Soggy. Wet.

Much like my enemies’ moms when they see me.

Well, maybe not. The only thing soggy and wet was me as my consciousness returned in the morning. The sun was up, and I was still lying in my bathtub.

I raised my hand and looked at it. My skin looked like it would melt off my bones at any second. Every movement was met by the heavy resistance of overslept muscles. It felt like I died and was returned, now getting used to my once-dead body.

– – –

I returned to the main hub of the inn. The first thing I noticed was the number of customers. They had gone up significantly. Figures of varying types occupied every seat, each with their own little quirk.

Some were barbarians, their shoulders and head coated by grey iron and goat horns decorating their helmets. Others had a more casual approach, packing average brown clothes and a large backpack.

There were also girls. And it would not have been a problem, as most of the barbarians were women. But there was a difference between women and girls.

Much like boys and men, they are two endpoints of a scale. People lean towards one or the other, but they are never definite men or definite boys. Men can have petty attributes, while boys can possess great heroism.

This is also valid for people of the opposite sex. However, while observing the crowd, I discovered more girls than women. Young adventurers with bright-colored hair and pretty skin. No battle scars, no missing limbs, nothing prepared for the dangers ahead.

This is how Weeboy, creator of Cutey Adventurers saw females. Plastic statues of pure aesthetic, factory-made to be lovers. Although I could appreciate their stunning appearance, I could not overlook their predestined use.

I sat down at one of the free tables and ordered garlic bread and water from the waitress. Turns out the latter was free, while two rations of the other costed two golden coins. After paying, eighteen coins remained.

Halfway through my breakfast, I noticed two cat ears on the other side of my table. They twitched around, observing any noise.

“I don’t remember there being any cats in Ancient Blades,” I said between two bites.

“Nyoho!” Replied the ears. “That’s because I’m nyot a cat!”

Suddenly, a small figure somersaulted up from the other end, landing right upon my table. A striking, stunning girl with a large black cape and revealing underwear below. She wore black boots on her feet and a large black hat above her scarlet red eyes, which she tipped, and then winked at me.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

I continued eating without a care.

“My name is Nyeander, the greatest neko bandit to ever live!” she introduced herself by drawing her silver, duellist blade from her side, “Raised by bandits as an orphan, I swore to steal from the rich and give their goods to myself!”

“Sounds like you’re just a criminal.” I took another bite of my bread. “Besides, how old are you? Are you a child or do you have dwarfism? Either way, your clothes are very inappropriate.”

“Hah! Clothes are just garbage that slow us down! The mighty Nyeander has no reason to hide her fur!”

Just for the record, she had short black hair, but no fur. I had no idea what she was talking about.

However, while boasting about herself, she twirled her silver blade in the air, which drew my attention. “Oh, your blade is nice.”

“Hm?” she smiled smugly, “Seems like you noticed my legendary duellist’s blade! I call her the Silverfang! Tales tell about her swiftness and deadly strikes that rain down upon my foes!”

“You know,” I swallowed my food, “I used to be a hobby fencer. That’s kind of how I ended up here, quite strangely.”

“Really? Then fight me! Let’s see whose technique is the best!”

“You know, I don’t really got the weapon for that,” I pointed at my pickaxe on my side.

It was gone. My heart skipped a beat as I looked down and my only weapon was gone. Even worse, both my hidden dagger and bag of gold were gone.

I dropped to the floor and searched around in desperation. Did it fall out of my pocket? Was I robbed?

Clink-clink!

Nyeander looked down at me. “Is this what you’re looking for?” she asked and wiggled a bag before me. My bag of coins!

“Hey, give it back!” I jumped up, but she dodged away with a dancer’s grace. My pickaxe and dagger revealed themselves below her cape. She stole everything I had on me, even the weird sacrificial dagger.

She laughed gleefully at my loss.

“Dumbass! You should never trust a bandit’s child!”

“The fuck are you talking about?!” I yelled in disbelief, “You were literally the one to come to my table, and straight up robbed me!”

“If you want your stuff back so much, you’ll have to take it back by force,” she smiled, pointing her blade at me.

Shit! This was nothing more than a game for her. Even worse, she was clearly stronger than me, thanks to the grace of a deranged weeb modder. I stood no chance of taking back my stuff.

However, I did not need to be the one to do it.

I laughed with a sinister voice, growing in sound as my confidence rose.

Nyeander recoiled. “What’s so funny? Has the humiliation taken your mind?”

“You fool!” I yelled, holding out my arms, “You just angered one of the mightiest forces of the known universe!”

“What are you talking about? H-Hey...!”

With a deep breath tearing at the walls of my lung, I mustered all my power into a single shout.

“Guards!”

Silence.

Suddenly, as if a wild hoard of moose were rushing to our location, the earth shook. Guards ran into the inn with synchronized steps.

“What is it, citizen?”

“The thief stole my items!” I yelled, pointing at Nyeander. The poor gal was so shocked, she completely froze down.

The guards held her down, then up, after giving me back my stuff. Nyeander tried to fight them, but they were much stronger than the simple adventurer.

As they escorted her out, she turned to me and screamed with mad anger. “This is not the last you heard of me! Do you hear me?! Who do you think you are, calling the guards on the legendary bandit, Nyea––“

The guards shut the door. Yet, I could still hear her screaming outside.

For some reason, sadly, I felt like this won’t be the last time we met.

“Yikes. What a weirdo...”