16. Ttek!!!
16. Ttek!!!
Anyway, after meeting that Death Knight, I started living my life with a little more fire than before.
No matter how shitty the world, no matter how shitty my life, I'd learned there was at least one person in it who acknowledged me.
Sure, the reason he saved me was because I might turn out to be useful later, but that's not something I need to worry about right now.
So the depression didn't last long. For now, I'll just try to live as best I can wherever I end up...
"Speaking of which, where should I go to get my gear fitted?"
Anyway, thanks to Vivian, I'd scraped together more money than I'd originally planned.
Feeling like the time had finally come to shed my porter life, I took some time to browse the craftsmen's street for the equipment I needed before officially registering as an adventurer.
Since it sat right next to where adventurers mainly gathered, the workshops were packed into every corner of the street.
Being such a chaotic world, there's always demand for equipment, so I figured getting gear here wouldn't be hard.
If I'd had a proper position established as an adventurer, that is.
"Of course, gear isn't just about finding one good weapon and calling it a day."
If this were a game, I could just pick a weapon matching my level and funds and slaughter everything, but this place is undeniably reality.
In a game you can survive a hit and strike back to kill the enemy. In reality, if you can't withstand an enemy's attack from a single blow, you'll fall before you can even counter.
Even a goblin, once it gets a proper mounted position, can beat a grown man to death with one-sided violence. So if I needed something, it should be defensive gear rather than a weapon.
Of course, there's suitable defense gear for each role, so I'd have to think about which type to pick here too.
"Magic is obviously out. A bow or something requires high technique, so mastering it quickly won't be easy..."
That leaves the vanguard role — either brawling directly with the enemy or taking hits with my body.
But even if my physical ability's been trained through portering, my Body aptitude stat is barely upper C-rank. That's below the recommended B-rank for anyone performing the main tank role.
Wearing heavy armor would drain all my stamina just moving around, and blocking enemy attacks head-on with a shield is impossible for me right now.
So a vanguard role centered on light armor rather than heavy equipment could be called the most suitable position for the current me.
"...So I need to buy light armor for the optimal position. This is gonna cost a pretty penny, huh."
Obviously, materials that are relatively light yet durable are pricier than heavy armor you can just make tough through brute force.
But then, if I neglect my armor, one unexpected hit and I'm done for.
In the end, this too might be the price of the excessive greed of a Foreign Worker dreaming of being an adventurer. I let out a snort at the thought, but only for a moment.
-Crash!
Just then, I heard the sound of something being overturned on the street I was passing, and my gaze naturally started drifting that way.
The first thing that caught my eye were some sleazy guys who'd wrecked a shop sign.
And the scene of them waving the equipment they held toward the shop's craftsman, demanding answers.
"Oi, sir, your business is total crap, seriously!"
"We heard you were a renowned craftsman and trusted you with this, so what are you gonna do about it!? Why didn't you properly fix this flaw here!"
The men shouted intimidatingly, pointing at a flawed part of the armor.
From the clients' perspective, they seemed to have a bone to pick over something unsatisfactory, but to my eyes watching from afar, it really looked like nothing more than something trivial.
Sure, a single scratch on a car costs hundreds, but for armor that's fundamentally premised on getting beaten up, that level could just be ignored, couldn't it?
"Th-that part, I left it alone because trying to mend it carelessly would risk ruining the balance of the whole piece. I've repaired it so there's no real functional issue as is..."
"No, isn't that just saying you can't fix it?!"
"Hey, you think as long as the gear works, that's all that matters!? Whatever it is, it's gotta look good too!"
"Calm yourselves. I did my best to meet your demands, but if you come at me like this, it's troublesome..."
"We're the ones who are troubled, not you! You think it makes sense to take our money when you can't even fix one thing like this!?"
"If you can't carry out one commission properly, shouldn't you give the money back?!"
...I get the picture now.
Those bastards are throwing their weight around, aiming to recoup their losses one way or another.
Eye-rolling as it is to watch, the irony is that I'm just a Foreign Worker with no decent ability to help.
Intervening myself would only increase the victims, so the most I could do was call the guards.
"If you don't want to give the money back, let's take this to court!"
"Prepare to close up shop and eat prison food!"
But the thing is, it's grating to see them escalating the intensity of their douchebaggery.
Most thugs usually know to fear public authority, but for them to cause such a ruckus in the middle of the street... does that mean they've got someone backing them up that much?
"Excuse me, what do you lot think you're doing over there!?"
My internal debate over whether to report them at such a brazen attitude was short-lived.
Someone took my place from staring blankly at the situation and suddenly barged in where they were.
An old man, head completely bald, face full of wrinkles.
Dragging his trembling body along by leaning on his staff looked precarious, but even so, his furious face clearly radiated anger toward them.
"You snot-nosed punks... How dare you squat here causing a scene, do you know where you are!? Get out and go home this instant!"
"Hah, wondered who barged in. It's a geezer."
"Hey, mind your own business and get out of here. Just opening your mouth to stick your nose in, the stench of decay is reaching all the way here."
Despite the old man's thunderous roar, the thugs retorted with mockery.
"You scurrilous whelps. Not content with raising hell in the streets, you show no respect either...!"
"Ho ho, respect? You're not my family, so why should I respect you?"
"You think you're a big shot just 'cause you've managed to cling to life this long, gramps. Young folks these days got tempers, and they hate old people who just yell about their age, you know, yeah?"
"I'm what that foul-tempered young man grew up to be, you punks!"
-Whoosh!
The old man immediately swung the staff in his hand, threatening them.
Startled by the violent threat, the thugs stumbled backward, then soon started cackling, looking down on him.
"Oh, wow. Dying old man's got some spunk, huh?"
"Ah seriously, we try talking nice and the old sack of bones gets in the way."
-Shiiing.
One thug, annoyed, drew the sword from his belt.
The sheen and the savage feel rising from the blade's body told me it was no ordinary weapon.
"Hey hey, hold up. You sure that's fine? If we draw a sword here, the real guards will come..."
"Haha! What's there to be scared of!? We've got a Hero backing us, so even if something big goes down, they'll handle it fine!"
Ah, there it is. So those bastards run wild trusting in a Hero's backing, is that it?
That pissed me off too, but it just felt ironic that reality actually worked that way.
"Look here, gramps. Know what's on this sword? It's aura, au~ra."
An Aura Blade.
The old man still glared with his staff in hand as if he didn't consider even that a threat, but I, who knew what it was, couldn't help but feel a chill.
Aura is a technique where mana is concentrated to amplify the properties of a tool.
Even a normal sword, if aura is formed, can exert the power to slice steel and cleave boulders in two. But to wield it requires both the ability and the technique to handle mana.
It can be achieved not by self-mastery but through tools, but the cost of the 'magic tools' that induce it is astronomical.
Just looking at that one sword in hand, it's probably a precious item I could only barely obtain by investing most of my money.
And they're using such a ridiculous weapon on the street. No matter how much they're a Hero's pack, there's gotta be a limit to being this thoughtless.
"...Did you create aura with just the weapon, without magic power?"
"Haha! It's too late to regret it now! Now that I've drawn my sword, I've gotta draw blood!"
But there was absolutely no way for me to stop this.
Just as I had no choice but to keep watching from afar, the old man let out a deep sigh and began smoothly raising the staff in his hand.
And he swung it exactly at the moment a sword was swung at him.
Without a hair's breadth of error, precisely. So that his staff could touch the aura.
-Crack! Boom!!!
And with that light strike, the Aura Blade crumbled into pieces.
As the fragments showered down on the spot, my mouth reflexively dropped open while watching the spectacle.
The hell, what was that?
An Aura Blade that can butcher steel was just... broken so simply?
"Eh...?"
The thug himself was feeling the same bewilderment.
But as if not even giving him time to grasp the situation, the old man merely raised his staff again smoothly from that spot.
"Seriously, young punks these days go into debt to buy gear and think they're something."
"Ah, w-wait, hold on! Do you even know how expensive this...!"
"Haaaat! Get lost!!!"
-Kwang!
The thug was hit square in the head by the staff swung down once more.
Struck and slammed into the ground, the thug's eyes rolled back as his body started trembling violently on the spot.
Like he was going into rigor mortis, even foaming at the mouth.
"Ugh, g-gack..."
"Hey, hey, what's wrong with you? Snap out of it!"
The other thug looked back and forth between the shattered Aura Blade and the old man's figure.
The old man, watching him flounder, clicked his tongue as if pathetic and aimed his staff at the armor that had fallen to the floor.
"Like they say, empty carts rattle the loudest. Guys with nothing special always latch onto those weaker than them to put on airs."
-Crash!
The metal armor was thoroughly smashed by the staff swung down.
Probably that armor, like the Aura Blade, had a huge amount of money invested in it, but to the old man, it seemed like nothing more than a piece of paper.
"Expensive or whatever, you think just because your gear's good and you strut around, the whole world bends to you? Whether you're a Hero's lapdog or whatever, get lost right now! Because there's not a single craftsman on this street who'd sell equipment to clueless punks like you!"
"Y-you crazy old man... Damn it, you'll see! I won't let this go!"
Resentful as he felt, his weapon was shattered and his comrade was down.
Judging he couldn't stay there any longer, the thug dragged off his fallen comrade and left, bringing the street trouble to an end.
"Aigoo, thank you again, honored elder."
"No need for thanks. For me, this is all that's left to do now..."
The old man tapped his shoulder while receiving the craftsman's thanks.
He'd managed to chase off the thugs, but his face was still scrunched up in a grimace, as if something didn't sit right.
"Damn those guards, they go lenient the moment the word Hero comes up, so they're useless against even morons like that. How does the world think it'll keep going...? Hmm?"
While grumbling like that, his gaze turned toward me.
I flinched, recalling what he'd just done, and as he showed signs of raising his staff again, he started roaring at me.
"What's this? Enjoying the show? Or are you also looking to pick a fight!?"
"Ah, no, absolutely not! I was just so captivated watching how magnanimous you were, elder. Haha!"
There's no way I could pick a fight.
I just saw this old man straight-up shatter an Aura Blade, so would I be crazy enough to pick a fight?
"Ac-actually, I wanted to stop it too, but I'm just a greenhorn about to start adventuring, so I thought stepping in would only be a hindrance... So I was just thinking what a relief it was that you stepped up and stopped those guys, elder."
"...Hmm, is that so?"
Had my sincere explanation gotten through?
The old man soon lowered the staff he was about to raise and began stroking his beard.
"Well, fine. As long as you weren't planning to cause a ruckus, I ought to look kindly on you. And even if you say you lacked strength, your spirit is praiseworthy for not viewing those punks favorably. You're a rare, commendable young fellow these days."
"Haha, thank you for seeing it that way."
Good, as long as I don't cause trouble, it seems my skull won't get cracked.
More importantly, his assessment of me was positive, so it seemed it'd be no problem to talk a bit more boldly here.
"By the way, elder? Actually, I came here to buy equipment. Do you happen to know much about this street? If it's okay, I'd like to ask for some advice..."
"Ho ho! When it comes to that, there's no one around here who knows better than me! As it happens, there's a bench over there, so bring over some tea or something and let's have a chat!"
Of course. As long as you can talk to people, you can get friendly with anyone.
Reminded of that fact once more, I followed the old man to the bench with a much lighter heart.