Calamity and Threats
The old man shouted, "How dare you tell me to rob the General's study!" but I waved him off briskly.
"Oh, come now! You made a promise in the name of the god, didn't you? Just slip in and grab it real quick. Go on, shuttle— I mean, priest."
"How did my life end up like this…"
"It's only hard the first time. The second time's easy."
"You mean you'll make me do it again?"
"Ah, you caught me."
After sending Bamilo off, I took Kals and Tyrbaen and headed into the city.
Whooosh…
A damp breeze swept past us from somewhere.
Seeing the worn-down buildings and crumbling walls gave me an odd feeling.
'Aulax.'
Countless memories of roaming this place flashed through my mind.
The heart of the Revolutionary Army, Aulax, held deep meaning for every player.
'In the story, it was the powder keg of the continent; in the game, it was a graveyard for high-level players.'
It had various quests and events tuned to class and level, but Aulax was notoriously harsh on veteran players.
'Almost like the devs made it specifically to crush the old pros.'
The powerful hostile NPCs and quest monsters were enough to make anyone cry.
Even for me, a veteran among veterans, this place had been a real challenge.
But that was only after the story had progressed far enough.
'In the early stages, there's no place easier to milk rewards from.'
For high-level players, Aulax was like a strict father,
but for newbies just starting out, it was a gentle, motherly city.
That was Aulax.
Just look at that magical glasses quest, for example.
'If you've got the guts to sneak into the General's study, you basically get free loot, don't you?'
In short—pure profit.
There were several items in Aulax that could be obtained this way.
Of course, like with Bamilo, certain conditions had to be met, but considering the effort, it was absolutely worth it.
And here was another piece of evidence showing how welcoming this city was to newcomers.
"Hey, hey! Never seen your faces before!"
"There's a toll to use this street!"
"Judging by your clothes, you've got some coin on you, eh? Heh heh."
The trio of thugs appeared, spouting the most cliché lines imaginable—
and that was exactly the proof.
Just look at them, leaning on one leg and swaggering.
'How can anyone be that stereotypical?'
But at the same time, they were a welcome sight.
These punks were around level 4 or 5—
just the right match for my current level, and carrying a decent follow-up quest to boot.
Except…
"Your Highness! Allow me to handle this!"
Before I could stop him, Kals darted forward, eager for a fight.
[Combat Skill: Bear Hunt]
Boom!
That madman used a bear-slaying technique on people!?
Fortunately—or unfortunately—his strike didn't kill them.
Their crude daggers shattered, and the thug in front dropped cleanly unconscious.
['Back Alley Novice Brawler' subdued.]
He hadn't even drawn his sword from the sheath before executing the move.
"Hey! You idiot! Stop!"
I hurriedly called out to Kals.
"Hmm? What's wrong, Your Highness?"
What's wrong!? Everything's wrong!
"Where's my experience points, huh? You're six-star already! I'm supposed to be fighting—move aside, quick!"
I pulled out my sword as I stepped forward, and Kals's expression twisted.
"Your Highness, are you forbidding your knight from doing his proper duty?"
His voice carried such sincere disappointment that it threw me off.
"No, hey, that's not what I meant—"
"What kind of prince personally fights thugs in the street!?"
"What do you mean what kind? You're looking at him. What's wrong with fighting?"
"No! There's no such thing! I can't let my liege cross swords with such rabble! Step back!"
"..."
Good grief.
He still hadn't grasped that I needed to fight to gain experience.
I scratched my temple, too lazy to explain, when—
"Sir Sillion, let the prince fight."
Tyrbaen's calm, serious voice addressed Kals.
Her tone made Kals blink in surprise.
"Gilroshan needs to learn to defend himself now. The Imperial Family can no longer protect him. Even the palace and imperial lands—places that once seemed safe—aren't truly safe anymore."
"That may be true, but Sir Sui and I are still by his side! So why—"
"Of course. I'll do my best for the Third Prince too. But how long do you think that will last?"
"..."
"We're human. Sooner or later, we part ways. That's how life is."
There was a faint emotion in her words—she was remembering her farewell with the previous Tyrbaen, no doubt.
"Let him fight, feel, and learn. That, too, is another form of loyalty."
"…Another form of loyalty."
Kals thought for a moment, then nodded.
"I understand, Sir Sui. I was shortsighted. Your Highness."
"Hmm? Oh, uh, sure. Try to stay farsighted next time."
Honestly, did I really need such a grand reason just to gain experience?
Still, thanks to her, I didn't have to explain.
And Tyrbaen suddenly looked different in my eyes.
'A witch is still a witch, even when she's a kid, huh?'
Anyway, one thing still needed clarifying.
"But Kals, I didn't mean you shouldn't step in at all."
"Pardon?"
"Keep an eye on things, and if it looks like I'm about to get wrecked, jump in. Got it?"
"..."
['Back Alley Novice Pickpocket' subdued.]
['Back Alley Novice Swindler' subdued.]
"Ugh… you're pretty strong…"
"Don't know where you crawled from, but you've got skills…"
The two lay sprawled on the ground, still muttering their hackneyed lines.
Their bruised faces were a sight to behold.
But honestly, I wasn't in great shape either.
'Ow. That really hurts.'
I was barely on my feet, my whole body throbbing with pain.
This was nothing like fighting the Marquis.
That duel had been just that—a duel.
The Marquis had never intended to kill me.
And I hadn't intended to kill the Marquis, either.
'Not that I could have anyway.'
But this time was different.
The thugs who had lost one of their comrades to Kals charged at me as if they truly meant to kill me.
We didn't draw blades, but it turned into an all-out brawl in the mud.
I only managed to scrape out a victory after a long, exhausting scuffle with the two of them.
"Huff… huff…"
"So, what have you learned from fighting with your own hands?"
Tyrbaen reached out to me, who was gasping for air.
[Healing Magic: Warm Light]
A soft radiance poured over me, easing my body as the bruises and cuts healed quickly.
But my thoughts were tangled.
Did I learn something?
Of course I did.
"…Fighting people isn't easy. That's what I realized."
If I wanted to survive in this world, I'd have to keep fighting like this—again and again.
This time I spared them, but one day I might have to take someone's life.
In the game , things like that were common—it was far more brutal than it first appeared.
"You've learned well. Survival and struggle are never far apart."
Hearing that kind of line from a kid who wasn't even twenty felt… strange.
Either way, my work wasn't quite finished yet.
"Hey there, Back Alley Beginners."
I slowly approached the thugs sprawled in the mud.
The two who had been pretending to be limp suddenly exchanged a quick glance.
They were planning to bolt and call for reinforcements.
A classic pattern—one that newbies in Aulax often fell victim to.
'But as a seasoned veteran of this game, I'm not falling for that.'
I drew the sword I'd been keeping sheathed until now.
[Attack Skill: Taste for Sadism]
A faint light glimmered along the blade as the skill activated.
It was the final skill granted by my F-rank Fate Card, the Slave Gladiator.
'Honestly, it's such a useless move I never found a reason to use it… until now.'
[Attack Skill] Slave Gladiator exclusive. A dazzling sword technique that causes massive bleeding, but allows the user to control damage output. Can be reused one minute after activation.
Ingenious! Revolutionary!
A skill that causes tremendous bleeding while actually reducing damage—what an absurd inversion of logic!
'Did the game designer really think this was a tank's offensive skill?'
Whoever planned this must've been insane.
Well, no wonder it's an F-rank card.
Every single skill had to be trash-tier to earn that rank properly.
'Then again, given it's a Slave Gladiator, I guess it fits the theme.'
Still, the effect was perfect for this moment.
I dialed the damage down to the minimum and swung my blade.
Shwiik!
Blood erupted from Thug 2's chest like a geyser.
It splattered so much that one side of the alley wall was painted red—I nearly jumped back in shock.
"Y-Your Highness!"
"Hey! I told you to learn by fighting, not to start making corpses!"
Kals and Tyrbaen both screamed in alarm.
"It's fine! He's not dead! It just looks like that!"
I waved them off and turned around.
…But seriously, he wouldn't actually die, right? That was a lot of blood.
The most terrified of all was, of course, Thug 3.
"U-uwaaaah!"
He was scrambling backward on his rear, practically doing a moonwalk on the alley floor.
His pale face almost made me pity him.
For a "Back Alley Novice Swindler," this was probably way too traumatizing a sight.
['Back Alley Novice Swindler' afflicted with status: Extreme Fear.]
He probably wanted to bolt, but his legs had given out from panic.
'Flopping around like a fish.'
Thanks to that, even though he was some distance away, escape was impossible.
Shk.
I walked over leisurely and pointed my sword at him.
"P-please don't kill me! Spare me!"
The terrified Thug 3 screamed at the top of his lungs.
The other thug behind me—soaked in blood—was actually still alive, just staring blankly as if wondering how he hadn't died.
"Please! I'll do whatever you say! Just let me live, sir!"
The crying Thug 3 pressed his forehead to the ground, trembling.
"You said you'll do whatever I say, right?"
"Y-yes! I swear it! If you'll just spare me…"
"Then of course I'll spare you."
I smiled faintly and began.
"Name."
"…Huh?"
"What's your name?"
"T-Thomson, sir."
"Thomson? Wow, even your name is cliché."
"S-sorry! My apologies, sir! I'll fix it!"
"Huh? How do you fix a name?"
"It was my late mother's gift, but I'll change it if you command it!"
"No, no. I like it. Easy to remember. Don't change it."
Was this guy trying to pull some tragic act now?
Anyway, I jerked my chin toward the end of the alley.
"Thomson, I need a guide. Think you can handle that?"
His eyes wavered.
"Ah… guide, you say? What kind of guide do you mean?"
I grinned.
"The back alley kind, of course. What, did you think I'd ask you to give me a museum tour?"
"...?"
His expression grew increasingly confused—like he had no idea why this was happening.
Instead of answering, I just nodded toward the street.
"Come on, no time to waste. Move."
"Y-yes, sir."
As the nearly-crying "Back Alley Novice Swindler" Thomson stood up, a message appeared before my eyes.
[Event 'I'm the Guide of This District!' has begun.]