Chapter 5: Underworld and Pseudonym

Chapter 5:
Underworld and Pseudonym

 

NEARLY AN HOUR HAD PASSED since the debt collector punks had left. Because I couldn’t stand looking at the ruined state of the shop, I’d been returning the scattered goods on the floor to their shelves. Gol was helping me. What a good girl.

Hey, you, the fallen samurai over there. How about you stop cowering on the floor and take a hint from my wonderfully well-mannered Gol?

“Jeez, how much longer are you gonna keep acting like that…?” I said to the shivering man on the floor before returning to arranging the mana tools on the shelf.

By cleaning the shop, I was able to confirm something. Despite the relatively splendid and spacious appearance of the shop’s layout, there weren’t a lot of goods. From the moment I’d stepped in, I hadn’t seen any customers but myself, and because the shelves were empty, it had felt hollow.

Being unfamiliar with this world, I had thought this was normal. But in reality, the reason the shop couldn’t be properly restocked was debt. That merchant probably hadn’t even had enough money to properly buy the sorcery cores from me. That was no doubt why he had resorted to such a desperate scam.

The mana tools littered on the floor were all small objects, like toys. As I returned them to the shelves, I picked up a strange one that looked like a nut and bolt. While I was turning it over, I felt a gaze from the front of the shop.

I raised my head and my eyes widened. “What’s with those guys…?”

A crowd of men stood on the street out front, glaring at me. It was a bizarre scene. They were all extremely unrefined; they had the same style as those three punks from before. While some wore sabers and short swords at their waists, some carried crude weapons like clubs. They looked like a real gang. Furthermore, there were a lot of them—over fifty at my best guess.

Inside the shop, Gol silently moved to stand in front of me.

Oh, hey, Gol, are you going to fight these guys? Wait a moment. You can’t act so recklessly!

“Ha, your shop’s depressing as usual.” A deep voice came from within the crowd, and a large man sauntered heavily forward. The gold armor on his body was of an unfamiliar shape, and he wore a large sword on his back.

Actually, it was an abnormally large sword. Its length exceeded an average person’s height, and it was needlessly thick and wide. Could such a weapon be swung by human means? Was that man the descendant of a gorilla or something? I frowned quizzically at this weapon that was too absurd to be useful in battle.

The big man with the comically big sword attempted to intimidate me with his threatening voice. “You’re him? The spellcaster and wielder of the red-eyed shrine golem?”

Yup, most likely. I wanted to respond with something like a gallant “Yeah, that’s me,” but was that all right? Was it okay to call myself a spellcaster? I could only use Earth spells, and beginner ones to boot. I was a complete amateur who could only make stuff like pebbles, golems, and spears. If I dared call myself a bona fide spellcaster at such a puny level, wouldn’t I be reprimanded by professionals? Wouldn’t they snicker at me?

“And what if I was? Can I help you with something?” I neither admitted to nor denied the accusation. That felt safe.

The moment I responded, the tension in the punk crowd spiked for some reason. Huh? Was there something wrong with the way I phrased it?

“Heh, you shameless bastard. Seein’ as you’ve been patiently waitin’ for us here in the open, I gotta say you’ve got some damn nerve. You must be feelin’ good because you won a petty victory with your golem over there, eh? Sorry to disappoint, but you’re out of luck now that you’ve gone and laid a hand on the buddy of a spell warrior like me,” the man declared.

The punks cheered in agreement, getting frightfully excited. “Yeah! Big Dazu’s the strongest Blood spell wielder in the underworld! Your light-class golem’ll be broken in half with a single blow! Do it, Big Dazu!”

I listened to their cries and recalled a passage in Introduction to Spellcrafting I. “Blood spells…”

Having read the book back in the basin hideout, I knew a bit about the Blood attribute. If I remembered correctly, it allowed its users to “boil their blood,” and Blood spells could strengthen bodies and improve healing. Since the effects of these spells enhanced physicality, spellcasters with an aptitude in the Blood attribute were absurdly strong in close combat. Therefore, they could be difficult opponents on the battlefield.

Additionally, spellcasters who specialized in this attribute were categorized differently from normal spellcasters, gaining the distinction of being called “spell warriors.” Notably, there were other subcategories of spellcasters who used specialized spells. For example, I was sometimes referred to as a “golem wielder,” which was the Earth attribute version of a specialized spellcaster.

Jeez, just the name “spell warrior” was super cool already! Of course, I’d thought so from the beginning. That was why when I’d discerned my attribute, I had also tested to see if I possessed any aptitude in the Blood attribute. The result had been, of course, not an iota of talent.

The large man in front of me was a spell warrior, though—a job I had given up on obtaining. Furthermore, he was “the strongest in the underworld.” Another amazing title.

But what a turn of events this was! This large spell warrior was likely some kind of boss to those three punks with whom we’d had our earlier dispute. I had a lot to say about those guys’ violent behavior and attempt to embezzle when they were only supposed to be collecting on a debt. Nevertheless, it was most likely also true that the trembling man beside me, whose pale face had since turned a color past purple, owed these guys some serious money.

Plus, Gol had severely injured this spell warrior’s employees before they could defend themselves. Given that, I was at least responsible for paying their medical fees. I might even be forced to pour my entire fortune into expensive medical bills and other compensation.

Ah, well. That was fine. I would surrender and accept my punishment. My partner’s carelessness was completely my fault. I was prepared to take on the tragic burden of handing over my last cent.

“I got it. State your business. I’ll hear you out,” I said.

“My business? That’s already been determined. Two spellcasters wagin’ their honor on the line as they go head-to-head—a fight to the death!” the large man exclaimed. The punks of this world were more violent than I had expected.

At that moment, the large man began the battle before I could say anything.

“Raarrghhh! Armor of the Lion!” He cast his spell with an echoing roar. At the same time, an aura of crimson steam erupted from his body. All his muscles swelled to an incredible degree, covering his entire form like hardened pieces of armor.

A-amazing. I’ve never seen a guy like this, even among foreign wrestlers.

Fired up, the large man drew his sword from his back. He swung the blade—which was practically an iron log—with terrifying ease. Then he shouted in triumph, “I’ll chop you up, golem wielder! You’ll regret standin’ up to me…in hell!”

“Uhh…” I uttered, unthinking. At that moment, I realized a horribly dreadful thing. This large man was standing on the street in front of the shop, so there was still quite some distance between us. Furthermore, he was in the middle of the road and surrounded by a large crowd. As such, when he made this bold, provocative pose, he stepped out past them, toward me, and pointed his sword horizontally right at my face.

In other words, he made his move toward me.

This was bad. I knew it was, but Gol moved before I could say anything to stop her.

She stepped forward like a gust of wind from a hurricane. She’d been waiting for this exact moment.

The white elf shot forward like a bullet to challenge the huge giant of a man. The immaculate comet of her fist sunk into the man’s face with a resounding thud.

The colossal mass of muscle that was a man flew backward like a crumpled piece of paper. His body drew a high parabola as he soared over the street.

The members of the punk gang, the mana tool merchant, and I all stood there in a daze, only able to watch the ball of meat fly into the sky.

The large man careened back down to earth and smashed with all that momentum head-first into some empty barrels piled up in front of the shop across the street. Most of the barrels shattered from the impact of his fall. Broken shards of wood and dust danced through the air. At last, he slammed into the wall and stopped moving altogether.

No one could say anything. Silence choked the town. Wooden shards clattered over the street.

“I…”

I’ve done it now! I forgot to revise the instructions I gave to Gol! This was absolutely my fault. I want to die! Crushed by the weight of my sin, I hung my head.

However, I shouldn’t have done that. It was utterly the wrong move to take my eyes off of Gol. For those brief few seconds, I once more tried to escape from reality. But when I raised my head to face my fate, pandemonium lay before me.

“Wh-what happened here…?”

A punk was sprawled on the ground at my feet, covered in blood and writhing. And another punk, and another. What was this? What had happened?

I was confused for only a moment: Gol. In the few seconds I’d not been looking…

The punks lying on the ground were all moaning in pain and had lost gouts of blood, and their limbs were bent at dreadful angles. In a word, it was terrible. But at least they were moving.

“Th-thank goodness. They’re not dead…” I said. It seemed Gol had held back yet again.

As I gradually regained my composure, I conducted another survey of our surroundings. The street in front of the shop was dyed red with blood. During those few seconds, all the punks within a certain radius had been severely assaulted and left in a half-dead state. The number of casualties was close to half of the entire group. Someone had made unbelievably quick work of them.

The presumed culprit, Gol, stood silently beside me. She wore a blithe, innocent look, like she had no idea what had just happened.

No, Gol. I definitely won’t be fooled by that face. I saw you sneakily wiping the blood off your hand!

The remaining half, the uninjured punks, were frozen in place as if they had been crucified. No one dared utter a word. They stared at me with petrified expressions.

No, wait. Why are you looking at me? Gol was the one who nearly killed your comrades. Although, sure, I held responsibility as the golem’s owner, I hadn’t done anything to them myself.

However, across the board, the expressions of the punks staring at me were those of fear and despair. They looked as though they’d beheld some kind of evil demon.

Anyway, this situation was starting to seem kind of…not good.

The large man, who was supposed to be the leader of this group, was still buried in the wall among the barrel wreckage, twitching and spasming. First, we needed to tend his injuries so we could peacefully discuss an end to hostilities. If I didn’t own up to responsibility and take control of the situation, it’d definitely break bad.

I walked across the street and headed for the large man. The surviving punks made a path for me. I felt like the prophet Moses parting the sea, though this was a dirty sea of filthy punks.

“N-noo! F-forgive me. Just spare my life! Please! I-I was wrong!” the large man cried. Half his face was swollen and in dreadful shape. He shed tears as he trembled.

I knew Gol had held back, but it didn’t change the fact that her attack had landed directly on this guy’s face. I was surprised he was still conscious. Perhaps he owed that to his Blood spell before. I wouldn’t underestimate it again. It was quite a dangerous spell. With so much defensive ability, this guy was likely able to repel any average physical attack. I understood why he had been confident enough to do battle with a golem.

As much as I was interested in this guy’s abilities, Gol nursed no such curiosities and brandished her right arm at the trembling man.

Ah, that was no good. Gol wanted to throw another punch.

“Gol, no. Be a good girl and stay.”

If you hit him again, he’ll probably die.

In any case, it was fortunate he had retained consciousness. This way, we could still have a discussion. However, where could I start? First, I needed to both address my issue with the way his subordinates collected debt, and then clarify the misunderstanding on both sides. Apologizing for Gol’s repeated assaults would come after.

“Listen up. You see that man over there, shivering on the floor of the mana tool shop? Yeah, about his debt…” I said.

“I-I understand. I understand! We took on a request from the Paisley Company. We’re only here to collect the payment. We’ll withdraw and wash our hands of the matter. We’ll never, ever lay a hand on that shop again. So, please, please don’t kill me!” he pleaded. His face was swollen with broken bones and torn muscle, and he bawled while painfully sniffling through a nosebleed.

Hey, stop making such a scene. People will misunderstand. I have no intention of killing anyone—

“I really didn’t know he had someone like you in his family! I won’t touch anyone in this town again. I’ll leave right away, okay? I beg of you. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me!” he cried.

I was so frightened by his shouts that I drew back my hand.

You see, I had taken hold of his collar to check the state of his facial injuries, but it had looked like I was grabbing him by the neck. The moment I let go, the large man staggered out of my reach and escaped with unsteady feet in the direction of the western gate.

His subordinates were dumbfounded as they watched him flee. They followed him nevertheless, dragging the groaning injured with them.

I guess they’re pretty close if they’re not leaving any man behind.

“A-a nightmare…” One of the escaping underlings muttered this in a vacant-eyed daze, but it left a strange impression on me.

 

After that day, a name echoed through the underworld of the empire: the “Nightmare of Tibar,” a dangerous harbinger of atrocity—the wielder of the red-eyed golem.

I only learned of this name much later.

 

***

 

The gang of punks fled town as if they were a vanishing typhoon. The wind whooshed through the empty street. All that remained was the giant sword dropped by that large man. Nothing else was left.

“What should we do with this sword…?”

I stood dumbfounded in front of this neglected blade when a resident of the town walked up to me. It was a grandma wearing a shabby hood and using a short cane to support herself.

I recognized her at once. She was the gentle grandma I had encountered as I entered the town, and she had given me a piece of candy. She had also told me the mana tool shop’s location.

“Thank you, young man,” the grandma said. She stroked my head with fingers as thin as twigs and smiled. “The mana tool merchant had to take on that horrible debt to pay for his sick daughter’s medicine. Everyone in the town was worried. But we were all afraid of those terrifying thugs. No one could say anything.”

“I see. So that’s what happened… Wait, ‘daughter’?” I broke off midway and my eyes widened. Grandmother, what did you say, perhaps? Did you say “daughter”? That old man has a daughter of marriageable age?!

No way! My life in another world had thus far been stubbornly filled with monkeys, old men, and dinosaurs, but had my “romance with a girl” flag finally been raised?

I couldn’t believe it. But could I? Was this for real? Like that cliché where a man saves a father from criminals in the name of justice and begins a bittersweet love story with his adorable daughter? Was such a convenient dreamy love story really happening to me?! Amazing. This was too amazing!

I was frozen in astonishment, my eyes huge, when the grandma gave me another piece of candy.

“Ah, thank you very much.” I returned to my senses and bowed.

The grandma also gave Gol a piece of candy. How kind.

Gol showed some hesitation as the grandma handed her the candy, however. She stared restlessly at the treat as it was presented to her. This was unusual.

“Good for you, Gol. Go ahead and accept it,” I said with a smile.

Since Gol couldn’t eat the candy, I would take it from her later. In return, I’d make sure to wipe her body down until she shone.

The strange and gentle sweetness of the candy spread through my mouth. It tasted of some kind of nostalgic fruit.