“Hey… don’t you think you’re scaring the lad too much? We only need him to exit the store,” One of the men said. It was the thin one with bad posture, twiddling their thumbs. The bigger man turned in anger. “You idiot! These kinds of pretty idiots don’t listen unless you twist their arm a bit. If I treat every fucking kid like I’m a saint then they start to think they can get away with anyth-augh!.” The big man was brought to the floor as Elliot crushed their throat in his hand, bringing them to their knees. Some switch in his brain flipped. These weren’t kids who didn’t know any better, or someone who was just a friendly spar. These were bad people.

He knew one of his skills had activated, but he didn’t care. These people were after his life, why wouldn't he be after theirs? The second thug tried to throw a punch at Elliot, but he simply moved his head to the side, causing the blow to miss. All he had to do after was lock the man’s outstretched arm with his own and… move it a bit. The bone snapped, and he heard the sickening moan as the man fell to his knees in pain. He didn’t stop. Keeping the man in place with their now useless arm, he brought a foot out and planted it in their stomach. He kicked out against the man’s pinned arm, about to tear the man in half like a piece of tofu.

Well, he was about to, until he heard the terrified shout of the man behind him. “Wait! P-please! We don't want any trouble!” The plead for help lightened the skill “Battle savant’s” hold on him, allowing him to realize what he was doing. He let go of the stranglehold on the man whose throat he had held, realizing too late from the disfigurement that the man had long died. At least the one he had in front of him had only gotten away with a broken arm. The meek gentleman realized that Elliot had stopped to listen, much to his surprise. “P-please, spare that man! We have no problems with you, and I… I understand that we caused some problems…”

He seemed hesitant with his words, as if one misstep would lead to his death. Although Elliot didn't want to be seen like that, like a monster, he couldn’t deny the benefits of such a thing. “Tell me where you came from. Why are you here?”

The questions were simple, but Unknowingly to Elliot, with his charm stat, it wouldn’t be incomparable to a lion speaking to a mouse. The meek man could barely breathe. The one in front of him didn’t look human, with eyes of demons and hair that could easily be mistaken as the mane of a wolf. A savage, they’d met a savage with the face of a prince.

“P-please, I’m sure we can talk this out. We in the Deitre group don’t want any unnecessary trouble. If we just go out to… No, oh gods… no.” Elliot was confused as to why the man looked so mortified and then realized when he looked outside. Hahaha… This meek man was pretty smart, realizing just what the hell they had started. He grabbed the poor man by the throat and stomped on the thug whose arm he ruined earlier. Hopefully, that hadn’t been enough to kill him. “Point me in the direction of your gang. Your ‘Deitre’ group. Lie and I’ll crush your windpipe.”

The flip had switched this time, only now Elliot was barely controlling his rage. As he exited the alchemist’s shop with the meek man between his fingers, he couldn’t help but once again notice the giant empty crater beside the entrance where his sword had been, just a moment ago. The sword that the blacksmith had so painstakingly worked on for him. “P-please… We… can negotia… urgh.” The words of the man he held in his hands only made his head hurt more, forcing him to crush their throat just ever so slightly tighter. “Point. Speak and end up like your boss.”

That had been all he needed to say, a few minutes later and he found himself in front of quite a well-built establishment. The place was lit quite beautifully compared to the rest of the town. It probably just meant these bastards were taking advantage of everyone else. That had to be it. He let go of the meek man, who fell to the floor, gasping in precious air. “This the place?” He asked, ready to go through hell. He was surprised to see the man crawl to his feet, grabbing him. “P-please… I can’t watch you do this. Think about the lives that will be lost!”

Elliot gave a blank stare, they had been the ones to jam a knife in his face. Who were they to beg and cry, now? Despite that, the tears on the man’s face did simmer the rage fueling his ‘’battle savant’’ skill. Guilt infected him ever so slightly. “...I won’t kill those who don’t get in my way.” The words only made the man cling to him harder, sobbing louder. It was all Elliot could promise, though. Grabbing the frame of the door, he pulled the whole entrance off, shattering the expensive wood.

The murmurs inside were full of confusement and anger, and in the middle stood Elliot. “Which one of you took… my…” Elliot faltered a bit at the sight before him. Damn, there were a lot of them. At least fifty men filled the room, each as big and bad as the one he’d met before. He almost faltered at the sight, before he saw two men struggling to lift his sword up onto a counter. He didn't know whether to thank or curse the ‘battle savant’ skill, because his legs moved on their own. Smashing the wooden floor underneath him, Elliot burst through the room, landing an aerial kick to the side of one of the men carrying off his sword.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

It was far too heavy for the second one, and as they let go in response, Elliot grabbed the handle and spun, smashing the blade down onto the counter. These were bad men. Men who took his precious sword. Even if they weren’t technically evil, they were still against him. “You bastards… took my sword.”

There it was, that high he got when he used to own the skill “swordlust”. This was going to be a bloodbath, people were going to be torn apart at the seams. Who was he to defy what was going to happ-

“Everyone run! It’s a berserker!” He didn’t know where the voice came from, but it seemed to spark a fire in the whole building. A fire of cowardice. All at once, every person in the building seemed to almost climb over each other as they tried to escape the area. Some even broke open the walls to escape, and Elliot couldn’t help but wonder why those strong enough to do that would even try to run away. Not a single person stayed, and in the end, Elliot had been the last one in the building, the only sound being the panicked shouts from far away.

Well, one person was left. The meek… well, he couldn’t call the only man who didn’t run away meek, could he? The skinny, intelligent man stood in front of him, a grateful smile on his face as tears continued to pour down his eyes. “Oh, gods… thank you, gods.” The high went as soon as it came, and Elliot now found himself inside a ruined building, one he had inadvertedly destroyed. He looked around with a pained look in his eye. His sword was in his hand so he was no longer angry. That didn’t mean he was satisfied, though.

Pointing the massive blade at the man in front of him, he struggled to keep himself from ripping open their throat. He’d be worse than them if he did. “Tell me now. What is this place and why shouldn’t I bring it to the fucking ground.” The man just stood up, hiccuping because of his earlier sobbing. “W-we’re the -hic- local gang in the area. We prioritize protection…” Elliot didn’t understand. “Then why did you need the alchemist’s shop so badly? Did he not pay you?” He shook their head, “We were using the house for Rottmere and Keel, is all.”

What now? “And… what are those?” The man looked at Elliot as if he’d just been asked what water is. “It’s… a drug? Same with Keel, they're both… hallucinogens we sell under the table. We can get you some, sells for a lot in-” The man’s head lopped off as he spoke, and he watched it hit the ground with a thud. This was a protection racket and a drug trade. He’d barely forgive them for the former, but in his past life, he’d been taught well enough that the only people worse than those who abuse such terrible things were those who enabled it.

His old man made sure to teach him that. He gave a chuckle as he looked around the area, looking for anything valuable to plunder. He had to do it now because this building wouldn’t be up for much longer. He settled for a bag of coins and a dagger that came along with its sheath. The last thing he needed was another scenario where he didn’t have a second weapon. This situation was special, he was sure of it. They had called him a “Berserker” before they ran, and he heard the tales.

People who gave up on their life to fight, and weren’t afraid to bring down anyone along the way. Their status exploded and they only ever fought until the moment their bodies gave out. No one had wanted to fight him because berserkers usually just die while they rampage, their hearts giving out from the stress. He was lucky, it was complete luck that the group hadn’t murdered him. He still had a bit of time before people would come back, so he checked the area for more things to plunder.

He didn’t find much, though. Just a few scattered coins dropped from when people had knocked over tables. And some food. Still hungry, he took the dropped pieces of bread and brushed off the dirt, ripping pieces off and tossing them into his mouth. He’d need the extra calories for what he was about to do. The sword in his hand felt heavier than ever before, and as he looked for the supporting beams of the building, Elliot smiled. This was going to be a good way to let off some steam.

About an hour later, Elliot had finished. He had done the right thing, entire areas of the place were dedicated to storing whatever the hell it was they were making. There were a few times that an entire section of the building had fallen on him. He had almost passed out once due to one of the collapses, actually… but all in all, he felt he’d done a good job. The building could hardly even be recognized as one, now. Now, he was racing back to the alchemist’s place. He’d left one of those thugs in there, and considering how weak the poor old man looked there was no way he’d be able to take them on.

When he finally made it, what he saw didn’t surprise him. Around ten men were in the place. He’d done this. Without any regard for his own life, Elliot almost charged in before he saw the old alchemist walk out, shouting orders to the others who seemed almost scared of him. The earlier, kind expression was gone, and instead, he looked stressed, and angry. The realization dawned on him like a hammer to the head, and he couldn’t help but laugh. It only occurred to Elliot then that if certain resources were required to create those drugs…

One of those resources definitely had to be an alchemist.