Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Heavenly Slayer Learns Social Skills. Probably.
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Two or so months had passed since his last visit.
Enoch arrived in the modest town of Dendalro and strolled down the streets with familiar ease.
As always, Lione wasn't by his side.
The only difference from three years ago was that even Undine no longer stuck close.
Enoch didn't particularly care whether he had escorts or not. He yawned lazily.
That was only natural.
In this little town, there was no one who could match him.
Living with Lione and Undine might dull the senses a bit, but those two were among the top powerhouses on this continent.
Of course, Enoch wasn't on their level, but in a small town like this, he held the position of relative strength.
He had no idea what level the lord's knights or mages were at, but...
Who cared if he ran into them anyway.
Even if he did, Enoch had no reason to fear them.
According to Undine, he was the "crazy little brat who would yawn even with a blade at his throat."
"Hmm..."
Was this the place?
Enoch's gaze lingered on one building.
A particularly large and refined three-story structure compared to the surrounding ones.
From the auras he sensed, there were plenty of people inside.
It was an odd sight for such a small town, but in a way, it made perfect sense.
Dendalro was on the frontier.
Being close to the forest where Lione lived, there was no shortage of work for mercenaries hunting monsters or beasts.
『Mercenary Guild』
Confirming the straightforward sign, Enoch pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Ding-a-ling—
At the bell's chime, several pairs of eyes turned toward him.
What followed was scrutinizing gazes and a subtle hush.
'A noble?'
'A noble coming all the way to this backwater?'
He caught whispers suggesting some misunderstanding, but Enoch ignored them and headed straight for the counter.
"What brings you here today?"
"I want to register as a mercenary."
"A mercenary tag...? You mean that's what you want?"
The receptionist rolled her eyes for a moment before pulling out a form from under the counter.
"Do you have anything to prove your family background, by chance?"
As if.
He could probably get something like the Estor family crest if he asked Lione, but he had no intention of doing so from the start.
"No."
"Ah... I see..."
Rose, the receptionist at the Mercenary Guild, sized up the boy before her.
Young age, clean and luxurious attire, striking looks, and smooth, pale skin.
He seemed like a noble or perhaps a disciple of some renowned master, but the lack of proof meant one of two things.
Either a young master's whimsical play at independence without family support, or some circumstance he couldn't afford to reveal.
Quickly reaching a conclusion, Rose smiled and guided him through the process.
"Just fill in your name, gender, and check the relevant items here in the common tongue. Please read the precautions and terms carefully, check the agreement box here, and the fee is..."
Enoch filled out the form half-heartedly.
Seeing him write with such skill only confirmed Rose's suspicions.
"Martial arts expert... Wow! Impressive!"
"..."
"Normally, first-time tags are F-rank, but if you can prove your own level, you can jump straight to D-rank."
It was something he'd heard from Lione.
As Enoch nodded, a scoff came from behind.
"Expert? Don't embarrass yourself—put down the truth."
"Hey, hey! What the hell are you doing!"
"Out of the way! Damn it, you think being a mercenary is a game?"
Surprisingly, he'd been warned this might happen.
If he roughly translated Lione's roundabout advice, it boiled down to "There are a lot of empty-headed idiots who pick fights first."
Naturally, he'd learned how to handle it.
Ignore them at first, and if they cross the line, deal with them decisively.
"A pretty boy like a gigolo. You look like you'd do well at a brothel over there. Huh? With those pointy ears stretched out a bit, I'd buy you as an elf. Those elf bitches are so hot just looking at them..."
He'd crossed the line.
Enoch hurled the pen in his hand like a dagger.
"Aaaagh—!"
Red blood sprayed.
The pen Enoch threw savagely tore into the mercenary's shoulder, sending one arm rolling across the floor.
"Jack!"
"I knew it!"
"You bastard! You wanna go?!"
The guild erupted in chaos in an instant.
Enoch calmly calculated.
Just how decisive was "dealing with them" supposed to be?
He wanted to kill the guy outright, but that would probably get him scolded by Lione.
Would ripping off all four limbs be enough?
As he pondered, the man's comrades—apparently—charged in.
They hadn't insulted elves, so where exactly was the line with them?
A spear thrust right at his face.
At the same time, a sword slashed toward his side.
Enoch tilted his head slightly and took a single step.
Swoosh—!
The weapons sliced through empty air.
Inevitably, gaps followed.
If the opponents were masters above Enoch's level, exploiting those gaps would be tough, but...
"Gah...!?"
Thwack—! With a crisp sound, one man flew through the air.
Maybe because he was wearing the dwarf-forged gloves, but the sensation felt off.
"With that skill..., you're a mercenary?"
Enoch tilted his head and strode toward the next mercenary.
The spear guy was down; this woman held a sword.
The moment she failed to keep a sword's optimal range and let Enoch close in, her fate was sealed.
"W-Wait...!"
Ignoring her, he slammed a fist into her gut. With a shrill screech—Kyaa!—she crumpled.
Enoch confirmed the two were out cold, then turned to the last remaining mercenary.
The guy who'd been dithering at the back.
He trembled under Enoch's gaze and took a step back.
"Hmm."
He didn't seem eager to fight.
Enoch ignored the retreating man and stood before the one groaning on the floor, clutching his severed shoulder.
"You."
"Ugh..."
"A mere human."
Crunch—! He stomped on the stump.
"Gyaaaaah...!!!"
A horrific scream erupted.
Hm. Enoch let out a pleased sigh and glanced around.
Mostly intrigued stares, a few pale ones.
No one else seemed ready to pick a fight, which was a bit disappointing.
"What should I do with you."
If he followed his whims, he'd rip off the limbs and let him dry in the sun, but that would definitely earn Lione's wrath.
For daring to insult an elf, death was the fitting punishment, but what could he do.
Enoch clicked his tongue and settled for crushing a leg.
"Aaaagh...!!"
The man convulsed.
That was enough. Enoch turned his gaze to the receptionist.
Today's errand from Lione was to get a mercenary tag.
He hadn't received it yet, so he needed to complete the rest of the process.
"So, D-rank?"
"Y-Yes.... But..."
Rose darted her eyes around.
She couldn't issue a tag to a criminal.
But whether this incident was illegal was a gray area...
Just then, figures who resolved Rose's dilemma burst through the guild doors.
"Freeze! We've told you fighting in town means summary execution!"
Clad in partially gleaming silver armor, they were the town guards.
They weren't exceptionally skilled, but unless you planned to tangle with the lord himself, messing with them was never wise.
Normally, the best course was to explain and beg for mercy.
But...
"Oh."
That common sense didn't apply to Enoch.
He'd been born and raised in the slums.
Street fights were daily life, and guards were nonexistent.
Raised by Lione afterward, why would he shrink from guards?
His eyes sparked at the fight coming to him.
"Don't make this complicated—surrender quietly!"
One guard advanced on Enoch without hesitation.
Enoch grinned brightly and raised his hand.
'This much beating shouldn't get me in trouble, right?'
Just before a massive lump formed on the guard's head—
"Stop! Stop it...!"
Someone dashed into the guild.
"L-Lord Wilbert...!? What's going on?!"
The guards bowed deeply upon seeing the newcomer.
Unlike them, this one was fully encased in silver plate—a knight had arrived.
"You lot! Back to the barracks, now! No funny business!"
"S-Sir...? But our duty..."
"No buts! Go!"
The guards couldn't hide their bewilderment but didn't dare contradict a knight.
It could literally cost them their heads.
In the end, they saluted the knight once, shot Enoch a glare, and filed out of the guild.
Now left in the guild were the mercenaries, Enoch, and one knight.
Wilbert wiped sweat from his brow and bowed slightly to Enoch.
"I'll take my leave as well."
"..."
"See you."
The knight soon departed the guild too.
Enoch scratched his cheek under the mercenaries' odd stares.
"Hmm."
What a shame.
Quickly shrugging it off, Enoch turned back to the receptionist.
"D-rank?"
"Y-Yes!"
*
The mercenary tag was issued promptly.
They seemed oddly rushed, but that suited Enoch just fine.
He examined the metal plate he'd received.
A simple plaque with basic personal details.
He'd paid a hefty fee, but this was supposed to prove his identity?
No magic emanated from it.
So what was the point?
He'd have to ask Lione. As Enoch moved to leave the guild—
"Hey, you the little brat?"
Someone blocked his path.
"?"
Cranning his neck up, he finally saw the face.
A muscular woman at least three heads taller than him.
No idea who she was.
"You're the clan leader of the cripple I half-killed earlier."
So that's it.
Was she insane?
She must have heard about the knight's attitude too.
Enoch wasn't lazy about thinking; he wasn't stupid.
He could infer from the situation.
So what was this woman?
Either a heavyweight who could take on the lord, or a brainless fool.
Either way, Enoch welcomed it.
Crackle—!
Violet lightning sparked in his black eyes.
"Whoa, whoa! Hold on!"
No such thing.
Thwack—!