Chapter 38
Chapter 38
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Guild Thugs or Battle Mages?
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"Hey, you there. Hold up."
Just as he was stepping out of the merchant company and turning onto the main street.
A voice called out from a nearby alley.
"......Me?"
Turning around just in case, he spotted a group of people staring right at him from the alley before the main road bend.
"Yeah, you."
There were about five or six of them.
And among them was a familiar face.
The one clutching his grotesquely twisted arm with his other hand, glaring daggers at Jeon.
"......You've got to be kidding me."
He'd thought they were from the Mage Guild.
But their behavior screamed back-alley thugs.
No, looking closer, their faces matched the type too.
"Hey, kid. Didn't you hear me tell you to come over here?"
Thud.
And as if they'd been lying in wait, a burly guy approached from behind Jeon and plopped a hand on his shoulder.
'Wow, even in this world, huh.'
Back in his previous life, as a kid.
How many thug "bros" had he dealt with who slung an arm around him like they were buddies while shaking him down?
The deja vu made Jeon chuckle despite himself.
"This punk's laughing?"
Jeon felt the hand on his shoulder tense up.
The burly guy gripped his shoulder tight and started dragging him into the alley.
'Part of me wants to smash him right here......'
He'd love to twist the arm holding him just like that guy's mangled one.
But this was still near the main road, so Jeon decided to play along and follow them into the alley.
Better to handle it deeper in, away from prying eyes.
Once inside the alley, the waiting thugs naturally surrounded him, and the one who seemed like the leader stepped forward.
"Hey, did you do this to my little bro?"
The guy scowled and demanded an answer from Jeon.
'Are these mages or just street punks?'
The logo on their robes was definitely the Pentagram Mage Guild's.
But their vibe reeked so much of lowlife thugs, it was like they'd stolen the outfits.
'I thought it was a guild that even looked after apprentice mages.'
The first impression Jeon had of the Pentagram Guild was positive.
They brought even apprentices to public performances, giving them experience while entertaining the citizens.
Even when that guy picked a fight at Bolton's merchant company, he'd chalked it up to a bad apple.
Every group has one or two weirdos.
But facing a whole pack of thug-like mages now, Jeon started doubting if that good image was just PR spin.
"Hey, you gonna answer or what?"
The leader barked again as Jeon pondered.
"Mind if I ask you something first?"
Snapping out of it, Jeon stared straight at the yeller and fired back a question.
"I asked first—!"
"You guys are actually mages, right?"
"What?"
"Not street thugs, but real mages."
"Ha, unbelievable."
The leader laughed in disbelief at Jeon's dismissive tone.
"What, you gonna lecture us on mage dignity or the path a mage should walk, just 'cause you're a mage too?"
He'd clearly heard that spiel before, rattling off lines Jeon hadn't even said, and rolled up one sleeve.
"See this? These scars? Battle scars from rolling as a battle mage."
Sure enough, his arm bore various wounds.
Mostly knife slashes, though—which made Jeon furrow his brow.
"You're a battle mage?"
"Damn right!"
"So you fought on the front lines, clashing with knights and other battle mages... that kind of thing?"
"Heh, you know a bit. Yeah! I'm that battle mage!"
Maybe he was proud of the title.
He puffed out his chest, strutting.
But Jeon's follow-up shattered that pride.
"Knight aura doesn't leave scars like that, though, does it?"
"Wh-what?"
"A proper aura cut would've severed the arm clean off, not left a scar. Even shallow aura slices don't look like deep knife wounds."
"Y-you little shit, what do you know—?!"
Jeon had asked out of genuine curiosity from his experience.
But it clearly hit a nerve.
"You brat! What do you know!? Our boss rolled on real battlefields!"
"Boss, why waste words on this punk? Just beat him down and go smash Bolton next!"
"Right! No need wasting time on trash like this!"
Spotting their leader's fluster, the others jumped in with damage control.
But one line grated on Jeon's ears.
"Smash Bolton?"
Who was Bolton?
The guy who'd turned Jeon's 1 million credits into 5 million.
A rare acquaintance—practically a friend—guiding him to the White Tower.
And these punks wanted to smash him?
"What? You pissed 'cause you're buddies with Bolton?"
"This guy's hilarious. Hey, we'll smash you before Bolton, so worry about yourself, punk."
The surrounding thugs patted Jeon's cheek mockingly.
That was it. Jeon stopped holding back.
"Hopeless idiots."
Muttering that, he placed his hand over the one still on his shoulder.
"Huh? What're you—Gaaah?!"
Sizzle.
The burly guy watched curiously at first.
Then the stench of burning meat hit, followed by agony in his hand—he leaped back yelping.
Jeon didn't let go.
"Aaaah! My hand! My haaaand!"
The hand went from red-raw to charred black as the brute rolled on the ground screaming.
Pathetic, in Jeon's eyes.
"You crazy bastard!"
To the others, it was an emergency—their bro getting wrecked.
They charged en masse to save him.
"Oh? At least they know magic."
Jeon was mildly impressed.
All of them were casting spells on the rush.
Seemed like 2nd Circle level—better than they looked.
Didn't change Jeon's view, though.
Mage or not, they were still just street trash to him.
"Silver."
-Kyaaang!
Silver burst from his pocket at the call.
Staying small, it darted through the group in a silver blur.
"......Huh? My magic?"
"What the—!? I finished casting!"
A faint silver gleam trailed Silver's path.
Their spells fizzled without manifesting.
"Battle mages panicking like that?"
Jeon unleashed his prepared spell on them.
3rd Circle lightning magic: Chain Lightning.
'Not worth wasting secret arts on.'
From a spellbook he'd grabbed from the expedition gear.
Not Silvermont secret magic, just common spell.
Perfect for these clowns, though.
Lightning arced from his hand—through the brute, chaining to the rest.
"Ch-Chain Lightning?!"
"Crazy bastard!"
They flailed to escape.
No countermeasures prepared.
Just stunned dummies—zapped one by one.
"Gaaah!"
"Grghhh!"
"Kakakaka?!"
Screams varied as they convulsed and collapsed, eyes rolling back.
Only the leader remained.
Not because he was the strongest.
"Need someone left to talk."
They'd boasted about smashing Bolton.
Jeon spared him to pry into the guild's plans.
Jeon advanced slowly.
The leader backpedaled in sync.
"Wh-what the hell is this...?"
The lone thug-mage, Cardon, couldn't process it.
They'd come to "negotiate" with Bolton.
His bro requests formal meeting.
Bolton refuses—they barge in, smash or threaten into compliance.
'Who the hell is this kid?'
Plan derailed before starting.
All his bros down.
Because of this brat.
He'd figured the arm-twister was a mage.
But kid-looking, so maybe 3rd Circle tops.
'3rd Circle this strong? Even 3rd?'
Even if 3rd Circle, they had numbers.
He was a fresh ex-mercenary, battle-hardened.
Gang up—even on a young 3rd Circler—easy takedown.
Not this wipeout without landing a hit.
"So, shall we start with your talk of smashing Bolton?"
Thud.
Backed into a dead-end wall.
No retreat. Cardon gritted his teeth.
Not out of pride, though.
"T-touch me, and our guild won't let it slide!"
Just pimping his guild's name pathetically.
"So?"
No dice.
"Pentagram Guild? Big deal."
"Wh-what?!"
Makes sense.
Jeon's bag held the Silvermont pendant—proof of backing.
Enough to scoff at a minor guild.
If they pushed, flash the Imperial Guardian Medal.
Besides, Jeon didn't see these fake-mages as threats anyway.
"O-our Pentagram Guild bros won't—!"
"Bro this, bro that—are you sure you're a mage guild?"
Cardon tried again, invoking the guild.
Ineffective. Worse—Jeon's face darkened more.
'Wh-what do I do?'
Three months ago.
Since joining the newly renamed Haswell branch, first time like this.
Weak foe? Crush with force.
Strong? Name-drop guild.
Image be damned—that's why big bro placed them here.
Cardon and crew had a blast past three months.
No one checked their antics.
"Now, answer my questions honestly."
"Uh, w-well, see... our boss, I mean..."
Force failed. Name-drop failed.
First time—Cardon just stammered.
"Not feeling chatty?"
"N-no! Can't say—!"
He feared Jeon, but big bro more.
Spill here? Neck gone.
"Fine, no talk? Twist arms and legs like your bro there till you change your mind?"
"R-really can't—G-gaaah?!"
Didn't take long.
Both arms, one leg twisted.
"I-I'll talk! Everything!"
Cardon spilled willingly.