The Alley Boss's Demise
One year had passed.
Now fourteen, Luin wandered the village streets, keeping an eye on the local peace.
Unlike before, merchants and shopkeepers had flooded into Rakselv Village, causing the population to skyrocket. Among them, the biggest hit was the village's famous staple: drinking water.
It was booming so wildly that even Luin couldn't squeeze into the market district until mid-afternoon.
Spotting him at last, Thomas handed over a glass bottle with a cheerful grin.
"Luin! You're here. Sold out again today—time to close up."
The business idea Luin had pitched to Thomas early on was distributing carbonated water.
After countless trials and errors drawing from modern knowledge, they'd nailed the recipe. Just one year after getting official approval to sell, the venture exploded.
Now it was a premium product that sold out instantly, but Thomas shot Luin a needless glare of dissatisfaction.
"So how long you planning to keep peddling this pittance?"
"Never thought I'd hear that from you, Thomas. You're the one who fears Shima most."
"...Who said I don't? Point is, we can't keep scraping by like this forever."
Thomas had a point—they were primed to ramp up stock several times over.
But with Shima still kicking around, scaling up would be outright stupid.
For now, they got some leeway under the guise of "Thomas's idea," but most profits still funneled straight to Shima.
The moment he caught wind of smoother distribution, he'd snatch their rice bowl, plain as day.
"This gig ends today. Hang in there a bit longer."
"You don't mean... you're finally taking Shima down?"
"Looks like he's sniffing around too."
It was disguised as Thomas's solo venture on the surface, but fooling Shima's eyes wasn't easy.
The uptick in tails lately was proof enough he'd locked onto them.
Luin twisted his lips into a smirk, fingers brushing the dragon bone shard at his throat.
"Time for me to wrap this up and head to the capital anyway."
In the Calven Territory, smack between Rakselv Village and Baron Hueton's lands, Shima's family dealt in all manner of shady goods from deep within.
Guards were tight, but outsiders prowling the territory got culled on sight anyway.
Stragglers invading the turf rarely even reached Shima—underlings handled it quietly. Today was no different; his goons slunk like hyenas, hunting intruders.
One spotted a fresh-faced boy and closed in.
"Hey, kid. This is Lord Shima's turf. Who the hell are you, strolling like you own it?"
"Here to see Shima. Mind showing me the way?"
The thug's eyes narrowed at the bratty attitude.
"Little shit's got balls... You snag some guts off the street or what?"
Luin ignored the taunt, drawing the sword from his back with a casual shing.
An aura so solemn it froze the thugs in their tracks—unthinkable from a child.
"Wait... I get it now. You're that cocky brat Luin, right?"
"Luin? The kid Shima wanted to scout?"
"Used to be. With tails on him now, sounds like he pissed off the boss."
So it was Shima's doing.
Satisfied with the intel, Luin wrapped his blade in mana without hesitation.
Fsssh.
Mana surged along the edge, sharpening it to a razor; the thugs drew their own weapons in response.
"I'll take point—you guys flank on my signal."
The central thug gripped his dagger reverse, barking orders. No reply came.
Unease prickled; he glanced aside—his buddies' throats were already slit.
"Why no—huh?"
He whipped back—Luin was gone.
Moments later, the last thug's head tore free, spinning 360 degrees before hitting the dirt.
Roll.
In a blink no one could react to, the skirmish ended.
Luin sheathed his sword silently and marched toward Shima's lair.
"That was way too easy."
The boy still didn't grasp it.
Just how far his skills had climbed.
Normally buried in paperwork, even Shima was fussing over his magic bullet gun today.
His cloth-wiping strokes on the barrel dragged slower than usual; checking the magazine oozed excessive caution.
His hard-earned street instincts whispered warnings.
The kind that sensed air shift before blood hit the breeze.
Today was exactly that.
"Carp grow to fit their pond, as they say."
His offhand remark tilted the burly man's head beside him.
"That Luin kid you're talking about?"
"Yeah. Been watching him a few years. He's had fun with Thomas, but judgment day's here."
"That why you hired me."
"What I've learned in this game, ad nauseam: always prep for the worst."
Shima rated Luin's potential high.
Prepping the magic bullet gun—one-shotting rank 30 beasts—was for that.
He'd even hired a famed mercenary to boot.
Overkill for village work, but Shima left nothing to chance.
Thoroughness without slacking had gotten him this far.
Shima aimed the gun at empty air, dry-firing.
"Heh, doubt we'll need this, though."
Rank 30 beasts needed B-rank adventurers to fell.
A one-shot wonder like that would crush any ordinary muscle easy.
As Shima holstered it, the mercenary's hand drifted to his massive battle axe.
"Something's coming."
"Hm? ...Faster than expected."
Shima had ramped up tails blatantly, luring Luin in.
But he hadn't figured the kid for charging the tiger's den head-on.
A boy with wisdom beyond years...
Wouldn't fall for a straight play, he'd thought.
Shima frowned, nodding slowly.
"Guess even talent doesn't change that he's still a kid."
He crossed arms, thumb rubbing his brow.
"Saves us trouble either way. Carmen, give him a proper welcome."
The giant paused at the storeroom exit.
A gravelly voice rumbled out.
"I'll bring him breathing."
But his reaching hand faltered, lost.
BOOM!
The storeroom door exploded in a thunderous crash, dust billowing.
As it cleared, an outsider swaggered in, twirling his sword boldly.
Jet-black hair sucking in light, sharp black eyes slit wide—a boy.
He fixed Carmen with a gaze ice-cold beyond his years.
"Quit blocking the road, meat slab."
⁕ ⁕ ⁕
What a joke—hiring muscle just to face a kid like me?
The guy before me was a hulking brute with a battle axe half his size strapped on.
Hard to believe it was just for me.
Insurance against Thomas flipping? Or maybe just flashy window dressing.
If the latter, I needed to seize initiative fast.
"Quit blocking the road, meat slab."
"Meat slab? Apologize now, and I'll leave you one arm."
"Apologize right now."
"......"
The man's bear-like arms trembled.
Suddenly, no wind-up—he just smashed the axe down raw.
KRAANG!
The ground cratered from one swing.
Strength was legit, maybe. Speed? Laughable.
"Swing like that and you'll never hit."
Definitely the latter.
A real pro would've dodged that easy.
Even thorough Shima must've slacked against a milky-scented kid.
"Too slow—you can't even block."
My sudden slash carved his gut before the axe moved.
Splat.
Blood fountained from the now-literal meat slab.
I sneered at Shima lounging in his chair.
"Should've spent more coin."
No reply.
Never pegged Shima for paling and going mute.
Clack.
Suddenly shaking like a leaf, he leveled a fancy priest's pistol.
I stifled a laugh at the move.
What a fucking moron?
Even a greenhorn swordsman with just Mana Blade wouldn't sweat that...
Pulling military-issue firearms—loser toys—for intimidation? Overkill.
"Want me to surrender or something?"
I mock-surrendered, closing in.
He'd lost the will to fight.
Otherwise, no way he'd make that call.
But Shima steadied his ragged breaths, gripping the pistol tight.
His shaky aim stabilized—he pulled the trigger.
BANG!
A deafening roar for a pistol; a massive fireball engulfed me.
Guns have come a long way.
Just the impression as the blaze swallowed me whole.
Shing!
A flicker of doubt—special gun?—but one Mana Blade slash canceled it.
Nothing special.
Just a flashy toy.
I closed to neutralize before round two.
But Shima had already lowered the barrel, staring blankly.
"No... way... Rank... one-shot?"
Closing on the spaced-out Shima, a stench hit—piss.
"Ah. This fucker shit himself."
This was the alley-overlord terror?
"Aigoo."
Words failed for the disappointment; I slapped a hand over my face.