Chapter 86
Chapter 86
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: Tavern Brawl
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[Chapter 85 - City of Ruins (2)]
Any inn worth its salt doesn't just offer a bed for weary travelers—it provides a whole host of other comforts too.
Worlds where inns were rare as hen's teeth still abided by that universal truth, setting aside space for meals and drinks.
After unpacking in their rooms, Arsen's group gathered downstairs for dinner, ordering food and ale.
Rino had apparently worked out an agreement with the innkeeper on silver coin rates, paying up after some quick math—no haggling required.
"Here you go, boss. Have a drink!"
Bazkal poured Arsen a full mug of beer.
Surprisingly, even in winterless lands like this, the beer was ice-cold.
Some relic that worked like a cooling chest, apparently.
It wasn't as crisp or fizzy as the stuff back on Earth—blame the brewing tech—but the chill alone was enough to make Arsen fall in love.
"Damn, that's the stuff!"
"Cold like this? Perfection."
Bazkal and Rino, seated at the same table, were equally enchanted, letting out satisfied groans.
As they quenched their thirst, Arsen kept an eye on Eloise at the mages' table in the corner.
He sent a voice through his earring as she sipped quietly.
[Go easy. Don't get smashed.]
Eloise startled, then shot back.
[I'm not a kid. I'll pace myself—worry about yourself.]
[Alright, I trust you.]
He remembered her passed-out drunk self from before and wasn't fully convinced, but Arsen decided to have faith in her restraint.
Turning back to the table, he sliced into a piece of pork barbecue so juicy it dripped with every press of the knife.
After weeks of tough magic beast meat and jerky brutalizing his palate, this fatty, seasoned animal flesh hit like ecstasy, sending shivers of bliss through him.
"Hah..."
A full-body tremor of pleasure. Arsen let out an involuntary sigh.
It had been so long since he'd had food like this that one bite alone made his whole body sing with joy.
Ormu estate, their last stop, had been too dirt-poor for such delights.
As Arsen basked in happiness, Rino asked worriedly from beside him.
"Sir Bazkal, you sure that won't break?"
Turning, Arsen saw Bazkal chomping through a roasted chicken leg—bone and all—like it was nothing, flashing his pearly whites.
A knight could crush hardtack like bricks if he wanted, so teeth weren't the issue. But why pull such a stunt?
Arsen spotted the reason: Bazkal's sidelong glances at Gisharan.
"Ah."
Was he trying to get her attention? Thinking gnawing bones made him look cool and manly?
The childish display made Arsen cringe so hard his fingers and toes curled.
He considered stopping Bazkal but decided everyone had the right to make a fool of themselves if they chose.
The future embarrassment wasn't his to bear, anyway. Hell, Gisharan might even find it cute.
Looking away from Bazkal, Arsen lifted a bowl of thick, oily soup and slurped it down.
Chicken bone broth, spiced sharp enough to evoke dakdoritang vibes.
In the midst of a grueling journey, nothing beat rich fat and salty-sweet spices coating your throat.
The meat, simmered till it fell off the bone, packed umami punch too.
'Heaven...'
Lost in near-tearful bliss and deep thoughts on life and happiness, Arsen was snapped out by a slurring drunk.
"What're all you wizard rats doing, huddlin' together?"
The drunk was a young knight in civilian clothes.
Positioned right by the door, he'd clearly just stumbled in.
Face flushed beet-red, he reeked of booze.
Arsen's first thought:
'How much did he drink?'
Knights' livers processed alcohol way better than normals', so getting wasted took serious volume.
This guy had guzzled like it was water.
Half-lidded eyes on the mages' table, he kept muttering.
"Fucking wizard shits, worthless scum. Laying dirty traps everywhere, treatin' lives like trash... Oughta rip their eyes out, stuff 'em in jars for trinkets. Struttin' around free is why shit's like this..."
"Hey, drunk? How 'bout you head up and sleep it off. No need to start trouble here."
Bazkal approached the plastered knight, advising calmly.
Polite as pie, but the drunk responded with a cruel sneer.
"And who the hell're you? Knight hangin' with wizards? What a joke—bald fuck..."
The knight sneered, then slapped Bazkal's cheek.
Not hard, but slapping someone's face was a declaration of war anywhere.
Yet Bazkal showed saintly patience.
Rubbing his cheek, he tried again.
"...Hey, last warning. People do dumb shit when drunk. So just go now."
"Ptooey."
The knight spat on Bazkal's chest, giggling like a kid at some hilarious joke.
That snapped it. Arsen swore he heard Bazkal's patience shatter.
"You little—shit—!"
Bazkal roared and charged.
Low like a wrestler, he tackled, spun the drunk mid-air, and hurled him.
The knight crashed through tables, slamming into the wall.
Diners screamed, scattering.
"Argh!"
"Who the fuck?!"
"Son of a—!"
Spotting both fighters as knights, the crowd backed off quick.
Ignoring the chaos, Bazkal leaped, stomping the food-smeared drunk.
Kicked in the gut, the knight vomited spectacularly.
"Bluuuugh—urk—hack..."
"Don't just lie there, get up, asshole!"
Sober, maybe a fight. But blackout drunk? No contest.
A few unguarded kicks, and the young knight was a battered mess.
As Arsen moved to calm overexcited Bazkal, the door burst open—three more knights stormed in.
"What the hell?"
"That puking one's Mazran, right?"
They saw their puke-covered buddy getting booted by a stranger.
The burly leader bellowed.
"Who touched our runt?!"
He charged Bazkal; fists flew before anyone could intervene.
A few exchanges, and Bazkal was pinned—body size gap too wide.
"Sir Bazkal!"
Maroon jumped up in shock, but Arsen was already there.
Opponent pressing Bazkal left his back wide open. No reason not to exploit.
Arsen grabbed his nape with both hands, hurling him upward.
The knight smashed through the wooden ceiling.
Screams from upstairs.
Downstairs, the innkeeper wailed in harmony.
"Nooo! My inn!"
From the rear, the other two knights yelled.
"You coward!"
"Dare touch our boss!"
They rushed Arsen together—brave, but skill-deficient.
Arsen jabbed the first's face, then uppercut his jaw as senses blurred.
He crumpled like a cut puppet.
Second knight swung for the temple—vicious, but Arsen ducked his head.
Counter: side kick to the chest.
"Gahk!"
Staggering with a soul-exiting groan, the knight eyed Arsen fearfully, hand to his sword.
Then, thunder from the ceiling.
"Don't draw!"
The hand froze.
It was the boss—the giant first hurled up there—their leader.
Half-buried in the ceiling to the second floor, he dangled.
"Sorry, boss!"
"Not a rookie—drawing steel in a tavern?!"
Scolding, the giant braced hands on the ceiling, grunted, and pulled.
Wood splintered; he dropped with a crash.
Rising amid wood shards and blood from splinters everywhere.
"Damn, just danglin' made me dizzy."
Up close, the size gap hit harder.
At least 40cm taller, broad shoulders, ripped—pre-monarch Arsen wouldn't have bare-handed him.
Weapon fight? Maybe. Grappling? Weight classes ruled.
The giant eyed Arsen coolly, head cleared, and introduced.
"Tiger Claw's captain, Yohun."
"Arsen of Beluan."
Yohun scanned Arsen, baffled.
This pint-sized knight had shown freakish strength.
Top-tier mana for a knight, sure—but that power defied sense.
"Spill it. Why beat our runt like a dead dog?"
"Your runt started mouthing off drunk. We told him to knock it off polite-like, he slaps and spits. No reason we should've taken that."
Yohun scowled at Arsen's words.
Then pointed at a wall-hugging patron.
"You. That true?"
"Uh? Y-yeah, well..."
Eyes darting, patron agonized.
Which side to pick for survival?
Finally, eyes squeezed shut: truth.
"Yeah, this knight's right. The puking one started on mages—eyes gouged or whatever—bald knight told him to stop..."
Bazkal yelled he wasn't bald; ignored.
Yohun's face darkened in shame as truth hit.
Then, heavy voice from the stairs.
"What in blazes is this?"
Rasur—the knight from inn entry.
"...Vice Captain Rasur."
"Sir Yohun? Finally back! But what's this racket? One of our mage girls said some ass just punched through her floor trying to 'visit' her room."