[Ding! System initiation complete]
[Yo Boss, this humble disciple is truly sorry for being so late. But do not worry, everything is alright now that I am here]
'What the, you now, motherfucker, why were you this late' Alex slurred to the invisible radio in his head, then blinked as another voice answered like a very polite demon.
[Yo chill, boss. You are wasted. Pluck that wild lily, mix it with the herb and lemon, chew the honey berry and sober up. Then we kick some asses. Your dear shopkeeper is about to be pounded, hurry]
Drunk Alex had a million drunk questions forming in his brain, but Lily screaming and the picture of her pressed against the brick told him clarity came first. Sober up, then smash faces. Simple. Gospel. Plan.
He lurched forward and yanked a wild lily from the gutter, petals trembling. His fingers fumbled for the spiritual herb and the honey berry rattling in his fist.
The alley smelled of piss, ale, and fear, but he was a man with an ingredient list and a purpose now.
He chewed the honey berry between his teeth, squeezed lemon onto his tongue, crushed the herb with a sloppy slap, then swallowed the wet, bitter mess like it was salvation.
The world tilted, spun, then steadied into a manageable wobble. His head cleared enough to see cruelty in motion.
Back by the wall, the thugs had resumed their ugly game. They let Lily flee a step, then another thug blocked her path like a predator playing with a mouse.
She darted left, one boot scuffed, and another thug stepped in front of her, grinning like a taxman at a funeral. It was cat and mouse, only the cat carried knives and bad teeth.
Alex straightened, the drunk haze shrinking into a dangerous grin. He was still wobbly, but a new buzz hummed in his skull, not the good kind of drunk but the kind that said trouble for them all.
He planted his feet, tasted the lemon on his tongue, and decided very clearly that tonight someone would be soberer for reasons other than herbs.
Alex straightened, wobble still in his legs but eyes razor-sharp now. He spat the last of the lemon rind onto the cobbles and grinned like a lunatic king.
"Ha ha ha, little flowers, where you running off to?"
The thug spread his arms wide like some sleazy innkeeper demanding rent in advance—Lily froze, cornered.
But before his filthy hand could close in, a heavy grip clamped down on his shoulder. His smirk died. He stiffened like a dog that suddenly realized the bone it was chewing belonged to a lion.
"Didn't I tell you…" The voice came low, calm, dangerous. "It's not nice to treat a lady like this?"
The other two thugs jerked back a step, their laughter hiccupping into silence.
Marcus, who had been shielding his eyes with trembling hands, cracked them open. What he saw made his weak lungs hitch, his heart hammer like it still wanted to fight.
"Im… impossible!" he wheezed.
He knew drunks. He was one, before life and sickness wrung it out of him. And that boy, that arrogant brat, had been swaying and stinking like a distillery seconds ago. There was no faking that much ale in the bloodstream.
Unless—unless he wasn't faking at all.
Marcus's mind scrambled, torn between disbelief and desperate hope. Either this youth was putting on the most elaborate act he'd ever seen… or he was something else entirely. A monster. A mage of frightening caliber, playing drunk until it was time to strike.
Whatever the truth, Marcus felt something he hadn't dared in a long time—belief.
Maybe, just maybe, he and his Lily had a chance here.
Indeed, Marcus was right—there was no mortal way someone could sober up that fast. But Alex wasn't exactly mortal in the normal sense.
Thanks to the madness of Alexander Shepherd, this body had been marinated in countless brews and concoctions. Potions for tolerance, detox, stamina… hell, the guy even drank poison recreationally just to see if he could "evolve resistance."
This body was basically a walking brewery of resilience, and Alex was now the one cashing in on that investment.
But the thugs didn't care about backstory. One of them spat on the ground, rage twisting his face.
"What the fuck, you dare touch me, drunk bastard? Take this!"
The bastard licked his knife like a snake tasting the air—his tongue coming away stained purple.
"Poison!!" Lily shrieked, hands clapping over her trembling lips.
Before Alex could even fully register it, the thug turned, steel flashing under the moonlight.
Shhlick!
The blade kissed across Alex's cheek. Dark violet blood spilled out in a thin line, sliding down his jaw. The thug jumped back, grinning like a jackal who'd just bagged prey.
"Alex!!!" Lily's scream tore out of her, raw with panic.
Her heart sank at the sight—his perfect, annoyingly smug face marred by that oozing cut, the strange-colored blood dripping onto the cobblestone. It looked cursed, unholy.
"That's a class four poison, buddy. You won't last an hour without an antidote. You'll slow, weaken, and slump like an ox with a broken leg"
The thugs laughed, loud and cruel, until Alex just smirked and wiped the violet blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. The chuckles died. A slow, uncomfortable silence pressed in.
Turns out old Alexander liked tasting death for science. Years of dumb, dangerous experiments left this body with mad resistances.
Class three and below would have sent him scrambling for cures, but class four only made him stall and smile. He had time. Plenty of time to make a spectacle and aura farm here.
[Great boss, this humble disciple reports that the shopkeeper's panties are already a sauna from the show]
Alex's grin widened like a razor. He planted both feet, rolled his shoulders, and spread his hands like a ringmaster.
"Anyone with balls left, come and get them kicked"