Far From Vanilla: Modded Game Reincarnation

“What?” Rudolf asked, unfazed by the man’s boldness. “Did you need something?”

“Why him?!” Dariel asked, his tone sounded bored and almost rude. However that did not phase Rudolf, but it did many of the onlookers from the ground floor. “If you need a Mercenary, there are plenty of others!”

Rude as he was, he was correct. I was not the only man in the guild with identification for both guilds. In fact, there are dozens out of the hundreds in this room. That was because after becoming an adventurer, many would try their hand in bounty hunting as a means to earn some more coin.

I did the same thing, after all because unlike the Adventurer’s guild segregating access to  tasks between ranks in the name of safety, the Mercenary guild did not. In that guild, everything goes. Your rank was just the slate visualizing of your experience in material form.

Obviously you still had to prove yourself and needed to be evaluated, but ranking up was significantly much easier. It’s just the drawback concerning the task usually being given to mercenaries. Their jobs range from hunting petty thieves to being needed to bolster the numbers of a force in times of emergency. 

You have twice as many opportunities but double the workload and responsibilities.

Killing was also done within the confines of logic and necessity. A mercenary killing a man and saying that it was for self-defense or the safety of others was more believable than a civilian or unknown foreigner. That’s how important identification is.

And so, the greater the rank, the greater the skill. Skill, Strength, and Might are parallel concepts to a Mercenary. That is the difference between the two systems, and so it is only natural for a man as accomplished in both fields to raise that opinion.

But regardless of the facts clear to me, I can’t help but feel disrespected. I know exactly who and why he raised such an opinion, so why?

Why do I feel so… irritated? Why does this man get on my nerves?

“W-What’s with his face–” 

“Scary…” 

“Calm down, Hyun. There is no need to be so worked up by such a comment.” I felt a reassuring hand fall on my shoulder. It confused me but when I thought deeply, did I perhaps make an angry expression? The other fledgling adventurers were all pale.

Even Dariel took a step back, his brows knit in some complex expression.

That's not good, my instincts are acting up again. My Demonic lineage must be controlled...

I might not be under the influence of a demonic-based magic, but I was still a demon. If certain conditions are fulfilled, my shackled nature will take control again!

“Heh, I suppose it was only a matter of time before you were to act up again.” The Journal began laughing inside my mind, “But lo’ and behold, you aren’t lost to reason! This is a mighty improvement!”

“That should go without saying, I’m sorry.” I said to those that could hear me. I didn’t raise my voice or anything, but I meant it. 

I just sighed before passing Rudolf a look before turning my back. “Let’s go, there’s something important that you’re going to tell me right?”

“That's correct.” Rudolf agreed before starting to walk again. “Follow me.”

[]

“Hehehe–” A man chuckled from across the second floor. Even as the traffic and boisterous atmosphere was restored after the quick appearance and sudden departure of a renowned guard, his laughter did not cease.

 “Did you see that guy’s face? S-c-a-r-y!” He made an exaggerated, elongated sarcastic remark. “Who knew the fresh recruits would be so mean-lookin’?”

“C’mon man, cut it out.” His seatmate tried to hush the man, nudging his shoulder while looking over his own. His eyes seemed to be on the group who was most affected by the whole ordeal. “You're going to piss off Dariel! You know how he gets–”

“Bah! Who cares!?” Contrary to what his friend advised him, he did not lower his voice, nor did he stop. Instead he got louder almost to make sure the man in question heard him. “Dariel’s been throwing his weight around, you know that!”

“Hey!” His companion hissed a hush, his attention now fully on the group whose head was facing them. “Even if you say that, and you know damn well you can’t fight in the wild– you’re pissing the guy off!”

But despite his warning the man did not stop.

“It's refreshing to see a boy in man-pants get a reminder that it doesn't matter how big his boots get, he’s still a boy who took it up the–”

“If you got something to say, say it to my face!” The man in question roared in the distance. However even then, the man did not flinch. Dariel jumped up to his feet to tower over the drunken man but he did not strike him. 

He couldn’t, not just because of the house rules, but because of the rank difference. While an Iron plate jingled on his neck, the man who’s been drunkenly degrading him wore a golden one.

“Oohh–” He mimicked a ghost, quickly scoffing at the end. He didn't even look back. “Scary– Heh, you’re so easy to fuckin’ read. Since you have something to prove so badly, you’re nothing but a joke.”

 “Everybody’s got a past, especially if you lived long enough in our line of work.” The man finally looked at Dariel and shook his head. He looked down on him angrily, but he still couldn’t strike him because he surely would’ve lost. “If you keep living like it’s your present, then you’ll never move on into your future.”

“Do that then you'll finally get the respect you deserve. You earn it, not demand.” 

His advice was not heard, and fell on deaf ears. “Then I’ll fucking prove it.” 

[]

  Rudolf continued to walk ahead of me without saying a word. Instead he focused on putting up a polite image in front of all the population that recognized him. Obviously his armor was slightly different from the other guards, prompting some recognition, but it mostly came from all the older residents of Ironhold.

They were people that mostly came off as those that are the same age as Rudolf. They varied from blacksmiths to seamstresses and normal residents. I could only guess what their professions were based on their clothings. Sadly my knowledge is only limited to those two.

 “I have been a guard for seventy-cycles.” Rudolf finally broke the silence between us. He lowered his hand after he finished waving to someone obscure in the crowd of people. “And I’ve been Chief of the Guards for twenty.”

“That long, huh? You look good for your age.” I hummed. I really did not know what to do with that information. “What’s the difference now?”

“In my time of service, no one has ever been so close to usurping the power of the Governor.”

Now that is worrisome news.

 “Was there an attack?” I asked, “From who?”

“Frederick,” The name came out like venom from the quiet guard. “A few days ago, the Mercury Gang tried to assassinate the governor and their family. We’ve been on the hunt ever since.”

Now that was terrible to hear. Was the governor alright? What would happen if he ever got control of Ironhold? If the Dungeon situation did not happen, they would've taken control using the economy but that plan has since gone to shit.

Are they really now opting for violence? Public violence, at that?

“If you died instead of Ben, we could have prevented this from happening.”

I blinked.

Did he just…?

“Is that a threat?” I reflexively reached for the knife in my cloak with my right hand. “Or is that a guess?”

“A guess.” Came the reply from the Guard. He turned to me with a blank expression. I really can’t read this guy at all. “All our internal agents have been killed.”

Clang!

“U-Urk–” I strained, using both my hands to block the longsword in his hands. “T-That was a threat, you liar.”

“You could react to that?” Rudolf asked plainly. “Good, you need to be able to do that at least.”

“Are you really going to do this in public!?” I bit back. He's strong. Very strong.

Rudolf blinked and raised an eyebrow, “Public? This is the back-alleys.”

Then it hit me. We weren’t on the public roads anymore. He led me into a secluded place without my knowledge. 

He’s very dangerous!

“Boy, take this fight seriously!” The Journal rang in my ear after staying quiet for most of the day. “He’s exuding killing intent! He’ll kill you if you get careless!”

“I know that!” I answered back. It was an answer both the Journal and Rudolf could receive. 

The stalemate was broken with a push from both sides, but neither of us moved a step, with only our weapons disengaging. We were still well within range.

Clang!---- Chink!

Rudolf came down with a slash which I then reflected off into the left. I then passed the knife to my left hand to take a jab at him with an armored fist.

Pang!

But he blocked with his left forearm, our metal braces colliding into a spark of chipped metal. “You’re strong.” He said.

I flinched, stiffening my left hand into blocking the longsword that came back up.

Clank!

Even at an awkward angle and position, the blow came with much force only expected that of a man of his station. I lifted my right leg to kick him in the hip, his leading right leg too far out of range.

My dagger’s going to break at this rate! I need to force some distance!

Pow!

“Ugh–?” Rudolf blinked and made a gasping sound. It wasn’t exactly a noise made from pain, but from surprise and that wonder came from the dagger shallowly lodged into his palm.

I threw the dagger at the moment my kick landed, since the force of the blow would force his face closer as I kicked near his center of balance. Yet, Rodulf blocked the dagger.

“You blocked in that situation?” I huffed, lunging forward with a stride to trust the tip of my longsword. It wasn’t a rapier, a basic thrust maneuver and it was heavier and more awkward than one, but it got the job done in creating distance.

Rudolf took a step back while swatting my sword aside by striking the tip, shaking my dagger loose behind him. “[Shatter]”

The blow was light but the force was incredibly heavy. The muscles in my arm felt a sharp pain, my joints suddenly freezing, and parts of my ligaments tearing at the contact. It was a pain I’ve never felt before.

 It wasn’t as sudden as being slashed or getting shot by arrows, but it was the pain of surgical needles disabling my very nerves from functioning in my right hand and wrist. Whatever it was, it wasn’t normal like a technique. It was a named move. But how can a named move affect me like that? 

It was painful, as it was strange. Was this his skill?

Others seem to have skills as well. The only difference is that this is an offensive one!

“Aghh–” I grimmaged, my sword flying into the nearby wooden barrels being used as trash cans.

 My right hand was as good as paralyzed from his attack, and the pain was spreading into my arm, my adrenaline incapable of matching the pace. However, the fight isn't over yet.

I pushed hard with my left leg to cross the distance created by my right foot, to near-instantaneously be within range of his sword.  

“You certainly are different from Ben. You are tenacious. Cunning.” Rudolf smirked. “There are not a lot of people that can fight after that.”

The first smirk I’ve ever seen on this man, but I couldn’t afford to be unnerved, not now. Because Rudolf’s not the only one with a trump card like that. I have my own. 

I can only use it consciously for a handful of seconds, five or less, but at this distance– 

“That's all I need!” I watch Rudolf bring his sword close to his person, left hand now onto his handle. This was a powerful swing, one that could easily lop my head off.

If it hits, that is.

The world slowed down, losing all color except for black and white. I looked at Rudolf’s frozen state, watching a silhouette branch from his original body and my own coming to meet a few inches ahead. It was a representation of the attack he wanted to land on me and what would happen.

Slash!

The image slashed diagonally, starting from the lower right to the upper left, and as expected my head was cut cleanly, with much of my left body alongside it. 

That is what would’ve happened if I didn’t have my own skill. 

The colorless world began to get vibrant again, time resuming for me as it should. As seen before, Rudolf’s attack came.

Slash! 

But my head was too low to have been severed, a margin of half an inch of hair to be exact. This time the scales were in my favor. The wider the attack, the bigger the gap!

“Your liver is wide open!

Bam!