Kirche Town in the Rascarte Kingdom once used to be a place where many chose to retire.
With a scenic view of the mountains, a beautiful lake nearby, land fertile enough to last six generations, and a modest distance from the nearby towns, the town once used to be a retirement spot for many people who had made it rich.
Yet, these days, Kirche Town was only a husk of its former self. It all started when the previous lord died from illness and left only his seven-year-old son as an heir. The lord’s regent was loyal from the beginning and everyone believed that in his hands, the territory and the next lord would both survive if not thrive.
Unfortunately, the people of the county had underestimated the regent’s loyalty as he followed after the previous lord within a week. If any blue blood heard this tale they would be biting their sheets in envy and their servants would be biting theirs in fear.
Coming back, the ones who took the lead after the regent’s passing were people who had writhed their way into the lord’s castle like a snake. By like a snake, it meant a swift and deadly attack instead of a stealthy one.
What happened next was pretty simple. The seven-year-old lord Kirsche was used like a puppet and any possible advisors were replaced by thugs.
The taxes turned into protection money, the knights turned into gang members, and the ‘lord’ turned into ‘leader.’ Thinking of it objectively, not much changed except for the fact that crudeness was accepted with open arms and vulgarity was welcomed with confetti in the town. One would be shocked by knowing how the same things changed under different people with different dispositions, and the clearest way to see it was by comparing a good leader with a bad one, in this case, a thug.
The city that once was the prime retirement spot for the people of Rascarte became the prime spot for its shadows and dregs. A true transformation of artwork.
The artist too, had a name.
Tanien The Iron Gauntlet, they called him. The face of Rascarte’s dark underbelly.
***
“Why do you know all this?” I asked Marco as we looked at the well-guarded entrance to the town.
“My mom used to scare me by saying that Tanien would come if we didn’t sleep like good kids,” Marco answered and immediately sniffled. What a softie. It seemed their main area of activity was in Rascarte.
Marco’s testimony might seem something from just one person, but everyone in the hideout of the Cheney Bandits said pretty much the same thing about the good folks in this small country town. There were no knights, if there were any they were practically slaves of the thugs.
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Such people…
Didn’t deserve my mercy.
I stepped out of the forest and climbed the path to the city again. The city guards standing atop the tall walls noticed me and tooted their horns. They were overtly careful, as one would expect from criminals, as they asked from afar with a voice amplification spell.
“What is a single person doing at the entrance of our town? There are no adventurer guilds here, and we don’t accept beggars. State your purpose now!”
I ignored the bastards and continued walking.
“State your purpose! Do not take another step or you will face our canons!”
Step. Step. As if I was taking a walk in the night breeze after eating too much at dinner.
“Stop now, state your purpose—”
I stopped.
“I am here… to kill all of you.”
The thugs all widened their eyes.
“Tsk! You bastard, get lost. I’ll take this runt!”
Another thug pushed the speaker away and pointed a canon atop the city walls straight at me. The canon glowed with a red magic circle and in a flash, a giant ball of scathing hot flames shot out at me.
The flames struck, then dissipated.
“W-what the hell?”
I was, naturally, undamaged. Even my clothes didn’t burn from those petty little flames. It was actually because I was using a fire-resistant material I had extorted—Ahem, purchased from a merchant in the last six months. There was a desperate need.
As for my body…
“Fire! All of you fire!”
“Shoot shoot shoot! Burn this bastard!”
The canons all turned to me and flames shot out. Arrows of flames, even normal ones that eventually burned up in the onslaught of magic, all came at me at once. I thought I heard Marco gasp but the sounds of the canon were too loud to hear such a soft thing. Flames, magically enhanced flames, kept shooting at me but failed to leave any scratches. The most destructive amongst the simplest of magic, fire, had become as strong as an infant’s full-power punch.
Utterly useless.
The flames subsided, leaving behind a giant cloud of smoke. The ground around me had caved and craters formed but there still wasn’t a single scratch on me.
“He’s still alive…”
“The fuck…?”
It was easy to say what was happening. They wanted to show off their flames!
My hand swept into my pocket and opened the flask I always kept with me.
“Asirmo.”
A long strand of flames swept out of my pockets and started to wrap around my body. My clothes would have melted from the mere heat in its presence, but the materials were strong now. With a snap of my fingers, the flames shot out at the guards.
As if it had a mind of its own, the strand of flames dived into the canons and blasted them from within. The guards were left stunned as the living flame destroyed their weapons.
“D-don’t let him in!” The initial thug screamed. “Lower the gates, don’t let him in! Quickly!!”
These guys were showing off their strength next. ‘You might have defeated us with fire, but you can’t break the walls!’
News flash…
”[Water Magic: Ice Spear - Variation Gigant (3rd Circle)]”
12 water orbs formed behind my back and merged into one. They formed a giant spear a good foot taller than the walls and shot at the gates.
“AAAH!”
“Run run run!”
“Who the fuck is this guy!?”
That day, the thugs of Kirsche received a grim reminder. The gates shattered and the walls of the city broke apart.
The ice spear opened the view inside the city. Perhaps this much commotion was enough to wake all the people inside up as dozens… no, hundreds of thugs stood with weapons in their hands.
They were flaunting their numbers at the end.
“All of us… that guy can’t take all of us alone!”
“Kill him no matter what.”
“No, get him alive! This motherfucker.”
I liked that spirit.
“ATTACK!”
The thugs all charged at me, swinging their weapons. I stretched one hand outward.
A soft smile tugged at my lips.
Numbers too, I was going to win with.
“[Return to Hell]”