Volume I: Transmigration
Chapter 3: Brawl
The skeleton looked nothing like a high-level magical creature; it couldn't even pass for a proper skeleton warrior. Its frame was small, suggesting it hadn't been a very tall person in life. The bones were mottled with stains, and several prominent cracks marred important parts, like the skull. As for the ribs, counting them came up short of twenty; perhaps some had ended up in the belly of a starving wild dog. The only unusual feature was a pair of delicate bone structures on its back that might have once been wings.
*This* was the creature born from the Divine Origin?? Rogue's jaw nearly hit the floor. This skeleton shouldn't have any connection to the gods of the celestial realm. Could it be that the gods, basking in infinite glory above, were fundamentally no different from evil itself?
Rogue slowly extended his psychic power, gradually merging with the skeleton, attempting to control it and inspect the abilities of this potentially new species of magical creature. Everything proceeded smoothly. The skeleton seemed to possess no special abilities, aside from being slightly stronger than the average skeleton. A wave of fatigue washed over Rogue; he knew his mana was depleted. "Sigh, whatever you are, you're my Familiar now. From now on, your name is Fengyue." Not wanting to ponder the connection between a skeleton and 'Wind and Moon' too deeply, Rogue sent the skeleton back to its extradimensional space. Just as it vanished, Rogue seemed to sense a faint thread of... gloom from it. Displeasure with the name, perhaps? Was a skeleton actually sulking? "I must be exhausted," he decided.
The next morning, after three consecutive Familiar summons that drained his mana, Rogue finally accepted the fact that his Familiar was a skeleton. After his routine meditation to restore his power, dusk was approaching. "Time for a drink."
The 'Oakwood' tavern was quite old and sizable, located just three blocks from the northern Magic Academy. It also served as one of the task distribution points for the Mercenary Guild. Consequently, it was always packed with magic apprentices and mercenaries, naturally accompanied by fiery barmaids and girls hoping to land a wealthy suitor.
"Well, if it isn't Rogue! Long time no see. Heard you've turned over a new leaf these past six months, really aiming to become a great Archmage, eh?" Rogue looked up to see Ete, a former partner-in-crime for brawls and chasing women. Ete was a large, burly fellow, three years older than Rogue. His father was a cavalry captain in the City Defense Force, a mid-level Knight himself, and had trained Ete since childhood to become a Knight, though for some reason had sent his son to the Magic Academy instead. Ete did have some talent, however; he'd enrolled a year later than Rogue but had reached Third-Level Mage status six months earlier and was now striving for the Fourth Level.
Rogue walked over and sat down beside Ete, wordlessly picking up a glass and drinking. After a long moment, he heaved a deep sigh. At the same table were three others who clearly looked like fops, wearing the slender rapiers common among nobles. Two dancing girls were laughing and flirting with the group. Ete threw an arm around Rogue's shoulder. "I'm telling you, buddy, it's been dull without you lately. No one else has quite your... creative mind. What's wrong, feeling down? Couldn't bag some girl? Haha! Leave it to your big brother here. Come on, have a drink! Bartender! Two more bottles of your tequila!!"
The atmosphere in the tavern gradually reached a fever pitch, punctuated by the occasional woman's shriek and the booming laughter of loud voices. "Come, Brother Rogue, let me int-tro... introduce everyone. This is Lance Blome, second son of Count Blome. This is Kate; his father is my old man's direct superior. And this is Franco, nephew of Marquis Furlong." Ete, his tongue loosened by drink, then introduced Rogue to the group.
"Hey, check out that girl over there. Looks like a handful, though," Lance said, staring intently at a corner of the bar. Everyone hurriedly followed his gaze. A table in the corner was occupied by four men and two women who looked like mercenaries, one of them dressed as a mage. One girl appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen, dressed provocatively in dark-hued short armor that left her snow-white legs exposed. A leather strap on one leg held three throwing knives. Her breastplate's color was hard to make out in the bar's dim light, but it was undoubtedly well-crafted and did an excellent job highlighting her curves. The neckline was cut very low, a deep cleavage threatening to make Lance's eyes pop out. The massive two-handed sword leaning beside her did bring a moment of clarity to the few men, as its sheer weight hinted at the girl's strength. The female warrior's face was fiercely beautiful, framed by wavy, light brown hair cascading loosely around her.
Next to the female warrior sat a girl who looked like a delicate porcelain doll, an aristocratic young lady of perhaps fifteen or sixteen. Her long gown, aside from exquisite craftsmanship and expensive material, bore little extra ornamentation. The only conspicuous adornment on her was a pair of sapphire earrings.
Their rude staring was immediately noticed. The female warrior glared back, and Lance responded with a whistle. Her face turned frosty, her hand moving to her sword hilt, but the mage beside her stopped her. "Not here, Keevey."
Just then, the tavern suddenly fell quiet for a moment as all eyes turned to the entrance. What first captivated everyone's attention was the flowing golden hair, as dazzling as the sun, causing everyone to momentarily lose their composure. Beneath that golden hair was a face handsome enough to rival the Sun God, eternally carved with a composed smile. He wore only a golden chainmail chest plate, adorned with intricate patterns in magical silver. Emblazoned in the center of the chest plate was a golden lion's head, flanked by a cross and tulips.
"Ophirock! The Golden Lion of the Rhine Alliance! What's he doing here?" Whispers rippled through the crowd. Ophirock was the only son of the ruler of the Bavaria Duchy, the largest state within the Rhine Alliance. He had been sent to the Grand Temple of Light of the Sacred Church for guidance since childhood and had returned to the Rhine Alliance only six months prior. Ophirock was one of the three youngest High Temple Knights of the Church, had long shown outstanding military talent, and coupled with his natural good looks and illustrious lineage, his fame even overshadowed that of several princes of the Rhine Alliance.
Beside Ophirock stood a woman cold as ice, standing only slightly shorter than the tall Golden Lion. Her peerlessly beautiful face showed not a trace of expression. She wore a rare black mage robe, and with her steps, it seemed as if black flames continuously billowed and danced around her, her swaying figure paradoxically hysterical in its grace. Following them were two guards whose slowly emanating, almost tangible killing intent indicated they had walked the line between life and death countless times.
Ophirock's party ascended the stairs without pause. It took a long while for the bar's usual clamor to resume. Rogue, however, felt unsettled. For some reason, behind Ophirock's radiant face, he seemed to keep seeing a pair of silver eyes.
*Thwack!* A large beer mug shattered beside Rogue, spraying the unprepared Rogue with ale. But Lance had it worse; the mug had connected squarely with his forehead. Rogue turned around to see the murderous female warrior striding over, her greatsword in hand. The four male mercenaries followed close behind, poised for a fight.
It turned out that as the group had drunk more, Lance's lecherous impulses had resurfaced. He'd been staring fixedly at the female warrior. When she looked back again, he'd painstakingly extracted his hand from a dancing girl's clothes and started thrusting his middle finger up and down in her direction. The next moment, the mug from the female warrior's hand had exploded on Lance's forehead.
Brawling over women in taverns was commonplace for Rogue and his lot, but these mercenaries clearly looked battle-hardened and were not opponents they could easily handle. Yet, accustomed to bullying others as nobles, they couldn't bring themselves to flee and lose face. Rogue certainly felt like running, but on second thought, these fair-weather friends, while not from the most powerful families, all had considerable backgrounds and assets. Taking a beating together might help cement their 'battle-forged' friendship.
Ete, being the oldest, had some combat experience. He immediately jumped up and began chanting an incantation, but he'd had too much to drink. His attempt at an 'Acid Arrow' spell came out garbled, and after much effort, nothing materialized. By then, the others were already brawling with Lance and the other two, quickly giving them bruised and swollen faces. The female warrior was particularly vicious, aiming a sharp low kick straight for Lance's groin. Seeing the danger, Lance swiftly turned, taking the kick on his backside and flying out of the scuffle. Ete roared, snatched a longsword from someone nearby, temporarily switching professions to Knight, and charged into the fray.
The mercenaries, aware their opponents were nobles, were clearly holding back. Rogue's mind was still clear enough. He quickly cast Magic Missile. Two glowing orbs traced arcs towards one of the male warriors. The warrior casually swung his sword to block. Rogue's psychic power surged; the missiles halted mid-air. The warrior's block met empty air, and then the two orbs curved around and detonated on his face. While Magic Missile was the most basic spell with limited power, a warrior's facial skin was far less sturdy than his chainmail. The warrior, face covered in blood, wobbled and collapsed.
Seeing this, another warrior activated the sword skill "Charge," sliding across the floor as if on ice, closing the distance with astonishing speed. Rogue, horrified, had no time to cast another spell. Gritting his teeth, he used his psychic power again, this time targeting the warrior's feet. The rapidly charging warrior tripped violently, plummeting headfirst towards Rogue. Rogue hoisted a table in front of himself. *Thud!* The warrior's head smashed through the tabletop. While the warrior was still dazed, Rogue, experienced in countless street fights, grabbed his helmet and delivered a fierce knee strike. *Crack!* The warrior's nose bridge shattered. Rogue's remodeled body now packed significant force.
With two warriors down, Ete and the others, now three against two, could hold their own. Kate, specializing in defense, used a chest-level slash against the female warrior, successfully drawing her attention and bearing the brunt of her attacks. Ete and Franco were now trading blows with the remaining warrior on more even terms. Just then, Lance, who had secretly hidden under a table, suddenly thrust his sword, wounding that warrior in the leg, then swiftly reversed his blade to slash at the female warrior. Caught off guard, she twisted aside, blocking the strike with the dagger strapped to her leg.
The mercenary mage hadn't joined the fight initially, but hadn't expected the situation to deteriorate so rapidly. His face darkened with anger. Tracing a symbol with his finger, a pre-prepared blue, transparent protective spell, "Spell Absorption," enveloped him. This Fourth-Level spell could absorb at least ten levels worth of magical energy and was one of the most common defensive spells for mages. But Rogue, with his rather unorthodox understanding of magic, scoffed internally. *Seriously? Using a shield against a few magic apprentices?*
The mercenary mage began preparing a fire-based attack spell, rapidly chanting and tracing complex symbols with his hands. Remembering that "Spell Absorption" didn't block physical attacks, Rogue grabbed a glass of liquor and hurled it at the mage. The mage, unable to dodge in time, was drenched. This was followed by flying plates of food, a chair, and even a small table. Thoroughly discomfited, the mage's spellcasting was finally interrupted. Before he could even vent his rage, a figure pounced on him. It was Rogue. Everyone knew keeping distance from a mage was dangerous, so a rare mage-on-mage melee ensued. Relying on his youth, strength, street-fighting skills, and his magically-beast-like remodeled body, Rogue quickly gained the upper hand.
Enraged, the female warrior began unleashing sword skills consecutively. The warrior with the wounded leg was still a tough opponent. Ete and the others struggled desperately, their rigorous training finally proving useful. Just then, something soft, slimy, and greasy flew silently through the air and *splat!* stuck to the female warrior's chest. She let out a sharp scream, discovering it was a fried egg, clearly with a bite taken out of it. Rogue had flung it in passing before engaging the mage in melee, never expecting it to yield such unexpected results. As the female warrior recoiled in shock, Ete's group launched a desperate assault on the injured warrior, their hooligan and riffraff fighting spirit fully unleashed. The warrior quickly suffered two more sword wounds.
Right then, the sound of hoofbeats echoed from the street outside. "The City Defense Force is coming! If my old man finds out, we're done for!" Kate yelped. Both sides stopped fighting. Rogue stood up from on top of the mage, snatching the man's staff as he ran back to his friends. The mercenary side, knowing only the female warrior was now at full fighting capacity, saw little chance of gaining further advantage and left swiftly, seething with hatred. Rogue's group also had no desire to deal with the City Defense Force under these circumstances and made a hurried escape.
Meanwhile, in a room on the tavern's fourth floor, Ophirock watched the retreating backs of Rogue and his companions with considerable interest.
"That mage is quite interesting," the Golden Lion mused to himself.
"Elexis, don't you think he has, how should I put it... something somewhat similar to you?"
"That fatso is a disgrace to all nobles and mages," the ice-cold woman delivered her final judgment on Rogue.
"Heh, alright then. Richard, look into that fat one." One of Ophirock's guards bowed slightly and then slowly faded into the surrounding shadows.