Episode 3: Here for Revenge (Part 2)
The city of Landwork.
It wasn’t far from the Haxen estate, strategically positioned at the crossroads of the kingdom’s north and east. A bustling hub of commerce, it saw a constant flow of goods and people. Naturally, entertainment thrived here as well. In his previous life, Damian Haxen often visited Landwork to indulge in its pleasures.
“To think I’d see this place again, looking so intact.”
As Damian entered the city, he was momentarily lost in memories. During his time as a Death Knight, he had razed Landwork to the ground under Dorgo’s orders. The screams of the people, slaughtered by the undead, still echoed in his ears.
“Master? You don’t look well,” Victor observed, studying Damian’s face.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing, you say? Are you sure you’re not just scared to go back to that tavern?” Victor teased, causing Damian to frown.
“What nonsense are you spouting now?”
“I get it. The bouncers there are notoriously tough, and they’re part of the ‘Black Serpent’ gang, aren’t they?”
“Black Serpent? What’s that?”
“Oh, come on, Master. It’s the most notorious gang in Landwork right now.”
“Ah, right…”
The memory clicked into place. There was indeed a gang that had risen to infamy during this time. Despite being a new organization, they had quickly absorbed all the other gangs in Landwork, becoming the rulers of the underworld. Their power grew so immense that they practically controlled the city. However, by the time Damian worked as a mercenary, the gang had long been destroyed by a visiting knight.
“So that’s why they were so brazen, being part of the Black Serpent.”
Landwork was a city dominated by merchants. With their vast wealth and influence, they had carved out a sphere of power independent of the nobility. As a result, noble influence was weak here. Backed by the Black Serpent, they must have thought little of minor nobles like the Haxen family.
“Lead the way.”
“Where to, sir?”
“Where else? To that tavern.”
Having forgotten about the Black Serpent, Damian certainly didn’t remember the way to the tavern. Yet, Victor’s face turned pale at his words.
“Master… Are you really planning to go there?”
“Indeed.”
“I thought you were just pretending…”
“You’ve got quite the sense of humor,” Damian chuckled, patting Victor on the shoulder. “Remember this from now on: I don’t lie.”
“Uh, yes?”
“If you understand, lead the way.”
Victor’s eyes welled up with tears at Damian’s command.
“Master, we’re here,” Victor announced weakly.
The tavern appeared just a short walk down an alley.
“Are you really going in, sir? For both our sakes, maybe reconsider…”
Damian looked at Victor with amusement. If he was so against it, he could have refused to guide him. Yet here he was, complaining after leading the way. What a foolish fellow.
“If you’re that scared, you can go back.”
“What? No way! I can’t leave you, Master!”
Victor clenched his fists, shouting defiantly.
“Though, wouldn’t it be better if we both just ran away…”
Damian chuckled softly. What an amusing guy.
“Don’t worry, just follow me.”
Without hesitation, Damian stepped forward, and Victor, though anxious, followed closely behind.
Two guards stood at the tavern entrance. One was smoking, while the other was peeling an apple with a knife.
“Huh?”
The smoking guard noticed Damian. Unfortunately, he was bald. He nudged the other guard.
“Hey, isn’t that the guy?”
The other guard, with a full head of hair, looked up from his apple.
“The noble who got beaten up and ran off last time?”
“Looks like it. What’s he doing here again? We told him we’d kill him if he showed up.”
As the guards exchanged words, Damian reached the door.
“Hey, nobleman. Why are you back here? We warned you not to show your face again.”
The hairy guard took a big bite of his apple, chewing loudly.
“Or are you here for revenge?”
“Sharp, aren’t you? You deserve to guard the entrance.”
“What?”
“Just like you said, I’m here for revenge.”
The hairy guard blinked in disbelief, then turned to the bald one.
“Did he just say he’s here for revenge?”
“That’s what it sounded like.”
The hairy guard laughed incredulously.
“Guess his noble pride couldn’t handle getting beaten by commoners.”
He tossed his half-eaten apple to the ground, then tapped Damian’s cheek with his juice-stained hand.
“Want me to break a few teeth to knock some sense into you?”
He even pinched and shook Damian’s cheek.
“Just so you know, a family like the Haxens has no power here. Even if we kill you…”
Damian’s gaze was fixed on the knife in the guard’s hand.
“Perfect.”
“What?”
Without warning, Damian snatched the knife from the guard’s grip.
“I didn’t bring a weapon, so I’ll borrow this.”
“You crazy bastard!”
The guard tried to reclaim the knife, but Damian was faster. He slashed horizontally, the blade grazing the guard’s neck. Blood spurted as the guard collapsed, clutching his throat.
“Ugh!”
The dull knife, meant for fruit, had sliced through flesh like paper. The bald guard was too shocked to speak.
“What… what did you just do?”
Among Damian’s past foes was a master known as the “Killer Ghost,” who had reached mastery not through swordsmanship but through the art of killing. His technique, the “Reaper’s Blade,” allowed him to cut through bodies as if they were water. Though Dorgo had tried to recruit him, things went awry, leading to a battle with Damian. After a grueling thirty minutes, Damian absorbed all the Killer Ghost’s skills and emerged victorious.
“You dare challenge the Black Serpent? Are you insane?”
“Didn’t you hear? I’m here for revenge.”
“You bastard!”
The bald guard charged, fist raised. Damian watched him with cold detachment, sidestepping the punch aimed at his face. In the same motion, he swung the knife upward, severing the guard’s wrist.
“Aagh!”
The guard screamed, clutching his bleeding stump. Damian drove the knife into the guard’s temple, his eyes rolling back as he crumpled to the ground. The knife slipped free as he fell.
“Haah.”
Damian exhaled deeply. Just a brief exertion had left him winded.
“This body is too weak.”
His muscles were undeveloped, his stamina lacking. He hadn’t even mastered mana techniques.
“Reaching my former level will be difficult.”
He resolved to start with physical training once he returned.
“Master!”
Victor rushed over, staring at the bodies in shock.
“When did you learn such swordsmanship? But did you really have to kill them?”
From Victor’s perspective, it was a valid question. The skill gap between Damian and the guards was vast. Killing them seemed excessive. But Damian saw it differently.
“Why did I kill them?”
Despite the Haxen family’s diminished power, Damian was still a noble. The disgrace of being beaten by commoners in a tavern was not easily erased.
“I need to restore my honor and that of my family.”
The only way to do that was to repay the humiliation many times over—by eliminating the offenders.
After all, Damian had been the victim. The tavern had overcharged him, provoking his outburst. They had likely targeted him, thinking him an easy mark.
“If you’re scared, you can wait outside.”
Victor shook his head.
“Still, I should at least watch your back, Master.”
At Demian Haxen’s response, he burst into laughter. What a fool.
“That’s a good attitude,” he said, stepping into the tavern.
The inside of the tavern was vast. In the center, scantily clad dancers performed on a stage, surrounded by patrons who cheered and drank.
“Ah, I used to love places like this,” Demian thought, memories of his reckless youth flooding back, tinged with embarrassment. “What was I thinking, frequenting places like this…”
Just then, a shriek pierced the air.
“Ahhh!”
“Ahhh!”
Female staff members screamed at the sight of Demian, covered in blood. Security guards emerged from all corners.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Hey, who is that guy? He’s got a knife!”
One of the guards approached Demian. His face was a tapestry of scars, evidence of a rough life.
“Hey, where are you from? Why are you causing trouble in someone else’s establishment?”
“Do you recognize me?” Demian asked.
“No, you bastard. Just tell me where you’re from!”
The guards seemed unusually sharp for their role. Perhaps they were more than just bouncers.
“I have no business with small fry. Bring out the boss,” Demian said, not truly expecting the boss to appear, but rather to provoke the man in front of him.
“This crazy bastard!” The man, unable to contain his anger, lunged for Demian’s collar.
But Demian’s knife moved first, slicing through the man’s wrists with fluid precision.
”…What?”
Could a human wrist be severed so easily? As the man stood in shock, Demian brushed past him, slashing his throat. Blood sprayed as arteries and veins were severed, filling the air with a metallic scent.
“Ahhh!”
“Ahhh!”
The patrons and staff were horrified, while the guards were paralyzed with fear.
“I’ll say it again,” Demian addressed them. “Bring out the boss.”
The guards exchanged nervous glances before drawing daggers from their belts.
“You bastard!”
“Kill him!”
A dozen guards charged from all directions. Demian clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“Like moths to a flame,” he muttered, his knife moving with deadly grace. With each swing, a guard’s throat was cut.
“Gah! Gah!”
“Ugh!”
The guards fell like straw men, lifeless before they hit the ground.
“Phew,” Demian exhaled, calming his ragged breath. His stamina was lacking.
“Sir, here, use this!” Victor, who had somehow retrieved a dagger from the fallen guards, offered it to Demian.
Demian couldn’t help but be impressed by Victor’s adaptability.
“Thanks, but I don’t need it.”
“Really? It’s better than a knife, isn’t it?”
The dagger was longer, wider, and sharper than the knife, but Demian had no intention of switching weapons.
“For dealing with small fry, it doesn’t matter what I use.”
Demian headed further into the tavern. As he passed, the staff and patrons who had been holding their breath bolted for the exit.
As soon as he entered the back, more guards rushed at him.
“All together now!”
“Push him back with the shields!”
They were determined, wielding wooden shields to block Demian’s path.
“Gah!”
“Ugh!”
But their resistance was futile. With each swing of Demian’s knife, shields were split and throats were cut.
Bang.
He kicked open the office door with a loud crash.
“You’re noisy,” said one of the two men inside.
An elderly man sat in the boss’s chair, while a young man stood rigidly beside him.
“Couldn’t you come in quietly? I detest noise,” the old man said, surprisingly calm for someone cornered.
“Are you the boss?” Demian asked, puzzled.
“Yes, I’m Andersen Holm, the owner of this tavern. And who might you be?”
“Demian Haxen.”
“Haxen? The fool from the Haxen barony?” Andersen’s eyes widened, scrutinizing Demian with disbelief.
“That fool is this skilled? But why attack my establishment?”
“I got beaten up and thrown out of here a few days ago.”
“With your skills, you got beaten by my men?” Andersen looked even more confused. Demian shrugged.
“I was quite drunk at the time.”
He wasn’t here to convince anyone. Demian brushed it off.
“You should’ve stayed home quietly after I let you go. Why come back to my tavern?”
“I lost too much because of that incident. I’m here to reclaim it.”
“Lost? Ah, you mean your honor. But I must be too old to understand. Does the Haxen barony even have any honor to lose?”
Demian’s eyes twitched at the old man’s words.
“My men didn’t even bother reporting it to me. Do you know why? Because the Haxen barony is that insignificant.”
“This won’t do,” Demian said, clicking his tongue. “I was going to let you live if you apologized, but now I’ll have to take an arm.”
“Haha, how absurd,” Andersen laughed, rising from his seat. He bowed respectfully to the young man who had been standing silently.
“Mr. Ted, it seems I’ll need your assistance.”
“The price for using me is high.”
“I understand. The boss has already been informed.”
Andersen retrieved a small leather pouch from a drawer and handed it over.
“Ten gold coins.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just cut off his limbs. I’ll have my men dump him in the latrine.”
“Understood,” Ted replied flatly, drawing a longsword from his waist. A heavy aura of menace filled the room.
Demian regarded the young man with interest.
“You don’t seem like someone who should be working in a place like this.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m with the Black Serpent. I’m here on the boss’s orders.”
“Black Serpent? I’ve heard they’re doing well. Impressive, using a squire as a tavern guard.”
Ted’s face showed surprise at Demian’s words.
“How did you know I’m a squire?”
“I’m quite perceptive.”
To become a full knight, one must progress from trainee to squire, then to junior knight, and finally to full knight. A squire is just above a trainee.
But that doesn’t mean a squire is weak. Even a squire is strong enough to kill a man with bare hands.
“You’re a decent opponent.”
“Decent?” Ted scoffed.
“Judging by the fact that a squire is working in a place like this, I can guess your situation.”
Demian added with a smirk, “You probably lack the talent to advance to junior knight and got kicked out. Don’t you think ‘decent’ is too generous?”
Ted’s teeth ground audibly, his aura growing more intense.
“Seems I hit a nerve?”
“I’ll tear that mouth of yours first,” Ted said, launching himself at Demian with a powerful leap.