Only Then Did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I Feel Relieved

Ogwen's alleys were a tangled mess.

They'd been getting more convoluted lately anyway, with the population growing and new buildings going up, twisting every which way. The main thoroughfares maintained a fairly tidy appearance, but venture even a little off them and you'd find plenty of alleys indistinguishable from the slums.

That was exactly the kind of path I was taking now. I'd been humming to myself as I made my way through the deserted back alleys, and I paused at a fork to ask a question.

"This way?"

"Please spare me. I was wrong. Please, just let me live."

The bastard I was dragging along by the hair with my right hand, quite literally, begged in response. I was using the instigator of this whole incident—the one I'd beaten up a month ago—as a guide, under the aggravated charge of being a repeat pain in my ass. He wasn't working out so well.

"Anyone watching would think I'm a murderer. Did I kill any of you? I just broke a few bones, that's all. So, this way?"

I hoisted the bastard's head up, and he let out a pained groan. The reason I was dragging him along by hand was simple. I'd cleanly snapped both his shinbones so he couldn't run. The guys who put their faith in numbers and strutted right into a deserted alley had all ended up half-crippled like that.

He'd been hollering at the top of his lungs at first, but it had already been a full five minutes since he'd quieted down in the face of greater violence and pain.

"*sob*... *sob*... spare me..."

But getting an answer to a completely different question pissed me off. I already hated having to waste my time on this in the first place, so that only made it worse.

From the moment I heard that filth about Asilie, I'd long since tossed out the plan for live combat practice. I wanted to inject these unpleasant fucks with my convictions as quickly as possible and go home.

"The reason I left you your hands was so you could point directions. Which means they don't both need to stay intact. Want them broken?"

"Hiiik! Th-that way! That way, not this way!"

It hadn't even taken twenty seconds to break all four of their shins. By now, using physical enhancement was as natural to me as breathing, and I could say that with confidence anywhere. Being four or five years older wasn't enough to overcome that difference.

That was the nature of physical enhancement through aura. Even a little brat barely ten years old, once they properly learned it, could kill monsters and pulverize human bone. Guys with some training might follow the movements, but they couldn't withstand the impact. And I wasn't even using purified aura—I was running on Magic Power, so the output itself was different. Even being mindful of my growing body and adjusting the output, this much was easily possible.

Possessing that kind of combat power, and with a mental age well past thirty, my original plan had been to just end the live practice by appropriately slapping around a few faces and guts.

That was, until I heard them insult Asilie.

That had absolutely not been simple provocation. It wasn't just throwing out words they'd picked up somewhere as insults—those bastards knew exactly what they meant. If I'd been weak, truly unable to fight back, and Asilie had no combat ability whatsoever, they were the type who would have acted on those words right then and there.

"I shouldn't have done such things~ but I just didn't know any better~"

I hummed to shake off the unpleasant feeling, and the body I was dragging by the hair convulsed, singing along.

"*sob*... *sob*... wh-what good is re-regret now..."

"What a fool~ I've become~"

"Huaaaaangh!"

Seeing him wail and regret his sins after just a few bars made it clear what an authentic masterpiece this song was.

"The earlier the regret, the longer it hurts."

So why'd you go and insult the sole pillar of support for an orphan who'd lost his parents?

After walking a little further, a completely unexpected place appeared before my eyes.

"The hell? A warehouse?"

"Who the fuck're you—... huh?"

"Z-Zikmel?!"

It was a run-down, shabby warehouse. Not exactly huge, but by no means could you call it small. Maybe some piece of real estate left over from a bankrupt trading company? Seeing as it wasn't maintained, that was probably right. The gazes of the two guys loitering sloppily in front of the door dropped to the guy I was holding, which told me my guide had led me to the right place. I nodded in satisfaction, let go of his hair, and dusted off my hand.

A clump of the bastard's torn-out brown hair fluttered to the ground.

"We've arrived at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠destination. You're no longer needed, so kindly fuck off."

"Th-thank you! Thank you!"

"Who am I?"

"El-Eldmia Ega!"

"What are you supposed to do?"

"Never mess with Eldmia Ega!"

Guess he wasn't a complete blockhead after all. Once I confirmed the satisfactory learning outcome and shooed him away with a wave of my hand, the bastard started fleeing on all fours, crawling across the ground. I'd snapped them clean, but with bad luck, he'd end up permanently crippled. If begging didn't pan out, he might starve in the streets before long.

But that wasn't my problem. In a world where knife fights were common, if you ran your mouth about gangbanging someone else's friend, you should spend the rest of your life grateful you weren't killed on the spot.

"Did you hear that?"

"Wh-what?"

"I asked if you heard what your friend Zikmel was blabbering."

No answer.

Silence meant yes, as a rule, so I lunged forward and smashed both their jaws with my fists.

No stance or technique was needed. They were just kids at that level. I kicked the bastards aside—they fell without even managing a scream—and opened the warehouse door. Inside the grim interior, a dozen or so brats were spread out in every direction.

A musty, stale smell hung in the air. There was something like a ventilation window on the ceiling, but there seemed to be way too much dust for that to be even remotely enough. Honestly, I hadn't imagined they'd be holed up in a place like this, so it took me off guard again. I was intensely curious whether they were just squatting in an abandoned warehouse or if someone was backing them, but decided to put that aside for now.

In the center, someone had arranged decent-looking wooden crates into something like a chair, and it was clearly the seat of the boss. Sitting in a spot like that with girls flanking him on both sides—if he wasn't the boss, that would honestly be even more surprising.

He looked older than the ones I'd beaten up. Maybe around 18 years old? Definitely closer to an adult than a kid.

And this guy was lording it over those runty brats like some king? That was laughable in its own right.

"You the fucker who beat up my guys?"

Still, he had some sense, as befitting someone playing gang leader.

"Yeah. That's me."

I closed the wide-open warehouse door behind me and looked around as the scattered brats began gathering together. Fifteen of them, not counting the boss and his girls. It was a number that could be considered a lot or a little. None of the ones I'd hit the first time were anywhere to be seen. Maybe they were out searching the town in separate groups like my guide Zikmel.

So this was a gang of at least thirty? That wasn't a small number. I once again shoved aside the question of what the hell the city guard was doing while all this went on.

The bastards didn't have anything you could call a weapon. If they'd just left Asilie out of it and taken their beating, they could've just played neighborhood alley boss and lived a peaceful life.

One choice determining the rest of your life—stuff like this had to be exactly what that saying was about.

"You cocky little shit. But why'd you come alone?"

"I thought you might be a little smart, but I guess I was dealing with a blockhead. You think I came alone because I'm friends with them? I beat them into cripples and came alone."

I answered with a sullen tone, realizing that any faint hope of dealing with a working intelligence had vanished, and the bastard scowled. Looking at that face really brought it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠home.

No matter how tall or mature I looked for my age, I was still eleven. My young face meant I could only look so intimidating. That was probably why, even after their friends had been beaten without being able to lift a finger, they still thought ganging up on me would work. The boss and the others were looking at me with open contempt.

"You little shit, can't you read the room? You have any idea what situation you're in and what you've done? Those fucks didn't say anything to you?"

"Oh, hey! You might have a shit brain, but you're quick on the uptake, huh, buddy!"

"What?"

My sinking mood shot right back up. The only things those bastards had told me were that their boss wanted me and the threats involving Asilie. Hearing him talk now confirmed that he was the one who'd given those orders. Of course, the odds of thugs like these actually catching Asilie, an active adventurer, were basically zero. But my convictions weren't some lukewarm rule that only mattered when the odds were high.

'It didn't happen, so it's fine,' wasn't acceptable. The goal was to rip out the roots so the thought couldn't even occur to them. With a joyful heart, I pulled out the practice longsword I'd been carrying on my back and jammed it through the handles of the warehouse door I'd just shut.

"What kind of bullshit is—... huh?"

Then I bent the longsword around the handles, turning it into a makeshift lock.

The longsword creaked and groaned as it bent. All my training had already proved that it would bend long before it snapped. It was a waste, sure, but once I emptied these bastards' pockets I should at least get enough to pay for the repair.

"Nice to meet you all. My name is Eldmia Ega."

When I turned around after sealing the only exit, the street thugs caught my eye, still frozen in place. The expressions of mockery had vanished. In their place were only doubt, questions, and sporadic horror.

I wasn't nice enough to wait for them to come to their senses. Using Magic Power as fuel, I expanded my leg muscles and sprinted straight for the boss sitting on that street thug throne. The distance was roughly 10 meters. The thugs, flustered by my sudden dash, scrambled belatedly to block me, but it was already too late.

I evaded every grasping hand and every dumbass trying to block me with his body, and when the distance closed to about two meters, I launched myself with all my strength.

"Goodbye, fucker."

With my senses accelerated, I watched confusion and fear spread across the dumbstruck bastard's face.

A fight? I was living for the day I'd be strong enough to hunt down and kill a commander in the Demon King's Army. If three years of training still left shitheads like these enough time to react to my attacks, I might as well die. And I didn't want to die, so I gave him no chance to respond and drove a flying kick straight into his solar plexus.

-Crack!

It was more a sensation than a sound. A definite sensation that made it easy to tell the foot that had smashed through his ribs and plunged deep into his solar plexus had sent an impact shock straight to his heart. What collapsed backward, shattering the chair along with him, wasn't the boss, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠merely the corpse that had been the boss.

After confirming the bastard didn't so much as twitch, I looked around. The girls who'd been flanking him, and all the remaining thugs in the warehouse, were frozen stiff at the sight. And as if on cue, every single gaze swiveled toward me.

"If that fucker wasn't actually the real boss and one of you is, raise your hand and speak up."

Nobody raised a hand.