CHAPTER 74 - ID I

Entering the building, I try to hide my qi by maintaining a layer of qi all around my body while inside. I could have just said that my qi is mana even though it is in another form, but I don’t want to risk people asking more things after that, and I am sure that the ones that excel at using it would be able to tell the truth right away.

If any one of these people asked me to do something with mana I would be unable to do it and then find myself in quite a difficult spot. Not only that, but walking around as a mercenary with no mana would be hard to explain too.

Maybe I should say that I’ve got a special technique that I developed to use my meager amount of mana in an efficient way to only strengthen my body. I could come up with a non-existent or dead mage to fake a mage that gave me the technique too. Maybe if it is something tailor made for people with low amounts of mana it won’t raise that many warnings.

I don’t know. I am so ignorant of so many things that I am finding it hard to come up with a credible excuse.

Should I behave as a madman? Maybe that way I would avoid criticism or fame… no, that could end up badly, there are people to be bound to take advantage of those with less awareness.

Even then, acting as a madman would prove itself useful. If I were to do weird or ignorant things due to my lack of information I could just shove it all under the blanket, saying something even more insane after.

‘Hide in plain sight.’ That’s what comes to mind when I think about it.

Imagine searching for a otherworlder from a world that you are at war with. The last thing you would think about is to go investigate the random mercenary branch for registered individuals. Even less if there is this insane guy who is a social butterfly.

I ponder over it for a few seconds at the entrance, but who am I going to fool, it would be not only perfect, but way too fun.

“ .̶̨͚̰͉͔̮͍̝̃͒ ̵̡̟͖͕̖̍͛̊̇͜ ̴͖̩͑̑̒ ̵͍̾͊̉̓̽͊̀͛̚͘ ̵̲̲̝͓̹͖̎͌̏̌̀͌͂̔͠͝i̸̢̪͍̜̥̐ͅ ̸̳̥̫̻̎̊͒̀͋͠ ̶̜̔͗͑̀̀̀ ̵͈̬̻͋̅̓̓̅̕ḩ̴̧̛͈̗͕͉̥̈́́̽̏́̔́̐̚ ̷̘̀ ̷̫̏̃́̃̽̌͘ ̷̡̖̦̞͈̘̻͔̤̬͒̊̐ ̷͓̞̗̺̈́̏́̂͠ ̵̗̬̪̙̥̲̬̿̃,̶̢̬̣͚͇͖̻͇̖̜͒̐͐̋̽̂͐̌̎̌ ̴̖̣͈͛̿̆̈́̈́́̈́̒̀͠ ̶̤̥̦̘̮͔͔̤̈́̓̀ ̴̧̭̖̙̮͔͇̺͍̍̄̀̂͜͠͝ ̴̢̡̰͓̮̄̀̑̎͜͜͝͠a̸̬̬̝̖̤̜̟͓͗̽̔͒̍ͅ ̵̝̮͉͓̠͙̜̮͜͠ ̴̧̧͉̥̞̪̖͗͗͒̈́̏̎̋̑͂͝ ̵̧͙͕̾̀̈́̎͗͋̀͜͠ȩ̴̝͈̮̙̠̉̀̏͆ “

I am lost in thought when someone touches my shoulder to bring my attention and tells me something. Obviously, I have no idea what the guy said, but I do know how to answer.

“Hey calvito! Attentif к mein great entrée.”

//Hey baldy! Look at my grand entrance.

I blurt out the words in such a smooth way that I even start to ponder if I should create a language myself by mixing all of the ones I know. The bald guy in front of me is stunned by my display as I look at him with the creepiest smile I can make.

‘!Gibberish was super effective, objective stunned for 1.5s.!’

Oh man, just seeing the face of the poor man makes me want to laugh, but I know that I should continue with the act to make it seem like the real deal, and I know it will be HARD to keep it together for a long time.

I turn to face the door again, and enter the guild with a strong kick to the door wide open as I shout.

“Ceci ist mi королевство come!”

//This is my kingdom come!

I shout on the top of my lungs like a maniac as I look around for a round of applause. Taking the chance to look around the building and see if I spot anything useful.

All around the entrance there are tables and benches with space for people to discuss things on them. Each of the sides have stairs, the left one goes downwards to what should be a basement while the right one goes upwards to the second floor where I got no visual.

Someone dressed in what I would call formal for the place comes to me in a hurry, probably ready to kick me out before I make a ruckus.

“ a̶̼̠̖̩̙̻̥͑͂̓͜͝ ̵̮͎̾͋̅̂̑̂̊̃̇̚ ̷͉͙͍͓̀̚ ̸̨̛̰̯͖̱̠̜͒̓͒̏̈̌͋͠ ̴̢̨̨͍̖͎̪̥̻̗̏̅ ̵̨̰͈͌̔͊̋̓̾̚͝.̸̮̾͊d̶̞̯̰̻͊͆̉̓̌̓̈́͝ͅ ̴̹͇͎͇̯̗͈̼͂͋͊͋̀̆ ̶͇͍͍͓͙͇̈͜ ̶̗͇̰̺͚̯̭̹̲̀̋͆̊̈́͑́͐ ̴̜͖̠͔͕͕̗͉̼̿̑̀̏̚͝͠ ̶̥̫̑ ̵̼̜̪̯̣̜̰͍̄̔̿̈̇͝d̶̩̮̰̍͌͆͒̈ ̴̧̨͕̉̓͜ ̸̡̤̝̠͔̦̬̽́̓͊̒͒̚͜͝ͅ ̶͕̾̇̃̈́́͘`̶̻̰̌̄͛̐͝'̷̞͔́̇̄̃ ̷̳̲̠̺͖͇̟̰̼͐͆̐ ̸͍̹͓̹͋͊͊͜͜ ̷̨̢̙̥͙̬̜̎ ̶̧̢̭̰͇͕̖͎̫̱͋̏̀̔̃͊̈̄̀.̷̨̻̹͙̠̠͙͉̺́͐̉͂̌̕͠ ̸̧̱̝̦̠̘̠̮̩͊́͗̇̂̓ ̴̛̼̒̎̀̊̈́̾̋̓͜͠ ̸̱̝̺̞͂̾̊ͅ,̸̗̜̆̕͠ ̷̝͔͚͕̜̒͋́͂́̔͘͘ ̵̦͛̀̔́̈̀̕ ̷̹̙̈̈̄̍̋͜͝.̴̧̡̛̤͎̲̣̯͕̔̒͐̂̓̀ ̷̢͙͉͓̤̝͙̜͊̎̈́̔ ̸̨̒́̿͂̓̕͘͠,̵̰̠̄̃̐̄̓͐́́̃̅ ̵̡̲̲̤̬͇͕͚͓͉͂̈̂̎͝͝ ̷͉͈̦̣͚͌͆͝͝ ̶̢̝̦̜̜̌̃̑̐ ̴̧̘̜̙̙̤͒͋̓̑̉̈́͛̓̚͝ ̷̻̦̞̞̳̮̝͚̅̀ͅ ̶̡͔́̄͒͂̈́͛̊̈́͊͝.̵̥̟͓̇̽͋̓̌̇͋̋ “ She says while glaring at me.

“Quoi möchten einige galletas?”

//What? Want some cookies?

I try to convey some emotion through my gibberish, that way, they may not label me as crazy just yet. I still need to get my badge from the guild to act as a mercenary, so I need to show some semblance of common sense.

That’s why I try to display some amount of confusion in my face as I signal to the badge at the entrance with the mercenary retrieving the pouch from the merchant. I am sure the woman that came to kick me works here, and she should be able to tell what I want from her if only I insist enough.

She eyes me again from top to bottom and I answer in kind, posing for her, showing my biceps. She then walks to the door of the only room there is on the first floor, leaving me there.

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“Vergiss oublier этот leche to gehen avec las печенье!”

//Don’t forget the milk to go with the cookies!

I clearly mispronounce some of the words, trying too hard to just make it sound smooth even if it doesn’t sound as it should, it's not like I want them to understand me. If so, I would say the things that I actually mean, like asking for an id from the guild, but where’s the fun in that?

She closes the door after her, so in the meanwhile, as I wait for her to come out again, I start “communicating” with whoever poor soul dares cross my sight.

“Que tun ты piensas of die essence precios?”

//What do you think of the petrol prices?

I talk about random things, using my knowledge in languages that I have learnt in my school and highschool days due to boredom; English, Espanish, French, German and a bit of Russian to add some spice to the mix.

When I was younger I was so bored that apart from competing in whatever competition my parents and sister signed me in, I learned new languages or browsed the internet. I will be using a lot of those things in my coming mercenary days.

With my amazing repertoire of sentences at my disposal, I got all kinds of answers.

“Wer ist un bon мальчик? Wer ist un bon мальчик?”

//Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?

From bad looks from talking to a person like one would to a dog.

“Sir, we’ve been trying to reach you about your car extended warranty.”

Annoyed groups like those that I interrupt with my bullshit while they were clearly trying to discuss strategies and plans…How could they not be annoyed? I even made sure to send the message across language barriers by only using english in that one.

“Oh ja, я am vraiment haben demasiado beaucoup веселье! Am ich droit?” I ask another guy.

//Oh yeah, I am really having too much fun! Am I right?

To even voicing my thoughts out loud for all of them to enjoy.

“Est-ce que du думаешь que I bekommen ce que lo требуется to sein un gigoló?”

//Do you think that I got what it takes to be a gigolo?

“Ananas auf пицца? Sí oder нет, maintenant, schnell!”

//Pineapple on pizza? Yes or no, now, fast!

After a few minutes of messing around and a lot of bad looks and pushes, the woman from before comes again, this time with someone with clearly more authority.

I ask the new guy in front of me with the same motivation that I asked everyone one till now.

“Yo tu willst один punch in le tripas!?”

//Yo, you want a punch in the guts!?

I always put up a big smile on my face as I enthusiastically say my lines, going for a more friendly and passionate kind of person approach instead of the unhinged and unstable one.

‘Who in their right minds would trust someone like that?’

“ .̷̖̦̲̌ ̷̜̭̭̊̏̋̐́͊ ̸͔͕̣̮̠̼̘͈̒͐͋́̃̆ ̴̨̛̥̜̳̻̪̝̞̙̔̐̒̕ͅ ̴̡̧͍̫̲͒̈́̏́͆̆͐̈ ̵̱̞̰̓ ̷̧̛̱̜̞͕̆̍̆͌̍͒̐̈͝-̴̫̱̪̬̩̘̠̳̋͋͜͝ ̵͎̯̖̮̱͈͙͇̐̇͜͜ ̴̨͉̩̭̖̗̲͔̾̀̕ͅ ̸̡̨͇̫̈́͗̽̽͗̍̑̈́̍͝ ̵̹̲̖͇̋̓͒̉͆̀ ̶͕̥̔̇̌̽̋̒̓ ̸͈͎̐ ̷̠̉̆͗̇̑͝ ̴͈̱͇͐̓̌͗͌̓͂̓͗̚.̸̧̨̣̩̲̦̬̠̟̰̆̈́̿ ̸̡͈̓̐̐̑̿̀͒-̶̞̝͖̩́̕ ̶̡̨͇̖̰̥̎̅̊ ̸͙̺̺̳̀̄͊̇̓̄̀̍ ̷̼̻̦͍͕͋̓͑̍̓͊̕͜͝ ̴̧̤̥͈̝̐͊́̔̀̌͆͘̚͝ ̷̢̢͙̣̹̯͔̻͌̅̎͌̑ ̵̡̧͎̞͚̲̳̭̝͕̌ ̵̱̓̒̄̑͌,̸̢̡̛̥̰̻͕͈̙̱̈̍͌̅̔̄̀̏ ̶͓̘̘̩̌̽̉͗̕͝ ̵̤͎̝̬̭͔̩̔̀͆̉̒,̴̢̛̭̦̣̖̖̰̹͋̌͐̉́́͠͝ ̸͈̭̳̰͐͒̐̀̈́͆͜ ̶̨̗̽̓̒̉̆̂͝ͅ.̷̖̦̲̌ ̷̜̭̭̊̏̋̐́͊ ̶͕̥̔̇̌̽̋̒̓ ̸͈͎̐ ̷̠̉̆͗̇̑͝ ̵̡̞̟̺͙͕̹̳̪͔̓͑͋ ̸̢͓͙̎̈́̔͗̑̓̓͝ ̸̧̢̠͇̝̟͇̮͈̿ ̷̯̻̅͗̆ ̷̯̻̅͗̆ ̵̡̞̟̺͙͕̹̳̪͔̓͑͋ ̸̢͓͙̎̈́̔͗̑̓̓͝ ̸̵̧̢̢̠͇̝̟͇̮͈͉̼̰̻̞̲̿͑̍̔́̈́̈́͋͘͠ ̵̨̛̲̭̠̻̤̞̈́͂̓̒͒͜͝ ̵͇̦͚̯͚̣̥̝̐̏*̸̠͍̝̦̭̮͖̗͍́̇̈́̐͑́͂̂͒̚ ̶͕̃̎͛̅̔ ̸̻̜͖̆̓̃̆͊͌̈́̑͝ ̶̡̬̝̭̻̫͖͙̰͔͘̕ ̵̢͉̼̰̻̞̲͑̍̔́̈́̈́͋͘͠ ̶̥̹͓͘`̴̱̠̉͛̒͊̓̓̀̋͐̃ ̴̧̻̥̲͙̦̹͚̞̾̌̐̇̄͝͝ ̸̞͕̪̟̦͈͉̃ ̴̯̃̂͌͆͋̇̕ ̶̣͎͓̫̹̭̽́ͅ ̷̴͉͓̼͈̱͇̀̇̈́̊͆͐̽͐̓̌͗͌̓͂̓͗̚̕̕̚ ̶͓̘̘̩̌̽̉͗̕͝ ̵̤͎̝̬̭͔̩̔̀͆̉̒,̴̢̛̭̦̣̖̖̰̹͋̌͐̉́́͠͝ ̶̥̹͓͘`̴̱̠̉͛̒͊̓̓̀̋͐̃ ̴̯̃̂͌͆͋̇̕ ̶̣͎͓̫̹̭̽́ͅ ̷͉͓̼̀̇̈́̊͆͐̽̚̕̕ ̵̨̛̲̭̠̻̤̞̈́͂̓̒͒͜͝ ̵͇̦͚̯͚̣̥̝̐̏*̸̵̠͍̝̦̭̮͖̗͍̹̲̖͇́̇̈́̐͑́͂̂͒̋̓͒̉͆̀̚ ̶͕̃̎͛̅̔ ̸̻̜͖̆̓̃̆͊͌̈́̑͝ ̶̡̬̝̭̻̫͖͙̰͔͘̕ ̸͈̭̳̰͐͒̐̀̈́͆͜ ̶̨̗̽̓̒̉̆̂͝ͅ.̸̧̨̣̩̲̦̬̠̟̰̆̈́̿ ̴̧̻̥̲͙̦̹͚̞̾̌̐̇̄͝͝ ̸̸̞͕̪̟̦͈͉͔͕̣̮̠̼̘͈̃̒͐͋́̃̆ ̴̨̛̥̜̳̻̪̝̞̙̔̐̒̕ͅ ̴̡̧͍̫̲͒̈́̏́͆̆͐̈ ̵̱̞̰̓ ̷̧̛̱̜̞͕̆̍̆͌̍͒̐̈͝-̴̫̱̪̬̩̘̠̳̋͋͜͝ ̵͎̯̖̮̱͈͙͇̐̇͜͜ ̴̨͉̩̭̖̗̲͔̾̀̕ͅ ̸̡̨͇̫̈́͗̽̽͗̍̑̈́̍͝ ̸̡͈̓̐̐̑̿̀͒-̶̞̝͖̩́̕ ̶̡̨͇̖̰̥̎̅̊ ̸͙̺̺̳̀̄͊̇̓̄̀̍ ̷̼̻̦͍͕͋̓͑̍̓͊̕͜͝ ̴̧̤̥͈̝̐͊́̔̀̌͆͘̚͝ ̷̢̢͙̣̹̯͔̻͌̅̎͌̑ ̵̡̧͎̞͚̲̳̭̝͕̌ ̵̱̓̒̄̑͌,̸̢̡̛̥̰̻͕͈̙̱̈̍͌̅̔̄̀̏ “

He asks me something, but being unable to understand what he is saying, I continue spouting nonsense.

“Oh alors du хочешь to doubler es y pass это zum la siguiente person?”

//Oh, so you want to double it and pass it to the next person?

I say so and then signal again the emblem of the guild, implying yet again what I am here for. A small smile creeps into his face as he laughs and shows me in the only room on the floor.

Inside, a group of mercenaries are discussing something over a map. I can only see the badge of the guy in the middle, who's carrying a plate that reads SW. The rest of the group should be about the same level, so I guess they are one of the few groups in the city with that kind of manpower.

The man who leads me here asks one of them to follow us as we leave the building throught-out the backdoor, arriving in an open space which has been clearly designed for combat.

There are racks filled with practice swords, spears, bows and so on. Most of the space is paved with something that resembles gravel, all of it reserved to fight amongst mercenaries. There are some smaller spaces designated to practice with bows, throwing knives and so on, but most of them are more or less rundown, showing that not a lot of people are too keen on using them.

‘Maybe that’s what the bandit leader said to me about people mostly not improving past a certain point even with training.’ All the mercenaries here probably have got to that point in their lives and stopped aiming for more.

While I am lost in thought, the man leading us stops before the gravel square, pointing at me and the other guy who brought with his finger. The mercenary in question goes to the rack of practice weapons and retrieves a sword for himself.

Being the crazy yet competent guy that I need to be to enter the guild even without the capability to communicate properly, I have a good idea on what to do. I take two swords from the rack, action which creates a lot of questioning gazes.

Not gonna lie, I would give myself the same look any other day, but right now I have a clear goal.

Entering the square, my opponent says something I don’t understand and then takes his badge from under his shirt to show me while grinning a carved SW, just the same rank as the other guy from his group and telling me that I am probably right on my assumptions.

What sub-rank though, I don't know. He could be from anywhere between low, middle or upper rank inside of that, and just like I have seen with the bandits before, there is a HUGE difference.

‘On that note… I should be about the higher levels of the skilled warriors if I gave my all. I should limit myself not only to not use mana or qi outside of my body, I need to stick to the lower levels to not raise suspicion either.’ Knowing what I will be aiming for, I take my stance as my “enemy” takes his own.