Each One's Circumstances
Each One's Circumstances
When I first heard the story, I had just planned to end it with a reasonable show of force.
Because to imprint on them that trying any bullshit with me would unconditionally result in a loss, the living were far more useful than the dead. In a world where even ordinary rumors didn't spread easily, it went without saying that leaving behind as many survivors as possible was advantageous for achieving my long-cherished wish.
But the moment I saw Dantel's face, that plan instantly turned to a blank slate.
"Congratulations, Dantel. You will be remembered by others as the first case who ignored my warning and the first victim who will pay the price."
A reformed Zikmel and a Dantel who threw his life away—they were fit to be used as cautionary examples. Hearing my words, Dantel suddenly screwed up his face and shouted desperately.
"D-don't fucking bullshit me! It's Eldmia! Eldmia's shown up!"
Without even a moment to wonder why he felt the need to announce it when I had already shouted, Dantel ran into the building with its smashed entrance, cursing all the while.
I felt a truly remarkable lack of any nervousness. If the bastard had run elsewhere, I would have at least attempted to chase him down, but seeing him choose isolation of his own accord actually put my mind at ease. Thanks to that, I had the leisure to casually feed Magic Power to Laika and issue a simple command.
"Laika. If anyone tries to escape from around the building, neutralize them."
[Okay!]
I took my eyes off the bastard trotting away and looked at the building. A two-story structure located neither in a bustling district nor anywhere near the main street, its design was somewhat similar to an inn that also doubled as a tavern. So much so that if you took the inn where Gaendal's party was staying, reduced its windows by more than half, and swapped its swing doors for a normal one, it might look just like the building before my eyes.
With the idle thought that someone might have ambitiously set up an inn only for it to fail due to a bad location, I walked past the guide who was still groaning, sprawled among the fragments of the destroyed door, and people poured out of the building.
But for some reason, not a single one of them was in good shape. Drunks, half-asleep bastards, a dozen or so guys who hadn't even brought a single weapon—only after they came out did I spot a couple of guys further back who looked somewhat put-together and were watching me quietly. It felt so damn predictable and pathetic, yet the fact that I was still getting into trouble with these kinds of bastards made me sigh involuntarily.
Just dealing with them felt like I'd regress rather than progress. I needed to wrap this up quickly and check out the info the Holy Light Cross Order had given me as a reward.
While I was grumbling to myself, one of the guys who looked a little more put-together, unlike the ones who hadn't even gotten their heads on straight, stepped forward and raised his voice, but what came out of his mouth was nothing but politicking.
"What's with this sudden rampage, Eldmia!"
Why did I call that politicking? Because he only shouted after confirming that the number of people gawking at the earlier commotion had grown. Honestly, I thought they'd just charge in swinging, so this half-assed attempt at political maneuvering felt somewhat fresh.
Thanks to that, I was briefly curious about what form of politicking they were trying to pull, but the shittiness this situation provided was far greater, so I just silently approached them. What use was it to know what kind of politics these bastards—whom I'd have nothing to do with ever again—were attempting or what their goal was?
"S-stop! I'm asking you what this rampage is about!"
Of course, there was no way they didn't know why I'd come here. That was just an act to claim their innocence after getting me to state that they had sent people to harm me. It was as clear as day that they would shout the obvious process—Where's your proof? We never did that—at the top of their lungs, trying to appeal their innocence to the spectators watching eagerly.
The guide and the bastards who'd had both their souls and teeth knocked out when they tried to ambush me could serve as evidence, but I'd left the rest of their gang behind, and since I'd personally tossed the guide back to them, he could easily commit perjury now. And if that happened, no matter what the eventual outcome was, the people watching right now would see me as the one who'd used unjustified violence and help build public opinion in their favor.
But ultimately, even that was a scheme they could only attempt if a conversation with me took place. So wouldn't just not talking solve the problem?
If I didn't indulge them, they couldn't continue their political games, and the spectators would just watch the one-sided violence that was about to unfold, then let their imaginations run wild based on the rumors and info they'd heard so far. I didn't know what the results of that imagination would be, but I could be absolutely certain they wouldn't unify into a form favorable to these bastards. So, I resolutely advanced, rolling my shoulders to loosen my muscles.
Perhaps because things weren't going as he'd envisioned, the voice of the guy shouting up front began to take on a note of urgency from that alone.
"You fuck! Say something, Eldmia! Why aren't you saying anything!"
On the surface, I was currently bare-handed without a single sword. Of course, I had needles inside my coat and Laika was keeping watch behind the building, but from a typical perspective, it was a stretch to regard those two as weapons comparable to a sword. In comparison, even if they were all a bunch of dipshits, they were armed with swords and had gathered a headcount of about ten.
It was a situation where anyone would think the latter had an overwhelming advantage, yet the mood was heading in the opposite direction, and anticipation rather than worry began to stir among the onlookers. If it had been an area where civilians lived, they would have called the guard force immediately and all hell would have broken loose, but here in the adventurer district, it was nothing more than an amusing spectacle.
"There's only one of him, what are you so scared of! Fight like true adventurers!"
Perhaps it was only fitting for people who had chosen to spectate a fight, enduring the risk that sparks might fly and hit them, but it wasn't long before shouts of 'Don't be a pussy, fight!' began to ring out. As one person raised their voice, laughter and similar calls followed from all around.
Amidst that, as I silently continued to close the distance, one of the seemingly drunk bastards finally couldn't hold back, drew the sword from his hip, and shouted.
"Stop, you bastard! You wanna die?!"
"You fucking moron! If you draw your sword now, what..."
Fortunately, me charging in with Magic Power wrapped around me was faster than another guy's warning reaching him. The guy cursing the one who had drawn his sword reacted to my movement and brought his hand to his hip, as if he himself had the skill to act like a spokesperson.
"Fucked...!"
But the moment his hand grabbed the sword, my foot had already connected with his solar plexus. With a heavy thud! and not even a scream, the guy flew backwards, and I swung my fist to knock out the morons beside him who had their gazes stolen by the sight; only then did they begin their belated resistance.
"Kill that motherfucker!"
"You dog-fucking bastard!"
A curse almost flew out of my own mouth, but I held it in with real effort. Because my own politics were just about to begin.
In this pathetic fight, it was worth my while to create at least one weird rumor: that if Eldmia curses while hitting you, you live; if he shuts his mouth and hits you, you die. Once I formed a master-disciple bond with Mr. Widra and kept quiet for a while, it would overlap with everything I'd done so far and create an appropriately inflated rumor, and then, at the very least, trash-tier bastards picking fights with me would disappear.
"Th-those dipshits have swords and they're still losing!"
"Try a little harder, you dipshits!"
Fortunately, the onlookers were handling the provocations I should have been making, so I didn't feel much regret. If I had drawn a sword like they had, someone probably would have gone to call the guards, but with the outnumbering, sword-wielding bastards getting beaten by a single guy with nothing but his fists, a mood lacking any sense of seriousness had formed.
It went without saying, but people were dying from those punches and kicks, so the situation was indeed serious. They were just excited, sprawled on the floor and unable to get up, not even fathoming that their comrades were dead.
After gifting each and every one of those sword-wielding, charging bastards an attack laden with killing intent and clearing the entrance, I only entered the building once I confirmed not a single one could get up. It was a judgment made because a narrow space was more advantageous if I had to keep fighting anyway, and thinking back to Dantel's escape, it was clear he wouldn't easily run outside even if all the bastards here died.
Inside the building, I found adventurers who had fully equipped themselves with weapons and armor and were hurrying down the stairs from the second floor. Judging by their gear, they looked skilled enough to count as red-rank, but they were just as flustered and unable to respond properly to the sudden situation.
There were only about seven of them, so there was absolutely no element that would make this a tough fight.
"A-all of them, already taken down?"
It was a bit disappointing that the guy spouting that terribly cliché and predictable sentiment wasn't Dantel, but it couldn't be helped. I took off my coat, hung it on the half-destroyed door as a coat rack, and announced.
"If you come at me bare-handed, I'll spare your lives. If you hand over Dantel, I'll send you off without a single scratch."
Their faces, which had been full of nothing but bewilderment, twisted at that. They were bastards who had gathered from wounded pride in the first place, so it was obvious they wouldn't listen to a word I said. This was nothing more than a preliminary move to prevent false testimony later that I had killed them without justification.
"But anyone who draws a sword and comes at me dies. Make your choice."
Before I had even finished speaking, every single one of them drew their weapons. And without anyone needing to go first, they kicked off the stairs and leaped down.
Feeling grateful for that, I let out a short whistle.