Mercenary Guild
Gladiators, knights, guards, mages.
Since arriving in this world, I'd seen all sorts of professions, but deep down, I'd yet to lay eyes on the flower of fantasy: an adventurer.
Word had it that among mercenaries, those who specialized in exploration were called adventurers. Curiosity piqued at the chance of spotting one, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Ding-a-ling.
The building buzzed with activity, the bright chime of the bell announcing my entrance. Even in broad daylight, mercenaries lounged at the tables in the back, swords at their hips, calling for more booze to pour down their throats.
They run a tavern too? Right on the nose.
Faint whiffs of iron and heavy spices hung in the air from the moment I crossed the threshold. I waded deeper into the clamor.
Behind the counter sat a man with a bored expression, and beside him loomed what looked like the quest board.
I drifted over and scanned the postings.
The simpler ones, marked with basic writing and crude illustrations, were mostly hunting or gathering jobs. Most seemed commissioned by the mage tower or crafting workshops in the capital.
Made sense—no need for extermination quests in the heart of the city. Especially not in the Adel Kingdom's capital, with a mountain range right next door.
They'd head into the mountains, hunt monsters for fresh ingredients, or forage herbs. Come to think of it, the beasts I'd caught back in my Colosseum days had all been dragged down from those same peaks.
But still…
[Orc Shaman's Canine Tooth, Troll Liver.]
Could mercenaries really procure stuff like that?
Those materials looked brutally tough. Even if someone asked me to fetch them, I'd shake my head.
I swept my gaze over the mercenaries milling about.
Nothing too impressive… Maybe the heavy hitters weren't around during daytime hours.
Still, if I had to pick the strongest-looking bunch here…
“Wahahahaha!!”
“Keep 'em coming!”
“Let's drink ourselves to death!”
…it'd be those guys pounding shots at the tavern corner.
A solid fifteen of them, give or take. They'd all but commandeered the center tables.
“So that's when I told that bitch!”
“Hey, Hans! We're talking about your girlfriend here?”
“What the fuck, you?!”
Laughing, shouting, grabbing collars.
Crash!
“You broke a plate!”
“Shit!”
Plates shattering, total chaos.
The other mercenaries glanced over, clearly annoyed, but with their numbers and that tough-guy vibe, everyone just let it slide.
So these are the types who throw their weight around now, huh?
I was sizing up their exact level when—
“Let's take a quest!”
“Yeah! I'll grab it, and we can bet on drinks!”
Stagger-stagger.
One burly lout from their table lurched my way. Probably eyeing the quest board.
But damn, he'd pounded the booze.
The big oaf stumbled into nearby tables, sending plates crashing everywhere.
And then he barreled right up to me.
“Move.”
Thud. He shoved my shoulder like he owned the place.
But.
I didn't budge an inch.
“Huh?”
My feet planted firm, his expression twisted.
“What the—?”
Normally, I'd ignore it and step aside. But I had my own curiosity this time.
I stared him down, unblinking.
He was stocky enough sideways, but I towered a full head taller.
The brute flinched just a bit, appraising me.
Pros who lived by the blade had sharp instincts, after all.
“Hey, you bump into someone, you apologize first.”
Thud. Before he could back down and diffuse things, I flicked his forehead with my finger.
His brow vein throbbed.
“You little shit.”
Thud! Thud-thud!
He hammered my chest pretty hard.
“You wanna go?!”
I tuned out the raging brute and glanced at his crew, who were grinning our way.
Who's the leader? I'd heard big mercenary groups always had a boss.
Ah, that guy?
Deep in the long table's far end sat a grizzled middle-aged man, radiating authority.
His presence felt off the charts.
“Hey, you deaf?”
Whoosh.
The brute swung for my cheek now; I turned my head and dodged.
“Huh?”
Furious at that, he lunged for my collar—
Crack!
“Gaaah!”
—but I snatched his wrist and twisted. He clutched it, dropping to his knees.
Let's see.
I eyed the badge on the kneeling brute's belt: crossed sword and shield in silver.
Silver-rank warrior mercenary, huh? Third from the top in their ranks.
This guy must've been a big shot.
Though drunk and on his knees now.
“You fucker!”
“What the hell!”
Clatter!
The rest shot up from their seats as I pinned him.
The one who stayed put? Definitely the boss.
Thud!
“Gah!”
I booted the kneeling brute aside and charged their table.
“You bastard!”
Thump!
The first to rush me got his face palmed.
Bam!
Slammed him into the floor.
“What.”
“The hell…”
The crew flinched.
Step by step.
I ignored the frozen pack and strode right to the table.
Crunch, crack.
Stepped on a chair and climbed atop the long table.
“Who the fuck is this guy?”
“Huh?”
Surprised stares all around at my stunt.
Crack, crunch.
I stomped dishes flat, marching straight down the line.
Gonna have to pay for the broken ones before I leave. Make these idiots clean up.
“You fuck!”
One couldn't stand being ignored and reached for me—
Whoosh—crunch!
—sidestepped easy and stomped his hand.
“Argh!”
“Hans!”
“You dog!”
They scrambled onto the table after me, but—
“Everyone, stand down!”
The boss-like middle-aged man across the table bellowed, rising.
“What's your deal?”
“Your lackey started shit with me.”
“So what?”
“Time for the head to answer for it.”
“What the fuck?”
The mercenary leader gaped, incredulous.
“You gonna sit there all day?”
Thud! Crash!
I punted a glass his way; it shattered midair.
That sparked it.
“You'll regret this.”
He rolled up his sleeves and hopped onto the table.
“Boss!”
“You're fighting yourself?!”
His crew gawked, faces full of faith in him.
“F-Fight broke out!”
“...Jeban's fighting?”
“Who's the kid?”
The other mercenaries crowded in now, drawn by the noise.
Jeban, huh? That his name.
I glanced at his belt.
Gold badge.
Silver-rank leader merited gold, apparently.
“Come on.”
Let's test his skills.
Jeban assumed a stance at my taunt.
“You hit decent… but.”
His aura hit me—faint, but real Aura.
Aura?
Thin as it was.
Everyone and their dog uses it now?
Knight's made sense, but mercenaries too?
“Let's see if you can stand up to my Fleet.”
“Fleet?”
He knew Fleet too?
No way.
His Aura output screamed fresh awakening—below even my Colosseum days.
Maybe hiding it like Rowell? Nah.
Whoosh!
He lunged with a surprise punch.
Swoosh!
Fast, but dodgeable. I slipped aside…
“He dodged!”
“Dodged Jeban's Fleet!”
His crew freaked; Jeban's face twisted in shock at the miss.
“...That was Fleet?”
Just Aura-boosted speed. Nothing special.
“B-But Jeban's got combos! He's Continuous Strike Jeban!”
And then—
“My Continuous Fleet!”
Fists rained down at blistering speed.
Or rather, plain Aura-enhanced speed. No Fleet.
Huh. So this is what normals think.
Thwack!!
“Urk!!”
Crash!
No need to drag it out. Dodged easy, kicked him flying like the brute.
Jeban tumbled across the table.
“Faster than Jeban!”
“Who the hell is he?!”
I tuned out the murmurs.
Crunch, crunch.
Stepped off the table, right up to him.
“You… pack a punch, you little…”
Thud!
Punched his rising face.
“Guh…”
Grabbed his collar, slammed him down.
“Boss!!”
“Bastard!”
They charged en masse.
“Overwhelm him with numbers!”
“You dog! I'll smash your face in!”
I smirked.
Mercenaries got some loyalty, at least.
**
A little later.
“Guhk…”
“Urgh… monster bastard…”
The tavern was wrecked. His crew lay beaten to a pulp.
Onlookers had fled long ago; staff trembled, waiting for something.
Guards, probably.
Show the Boyd crest if they showed. That's what it was for.
No jail time for this mess.
Anyway.
“Hey, you're the boss, right?”
“Urk… guh… Y-Yes, sir…”
Squish, press.
Jeban gave a polite reply as I ground my boot into his face.
Good. Mercenary leader.
No real need to go this far, but seeing them sparked an idea.
“Three days from now, same time, back here.”
“P-Pardon…?”
“Don't show, I'll hunt you down.”
Famous enough his name carried weight. Easy to track.
Fate or whatever. He'd prove useful.
Afterward.
“Clean this shit up.”
Ordered his battered crew to handle it.
“S-Sir, you…”
Down on the first floor, I shoved a fat stack of silver at the guild staff as compensation.
Flashed the Boyd crest; they shut up fast.
“We got a report!”
“...Go home.”
“Huh? But this mess…”
“I'll explain later. You're good for now.”
The guards bought the guild's word and scrammed.
I headed back to the Boyd estate.
Productive stroll for a first-timer.