Drakan's Prank, or the Myriad Practice Artifacts
Drakan had created countless artifacts as jokes or mere practice over his endless years. How bored must he have been? This sword was one of them. Made from the finest dragon bone, the magic Drakan imbued it with was solely sharpness—layered a staggering twenty-four times over. It seemed utterly pointless, but in actual use, it was terrifying.
"Everyone, just hold the defensive line."
I drew the sword and stepped forward. The escort mercenaries looked a bit flustered but quickly formed up under Jacques's command.
"Tighten the formation. I don't know what it is, but the young master seems to have something up his sleeve."
Though they possessed upper knight-level strength, this was their first time deploying it in real combat. Of course, their theory was flawless.
All but a few of the pursuers charged straight at me. But they were already sensing something off. For one, no thirteen-year-old could move that fast. And an aura was blooming from the sword in my hand.
I plunged nimbly into the midst of the pursuers and swung the blade wide.
Shwick!
Anything the sword touched was sliced clean through—sword, armor, it didn't matter. And that was without even channeling aura into it. Without expending any real effort, I cut them down like bundles of straw, sowing panic among the pursuers.
The kid before them was a monster, plain and simple.
As some began edging backward, it only made things easier for me. Wielding the sword one-handed, I fired off spells with the other, suffering no deserters. In mere minutes, corpses littered the ground around me.
Glancing back, I saw the mercenaries' fight was nearly over too. They'd underestimated the mercenaries, assigning only three pursuers that way—two of whom Jacques had handled. True to his moniker of Halfhead, he'd smashed their skulls in half with his beloved mace. Jacques grinned ear-to-ear at the sight, looking downright creepy.
The last one must've fallen to Jayke.
"Everyone okay? No injuries?"
No one looked hurt, but I asked out of courtesy anyway. Still, their stares were odd. A thirteen-year-old kid had charged out with a single sword, butchered over twenty men using blade and magic in tandem, and returned drenched in blood. Who could blame them?
"Young master, what are you?"
Jacques asked with a look of utter disbelief.
"Beats me. I'm curious myself."
I gave a vague reply and oversaw cleanup—which the mercenaries handled, of course. The pursuers' belongings and gear would fetch a nice price. A tidy side income for them.
I'd killed plenty as a soul, but this was my first time in life covered in blood. As it dried and grew sticky, I summoned a nearby water spirit to wash it off. The mercenaries' gazes chilled even further.
I hadn't bothered hiding my power since leaving home, so I didn't care. Though I had no intention of flaunting it to become famous, either.
More importantly, favors must be repaid in kind. I dispatched Avatar No. 1 toward my brother on the eastern continent. He'd leave my sister-in-law and nephew alone, at least.
The mercenaries gathered the spoils, but I handled the bodies—nearly forty of them. Even five mercenaries digging graves would've taken forever. This time, I borrowed an earth spirit's power. The corpses sank into the ground as if absorbed, sending shivers through the mercenaries. Their deference toward me deepened noticeably.
"Young master, crossing the border tonight might be tough."
"Then we'll camp here."
At some point, the mercenaries had started calling me "young master." It began as half a joke from Jacques, but it stuck.
"How about I handle dinner tonight?"
Camp meals were usually hardtack or whatever could be gnawed. Mercenaries sometimes made "mercenary soup" by dumping rations in, but it tasted awful.
The best part of my new life? Eating. For those endless years as a soul, I'd only watched others eat. Having lingered in the imperial palace for ages, I'd eyed those lavish banquets without tasting a bite. So now, I took food seriously.
"The young master cooking?"
"You'll be surprised how good it is."
The mercenaries eyed me skeptically, but I ignored them, lit a fire, set a pot over it, and got to work. Nothing fancy outdoors—just simple stew. More eye-catching was the ingredients popping out from my subspace, which they watched like a show.
"Young master, you are human, right?"
Jacques half-joked, but his eyes were dead serious. Maybe it was his years of experience, but his instincts bordered on supernatural. If he said rain was coming, it poured; if beasts were near, they appeared.
"Ever seen a non-human?"
"Once. Fought alongside as a comrade, turned out to be a mage's homunculus."
"Hm, well, I'm definitely not a homunculus."
Homunculi were a hot research topic among mages, but no known successes.
"Who made that homunculus?"
"Vigpenius, I think."
I'd read of Vigpenius in histories. The classic mad mage archetype—not a dark wizard, but caught experimenting on countless people. He massacred the entire punitive force single-handedly.
"What happened to the homunculus?"
Jacques patted the mace at his belt in reply. Skull-smashing, no doubt.
"Anyway, I'm human, so no need for that."
Jacques chuckled and shook his head.
"I wouldn't bet on beating you anyway, young master."
As we chatted, my stew finished cooking. Crafted with techniques and secrets pilfered from famed chefs and imperial cooks.
"Done. Dig in."
I ladled out bowls for the mercenaries. They took them hesitantly, unable to hide their doubt—though the aroma during cooking had helped.
The first spoonful hit:
"Ohhh!"
"Whoa!"
Exclamations rang out nonstop. I savored my own bowl. A solid success.
"Young master, become a chef. Your knife skills are great, but this cooking's on another level."
Jacques teased, while Jayke added, "It's like the imperial feasts I've only tasted in the palace."
He hid his background well, but he screamed former Proffen Imperial Guard knight. How many knights even got imperial cuisine?
"You've had palace food before, Jayke?"
His face changed instantly at my question. Overreacting, much? He didn't fit the mercenary mold in other ways, either.
"Heh heh heh."
Jacques smirked slyly at the sight. He'd probably pieced it all together. I pretended ignorance and kept eating.
After dinner, I summoned a water spirit for cleanup, then we gathered around the campfire.
"Sorry about today. Didn't expect my brother to go that far. No harm done, and you got the spoils—call it even."
I apologized to the mercenaries. They had been put in danger because of me, after all. Skirmishes with beasts were par for the course, but an assassin squad? Different story.
They nodded without protest. I'd done most of the fighting anyway.
"But seriously, young master—what's your deal?"
Jacques was persistent. Probably how he'd survived over twenty years as a mercenary.
"Hm, second son of the Francois barony. Parents died suddenly, so I'm on the run from my black-hearted brother. Oh, and I swing a sword, cast some spells, handle spirits?"
The truth, more or less. Minus the century-plus as a soul before possessing this body. Can't help that.
"If I had a brother like you, I'd wanna kill him too—too perfect."
"Nobles, man."
Thankfully, the other mercenaries chimed in helpfully. Jacques's suspicious glare lingered, of course. I wasn't exactly normal.
We camped the night away and crossed into Ether Empire territory the next day. The rest of the journey passed without incident—smooth sailing. The empire's vastness meant two months minimum to the capital.
About a month in, Avatar No. 1 paid my brother a visit and handled business. No more assassin worries.
That's when I made an offer to Jayke and Jacques: stick around after this job?
Both were capable.
"I'd love to settle, but it's not in my nature."
Jacques declined. I hadn't expected much from him anyway. I could pay well, but he wasn't after money. What he craved was battle. Staying with me would mean precious little of it.
"Thanks, but I must decline..."
Jayke hesitated, then started to refuse.
"I can fix your damaged aura road, Jayke."
I had plenty to offer him. His aura road was broken for some reason, and I could knight him too.
"Pardon? What do you—"
His eyes shook wildly.
"I've known about your aura road for a while. I can repair it."
"I've never heard of repairing a damaged aura road."
His eyes steadied, expression turning cold. He thought I was mocking him.
"Then if I fix it right now, contract to serve me for ten years. Pay will be generous, of course."
Ten years would do. Or knight him first and bind him for life.
"If you repair it, I'll serve not ten years, but for life."
"Really now?"
I smiled meaningfully and subtly invoked healing authority.
"Urk! What the—"
Pain hit Jayke like a truck, dropping him to the ground.
Crack! Crunch!
Sounds of something realigning echoed from his body. He convulsed, unable to bear it. The noises slowed, then stopped. Jayke shot to his feet.
"How did you...?"
He patted himself down in disbelief, feeling his aura flow again.
"Don't forget our deal."
"Of course."
Like a true knight, he knelt and swore fealty.
"Jayke Halendrahal swears lifelong loyalty."
"Germain Francois accepts Jayke Halendrahal's pledge without betrayal."
And so I gained a competent, earnest worker... no, knight: Jayke Halendrahal.
We kept his oath secret from the other mercenaries. Jacques's near-supernatural instincts couldn't be fooled, though. Noting Jayke's subtle shift in demeanor toward me and his sudden training regimen, Jacques grinned slyly.
"Young master, what magic did you pull this time?"
"What magic?"
I played dumb, and he didn't press.
Time passed, and we finally reached the Ether Empire's capital.
Jacques and the other three headed to the mercenary guild for their pay and parted ways.
"Feels like I'll see you again, young master."
He left with those ominous words.
"That a curse?"
Seeing him again probably wouldn't be good for me.
"Heh heh heh. For me, landing generous clients is always good."
And off Jacques went.
Now just Jayke and me.
"My lord, what are your plans now?"
He'd started using "my lord" when alone.
"Find a place to stay first."
Money wasn't an issue. If short, I could always procure more. A status was needed, though—Yuri could arrange it, but I didn't want to reveal my guardian spirit ties. Too much hassle. Apostle of the guardian spirit? Avatar? Either way, the palace would pile on annoying duties. Obvious as day.