bit of that. Talons were a given, but even the beak—though hard on the outside—felt like it had nerves connected inside.

So, I endured.

I was a griffon, after all. I figured if I could just hold out, the moment would eventually pass.

Because of that, they started calling me names—“coward,” “useless thing.”

“All this... just to bring back a piece of shit like you...!”

Your comrades died, did they?

I didn’t know the full story. I had no idea how griffons reproduced, but whether they stole a chick, an egg, or even a pregnant griffon, if they went out to steal one, then they should’ve been prepared for the consequences.

From what I overheard, griffons weren’t common creatures. Not that I read newspapers or anything—just bits of conversation I’d caught in passing.

They said they wanted to “induce magic.” What the hell? What kind of idiots thought an animal could use magic? Something that couldn’t even chant spells? Clearly, religious fanatics were so far gone they’d lost all sense of logic.

Then again, in fantasy settings, the religious types were rarely sane to begin with.

“Hrk... hiiik...!”

Anyway, I had no intention of killing someone I’d just met—someone I didn’t even hold a grudge against.

Thud. Thud. The sound of blows striking me. He was wearing metal greaves, so it was only natural that it hurt like hell...

But I let out an exaggerated yawn instead.

The first year had been real hell. Every time I saw them, I’d tremble with fear.

But griffons grew ridiculously fast.

I didn’t know their lifespan, but their growth rate seemed close to that of a large dog. I’d grown this much in just a year.

Whether I’d get any bigger, I wasn’t sure. Still, growing this quickly came with a major upside.

My body had toughened up too.

The first few weeks, every beating hurt like hell. Not just “ouch” painful—more like can’t even move painful. Traumatizing levels of pain.

But as time went on, the pain faded.

At first, I thought maybe I’d just gotten used to it. But since it was actually getting easier to endure, my body must’ve genuinely gotten stronger.

I mean, I could completely ignore the guys beating me up now.

Not just ignore—at this point, I was practically immune to physical ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) attacks. Like, wasn’t this the kind of nonsense a mythical beast should be capable of?

When punches and kicks didn’t faze me anymore, they started coming at me with whips tipped with metal or actual swords.

Naturally, the first time I saw those, I freaked out—

But surprise—no matter how much they hit me, all I lost were a few feathers.

Even blows to the eyes didn’t do anything. I could just close them.

So I started to understand. Why they’d suffered so many losses just trying to bring back a single cub.

Sure, I’m sure there were ways to kill a griffon. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to steal me in the first place.

But if they used those methods, I’d die. Or at the very least, become “useless.” That must be why, no matter how angry they got, they couldn’t lay a real finger on me.

And so, I acted cocky.

Starving me didn’t matter. I could endure it. As long as I held out like this, they stopped sending me into the arena to kill people.

If I kept this up long enough... wouldn’t they eventually give up?

The chains binding my body were still huge, though—far too strong to break, even with my now-larger griffon form.

And so, we reached a long stalemate.

Until—

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Today marks the end of that little routine,” said the high-ranking priest who visited me regularly, flashing a sinister grin.

That’s when I knew something was off. Even the knight who normally looked like he was about to drop dead from high blood pressure whenever he saw me was strangely calm and full of energy that day.

And around the priest’s neck, the pendant he wore was glowing with a suspicious light.

That definitely wasn’t LED.

“If we weaken you, we might just be able to take back control.”

A debuff-type spell?

The moment he said that, I tried to stand with all my strength, but the chains kept me from getting my footing.

“Going somewhere?”

The priest shouted, and the pendant around his neck blazed with light—

—and just as he had declared...

It worked.

*

I was still conscious.

I could resist, to a degree.

But every time I tried, my body creaked and groaned.

So that’s what they meant by "weakening" my body. They made it diseased, made it prone to injury, made those injuries fester.

At first, I thought it was just pain-based control—but that wasn’t it.

It was as if the wounds on my body wore down my mind too. At some point, my body began to obey commands like it was under hypnosis. Was there a magic spell like that?

Even when I tried to force my body to move according to my will as the light from the necklace glowed, it wasn’t easy.

Even if I managed to wrest back control for a moment, the moment they focused again, I lost it. Every time, they would injure my body again, fester the wounds again, and the more that cycle repeated, the more meaningless my resistance became.

And so, the chains fell away from my body.

Maybe I should be thankful that I couldn’t fly, or use magic, just like they wanted.

If I put everything into resisting, I could still try. I couldn’t fully control my body, and in the end, I moved the way they wanted, slashed with my talons—but I could make sure not to kill anyone.

I could restrain myself so that the blows only wounded, not killed. I could strike with my beak without opening my mouth.

...And in the end, they called me trash again.

A broken weapon that didn’t work the way they wanted.

The only silver lining was that the beatings stopped.

My body was already on the brink of death, after all.

In the end, I, who was supposed to soar through the sky and crush my enemies beneath me, was locked up in some kind of ruin. Judging by the total absence of sunlight, it was probably underground. I’d barely been conscious on the way here, so I had no idea where exactly I was.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it...!”

The Holy Knight who used to torment me muttered in despair.

Serves you right.

It really does—but still, it’s absurd.

You dragged me here on your own, locked me up on your own, made me do all kinds of things on your own—and then got disappointed all on your own.

I’m the victim here.

But still, thinking about how your comrades died for nothing because of me... Yeah, that part feels good.

In the end, I’m the reason it was all for nothing.

And I’m the one you’re calling trash?

*

“...So this is all you’re worth, in the end,”

The priest looked up at me.

How long had I been like this?

My body grew weaker and weaker by the day. So weak that even they stopped trying to control me. Which, honestly, was a relief.

“I only pray that you’re of some use. That in the presence of Fangryphon, you might show even the faintest glimmer of what a griffon should be.”

Fangryphon?

What the hell is that? Some kind of griffon subspecies?

Would it kill you to actually explain things before you go spouting nonsense?

Goddamn bastard.

The pendant around that bastard’s neck glowed again, and once more, I lost control of my body.

My creaking body stood up. Barely able to support itself, it raised its head high in what they must’ve thought looked like a majestic pose and stared straight at the enormous door ahead.

Knights appeared from every direction and took their positions.

Like I was commanding them or something.

I didn’t want to kill anyone, but man, if I could just rake my claws down each of their backs at least once, I’d die happy.

The guy who used to beat me wasn’t there.

Probably hiding on the second floor somewhere.

Were the enemies approaching?

If so, I could only pray they were competent enough to kill these bastards for me.

Though, if they were that competent, I’d probably be killed too.

Still, living in this state was worse.

Because of the way my head was being forced upright, I could see the massive door clearly.

It began to open, slowly.

The one who’d make it through—surely, they must be someone strong enough to face those fanatics head-on. Someone powerful enough not to be affected by the kind of magic restraining me—

...That’s not what it looks like?

What I saw were kids. None of them even looked old enough to be called adults.

Only two of them were boys, and the rest were girls.

...Kids who looked like they’d be sliced in half with just one strike of my weakened talons.

The one in front was at least wearing something like armor under their cloak—but even that looked more stylish than functional.

And they were beautiful. The kind of pretty face you’d never want to scratch with claws.

...Yeah, we’re definitely the villains here.

Anyone looking at this would know they’re the protagonists.