Capítulo 7: Newbie
In a bustling crowd of people, a vibrant pink-haired girl let out a weary sigh as her gaze swept across the endless queue of individuals waiting for her attention. Despite the weariness, she maintained a professional demeanor as she addressed the inquiry of a newcomer.
"So, you wish to register. Understood. May I have your name, please?"
The response that reached her ears carried a hint of roughness, belonging to a man who had weathered the years. His words piqued her curiosity. Although at first glance, he appeared to be just another inexperienced novice without any equipment, something in his deep dark eyes hinted at a hidden strength. However, that fleeting impression swiftly dissipated.
"...Ren. Just Ren."
Misha Flott, the pink-haired girl, simply nodded and replied, "I see."
Inwardly, though, she couldn't help but dismiss him as yet another aging adventurer clinging to a past long gone, longing for a purpose that had slipped through his fingers years ago.
With an air of professionalism, she extended a delicate hand, offering the man a small form to complete. The paper, bearing the weight of countless dreams and aspirations, held within its lines the potential to shape his destiny.
But Misha quickly diverted her attention, her mind shifting to a more captivating subject—the blossoming romance of her half-elf friend. That tale held far more entertainment value than the worn-out dreams of yet another faded hero.
As the man approached the door, ready to set his plan in motion—a plan that would soon weave a chilling tale—he found himself abruptly halted.
"....Oi, newcomer-kun."
A voice, even rougher than Ren's noble timbre, called out, preventing his departure. The man who interjected had an unappealing aura, as if personal hygiene were a luxury rather than common sense.
"What do you want?"
Ren's annoyance was evident, yet his indifference remained steadfast.
'I need information about her...perfect.'
Realizing escape was not an option with the determined men barring his path, Ren decided to play their game.
"..."
The men leered at his relatively clean attire, their crooked smiles revealing their ill intentions.
"Come with us! Let's celebrate the birth of a new adventurer!"
Their words dripped with malice, a clear indication of the fate they intended for him. Most adventurers averted their gaze, while those stronger than the ruffians simply ignored the commotion. In this world, only strength commanded respect. Unless one possessed the reputation of Bell Cranel, no one would extend a helping hand.
As I observed the plot I yearned to confirm, I reluctantly followed the party, led by a Level 3 captain, to a concealed location near the Guild—a place likely frequented for their illicit activities.
'Allowing these wretches to run amok so close to their headquarters. Pathetic.'
The city's security and public order were abysmal compared to the standards I was accustomed to. Lost in disdainful thoughts, I could hear the raucous revelry of the men, eager to secure a day's worth of Valis to sustain themselves.
But they did not engage in further conversation. Their captain lunged at me with crude abandon, a predictable assault that almost bored me to tears.
...To his astonishment, my body remained unscathed as his punch made contact. It was as if he had struck adamantine instead of human flesh.
His bewilderment was short-lived, however. With a flick of my middle finger, infused with a touch of mana, I unleashed a blow upon his forehead that sent waves of searing pain coursing through his entire being.
The captain, caught in the midst of his ill-fated assault, found himself mercilessly propelled backward. In a cruel twist of fate, his body crashed into the near wall, the jagged edges of its surface tearing through flesh and sinew with ruthless precision.
Blood, crimson and viscous, erupted from the grievous wounds, cascading down the wall in macabre rivulets. Each drop painted a chilling tableau, an abstract masterpiece of violence and suffering. The air grew heavy with the metallic scent of iron, mingling with the acrid tinge of fear.
As the captain's eyes widened in sheer terror, his visage contorted into a grotesque mask of agony. The weight of his predicament pressed upon him, the realization of his impending doom descending like a suffocating fog.
Oh, how I reveled in the spectacle before me—the wretched dance of pain and suffering. His body resembled a marionette caught in the grips of a malevolent puppeteer. Every twitch, every gasp for air, was a haunting reminder of his helplessness.
The scene unfolded in surreal silence as the other men watched, their faces drained of color. They trembled, their bodies paralyzed with fear and disbelief at the brutal display of power.
"W-Wha-"
Desperate to flee, they soon encountered a bizarre phenomenon.
Some saw towering walls materialize, sealing their escape routes, while others beheld their loved ones inexplicably taking their own lives. The unluckiest among them were confronted with a barrage of daggers, reducing their bodies to naught but gruesome carnage.
All of this was made possible by the powers I had acquired over the years. It was a testament to my superiority over these feeble mortals, who were incapable of provoking a genuine battle-worthy response from me.
'It appears to be working flawlessly.'
[Note: Host, I advised time and time again that the possibility of your powers not working was 0%.
Evaluation: Host is too paranoid]
An ironic laugh escaped my lips as I disregarded Lucy's voice. Amongst the trembling mess of onlookers, only one retained a semblance of sanity, his gaze fixated upon me in terror, on the precipice of releasing his bladder in fear.
"Now, kid. Come closer. I have some intriguing questions for you. Once you've provided all the answers, perhaps I may consider letting you go."
Though I believed I was offering a warm smile, the man interpreted it as the devil himself taunting him. His quivering body convulsed as he slurred his words, a plea I deciphered as:
"Y-Yes! I will tell you everything! Just let me go! Please!"
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Author's Note:
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