The day after leaving the castle walls, Krey was a young man with fire in his eyes, determined to grow stronger. Each day, he swung the heavy length of steel, its dull end wrapped in cloth where a hilt should be, emulating the diagrams from the swordsmanship book until a shower of sweat drenched his body and blood seeped from his raw palms. His muscles would scream and cramp from the relentless strain.
Occasionally, a bundle of food would appear on his doorstep. On the worst days, the pain was so unbearable it left him immobile, unable to lift the blade. He would then lie still, visualizing the techniques in his mind until he recovered enough to resume his brutal practice.
On one such afternoon, he had stopped swinging and was standing just inside his doorway, his gaze fixed on the middle distance, anticipating nothing but his own growth. Then, a raspy voice shattered the silence.
"Ohh, lunatic. I hope you have this month's fees. You were a few silvers short last time."
Before the sentence was finished, Krey's wooden plank door was slammed to the side, falling into the muddy ground outside. Revealing a tall muscular man, patting the fat pockets of his elegant white pants, which are complemented by his black tunic. He glinted at the young man, revealing a smile with missing teeth; his hair was long, but there was a patch of emptiness on the very top of his head.
"Ho ho ho, what a cute little toy you have there. I hope you're just showing that off and have my silvers."
"Lick my sole and piss off," Krey replied, his grip tightening on the cloth-wrapped tang of the blade.
Gritting his teeth, the man with the raspy voice tilted his head, looking down on the youth before him.
"I suppose you don't have anything to fill these pockets of mine, then..."
He stomped his boot, leaving a deep impression in the dirt.
"Get him."
Suddenly, two similar-looking men dashed from behind him, unsheathing heavy wooden clubs. The duo launched a coordinated assault.
Squinting, Krey kicked the sheet of cloth he used as a bed into their faces, obscuring their view. As the fabric draped over them, he launched his own fury, striking the temples of both men with the flat of his dull blade. He stepped back, twisted his body, and made a horizontal slash that connected with a sickening crack against one man's side.
Before he could strike the other, the cloth was ripped aside. The first man was on the ground, gripping his ribs.
"Urgh, this damned bastard... I think he broke a few of my ribs."
The remaining man snatched up his partner's fallen club, wielding one in each hand.
"I swear to you, once this is over, we'll not only mutilate that woman friend of yours but also that bastard you keep talking to in here!"
As the man lunged, a linear shadow fell across his face—the sunlight from the hole in the roof was abruptly cut off. Krey had already raised the sword high over his head, anticipating the charge. Before the man could react, the blade descended. His face was smashed into an unrecognizable state, and his body crumpled to the floor. Looming over him was Krey, who croaked and spat, a thick yellow mucus sliding down the henchman's bald, shining head.
"One more..."
Stepping back, the man with the fat pockets paled like a ghost.
"D-damn you, lunatic! You'll pay for this!"
Lifting his shirt, he pulled out a dagger. He flung the sheath aside, revealing a blade covered in a faint, sickly yellow aura.
"Seems you forgot why I became the leader of the outskirts. I was once an adventurer... until a damned monster threw a rage."
"Heh, you think I'm interested in your sob story? Point your blade and stab me already," Krey scoffed.
"I suppose a sheltered mutt like you doesn't know anything of the world. Fine then."
Lowering his center of gravity, the greedy man lunged. However, a wooden club suddenly covered his sight—Krey had kicked the fallen weapon into his path. The man dodged to the side, but a foot belonging to the skinny youth was already launching toward the spot he'd moved to.
Pulling his head back, he barely dodged the kick, then stabbed forward. His blade didn't meet flesh; it struck a hard, unyielding object—the black jade bracelet on Krey's wrist, with its intricate lotus design. Krey had used one of his burdens to parry the stab, sliding the dagger aside, and countered with a fierce headbutt to the man's face, forcing him to stagger back.
Wiping the blood from his nose, the man spat out a tooth.
" W-what the hell? How is this lunatic anticipating my moves?"
He dropped his dagger and raised his fists, entering a crude fighting stance.
"Like I said, I was an adventurer. An amateur like you can't win against experience!"
He ran at Krey, leaned his body back, and snapped it forward, a massive fist aiming for Krey's face. Caught off guard by the sudden change in attack, Krey raised the flat of the sword to block, but he was too slow. The punch connected, and the man followed with a furious array of blows, painting Krey's body with darkening bruises.
Widening his stance, the man pulled back again before twisting his whole body into another powerful blow aimed at the youth who had taken down his men. Krey fell to his knees, gasping. Seizing the opportunity, he jabbed upward, striking the man's groin and making him buckle to his level.
They faced each other on their knees. Krey lunged forward and bit down hard on the man's face. Panicking, the man tried to pull him off, but Krey was unrelenting, sinking his teeth deeper until his tongue tasted the iron tang of his enemy's blood.
"Get off me, you pathetic ingrate!" the man screamed as Krey worried at his flesh.
Freeing one hand, Krey drove his thumbs into the soft hollows of the man's throat. Fear flooded the man's eyes, and tears began to fall as he flailed, begging for his life.
"Wait, wait, stop! I'll give you anything you want!"
But Krey did not stop; he continued to bare his teeth and press his thumbs deeper. Before long, the begging ceased. The room grew silent, save for the sound of Krey's ragged panting.
"You took too much and owed me too much... Even a big fish becomes fragile when trapped in a pond, you mutt."
Standing up, Krey stripped the lifeless body of its valuables. He then dragged all three men out of his shack. An old man picking through the mud for nuts was abruptly interrupted by the sound of bodies being dragged. Their eyes met.
Krey instructed, his voice low and rough.
"Go... go tell everyone that Mrull has fallen. And if anyone disagrees, drag his body to them."
The old man's fearful expression shifted to one of hope, then back to fear as he looked at the menacing figure whose mouth was smeared with blood. He nodded frantically.
"Dead... he's finally dead! Mrull is dead!" the elderly man screamed as he scrambled away in the other direction.
When Krey returned to seal his shed, the two henchmen with the broken ribs opened their eyes. The realization that their boss had been ruthlessly slaughtered dawned on them. Quickly, they picked themselves up and fled into the outskirts.
Looking at the pile of clothes that had belonged to the man he'd just killed, Krey looked up through the hole in his roof and sighed. Then, the corners of his mouth stretched from ear to ear, revealing the monstrous look of a young man with a bloody smile.
"Damn it, I didn't expect him to drop his dagger to attack me. I suppose that's the limitation of fighting in your imagination... At least it wasn't all bad. I managed to become richer."
He had been training for countless days with the singular goal of defeating Mrull, the greed-filled man who extorted silvers from everyone. After honing the techniques from the book, he had spent a whole week planning this exact confrontation. During that time, he had even learned to better control his movements despite the four burdens he wore.
His appearance, which he had neglected, finally dawned on him. He decided to go to the nearby stream to wash himself and his newly acquired clothes.
"...No fish. These damned greedy outskirt flies," Krey thought, eyeing the empty water.
He gulped down handfuls of cold water and walked back to his shed. There, he encountered Nixsen. In all her stunning beauty, she was holding a bundle of warm food, but she could not hide the disdain on her face. She was staring at a dark stain on the ground near his doorway.
"This dead man... did you do it?" she snarled.
"So what if I did? That bastard has been going around taking silvers from everyone in the outskirts. I couldn't care less if he rots."
"Krey." Her expression grew even more solemn.
"I'm just saying that as a what-if. He's been there since this morning."
"You better not be lying to me, Krey."
"Of course, I promise that I didn't..." he replied, his tone carefully indifferent.
"I never break my promises."