First Steps to Change
"So... You're the Level 1 idiot?"
The opposing man was obviously irritated by the nickname based on the twitching of his eyes.
"I'm afraid you're mistaken. While I am a proud Level 1 of the Dian Cecht Familia, Runaiais Hitomi, I am certainly not an idiot!"
"Sorry, your name is 'run away shit on me?'"
Bete smirked aggravatingly — his specialty.
"What?! No! Ru-Nai-Ai, Hee-Toh-Mee! The s is silent!"
The man childishly stomped his foot on the ground, emphasizing each syllable.
Meanwhile, Bete closely studied his appearance. With the traditional black hair and black eyes, he did appear to be from the Far East as his last name suggested.
Dressed in a black kimono with hard leather armor, the man had no obvious weapons on him that Bete could see. Still, the harsh smell of steel was present on him.
'He uses a weapon small enough to hide... a dagger? Unless he doesn't use weapons? I don't think this nobody would have the rumored magic abilities at Level 1... Strange...'
Once the man was done with his rant, he took a deep breath to calm down.
"Under the orders of John Doe, you will be eliminated for beating up the two younger brothers of the uncle of his-"
"Okay, I get it!"
Bete had heard enough of this nonsense for an entire novel.
'Imagine if this was the shit that filled up books. It would last thousands and thousands of chapters. What a nightmare.'
"You dare interrupt!"
Runaiais got into a fighting position, bending his knees and drawing a hidden dagger.
'Yup. So predictable.'
Bete also drew back his legs and prepared for combat. The hours of constant fighting had made him weary, but his fangs were still sharp.
"Come at me, idiot."
"You... I'll teach you to respect your elders!"
"Gladly, old man!"
"I'm barely 27!"
The Dian Cecht Familia member rushed towards him with speed far outpacing the fools that were easily beat up.
Smash!
'Ugh... heavy...'
Contrary to his expectations, the man led with a kick first instead of with his weapon.
'Is this the difference that obtaining a Falna creates? And he's only a Level 1!'
They traded blows one after another, kicking, punching, jabbing, and stabbing.
Woosh
Bete ducked under a slash of the opponent's knife and threw a low kick at Runaiais's leg.
"Aghh! You dirty mutt! Dishonorable to the very end!"
"You're the one assaulting a 9 year old child!"
"What kind of Falna-less child can go head-to-head with a Level 1?"
Their shouts back and forth were emphasized with trades of blows. Bete dodged the dagger whenever it came too close, and targeted the weak spots as he had been trained.
'Knees, neck, heart, ribs temple, repeat.'
"You... little... squirt!!!"
The Adventurer was getting more and more aggravated with every hit he took. While one of Bete's attacks weren't devastating enough to cause Runaiais much harm, they were still effective when chained together.
'He's strong and fast, especially compared to those idiots... but still.'
Bete's amber eyes glowed even stronger.
"Gaah!"
'He's weak. Even weaker than my father.'
He began to put even more strength into his blows and increased the pressure. The previous bout was only to test Runaiais's real strength and placate the uneasy feeling in the back of his head.
'Perhaps not in terms of pure strength, but his technique is utter trash. What kind of Familia is the Dian Cecht Familia anyways?'
"Y-you were hiding your strength?!"
"You're just too weak!"
"How could I possibly be weak?! I have been trained by John Doe's father's nephe-"
"SHUT! UP!"
Bete finally kicked him in the chin, breaking his guard.
"AGHH!"
'Is this it? This is the limit of a Level 1 Adventurer?'
Still, all the experience he accumulated in his tribe told Bete to keep his guard up. In any fight, no matter the difference in skill, there was always a chance someone slipped up and the tides shifted.
Bete grit his teeth and went for another jab, into a deadly roundhouse kick.
"Ugh! Why does a tiny kid like you hit so hard!"
"Training, idiot!"
"I'm not an idiot!"
"You are to me!"
The two traded blows one more time, then Bete's eyes flashed towards a misstep on the man's part. A deadly mistake that he wouldn't let go for free.
With a simple palm strike, the man was knocked off balance and into the air.
'It's over!'
But as his fist rushed towards the man's exposed gut, Bete felt a strange feeling tugging at the back of his head. Almost like precognition, but more animalistic. Expanding his senses, he saw the hint of a smile from the corner of his eyes.
"!"
Crash!
The two separated without a final conclusion.
"Oho... I'm impressed you managed to dodge that. What gave it away?"
Compared to his previous, panicked look, Runaiais now wore an arrogant smirk... actually, it hadn't changed much from before.
'What the actual hell...'
Bete's eyes were wide in shock at the destruction in front of him.
Fire raced through the entire alley, burning everything and anything to black soot. Glass was broken on the floor — the remnants of the devastating attack.
'What was that, a firebomb of some kind? I only saw a flash and then... If I didn't get away from that...'
"Yes, you were quite lucky, whatever you did to avoid my surprised attack. And I thought I concealed it quite well, too. For a newbie, that is."
He opened his arms wide, revealing what was hidden under his leather armor: dozens of glass bottles filled with colorful liquid, each one unique. One was poisonous green, another sunset red, another cream, and so on.
"I'm part of the Dian Cecht Familia! You think I run around like this without an insurance plan?"
"Yes?"
"W-why you!"
'Wait...'
sniff, sniff
The burning scent of old wood filled his nose. With worry filling his eyes, he turned towards his temporary home that had comforted him for the last few days.
"M-My barrel!"
"..."
Runaiais didn't know if he should cry or laugh at the fact that this child, who could somehow match blows with him without a single complaint, was currently crying out at the loss of an old wooden barrel.
Bete's amber eyes gained a dark, red tint. "I'll kill you!"
.
.
.
Shattered glass and random chemical explosions surrounded a panting Werewolf who sat on top of an unceremoniously defeated body.
"Fuck," Bete grunted. "Why did he have so many of those..."
Runaiais on his own was a difficult opponent, but one he could defeat. His skills were shabby, he barely knew how to use the knife, and he talked way too much. However, the addition of dozens of powerful potions changed the situation.
'And he had so many healing potions... couldn't he have at least saved me some? In the end, he's still beat up on the floor.'
After finally catching his breath through a lengthy break, Bete stood up and gave the body a good kick.
'He shouldn't be dead... at least I think.'
Despite his violent actions, he hadn't killed anyone so far. Severely disabled and brutalized? Sure. But Bete had enough common sense not to commit daylight murder on his first week in Orario.
With a harsh thunk, Bete gave Runaiais one last punch to the back of his head.
"That one's for my barrel," he muttered in a deep voice.
'You know... that really doesn't sound very threatening no matter how cool you think you look.'
"..."
The voice continued on.
'Don't feel too proud of yourself. That was a sloppy fight. You suffered plenty of unnecessary injuries. If you had simply used my abilities, you would have known exactly about his threat.'
Bete wiped the blood from his mouth. "Not in a million years."
'In fact, let me give you a taste.'
Like a true con-artist, the voice in his head didn't take no for an answer.
"!"
'Oh, right. There is also a hint of pain that comes with such great abilities. After all, your body is simply much too weak, puny, and fragile to handle even a small part of it.'
The Werewolf crumpled to the ground like a sack of flour, clutching at his chest. There was a burning sensation in both his chest and the back of his head.
"You... couldn't have... said that earlier?!"
'Heehee...'
"You fucker... you have the nerve... to laugh! GAAAHHH!"
'Calm down and open your eyes. Witness my greatness.'
.
[Runaiais Hitomi]
Level: 1
Race: Human
Age: 30
'That liar.'
Physical Status: Fainted, Exhausted, Angry
Mental Status: Shocked, Still thinking about his erectile disfun-
'Skip that.'
Basic Abilities:
- Strength: I 10
- Endurance: I 7
- Dexterity: I 12
- Agility: I 11
- Magic: I 0
Magic: None
'As I predicted.'
Developmental Abilities: None
Skills: None
Equipment: Small Iron Dagger, Health Potion, Magic Potion, Warmth Potion, Fire Dragon Potion, Felix Felicis Gone Wrong, Penis Enlargement Pills, Potion of Invisibility, Splash Potion of Harming, Dubious Potion of Love...
.
The list went on and on.
'What the hell?!?! Does this guy shit out potions on a daily basis?'
"This is... a lot," he admitted.
For the first time in a while, Bete was absolutely breathless. The sheer number of opportunities that this ability could bring him...
'To think one of my greatest abilities would be used on such a pathetic ant... how disappointing. You haven't even seen a fraction of its true potential.'
'No, I think I've seen enough. To be able to scan your enemies in an instant and visualize their strengths and weaknesses, their hidden secrets, even their names. For a novice like myself, it's incredible. Even life-changing.'
Bete could almost feel the ego exploding in size along with the realization that he had made a tremendous mistake.
'Wait-'
'Oh my, well such an obvious fact is simply undeniable, especially for you mortals. Of course, if you were to pledge your loyalty to this great being, you could reach heights you've only dreamed of. For example, I know this nifty technique called 'One Thousand Years of Death.' Even a lowly creature like yourself can learn it with ease. To begin you... '
While he tuned the voice out, Bete focused on what the voice first said.
'Mortal...'
He wasn't stupid enough to still consider this voice to be a random hallucination.
'When did I first hear him?'
He closed his eyes and tried to think back. However, it was straining to pinpoint the exact moment where he first heard the deep voice. To be fair, it had been a difficult few weeks. From surviving the disaster, to finding a place to live, to making his way to Orario, Bete was truly tired. His dark eye bags could attest to that.
'Was it right after the incident? Maybe a few days after? I know it became much more vocal when I arrived in Orario. Is it something related to do with the dungeon?'
'And to finish, always remember to bring something to wipe with. The technique can leave some... messy remains. Do you understand?'
In the middle of his contemplations, the voice had already finished up his TED Talk.
Bete nodded with a nonchalant expression that revealed his obvious disinterest. "I'll etch it deep in my memories."
The voice didn't seem to sense his sarcasm, nodding with pleasure. Could voices nod?
'Well... as long I'm careful about him, I should be fine. He doesn't seem to mean any immediate harm. I might have to do something about him once I get the means.'
Bete put the issue of the voice's identity in the back of his head. He had much more important and relevant things to worry about. Like taking his first step to getting stronger.
Meanwhile, behind him, the bright sun shone a large shadow of a beast onto the ground. A great, dark, terrible beast with hidden secrets...
But for a moment, there was a moment of calm, something that was quickly becoming a rarity.
Bete stretched his arms, slightly groaning in exertion.
It had truly been a wild couple of days. But now, he was in Orario with no strings holding him back. He could finally explore what this city had to offer.
'So. What are you going to do now, Werewolf?'
He looked down at the bodies strewn across the alley floor.
"Change."
.
.
.
Bete walked out of a small store looking much cleaner than before. After a nice, long bath and a heavy cleansing session, the Werewolf now looked liked a proper Adventurer.
A gray, furry jacket that provided little protection to his chest, and long black pants held up by a leather belt. To top it off, he bought a pair of black gloves and boots, as well as a small bag to carry things with.
His entire wardrobe was crafted for speed and evasion, not for enduring attacks. Bete was much more used to that kind of fighting anyways. He didn't want to hider his motions with unnecessary fabric.
How did he get the money for this purchase? Well...
"You little shit stain!"
"My money!"
"When I get my hands on you-"
"I-I've been violated!"
"I was going to pay for my grandmother's terminal curse treatment..."
"I'm sorry guys... looks like big brother won't be able to come back home today."
Bete itched his ears with his pinkie, feeling a slight annoyance.
In his other hand, the washed, rumpled remains of his tribal tunic and shorts were neatly folded in a box.
"I'm going to be strong."
Bete didn't know who he was talking to, but he felt the need to say it.
"Stronger, and stronger until..."
Until what? What was his goal? To annihilate the beast that destroyed his tribe? To become the strongest adventurer? Conquer the dungeon?
"Until... I become strong enough," he finally said.
Bete himself didn't know what 'enough' was, but this goal was satisfactory for his current stage. He vowed that until this undying thirst to become stronger was quenched, he would never stop.
"And next..."
He looked across the street at another store, specialized in a particular art.
.
.
.
'I must admit, staining your own face with a strange fluid? You mortals truly never fail to impress.'
"It's called a tattoo and it looks amazing. Also, shut up."
On the left side of his face, Bete now sported a jagged, light-navy colored tattoo that ran from the bottom of his left eye down to his mouth.
"Like a fang..."
He nodded in approval as he looked at himself through a store window.
'Yes, yes, truly inspirational. Now, can we get to the part where we...'
Suddenly, the voice grew quiet.
'Huh? Did he get scared? I didn't think my tattoo was that scary?'
'...'
The voice seemed to want to protest against his thoughts yet kept its lips shut.
"Hello there, little wolf," said a soft, sweet voice
Immediately, Bete whipped around with his fists clenched and ready.
About to be the next target of his meat pounder was... a beautiful, white-haired lady in a dark cloak.
"Oh my. I didn't think I was that scary."
Her lips twisted into a friendly smile, but her violet eyes that stared down at him seemed to flash with amusement.
"Why don't you introduce yourself, little wolf? My name is Freya."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
noveler132
noveler132 Hope you have a nice day~
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