Ambush on the First Day
Balun mulled over the events of the day.
He'd arrived in the city, passed the inspection at the gate, checked into an inn for a short rest, grabbed some food. Then, on his way to the mercenary guild to hand over the wanted criminal's head, he'd been suddenly ambushed by these guys?
No way. This is total bullshit.
Balun let out a hollow chuckle. No matter how he replayed it, it was utterly ridiculous. What reason could there possibly be for getting attacked in that sequence of events? He'd racked his brain, but nothing came up.
Should he squeeze out a few more brain cells? Just in case. Maybe he'd unknowingly done something rude. Nah, no chance. He hadn't argued with anyone. Barrel had handled all the interactions while Balun just rested and ate.
So this could only mean one thing: he'd hit the jackpot on shitty luck.
Should I have just scarfed down some food and bolted to the next city without doing jack?
The thought crossed his mind for a second, but it was nonsense. He'd finally set foot in a civilized city after craving it for so long—pass through without even a peek? Was this the apocalypse? Zombie hordes? Radiation leak? He had so much to do. So much he wanted to do.
Balun had even jotted down a mental bucket list on the way here. Some items were simple enough to knock out right away: sightsee the city, buy some proper clothes, snack through the markets, chug booze at a tavern while eavesdropping on world news...
How cute and wholesome was that list? It made his heart ache with longing...
Ugh, no. Still doesn't add up. No matter how he sliced it, he hadn't done a damn thing wrong. This was pure bullshit.
"What are you?"
Balun asked. Might as well try talking first. He could decide what to do after.
"What the hell? This monkey speaks the common tongue?"
"Lately, there've been a lot of trained monkeys that can talk."
"True. But those are the well-fed ones. This guy's fresh off the boat, looks like."
"Must've picked it up somewhere. Doesn't matter, right?"
"Yeah."
No answer for him. They just chatted among themselves.
"Why attack?"
Balun's voice boomed again. The front guy glanced his way—he had no choice with that volume.
"Damn, this monkey's got lungs."
"All barbarians do."
"Why attack? We didn't attack. Right?"
"Yeah. Why would we attack? Just capturing it."
"Capturing a rampaging beast isn't an attack, is it?"
They snickered mockingly. Balun narrowed his eyes at the two bantering back and forth. Not out of anger—just concentrating to parse their words. They mumbled so much, it was hard to catch...
His Ironclad Language was getting familiar, but it was still foreign to him. Clear speech was fine, but their slurring made it tough.
The attackers mistook his squint for glaring hostility.
"This fucker's staring us down."
"Monkeys do that."
"He'll flip out soon. Grab him quick. Excited ones are a pain."
The guy behind Balun nodded and raised something. It looked like a harpoon, with a rope attached to the end.
Balun spotted it and shouted, "Noble life!"
"What'd he say?"
"Don't wanna die. Can't die!"
"You guys get what this monkey's saying?"
"Dunno. Probably threatening to kill us? Won't let us live?"
"Whoa, scary. Better catch him quick before he kills us."
The encirclement tightened. Balun scratched his head furiously. He'd begged for mercy just in case, but no dice.
Come on, that's too much. If I ask this desperately, you could at least spare me.
He thought he'd pleaded earnestly, oblivious that to others, his fierce glare and word choice sounded like a death threat.
His default scowl didn't help...
No choice. Break through.
Balun quickly scanned front and back. Narrow alley. Surrounded on both ends. Four each way, plus backups—about a dozen total.
Front or back? Didn't matter. He always picked the path that saved his skin.
Life first, second, and third!
That harpoon looks dangerous.
He hadn't forgotten how the net had shot out like a bullet. No guarantee this one wouldn't.
If it did, a human gut wouldn't hold—straight through.
Target that first.
He yanked a hand axe from his belt and hurled it forward. It whistled viciously, embedding in the harpoon guy's chest.
The man froze mid-aim, screamed once, and crumpled.
The attackers paled. No one expected a sudden axe toss—especially from that range. Even aimed, it'd be iffy; this was casual and dead-on. Miraculous throw.
"Crazy bastard!"
"Grab him! Hurry!"
Then a click from behind. Balun whipped around—the rear guy was priming another harpoon.
Balun freaked. What? Another one?
It fired. The rope unfurled into a massive net, aiming to ensnare him.
Balun's eyes widened. What the hell? A net appeared?
Nothing there before. Just a short-roped harpoon. But as it launched, the rope bloomed into a huge net—like a flower opening.
Yet no space on that tiny harpoon to hide it. Compressed? Possible?
Is this a high-tech world?
The net flew. Balun's mind blanked, but his battle-hardened body reacted.
He flung his two-handed axe at the net. It sliced right in, halting the spread mid-air. The net lost momentum, snaring the axe instead and crashing down.
"...?"
"What the...?"
The attackers blinked in disbelief. Throw your weapon to stop a net and dodge? In that situation?
"That make sense?"
"Uh..."
"You idiots! No time for this! Grab him—he's unarmed now!"
"What? He has more weapons..."
"Fuck! Then don't grab him?"
They charged, drawing blades. No more fancy net-harpoons, it seemed. Balun relaxed a bit. No sci-fi shit—better odds. These guys looked like chumps anyway. Scrawny. Narrow alley. Only two directions to defend.
Might break through.
Plenty of war experience. A spark of isekai bravado ignited. His inner shut-in hero stretched.
Balun drew three daggers from his belt and chucked them. They hit randomly: thigh, torso, shoulder.
The wounded yelped. Balun clicked his tongue. Ugh, no headshots.
Balance different from axes—harder to nail. But wounds were wounds. Good use of spoils.
He drew his last hand axe.
"Die!"
A rear guy swung. Balun ducked, smacked the flat of his axe into the man's hand. Impact jarred the sword free.
Seizing the gap, Balun grabbed him. The man panicked visibly—unimagined.
"Wh-what."
"Enemy commander captured!"
Balun hoisted his hostage high. Commander? Whatever.
With raw strength, he spun the guy and pressed the axe to his throat.
The attackers froze.
"Move and he dies!"
"Hostage tactic? From a barbarian?"
They blinked. Never heard of barbarians taking hostages. Warriors despised "cowardly" tricks.
Stunned. But this barbarian wasn't normal. A sneaky mutant using every dirty trick.
"Precious life! Safety measure!"
Balun advanced slowly, hostage in tow. They couldn't act rashly.
Victory assured. They wouldn't risk their buddy.
Lucky. Total chumps. If they'd ignored the hostage, I'd be in trouble.
They backed off. Balun shoved and kicked the hostage into them. Collision toppled the group.
He pounced.
"Death only!"
His axe danced. The alley turned to slaughter.
He spared a few. Needed intel.
Unmasking the attackers was easy. They spilled quick under a little pressure.
Balun knew zilch, so Barrel helped. Blood-soaked Balun dragging bodies in—Barrel freaked but stayed cool. Veteran merchant.
"Viper Guild. A rogue guild. These are their rogues."
"Viper Guild?"
"Yes. Rogues, but small fry. Back-alley outfit. Real rogues? Maybe four or five. One or two might've been the ones you fought."
Balun chewed on that. Viper Guild, rogue guild... Foreign, but got it.
"Gangsters?"
"Gangsters... yes. But not just any. Third-rate rogue guild."
"Got it. Rookie gangsters."
Barrel blinked. Balun's word choices were always... unique.
"Rookie gangsters, why attack Balun?"
"Probably 'cause you're a barbar—er, barbarian."
"Barbarian?"
"Yes. Warriors from tribes living with nature, like you—they call 'em barbarians."
"Got it."
Balun nodded, then pressed. Still puzzled. What did barbarian have to do with attacking him? Hate 'em so much they kill on sight?
"Doesn't connect. No link to attack. Balun innocent. Proud warrior!"
"W-well, it's like this..."
Barrel hemmed and hawed, then spilled.
"Viper Guild's main cash cow is slave trading. And the priciest? Barbarians."
"Slave? Me?"
"Yeah. Looks like they wanted to nab you and sell as a slave. Barbarians are strong, tough—worth multiples. Fighters too: gladiators, slave soldiers..."
Barrel eyed Balun warily. Expected rage. No true barbarian stays calm hearing this. Every first-timer in civilization flips.
Barrel had seen it.
"Hm."
But... no rage. Just a calm nod?
"Got it. Understood."
Barrel puzzled. No anger?
He's holding back. Logical. Barbarian, after all. They live and die by combat. Hate insults more than death.
"Sorry. Didn't predict this. Straight-up kidnapping you..."
"Fine. World cold. Frozen solid."
"Pardon? Frozen? Ah, yes—the world's rough."
Barrel was getting the hang of "Balun-speak."
"Anyway, Balun. Sorry, but a favor?"
"What?"
"Viper Guild. Please... don't go kill them."
"Viper? Rookie gangsters?"
"Yes."
Barrel fidgeted, anxious.
"I get you're furious. Such a huge insult—warrior must avenge. You'd go wipe them out."
He recalled past barbarians. They'd all seek revenge here. That's what made them barbarians. This guy too, no matter how odd.
How strong was he? Monster-level, he'd seen it.
Red Fang warrior Balun: fearless. No retreat. He'd solo the guild.
"I know it's unreasonable, but please hold back."
Barrel knelt.
"You could sweep them, sure. But dangerous. They have backers. They'll come for you. So please... I beg."
"Got it."
"Please... wait, what?"
"Won't kill."
"R-really?"
"Really. No kill."
Barrel blinked. Unbelievable. He knew it was absurd, yet accepted? A barbarian?
He's thinking of me! Our caravan's safety...!
"Th-thank you! Truly!"
Barrel bowed low. How to repay this grace!
Of course, Balun's reasoning was worlds apart.
Obviously not going. Why storm their turf?
He nodded vigorously. Never planned to, and now even less—dangerous? Hell no.