Holding my sword firm in my left hand I stare at my enemy with clear bloodthirst. My vision reddens a little and the pain from the unuseable other hand craves for rest. Yet, my blood is boiling and itches for a good fight.

He is a real murderer from the battlefield, he killed much more than me. He refined his techniques to be able overpower the strong and to deceive the faster and more clever. So what?

I’m a demon. I ruthlessly kill and eat humas. They are just prey, I’m the predator. A natural hunter. I’m stronger and faster, I’m more clever and precise. I won’t allow myself to be defeated.

Standing in front of each other, swords in our hands, we wait. A long staring contest begins emitting intense anger and bloodlust making the weaker spectators back off in fear. This is not a test from now on. This is a contest who is the better. We may kill each other accidentally but what of it? This is what should happen.

The humas instructor won’t attack first. It would be an instant loss for him considering our strength difference. I can just hit his sword so hard his arm breaks off. No, he waits for me to make a mistake. Calmly looking at me with a fanatic grin.

It’s not like I’m different. Probably my own face is also deteriorated from a hellish grin of enjoyment and concentration.

“Let’s end this at once. I won’t take the chance to lose against a humas.” I say. His grin widens even more, but both of us know that if I focus more on power and less on technique his chances will worsen. The only reason I held back on raw strength is because I wanted to refine my skills and avoid lethality. I don’t know what will happen this way, but this is my best option now.

(instructor) “I may be old, but you should know I’m still on gold plate level. Give me your best shot.”

At this remark I stomp on the ground heavily, kicking dust in the air. I launch myself forward at an inhuman speed aiming for his wounded leg. Noticing my aim he deflects my strine with some trouble but his own sword’s side hits his own leg with enough force to break bones. With a spin he follows up an attack but I simply kick his elbow while reducing my speed. When I manage to stop my momentum I block his quick trust aimed at my head. Pushing his sword down it’s end stucks in the ground when I raise my sword high and strike at it. The sword propped between the ground and his arm crackens and I manage to break it in two.

The old man with a proud smile grabs a small dagger from his belt, aiming at my exposed back. I don’t have the time to react properly, so I just block with my already wasted arm. As the dagger deepens inside my flesh I let go of my sword to fix my weight distribution and headbutt him with all the strength I can muster in that disadvantageous position.

Even if I’m a demon, my brain is still weak against blunt attacks. They can pierce it I still have a chance but a heavy hit will destroy my balance and senses for a time.

And this is what happened here. From the hit I back off a few steps in pain, not knowing where is up or down. It only takes a few seconds until my senses are back but that period would be enough time to slice me in two.

When I pull myself together I have to wipe some blood of my face, not knowing it’s mine or his’. After I manage to open my eyes I see the man laying unconscious on the ground. There is a pool blood around him but he should be fine. I hope. I will be in trouble if he’s dead. Ah, that blood is from my arm. I can also feel his heart beating. Safe.

A look turn my head to check the peanut gallery only to find the same frightened gazes I saw before coming here. What, do I look that intimidating?

“He seems fine but you should take him to a healer or something.” I turn around and try to erase my state of mind, but the adrenalin from the fight still pumps my blood and makes me unable to let go of the sword in my hand. A walk towards the assistant who brought me here but he steps back in fright. A loud laughter cracks from the background.

(?) “That was a good fight! *laugh* They all crapped their pants-” He says while laughing hard. I look at the few people who are still calm. The one who laughs, a tall, muscular man in his 30s, an old veteran looking man and a few other mercenaries. The old man walks up to me and points at my hand.

(old mercenary) “The young easily misunderstand you when they are in panic. You should drop that” His tone is very strong and decisive but I’m sure he is saying that from experience.

“I would if I could” I what I answer to what he shakes his head.

(old mercenary) “You are too inexperienced to wield such power. Here, let me help you.” He calmly approaches and unwraps my fingers from the sword slowly. When my hands become free, I stretch my fingers.

“Thanks. It’s just that this is my first time wielding a sword.” At my remark all their eyes widen, but misunderstanding they imagine that I use some kind of other weapon.

(? -> Muscle Mercenary) “Well, you put hell of a fight there, I would estimate your sword skills are at gold level. If it weren’t for you beating that ex-mithril mercenary in front of me I’d not believe it. Are you a spearwoman?” I still don’t know what the ranks mean but it should be fairly good.

“No, I usually fight barehanded. I sometimes throw swords or lances tough.” Yet again a confused look spark in their eyes.

“So, did I pass?” I ask from the assistant again.

(old mercenary) “It’s an undeniable yes, but you won’t know your rank ‘til he awakens”

Breaking from his freeze the assistant motions to follow. Due to the progress we made my hard eases a little. It would be impossible to run from here if they turn out to be enemies. Ah, they are humas. My thinking shifted again. They are my natural enemies yet not. It’s a bit confusing. Ignoring the bystanders I follow behind the assistant for a while, until I’m back at the reception again. After telling me to wait a little he goes to the back and I hear a machine pressing against a metal. Now that I remember the mercenaries use some kind of dog tags for identifying. It is made of strong metal and has a magic emblem emitting certain pulses like magnet chips. It’s very hard to fake them but if you are able to you have no use for doing it.

After I’m told to wait I sit down at one of the tables in the hall what is mainly used for waiting. I hope that guy won’t hate me for for breaking his bones. I mean he was the one who started it. I had to hold back on strength to not kill him accidentally but he is far more skilled. When I ask a person sitting near me I learn that he was a highest ranking mercenary at adamantine level. The ranks are simple named after metals and their prices. Copper, iron, silver, gold, mithril, adamantine as it is. Why not numbers or other names? Simple. Their rank is what the minimum payment for their job usually is. Of course there are very few quests higher than gold but above gold you are considered a veteran or even a hero. The adamantine rank is literally reserved for powerful heroes. So, mithril is… a small hero? Gosh, this is stupid.

Few hours later the instructor approaches me with a stupid grin and rubs in my face that my rank is gold, only because I’m a bastard who has no skill and only rely on her strength. After sending him back where he came from with a hard punch I claim my dog tag and walk away from the guild.

Spoiler :

Easter Egg for next fiction