The Newbie
The mercenaries' war of nerves grew uglier with every passing moment.
“You really wanna get wrecked today?”
“Bring it, asshole! Think you're hot shit just 'cause you're kinda famous...”
Even amid all that, they just kept raising their voices—no one drew a blade.
Sheesh, what even is this fight?
To onlookers, it might've looked tense as hell, but to me, it seemed like they'd never actually throw down, no matter how long it dragged on.
At worst, maybe a few punches.
Mercenaries, man—they'll guard their own hides even if it kills 'em.
Not that I blame them. One dumb provocation leading to a lost arm could ruin your life. I get it.
Still, for a spectator like me, it was a total letdown.
“Food's here...”
“Thanks.”
Just in case things escalated, I tore into the grilled sausages the server brought and kept watching.
“Should I just dump this on him?”
“Get your weapons ready, everyone.”
“Oh yeah? Think we won't draw?”
All talk, no action—debating whether to draw or not.
Ridiculous.
If one side had gotten drunk, fists would've flown by now.
But nope.
“All done.”
“Uh, y-yeah...”
I set down my half-eaten sausage and stood.
The server, spooked by the brewing fight, hovered by my side the whole time.
Guess my spot looked safest.
Quick on the uptake.
Anyway...
“Goddamn coward—that's why you're just a kid's lackey...”
Perfect timing to step in, so I sauntered over.
“The hell's a 'kid'?”
“Huh?”
They were talking about me, right on cue.
Jeban's eyes flicked my way as I barged in.
...This guy's been onto me.
No wonder he was holding back.
“You...”
“Got a problem with me?”
I ignored Jeban and closed in on the rival group's leader.
“Hey, Jeban, who's this punk?”
“...He's the leader of the Blue Bird Mercenary Company.”
“He based around here?”
“Came to the capital recently.”
Blue Bird Mercenary Company, huh.
A quick glance at the others' badges showed a mix of Silver and Bronze ranks.
Decent numbers, though.
“No wonder his shoulders were all tensed up.”
Still, I got right up in the Gold-badge leader's face—the one who ran the outfit.
Young guy, mid-thirties maybe.
Prime age for hot blood.
“Y-you little shit...”
Muscular build, sure.
But up close, he froze at my appearance.
I towered over him, for one.
Wearing a high-end buff coat that screamed quality, with a Garret-made longsword at my hip—no scabbard, even.
Plus, I'd styled my hair. Had to look like bad news.
“Asked if you got a problem with me.”
From what I'd overheard during their spat, seemed like Jeban was catching flak because of me.
Time to leave an impression on the crowd.
Tap, tap.
I patted his shoulder lightly from inches away. He trembled but couldn't react.
Sizing me up, probably.
Sorry, no time to wait.
“Why no answer?”
Crack!
“Argh!”
A swift kick to the shin dropped him to his knees.
“Hng, you bastard...”
Might be overkill, but...
This world's like that.
Strength is power.
And I've got backing.
So I can swing mine freely.
No need to play guard dog outside the estate.
“Hey, I said speak.”
Over six years as a gladiator had etched this thug vibe into me.
“N-no complaints...”
“Then why start shit?”
“W-well...”
Hold up.
Looks like the fight wasn't about me after all?
That 'kid' jab was probably just to rile Jeban.
“Yo, Jeban—what started this?”
“...They came at us unprovoked.”
“Why'd they provoke you?”
I turned to glare at Jeban.
Not like he couldn't get it—what's with the dancing around?
“...Come out.”
Unable to hold my stare, Jeban called over one of his hooded subordinates.
The newbie from earlier. This about him?
“Take off the hood.”
The rookie complied—and I blinked.
“Hm?”
An Easterner?
“He's a friend from the East.”
“Nice to meet you, big guy. I'm from a far-off continent.”
Handsome dude, long hair tied back.
Seeing a fellow Eastern face in this Western-dominated world? Nostalgic.
“He doesn't talk good?”
“...His skills are solid. He's gained quite the rep lately.”
Cool to see a countryman after so long, but communication might be rough.
Still, he looked competent.
Just making it from that distant Eastern continent proved it.
“Anyway, take care. So they picked a fight over him?”
“...Yeah, being a foreigner and all.”
“Then why'd you take him on?”
“Skills and reliability. Better than the rest.”
Meritocrat, huh?
And from how he eyed me, he worried I'd dislike the Eastern outsider.
If you're that antsy, why hire him?
“No issues—don't sweat it. More importantly...”
Whoosh—
I pulled my foot back.
Thud!
A dagger stabbed right where it'd been.
This prick. While I chatted, he'd been fidgeting—cute trick, so I dodged.
“Hng, you...”
Face beet red. Pissed off good.
“This guy's got low IQ or what?”
I swung my retracted foot forward again.
Crack!
“Gah!”
Fast kick sent the merc leader tumbling.
“Hot-tempered. No manners either.”
“Tough bastard—still breathing.”
“Skills seemed decent.”
Yeah?
That stab was sharp enough.
He staggered up quick, even now.
“Needs some training.”
I approached the wobbling leader.
Then—
“Hey, back off.”
One of his burly underlings blocked me.
“Yo.”
I raised my hand high, staring down the brute.
Even 'big guy,' my eye level was higher.
“G-going after the boss is...”
With my arm stretched up, the height intimidated him—he flinched.
Smack!!
“Argh!”
Palm strike to the face sent him rolling.
“Who the fuck blocks my path?”
Grip—crush.
“Urk...”
Stepped over the rolling brute and faced the now-steady merc leader.
Takes me back to Jeban last time.
Jeban was drunk at least—this guy's a real man's man.
“You little...”
Dagger out, now drawing his sword too.
“Sheathe it.”
“What?”
“Sheathe or disband your merc company today.”
Didn't wanna make a huge mess, so I warned him.
One swing from me, and a mid-tier outfit like his folds.
“Decide quick.”
His call, so I waited.
“Urgh...”
Sobering up, he sheathed it.
“If you're gonna sheathe, why draw?”
Thud!
“Guh!”
Kicked him down, scanned the room.
His men glared, scared shitless.
Onlookers watched in stunned silence.
Nice vibe.
“Yo, take your boss and scram.”
Nodded at the nearest one, pointing at the fallen leader.
Clutching his wound, couldn't stand—but tough merc, no major damage.
“Y-yeah...”
They hauled the brute and fled—Blue Bird's crew, routed.
Whew.
I plopped into a nearby chair.
Snap.
Then beckoned the newbie who'd bugged me.
“Hey, samurai—over here.”
“You know samurai?”
“'Course.”
Half-expected it, but yep—real samurai.
Makes sense. World with knights? Why not Eastern samurai?
“Show me your weapon.”
“Need. Leader's permission.”
He glanced at Jeban in broken continental tongue.
Big on chain of command, huh.
“...Just do whatever he says.”
“Understood.”
Jeban's okay, and the samurai drew his slim blade from his waist.
“Whoa, a katana.”
Damn, actual Japanese sword.
“Not katana. Katana.”
“Right, katana.”
No Japan here, obviously. Still wild.
“You know samurai?”
“Yeah, read about 'em in books.”
Jeban eyed me, impressed I knew.
Guess I seem kinda ignorant otherwise.
But c'mon, who doesn't know samurai?
“On your back...”
“Naginata. Spear from homeland.”
“Ah.”
Japanese spear, got it.
Peeking inside the hood as he drew, the armor screamed samurai too.
All lugged from home?
Tough dude—not stripped of that fancy gear.
“Jeban.”
“Yes.”
“Back lot here, right? Rent it out.”
“Pardon?”
Skilled samurai... can't resist.
“Yo, samurai—spar with me.”
“Fight? Good.”
“Hans! Wooden swords!”
Too intriguing—gotta test Eastern martial arts from this world.