Chapter 3
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Settling Scores
-----------------------------------------------------------------
*Knock, knock.*
Just as he was about to leave the house, someone tapped lightly on the door.
A subtle madness crept into Parker’s annoyed eyes.
He’s here.
He wanted to jump up and grab a club that very instant.
He wanted to beat the boy ten times harder than he’d been beaten.
But for now, all Parker could do was sit and wait.
*Ssk.*
Parker shot Montaol a look, urging him to open the door.
Montaol frowned back at him.
“Hey, Parker.”
“……?”
“I know you’re in a hurry, but if you ever try to order me around with your eyes or your chin again, you might just lose those eyeballs.”
“Wh-what?”
“Just be careful.”
Parker swallowed hard, crushed by the force of Montaol’s words.
“R-right. My apologies.”
In his haste, he seemed to have forgotten just who was sitting in front of him.
At Parker’s words, Montaol turned his head toward the door.
“Come in.”
“……”
But no one responded to his call.
“I said, come in.”
Montaol repeated, a hint of irritation in his voice.
“……”
When there was still no response, Montaol’s gaze turned cold.
“What is this…….”
“Shh.”
Muttering under his breath, Montaol drew the dagger from his belt. And then…
*Ssk.*
The very moment he nudged the door open.
*Swoosh!*
A dagger suddenly flew into the house, and Montaol swiftly swung his own to meet it.
*Clang!*
“Hiiik!”
As a dagger clattered to the floor, Parker shrieked, making a scene.
“...Did they fail?”
Montaol muttered, looking at the boy standing opposite him.
He didn't know how the kid had gotten here, but the fact that he was alone must mean failure.
“You Demian?”
“That’s right, lackey.”
“Lackey?”
“Aren’t you the lackey for that pig behind you? That must be why you’re doing his bidding so obediently.”
“Heh heh heh, the kid’s got a sharp tongue.”
Montaol’s eyes grew cold. He glanced at the spear in the boy’s hand.
It was too crude to be called a spear.
It was just a long stick with a dagger tied to the end.
Montaol burst out laughing.
“Heh heh heh, what’s that toy? You call that a spear?”
“No matter how I think about it, this feels more natural in my hands than a dagger.”
Demian had handled a spear for five years.
Thinking the leader would be with Parker, he had broken a suitable wooden mop handle and tied a dagger to its end.
It was admittedly lacking as a spear, but…
‘Still, this is much better.’
And just as he’d expected, the one who could be called the leader was here.
As Demian’s gaze met his, Montaol let out a small breath.
Still, the fact that he took care of my men…
‘Was there an unexpected variable?’
This just got complicated.
Montaol turned his gaze to Parker behind him and spoke.
“Hey, Parker. I’m going to have to triple the fee. This has gotten serious.”
“Th-three times?!”
The amount they had already agreed upon was substantial.
He wasn’t asking for a little more, but triple?
As Parker’s face twisted in dismay, Montaol looked at the spear in Demian’s hand and said.
“See the blood on the end of that stick? Looks like it all belongs to my boys… What do you think will happen to you if I wash my hands of this and walk away?”
“Is-is that a threat?!”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a request to cover our losses since you gave us bad information.”
“B-but triple is…”
“Then I’m out.”
Montaol sheathed his dagger and turned to leave. Or rather, he was about to turn when Parker desperately shouted.
“I-I’ll pay it! Triple!”
Parker knew it too.
If Montaol left now, he was a dead man.
Even if he didn’t die, he would be beaten much more severely than before.
At Parker’s shout, a wide smirk spread across Montaol’s lips as he turned back.
*Smirk.*
“Negotiations complete.”
With those words, Montaol put away his dagger and drew the long sword hanging at his waist.
It was a blade with a slight curve.
Montaol spoke to Demian.
“Nothing personal. It’s just business.”
“It’s personal for me. So don’t ask why and just die.”
Because of these bastards, he had spent half of his past life living like trash in the back alleys.
At Demian’s words, Montaol’s brow furrowed deeply.
“Insolent brat.”
*Fwoosh!*
Montaol dashed out of the house, rushing toward Demian.
Parker’s request meant he couldn’t kill him.
Instead, he planned to sever the tendons in his arms and legs and turn him into a cripple.
*Fwoosh!*
The moment Montaol kicked off the ground and charged…
*Swoosh!*
The boy thrust the spear he was holding toward Montaol’s groin.
Not the neck, nor the chest near the heart, but an awkward spot below the waist. Montaol’s eyebrow twitched slightly.
‘This kid…?’
Montaol was a born fighter and leader.
Born in the back alleys, he had fought his way through countless battles since childhood to reach his current position.
He could tell from the first move.
‘He’s no ordinary kid.’
An attack below the waist was the most awkward to dodge or block for someone as tall as Montaol.
If it was a coincidence, it wouldn’t matter, but…
‘If he did it knowingly…’
Thinking of him as a mere thirteen-year-old could be a grave mistake.
*Clang!*
Montaol lightly deflected the spear Demian extended and kicked hard off the ground.
*Thump!*
In an instant, Montaol’s speed increased.
He threw his left fist toward Demian’s face.
*Whoosh!*
But the left fist was just a feint.
The moment Demian reacted to the punch and defended his face…
‘I’ll tear open his thigh.’
Once one leg was disabled, he could toy with him before finishing him off.
Just as expected, Demian threw his head back to dodge the punch.
In that very instant…
“The real one is here!”
Seeing Demian fall into his trap, Montaol swung his sword at the boy’s thigh.
*Swish!*
“...Swish?”
He had expected a slicing or stabbing sensation, something for his hand to connect with. But as Montaol’s sword cut through empty air…
“I already knew the sword in your right hand was the real attack.”
That fleeting glance at his own thigh just before attacking.
The tightened grip on the sword, preparing for a decisive blow.
The lightly thrown punch, the slight twist of his waist to the left—all of it told Demian.
It told him that the man intended to attack his thigh with the sword in his right hand.
*Spin.*
Demian pulled his right leg back, dodging Montaol’s sword, and pivoted clockwise on his left foot.
Then, using the rotational force, he struck the man’s back with the butt end of his makeshift spear.
*Thwack!*
“Ack!”
The spear shaft connected squarely with his back, causing the man to cry out and grimace.
He had never imagined the boy would dodge and counter like that.
But even if it was a solid hit, it was still an attack from a thirteen-year-old boy.
His physical strength wasn’t great enough to make it a fatal blow.
*Grit!*
Montaol gritted his teeth and spun around.
To hell with crippling him; a powerful urge to just grab the boy and tear him apart filled his mind.
“You little brat, I’ll kill y—.”
Montaol spat a curse as he turned.
But before his words could finish…
*Slice.*
A chilling sound that made his hair stand on end, and Montaol’s body flinched.
With it, a thin red line appeared across his neck.
“Kh-khak!”
As Montaol clutched his throat with both hands, the wound split open, and blood began to gush out.
The fight was over, almost anticlimactically.
Demian looked down at the fallen Montaol.
‘He was… fairly strong, but.’
At the end of the day, he was just a back-alley thug.
Demian, on the other hand, though unable to wield mana, possessed spear skills that ranked among the best in the kingdom.
A back-alley punk like this was no match for him.
*Ssk.*
With things settled, Demian turned to the slumped-over Parker.
Montaol’s defeat seemed to have been a considerable shock; the man was staring at Demian with a look of utter disbelief.
“D-De-Demian. F-f-first, my….”
As Demian walked into the house, Parker, his face now twice its swollen size, turned pale and began to tremble uncontrollably.
“D-don’t come here! Stay away!”
His desperate cry was like that of someone who had seen a ghost.
But as the door closed behind Demian, that desperate cry began to transform into a bloodcurdling scream.
* * *
“Recipient, are you Mr. Demian?”
“Yes.”
“The total is 3 Platinum and 650 Gold. I’ve prepared the 650 Gold in jewels, as the coins would be too bulky. Would you like to check them?”
At the words of Bilson, the man who had handled his insurance, Demian shook his head.
If he accepted all this money now, he’d likely be assassinated the moment he left the bank.
Just having the claim completed was enough.
“I’d like to deposit everything in the Imperial Bank. Oh, and can this be deposited as well?”
Demian held up a pouch full of jewels.
Bilson looked at it with a surprised expression.
“Th-these jewels are…”
But Bilson didn't ask why.
He didn’t need to; he could guess.
He had heard the news last night that a loan shark named Parker had died in a dispute with a business partner.
“...I will need to have these officially appraised before converting them to cash for deposit. Would that be acceptable?”
“Yes, I’ll leave it in your hands.”
“It’s not precise, but with this many jewels… I’d estimate them to be worth around 3 Platinum.”
A faint smile touched Demian’s lips at those words.
“Yes, I’m counting on you.”
“Thank you for entrusting me. You can withdraw your deposits from any branch of the Imperial Bank, as long as you can verify your identity.”
“Thank you.”
As Demian stood up, Bilson rose as well.
Bilson asked.
“May I ask where you will be going now?”
Demian could become his biggest VIP client.
Including the jewels from a moment ago, he was a VIP who had just deposited over 6 Platinum.
Considering that a typical commoner family of three or four had monthly living expenses of 2-3 Gold, this was an astronomical sum.
After all, 1,000 Gold was 1 Platinum.
Demian answered Bilson’s question.
“I plan… to enlist in the military.”
“The military?”
Bilson blinked, staring at Demian.
It made no sense from a logical standpoint.
With so much money, why would he choose to suffer in the army?
“If you are in need of a place to stay, I could introduce you to a safe location.”
“That’s alright.”
Of course, from Bilson’s perspective, Demian’s actions must seem strange.
‘But in just five years, the situation will be completely different.’
By then, most young men would be forcibly conscripted.
It was far more advantageous to go now and establish a position for himself, even a day sooner, than to be dragged in later and get kicked around.
Besides…
“There are people I need to meet.”
“In the army?”
Could a thirteen-year-old boy have people to meet in the army?
Bilson looked at him quizzically, but…
“I will contact you once I’m settled.”
With those words, Demian immediately took his leave.
Climbing into a carriage, Demian said.
“To the capital, please.”
He had decided this from the beginning.
Knowing the future five years from now was part of it, but that was a minor reason.
It was simply…
‘The only place I can belong.’
And he could start again.
As a completely different person.
Not as a forced conscript, not at the late age of twenty-five.
‘And my Mana Hall isn’t broken.’
Everything was perfect.
‘This time…’
He would climb higher than anyone else.
Instead of being swept away by an era of war…
‘I will be its master.’
Demian’s eyes shone with a sharper light than ever before.