Part Fifty-Eight

“NNNNRRRRrrrrreeee…….”

*Thud!*

With one final cry, the Golem War-Machine collapsed as its mana core was destroyed. The nearby buildings were riddled with cracks and burns from the battle. War-Machines were comparable to walking artillery. Their armor was able to repel lesser spells, and was tough to crack even with a hammer. And since they could use magic of their own to attack, it was difficult to even run away from them.

Aside from the one Michael and Tavin had killed, there were four War-Machines deployed to attack the fortress. Three had already been dispatched, making this the last one. Over two dozen mercenaries and an assortment of NPCs had teamed up to eliminate it, suffering casualties and injuries in the process. Everyone was celebrating their hard-fought victory, until a certain duo broke in.

“Seriously, stop following me. I already have allies of my own. There’s no need for us to form a “dynamic duo" or whatever it was that you said.”

“Nonsense! They may join us as well. After all, the more the merrier! Any companion of yours, must be a fellow follower of the art of battle.”

“I’m this close, to punching you so hard, you’ll wake up a year in the future.”

“Ahah! So we are to spar, are we? Excellent, let us not hold anything back!”

“That’s not sparring, you dipshit. That’s called a battle to the death, and I have no intentions on having one with you.”

“Ahahahahahah! Well done! To get my hopes up and then dash them against the rocks of despair in such a fashion. Exquisite!”

“I. Regret. Everything.”

That rather, odd, conversation was between two men who were walking along the avenue, one trying to escape the other. The one in front had become something of a celebrity among the mercenaries, mostly due to the way he fought. Quite a few of them had witnessed the way he would efficiently kill monster after monster, leaving a trail of corpses in his wake. That, combined with the distinctive crimson helmet he wore, had earned him the alias Red-Helmed Slaughterer. Though the person in question had no clue about any of this.

A few mercenaries recognized the other guy as well. At one point in his career, Frederick Tavin had been a household name when it came to sports. Boxing may not be as popular as football or basketball, but he’d attracted quite the following due to his eccentric behavior. One time, during a weigh-in, he’d brought a fully packaged meal full of protein for his opponent to eat, because he thought his arms lacked muscular definition.

Now why would these two be together? As far as those watching knew, there was no connection between them. Perhaps listening to the rest of their conversation would enlighten them.

“Ugh, why do you keep following me? Don’t you have your own allies to return to?”

“Those fools do not deserve to be called my comrades. They would never stand beside me to fight against a clearly superior foe. Not like you, my kindred soul!”

“Why’d I even ask? And a superior foe? It was strong, but you killed it with a single attack. Doesn’t sound so superior to me.”

“Ahahaha, surely you jest! Not only had you disabled its ability to use magic, but the attack I used was particularly powerful. I would’ve been most surprised if it had managed to survive that attack."

Tavin had used the Special Skill: Mach Punch to destroy the War-Machine. While it may have seemed a bit exaggerated, the Skill's effect was rather simple. It merely amplified the rate at which Aura was generated. It did require an Aura Skill to function because of that, though.

Ordinarily, Aura was generated at a 1:3 ratio, but Mach Punch increased it to a 1:30 ratio, dramatically increasing the amount of Aura that could be generated. Any Aura generated by this effect would then be converted into pure destructive force for an attack. There were other ways to increase Aura generation ratios, but not to this degree.

The mercenaries listening in on their conversation looked around at their surroundings. Despite their best efforts, the Golem War-Machine had damaged most of the surrounding buildings and killed several fighters. The battle had been brutal and costly for them, but the other two were acting like it had been a nuisance for them.

To be fair, while they were D-Ranked, Golem War-machines were closer to a low C-Rank due to their lack of autonomy and low intelligence. All of the mercenaries and NPCs here were low to mid D-Ranks. Against a monster specializing in defense and firepower, they obviously weren’t going to have an easy fight. Even Michael would struggle without the power of the white sword. Having good skills and equipment was just as important as training your body. Though purely relying on equipment was just as dangerous.

And so, the gap between the strong and the weak continued to widen.

***

“Ah, looks like they’ve found me.”

“What?”

“Tavin, you fucker! Where the hell have you been!?”

A group of rather ragged looking men came up and began screaming at the idiot beside me. All of them were visibly injured and a few had burn marks on their armor. They must’ve encountered a War-Machine, which put them through hell.

“Answer me! You joined us while agreeing to be under my command. So why weren’t you around when we needed you!? We lost Blint and Dev because you weren’t around to help!”

Ah, I get what’s going on here. These guys have been mooching off of this idiot’s overly high battle strength. They’re basically parasites, but they’ve somehow convinced themselves that he should be the subservient one. Also, how the hell is he to know where they are, when we’re randomly attacked? Do they really expect him to follow them around the whole time?

“Why, I was just connecting with my newfound friend. We fought the first of many battles together. So I have no further use for the lot of you.”

“What!? Are you trying to say that you’re done with us? After all we’ve done for you!?”

“And I have repaid that favor thrice over. Were we not able to clear several Dungeons before coming here?”

“And you think that’s enough!? Without us, you wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in any of those Dungeons.”

“And without me, you wouldn’t have even made it to those Dungeons. I’ve tried to be civil, but I’m so-.”

“Excuse me, unrelated bystander here. If you’re going to be continuing whatever the hell this is, then I’d like to leave, as I have actual shit to do. So get out of my way.”

“Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that!?”

“W-w-wait! Isn’t that the Red-Helmed Slaughterer!? Uh, we’re sorry to bother you sir. We’ll finish this discussion later. Come on guys, let’s get out of here!”

They fled with that, their faces going pale as they ran off. I was reaching the point where I’d draw my swords to threaten them, but I doubted I was intimidating enough to provoke that response. It was so drastic that it hurt my feelings. Also, what was with that nickname? It sounded like something a child would come up with, it was so simple.

“What the heck was that about? I didn’t even threaten them yet.”

“Ohoh, so you would’ve threatened them if they’d not backed down when they did?”

“Well yeah, they were a pain in the ass. Though not as much as you. Go away.”

“Never!”

Damn, I was kind of hoping he would give up after that. He’s way too persistent.

“You know, you should probably go after them. You won’t make it very far without a few people you can trust your back to.”

“I know!”

Dude, do you ever stop yelling!? Why are you so enthusiastic!? And I’ve already said that I won’t team up with you, so leave me alone! I need a convenient diversion, a way to lose him without making this worse for me. Ah, I know what to do!

“Ninja smoke bomb!”

*Phwooooosh!*

The Smoke Bomb I set off gave me enough cover to use Beast of the Nightmare to escape into a nearby alley before the weirdo could recover. I know it’s kinda childish to do this, but that guy was really irritating. Though I’d now have to take countermeasures to avoid meeting him again in the future.

***

“Ah, how sad. He ran away. But parting only makes me more excited for our next meeting. I know that someday, maybe tomorrow, maybe later, we will fight together again. So until then, I bid you adieu, my brethren.”

***

What, what was that? I feel like something horrible was just foreshadowed somewhere I can’t see. I’m absolutely terrified now.

[Braddock’s POV]

“Please, don’t, kill me.”

“After what you and your partners pulled? I don’t think so. Just be glad that it’ll be quick. If the friends of those you killed got their hands on you, your deaths would not be pleasant.”

Nodding to the NPC on duty, Braddock turned and left the jail. He’d already been told that they would be executed after he extracted everything of value from them, mostly because their crimes were too much. Even if they’d been ordered to do it, they’d still been responsible for too many deaths. They simply couldn’t be left alive.

Braddock wasn’t proud to admit it, but the session had gone exceedingly well, due in part to the fact that the men had no loyalty to Finnél. They’d willingly given up all of his secrets without any torture. A little intimidation had been more than enough.

Other dimensions, huh? There were whispers about the possibility back when this first started, but it never went anywhere. But considering what Finnél actually looked like before he transformed, I have to give them the benefit of the doubt. This may end up repeating itself at some point.

Out of all of the information he’d received from them, nothing was as disturbing as the way the men’s superiors thought of the Earthlings. He’d been told that they considered them as garbage, unworthy of attention. Even taking it with a grain of salt, he knew that they may try to exploit them in the future. I need a plan, one to stop that from ever happening.

*Tap tap tap*

Rapid footsteps echoed outwards from a nearby alley, and a single figure burst from it in a full sprint. It took him but a second to recognize the distinctive crimson helmet the figure wore. Considering that some of what he’d learned involved this man, Braddock would’ve sought him out at some point in the near future.

“Michael, I’d like a word with you, if it’s not too much to ask?”

“Ah! Oh, it’s just you Braddock. Er, yeah. Yeah, I can spare a few minutes.”

What he wanted to tell him wasn’t exactly confidential, but it wasn’t something he wanted spreading around too quickly. He fully intended on reporting to the commander, but considering how the sequence of events played out, he thought Michael deserved to know earlier then the others. He’d been directly involved in most of it after all.

But the courtyard directly outside the central tower was too crowded to have a private discussion. Mercenaries and NPCs were milling about, sorting through debris from some buildings that had been damaged by something while he was preoccupied.

“Is there somewhere we can talk in private? Somewhere we won’t be interrupted?”

He knew it was vaguely suspicious to ask that of someone who didn’t know him all that well, but what he knew needed to be kept on the down-low for as long as possible. He believed Michael would keep it secret, but being overheard was a very real danger.

“Yeah, I know of a place. Follow me.”

[Regina’s POV]

Tea, check. Cookies, check. Milk, honey, and sugar, check. Alright, I’m ready. She hoisted the tray up and set off for Clint’s room. He was normally the kind of person to shrug off even the most vile of insults. Even if it had been accidental, she wanted to apologize for bringing up something so obviously painful for him.

*Knock, knock, knock*

“Clint, can I come in?”

Though it was muffled through the door, she heard his reply to enter. Opening the door while balancing the tray on her hip, she peered warily at Clint. He was sitting at his desk, pouring over pictures he’d taken out of an album. She gingerly approached him, and set the tray down on the bed, before peering at the pictures.

The pictures were of different people, though Clint was in nearly all of them. One of those in front that caught her eye, was of him, though much younger, and an older woman with dark red hair, likely his original color. The picture had clearly been folded repeatedly, to the point where it was wearing out. It was likely he’d been keeping it in his wallet.

Another photo that was just as creased showed a boy and a girl, both with the same dark brown hair. The boy's expression was sardonic and slightly annoyed, as if in reaction the photo being taken of him, while the girl’s was shy but happy. She spotted a banner in the background that said “Happy 14th Birthday". Though it wasn’t obvious whose birthday it was.

Glancing around, she saw that the boy appeared in almost half of the pictures, always with the same sardonic smile, and anytime the girl appeared, so did he. That, combined with their similar features, tipped her off to who they were.

Coming back to herself, she realized that she never poured the tea, and so set about doing so. Setting the cup on the desk, she took the other chair in the room and went back to looking at the pictures. She sat patiently, waiting for Clint to speak when he was ready.

Maybe sensing that, he looked away from the photos, and picked up his tea and took a cautious sip. Deciding that it wasn’t too hot, he took a deeper drink, nearly drinking half of it at once. She moved to get up to refresh it, but he stopped her and did it himself. One thing she’d learned about him over the last couple months was that he hated it when people helped him, but loved doing the opposite. He was a serious meddler.

He sat back down and tapped the picture of the siblings.

“This picture, it’s from Katrina’s fourteenth birthday party. Haha, me and Michael, we must’ve spent weeks planning the thing. We pooled what little money we had to book this rinky-dink little pool hall in town, and invited anyone we could think of from our school. Almost two hundred people showed up, four times more then we thought possible. Michael kept saying that the fire marshal would show up to close us down, but they never did.

But God, I still remember her squeals when we all popped out and yelled surprise. Michael had gotten her there, and she grabbed him so hard she nearly strangled him. And then halfway through the party, Michael just started standing in the corner because all the people started getting to him. He never was comfortable in crowds. Then she got lonely and dragged him back out, to which he then dramatically faked his death. Hahahahaha. Ohh, I miss those two.”

“Sounds like you were really close.”

“Definitely. We may have only gotten to know each other in high school, but he’s my best friend. I can’t just abandon him, but I don’t want to get him wrapped up in this mess.”

“Because of how dangerous it is?”

“No, because I have no idea how he’ll react to it. Worst-case scenario, he could beat the living shit out of me.”

That wasn’t exactly what she’d expected him to say. It almost sounded like he was afraid of him.

“Ah, that probably sounded bad without any context. You saw his sister right? She’s really pretty, enough so that there were always guys hitting on her. Well, one of them got obsessed and started stalking her.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going.”

“Oh, it gets better. So this guy, he was our age and lusting after a girl two years younger. Eventually, her parents caught wind of it, and had a restraining order filed against him, but it didn’t completely stop him. He actually broke into their house, and was stealing her clothes.”

“That’s repulsive.”

“Yep, but things got much worse for him. One day, he’d thought that they’d all gone to this opera thing an hour away, but only three people had gone. I can only imagine his surprise when Michael found him with his pants down, so to speak.”

“He stayed home, and found the stalker in the house? Considering that there was a restraining order, it must’ve been a massive blunder for him to get caught.”

“Yeah. Well that, or pulling a knife on Michael. He’s always had this reputation for having a hot temper, to the point where he used to get in fights every week. He’d cooled off a lot after entering high school, but that never completely goes away. He found this creep rummaging though his sister’s things, who then went on to threaten him. Knowing Michael as I do, I can only imagine how livid he was.”

“Was he okay?”

“Michael? Yeah, he was. The stalker wasn’t so lucky though. I don’t know all the details since it got shushed up afterwards, involving minors as it did, but I heard the he was in the hospital for close to a month. Now that’s just a rumor I heard, but based on how badly he looked when I next saw him, I can believe it.”

“Your friend beat him that badly? Wouldn’t he have gone to jail for that?”

“I think he had to do some community service since either was eventually ruled as self-defense, but I doubt Michael would’ve cared either way. His moral compass is a bit screwed up. If he feels slighted by someone, there’s no going back from that. He embodies the saying “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth". He’ll never let someone get away once they’ve incurred his wrath. And because of that, there’s no telling what he’ll do if he finds out what we’re up to. He might help us, or he could try and hunt all of us down one-by-one. I’d say it’s fifty-fifty either way.”

“So you’re saying to avoid him? But what about his sister?”

“The same with her. No, I need to avoid her even more. I’m certain that the only way to truly piss him off is to involve Katrina. Just like that creep, hurting her is the one way to ensure he’ll hunt us down. And if he’s strong enough to kill a C-Rank on his own, then there’s no telling what damage he could do. No, I’ll find some way to throw her onto his trail without telling her directly. Maybe something to do with their uncle. Man, being a friend sure is hard.”

I’m not sure if you’re their friend, or some kind of villain hiding in the shadows. Though it’s clear he cares about them at least. Guess this is all I can do for now. I’ll leave him to whatever he wants to do, so long as it doesn’t affect Lord Ixan’s plans.