Annihilation (1)
Balun realized it. The moment he squeezed through the Viper guild members parted like waves, the moment of choice had passed as well. It was already too late to turn back.
After coming all this way, should he just push back through them to leave? Forget losing face— they wouldn't even let him go.
Whatever. It's do or die now.
Balun gritted his teeth and strode forward. He'd never been here before, so he didn't know the way, but one of the guild members took the lead, keeping him from getting lost.
They entered the dilapidated building and passed through a long, dim corridor until a fairly spacious room like a living area came into view. People were gathered there in clusters. It looked just like a mercenary guild lobby, though the vibe was different— much darker and the folks way rougher around the edges.
"What the hell?"
"Uh, well..."
"Looking for the boss. Get the boss out here."
All eyes turned to him in an instant. One guild member who'd been fiddling with cards at a round table exchanged a glance with the guy behind Balun, then stood and approached.
"You here for the Master?"
"Yeah. Take me to him."
"You alone?"
"Just me."
"Ha. Ballsy."
The guild member let out a hollow laugh. "I get that you're pretty skilled, but you sure about this solo? This is our turf."
"Wanna find out? Want a taste of my axe? Should I split all your skulls?"
Balun toyed with one of the hand axes hanging from his belt. The guild member hesitated for a moment. It wasn't a big gesture, but it was enough to make him flinch.
"Nah, forget it. I ain't equipped to handle a monster like you."
"Don't come at me, and you're good. Come at me, and I split you."
"Follow me. But you gotta leave your weapons here."
"What?"
Balun couldn't believe his ears. What the hell was that?
"Leave your weapons and come. Otherwise, no seeing the Master."
"Guess I'll have to split you then."
Balun whipped out his two hand axes and gripped one in each hand. He dropped into a fighting stance.
Leave his weapons? No way in hell. Walking unarmed into the heart of enemy territory was something only a real macho man could pull off. Balun didn't have that kind of guts. Hell, he was already doing his best.
"Don't need a guide. I'll split you all. Leave one alive. Cut off a finger, and he'll spill the boss's location."
Balun swung his hand axes through the air with a whoosh. The threatening whistle made the guild members draw their own weapons— mostly daggers.
In seconds, Balun was surrounded. Nine right in front of him alone.
Growling at the enemies baring their hostility, Balun snarled.
"Come on! You nine first. Then the ones behind. Everyone here gets split. Fair death for all."
He bluffed boldly, but his heart pounded like a drum on the verge of bursting.
No way he'd come out of a one-vs-many in a room like this without at least three knife wounds.
Please don't come at me. Please.
Balun prayed inwardly. Luckily, his plea worked.
"Everyone, weapons down."
"Bro!"
"Weapons are like lovers to barbarians. Can't talk sense into this one."
"But..."
"You wanna get split like he said?"
"..."
The "bro" gave the signal, and all the guild members sheathed their weapons. Only then did Balun lower his.
"Follow me. Never thought I'd be showing the inner sanctum to an enemy."
The "bro" led the way. They followed a rear passage out to... outside? No, a walled-in space. A backyard, blocked on all sides.
It looked like a cramped hideout from outside, but inside was surprisingly spacious and atmospheric. Balun hadn't expected that.
As Balun appeared, a man sitting in a chair at the far end of the yard waved.
The short-cropped hair was distinctive. This was Jackson.
Jackson waved like he'd been waiting.
"You made it."
"Boss, this guy's..."
"No need to explain. Figured you'd show. Not like this, though."
Balun's eyes narrowed at that. Figured he'd come? So they had preparations?
Ah, bad feeling about this.
Balun wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Nerves.
They didn't dig any traps or something, did they?
Balun scanned the area with narrowed eyes, but found nothing. No obvious traps, but could he trust these thugs?
Screw it. If things go south, just kill 'em all. I've done it before. No reason I can't.
Best case was walking out clean, but that wasn't happening. Realistic Plan B: kill one as an example, scare the rest straight. Fear would keep them off him for good.
Seemed impossible, but doable. Balun knew from experience how terrifying a power gap could be.
"Barbarian friend, have a seat first. Can't leave a guest standing."
Jackson gestured to the empty chair across from him, legs crossed casually. Nearby guild members signaled the same with their eyes, but Balun shook his head.
Suspicious offer of a chair? Yeah right.
"I'll stand."
"Legs'll hurt."
"This is comfy."
"Weird guy. Fine, suit yourself. Drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?"
Balun perked up. Coffee? He couldn't resist. Sixteen years of craving.
"Iced?"
"Huh?"
"Iced Americano."
"Ice Ama... No idea what that is. We don't have it."
"Hillbilly."
"What'd you say?"
"Whatever. Medieval savage!"
"Ha!"
"Not worth talking to!"
Jackson laughed in disbelief. A barbarian calling him a hillbilly? And uncivilized? Not worth his time?
"Anyway, to business. I know why you came here..."
"You messed with me. Nearly died. Now you die. Death sentence!"
Before Jackson could finish, Balun bellowed.
Jackson frowned. "Hey, friend. Let the man speak first. Manners."
"Shut up. Don't listen to rookie thugs. I talk."
"All you barbarians are the same."
Jackson shook his head and signaled with a hand wave. His men slowly closed in.
Balun eyed them. Circling like predators around prey.
Decision made.
"We both know the score, so skip the bullshit. I want you gone. You came to warn us. Since we're not seeing eye to eye, let's settle it. With strength. Right?"
"Done talking?"
"Talking? Not yet..."
"Then die."
Balun charged with the words. Jackson narrowed his eyes, stood, and drew his sword from his waist.
Balun didn't care— he swung both hand axes down with full force.
Clang! A clear metallic ring, and Balun's axes bounced off.
What the—
Balun flinched. That much power? He didn't look that strong.
Huh?
He blinked. Jackson's sword gleamed oddly.
"Impressive. Blocking a mana-infused blade with raw muscle."
Jackson grinned and swung his sword— a heavy whoosh like a greatsword.
Balun just blinked. What was that? A lightsaber? And it had some weird aura. Not good.
"Knew you'd come at me like this, barbarian."
Jackson's smile was relaxed. Balun scratched his chin.
Pretty good, huh?
"No matter how good you are, you can't beat aura. Get it?"
"Shut up!"
Balun raised his hand axes high. Jackson readied his block, expecting it.
But Jackson was shocked. Balun hurled both axes to the ground on purpose.
"Wh-what?"
As Jackson faltered, Balun snatched a hand axe from his belt and flung it.
The feint with the hand axes was bait. The thrown axe buried in Jackson's chest.
"Gah!"
Balun didn't stop— the remaining axe sliced his throat.
Slash! Blood sprayed from the severed neck, head flying up then tumbling down.
"...!"
Everyone froze. The Master was dead. Unthinkable.
In the stunned silence, Balun walked over, picked up the head, held it high, and roared.
"Balun nearly died twice. So I killed the boss! Any complaints?"
He dropped the head. It rolled pathetically across the dirt.
"Complaints? Come at me! Red Fang warrior Balun doesn't dodge challenges! I'll face you all! Split every skull!"
Balun swung his hand axes menacingly. The heavy metal chunks whipped like noodles.
"No takers? Rookie thugs, cowards!"
Balun glared, baring his teeth. Alone, but the Viper members couldn't approach. Overwhelmed, cowed. That axe would split them if they tried.
He'd killed an aura user in one shot. No one thought they could win against that monster.
It wasn't human— a beast. Beasts don't fear men; they see prey. That's the beast's gaze.
Balun rampaged ferociously, threats flying. Meanwhile, the members eyed each other. Attack or not? Who first?
Balun moved first. He yanked the rope from his belt and lassoed one— the guy egging others on.
A hard yank, and the man stumbled forward, dragged helplessly.
As they gawked at the unexpected move, Balun grabbed his collar with one hand, hoisting him up.
The man flailed in the air. "G-guh!"
"Avenging warrior is honorable! Non-avenging warrior dishonorable! Balun is warrior!"
Balun thumped his chest like a gorilla. Inwardly: This is overkill...
Eh, whatever. Ride the tiger. No getting off now. Kill or be killed— survival's best play.
Adrenaline numbed reason, but sharp fear made him bolder.
No one noticed his legs trembling slightly.
Balun raised his axe high— key was maximum intimidation. Scare them off stupid ideas.
He swung down— then froze. Animal instinct halted him. He rolled aside like a tumble.
Something whistled past.
Whoosh! Thunk!
An ice crystal arrow grazed where his gut had been, hitting another guild member.
Crack! The struck man crumpled, heart pierced. Instant death.
Knew it. Traps for sure.
Balun sighed in relief. He hadn't checked the frozen chest yet.
"Good instincts. Didn't expect you'd dodge that."
A voice rang out. Balun whipped around.
On the roof atop the backyard wall stood a man in a gray robe down to his shins, hood up. Long staff in his right hand. Looked like...
Gandalf?
Balun blinked. Out-of-nowhere cosplay?
"How'd you dodge? Knew I was attacking? Nah. Prepped double-cast for that shot. Put my heart into it."
"Cosplay dude. Where's your bow?"
"Cos-what?"
"Bow. None. Just staff."
"Bow? Ah, mistook my magic for an arrow. Makes sense. When has a barbarian seen mana’s greatness?"
Weirder by the second. Talking nonsense. Magic? As if.
Balun didn't know this world yet. No clue miracles like magic existed.
Growing up with barbarians his whole life.
He eyed the loose robe. Bet a shortbow hidden inside.
The man looked down at the carnage and tsked.
"Tch, too late. Jackson's dead. Told him to stall."
Continued: "These idiots just watch their boss die. Useless."
"..."
"Whatever. Better this way. Time to show this reckless thunderhead mana’s might."
The man began... something. Staff in right, drawing symbols in air with left, eyes half-closed. Muttering.
Balun stared, baffled. What the hell? Cultist proselytizing?
After weird gestures, the robed man thrust his staff forward.
Impossible: Flame sparked at the tip, swelling into a blazing fireball.
Balun's eyes bulged. Making fire? Dreaming?
"Haaap!"
The fireball launched. Balun dove in panic.
BOOM! Explosion, shockwave, dust everywhere.
He curled up against debris. Peeking: Viper members engulfed in flames, screaming.
Team kill? Madman.
Even madder: "Tch, missed."
Balun almost clapped despite the chaos. He'd seen crazies, but this level? New.