Baisha's Scheme (2)
"Hey, go strip that bastard clean and get back here."
"Yes, sir!"
The moment Baisha's order left his mouth, his underlings scrambled to grab their weapons. They might not have known the full story, but one thing was certain: that punk kid was carrying a fortune. Which meant that whenever they caught him, the cut that fell their way would be just as fat.
A dozen or so men poured out of the establishment and sprinted toward Ellen's house. Clubs and blunt weapons weren't the only things in their hands—some of them carried actual swords. He might have been a little kid, but if things got ugly they were ready to end his life on the spot.
Baisha's place sat a short distance outside the main streets of Los. The road into town passed through a stretch of quiet, empty ground; they planned to handle the boy there.
They had barely left the building before they spotted Ellen walking ahead of them.
"Heh heh heh… look at him just strolling along like nothing's wrong."
The man who had first brought the rumor to Baisha licked his lips as he eyed Ellen.
"Do we even need weapons for a brat like that?"
"Let's finish this quick. Those gold coins looked damn rare. We'll skim a few for ourselves before we haul the rest back to the boss."
The men traded remarks as they closed in on Ellen. In truth, Ellen had already sensed them. For some time now, strange presences had been brushing against his instincts.
What the hell?
He hadn't cast Detect. This was pure survival instinct, the kind forged over decades of crawling through dungeons where a monster or a trap could explode out of nowhere at any second.
The road's empty, sure, but this isn't exactly bandit country.
He cast Detect anyway. After swallowing the Mana Elixir in Hameron's Dungeon, Ellen could now wield 2nd Circle magic. Climbing from 1st Circle to 2nd was only a single step on paper, yet the gulf was wider than most people imagined. In pure mana volume alone, where he had once been able to shape about ten Magic Missiles, he could now produce at least twice that many. More important still was the qualitative leap: 1st Circle spells were mostly everyday utility—Light, Dig, and the like—with Magic Missile as the only real combat option. From the 2nd Circle onward, true battle magic like Fireball and Detect became available.
Whooom.
Mana rippled outward from Ellen and locked onto the suspicious presences with perfect clarity.
Staves, clubs… and swords. Definitely not neighborhood punks. They're not attacking yet, so maybe I'll wait a little longer.
They might not have struck first, but the killing intent rolling off them was unmistakable. Still, Ellen decided to play ignorant a while more.
As the forest path narrowed, the thugs' bloodlust thickened until they were ready to pounce at any second.
They can't even hide their killing intent. How are they any better than the monsters inside a dungeon?
The ruffians disappointed him even further.
"Hey, kid!"
They simply planted themselves across the tree-lined path Ellen was about to walk through.
Oh, for crying out loud. This isn't even an ambush.
Their brazen confidence drew a quiet sigh from him.
"If you know what's good for you, empty your pockets right now."
One thug slapped a club against his open palm in a crude threat.
"Who the hell are you?"
Ellen tossed the question out as if the whole situation were a mild annoyance.
"You little shit—talking back to your elders?!"
Another man swung a wooden stave at Ellen's head without warning.
Wham.
He never finished the swing. The full-force blow never landed; instead the man himself flew backward and smashed into a tree.
"You bastard!"
Two more charged Ellen.
Wham. Wham.
They met the exact same fate.
"W-what the hell did you just do?"
Only then did real fear begin to surface on their faces. It was already far too late.
"You don't get to ask that after you swung first."
Ellen raised both hands and pointed at the remaining men with his fingers.
Thud-thud-thud.
The instant his fingertips lined up, two more thugs felt crushing impacts slam into their chests and went flying.
"M-m-magic?"
One of them had seen a Magic Assistant before and recognized Magic Missile. Knowing the name changed nothing.
Crash.
Another impact smashed into a face and sent its owner tumbling across the dirt. Ellen's hands never stopped moving. Anyone still conscious after slamming into a tree or the ground received another round until he was certain they stayed down. To the thugs, those casual gestures looked like the hand of a demon king ordering their deaths.
"Please! Spare me!"
One man who had hit a tree hard enough to break bones yet still refused to black out dropped to his knees in front of Ellen.
"Shut up."
Wham.
Better this way.
Even as he slipped into unconsciousness, the thug felt a twisted relief that he no longer had to look at that terrifying face.
Urgh!
Pain like shattered ribs lanced through him.
Where am I?
Jackson forced his eyes open and scanned the surroundings. Someone stood over him, but his vision was still too blurred to make out a face.
Short…
He blinked hard several times until the world sharpened. The face finally came into focus.
"Hah—!"
Jackson nearly choked on his own breath.
"P-please spare me."
He tried to rub his hands together in a pleading gesture only to discover he was tightly bound.
"All the others are dead. You're the only one left alive. Whether you walk out of here or join them depends entirely on what you do next."
That cold voice made Jackson nod so hard his neck almost snapped.
"Yes! I'll do whatever you say!"
To Jackson, the boy in front of him was pure terror given flesh.
Crack.
"Aaaagh!"
Ellen shattered Jackson's arm with a Magic Missile.
"That's the price for swinging first."
"Urgh…"
"What? When you attacked me, you never imagined you'd feel something like this?"
"N-no, sir!"
Crack.
"Gyaaaah!"
Ignoring the answer, Ellen broke the other arm as well.
"So who sent you?"
"Uuuugh… B-Baisha sent us."
Jackson could barely string words together through the agony of two shattered arms.
"I figured as much, but thanks for confirming it."
"N-no problem. Just doing what I should."
Jackson kept bobbing his head, both arms still bound. The sight of that groveling only deepened Ellen's disgust.
The second you attacked me you were already dead men. Scum like you do the world no favors even if I let you live.
Fwoosh.
Ellen turned away and flicked his fingers. A Fireball engulfed Jackson and burned him alive. He died without even managing a proper scream—exactly the same way his companions had.
Baisha… I was going to let the sins from my previous life slide and just leave you alone. But trash really is trash no matter what.
Ellen looked back the way he had come—toward Baisha's establishment.
The price for laying a hand on me… plus everything you did in the last life. I'll make sure you pay it all in full.