Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Robbery (2)

“Puhahahahahat—!!”

Bander threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Everyone around him stared at the sight, baffled.

It was already shocking enough that some greenhorn had called Bander a loser, but for Bander to laugh instead of getting angry? No one could make sense of it.

Bander laughed for a good while, indifferent to the onlookers, then wiped the corners of his eyes and spoke.

“Cute. You're cute. I knew you weren't ordinary, but you're beyond anything I imagined? A way to become a God… So you're an Ascetic aiming to become a God?”

“Yeah.”

Anagin answered without hesitation, as if it were nothing.

At that answer, Ote and Teros, flanking Bander, belatedly laughed along too. It was because the claim was so absurd that they'd assumed they'd misheard.

Seeing the two of them laughing, Anagin asked, genuinely curious.

“Huh, why are you laughing? Am I getting something wrong?”

“No, you understood it correctly. Your name?”

“Anagin.”

“Anagin… All right, Anagin. What you said isn't wrong. The only way for a human to become a God is to become an Ascetic.”

“Phew~ That's a relief. I thought I'd wasted my effort.”

“But you did waste your effort. There are plenty of fools who say they'll become Gods, but the humans who actually do are exceedingly few.”

“So it is possible, then.”

Bander had meant it as a warning that it was a pipe dream, but Anagin took it differently.

Even an exceedingly rare case was still a possibility in Anagin's eyes.

He just had to become one of those exceedingly few.

That was why he felt relieved.

He'd heard from his Master and from the Old Man that an Ascetic could become a God, and even then he'd been half-doubtful—but ironically, hearing it from some ill-mannered thug was what finally convinced him.

Convinced that the path he was on was the right one.

“Nngh….”

Now that his hazy plan for the future had come into focus, Anagin rose from where he'd been squatting and stretched his body out.

Crick. Crack.

The muscles and joints that had stiffened from the carriage ride loosened, and his head felt clear.

Just as Anagin, having confirmed what he'd wanted to confirm, was about to leave, a voice called out.

“Hey, did you even hear what he said properly?”

Ote, the youngest of the Bander Peddler Band. As usual, he raised his voice on Bander's behalf.

“The world's crawling with idiots like you!”

“My mother told me this. The one who calls someone an idiot is the idiot.”

“What?”

“It means you're the idiot. You can't even understand that? Guess you really are one.”

Anagin pointed at Ote with the index fingers of both hands, speaking playfully.

It was comical and cheeky enough that a few people let out short laughs.

Ote, who had never been treated this way in all his time with the Peddler Band, flushed red—but Anagin paid him no mind and kept talking.

“Besides, I don't really care what anyone else says. It's my goal, and I'm the one who decided it.”

“Is that why you're being so reckless?”

Bander cut in. His tone dropped a notch, turning cold, and the tension rose on its own.

“What's reckless about it?”

“You've obviously only just become an Ascetic, yet you're picking a fight with us.”

“Oh, is it that obvious?”

Anagin had meant to ask whether it was obvious that he'd only just become an Ascetic, but Bander seemed to take it differently.

“If it weren't, there'd be no reason for you to provoke us like this.”

“Ah… that's—”

He'd meant to say, 'It's a misunderstanding, I was just born with this personality,' but Bander ignored him.

“Sorry to say, but you're being used.”

Bander looked pointedly at the Market.

Curious what he meant, Anagin decided to stay quiet for now.

“That one probably told you, didn't he. That he can't live because of some villains. So please help him, and by helping so many people, you'll become a hero. And of course, he must have promised you a huge reward too.”

Oh, that's pretty close. Anagin nodded.

Bander clicked his tongue.

“Just as I thought! It's hardly surprising—people who can't do a thing on their own. Parasites, the lot of them.”

Bander, who until moments ago had at least outwardly shown respect, calling him the Market, flipped his attitude like a hand. He made no effort to hide his contempt and disgust.

If an ordinary person had said it, it would have just left a foul taste—but coming from Bander, a Giant, not only the Market but even the cityfolk grew grave and frightened.

They dreaded even imagining how much damage a Giant like Bander could do if he ran wild again.

Anagin, indifferent, raised a fundamental question.

“Isn't that something a guy who rips off goods by force shouldn't be saying?”

His light tone didn't match the heavy atmosphere.

Anagin didn't stop there—he scratched his head vigorously and voiced his doubt.

“No, I get that this Market fellow's got a scheming head on him, but still, isn't that something a guy who haggles prices down by force shouldn't be saying? Am I the only one who finds that weird?”

Anagin asked, looking at the Old Man. The Old Man, who wanted no part of this troublesome mess, stayed silent.

After an awkward pause, Bander defended himself.

“A Merchant is one who seeks profit. Haggling a price down through negotiation is an entirely natural act.”

“We agreed to call that robbery, old man. Those two things are completely different.”

“They're not different. A Merchant is one who lies and squeezes people by exploiting the fact that he's their only trading partner.”

“That's a con artist, or a piece of shit. Aren't Merchants, however much they scheme, still people who engage in normal commerce in the end? Hey, look here.”

Anagin called out to Market Rio, who stood like a wooden post.

“Which side are you? A robber? A con artist? A piece of shit?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Rio stammered for a moment, then pulled himself together.

“…I scheme, but I am neither a robber, nor a con artist, nor a piece of shit.”

“He says so.”

Anagin pointed at Bander with both index fingers, relaying the Market's words for him. As if to say, you're the only robber, con artist, and piece of shit here.

Bander's jaw tightened slightly.

“So you're saying you want to go with me?”

The atmosphere grew so tense it felt ready to snap.

Anagin shook his head.

“No, that's not it. You told me something useful, so I'll let it go. I'm a nice guy, after all.”

“……”

“I was thinking I might beat you down since my body was stiff anyway, but it doesn't seem worth going that far. This city seems to have suffered a fair bit, but… honestly, that's not really my concern, is it?”

Anagin glanced around the city and spoke as if it were someone else's problem. It genuinely was someone else's problem, too. He'd arrived in this city less than an hour or two ago. Whatever happened to the people here was none of his business.

The subspace bag was a little tempting, but not enough to make him fight over it….

If he really felt he needed one, he could get one then.

“So what I'm saying is, I'll sit and rest in that shade over there, take my money, and leave—so you all go mind your own business too.”

Anagin pointed to a spot of shade that could block the sun, just as he'd said. As he turned to rest, Bander spoke up.

“You're quite confident, aren't you. Do you have something you're relying on?”

Anagin stopped mid-step and looked back.

“What's confident about it?”

“I mean, do you have a plan and a backing as an Ascetic?”

“Hm? Not particularly? Plans can be made as you go, and I don't need backing.”

“You don't need backing?”

Bander laughed in disbelief. That was because the first button an Ascetic had to fasten was gaining backing.

To be chosen by a God and receive his blessing. That was why countless Ascetics wandered without a fixed destination, explored uncharted lands, fought life-or-death battles, and offered all glory to their God.

An Ascetic who hadn't received a God's blessing couldn't be called a proper Ascetic. That was precisely why Bander too was playing Merchant, a role he was never born for.

“Not particularly. Though I doubt you'd understand even if I explained.”

Anagin tossed a meaningful remark at Bander, whose patience was peeling away layer by layer.

“I wouldn't understand?”

“Exactly. It means you, who begs a God, wouldn't understand my way of thinking even if you heard it.”

“Beg…?”

Anagin nodded.

“Yeah, beg. The reason you rip off goods here is to offer sacrifices to your God, isn't it? Hermes?”

Hermes. The God of thieves and travelers, merchants, magic, and spirits.

He wasn't a flashy God like those of kings, war, the sea, or death, but he was also the most preferred God among Ascetics.

'As Master said.'

While other Gods had picky and ambiguous criteria for choosing, Hermes would grant his blessing with high probability to anyone who simply offered enough tribute.

Perhaps because of that, Ascetics who fixated on money were likely either chosen by Hermes or trying to be.

It hit so exactly on the mark that Bander couldn't retort.

“Well, I'm not criticizing you for it……. Honestly, I don't care. The point is, I have no intention of doing that. Becoming a God through a God. That's just, how should I put it—it goes against my aesthetics.”

Having given a sufficient answer and said his piece, Anagin turned to walk away when someone rapidly approached from behind.

He turned his head—Teros, the big man who'd been standing beside Bander, raised a huge axe and brought it down.

“You're not leaving without settling the bill!”

Whoosh! The sound rang out, and kwaang—the ground shook.

Teros's axe had struck the earth. Incredibly, the ground where the axe was buried shattered and cracks spread out.

“A Giant?”

Anagin, having dodged the axe, muttered at the abnormal force.

“Did you think the only Giant was our leader?!”

Ote closed in in a single breath, short swords in both hands. His legs were incredibly fast, and his arms faster still.

Swish—!

Ote swung the short swords in both hands like wind, slashing at Anagin. Or rather, he tried to.

Tak.

Because Anagin precisely struck and blocked the short swords that were fast enough to seem like several of them.

Ote had launched a surprise attack but failed, leaving an opening.

Anagin drew the curved sword at his hip with his other hand and swung it at Ote.

“Where do you think you're going.”

Bander swung the long sword at his hip with perfect timing.

The tip of the blade was at a hair's-breadth distance. Anagin pulled back the sword he'd been swinging and blocked Bander's incoming blade.

The moment Bander's sword was about to meet Anagin's, Ote smiled.

Shlick.

Bander's blade, flying in with a horizontal slash, cut through Anagin's sword like a carrot.

That was why Ote had smiled. Because he'd anticipated that Bander's sword would slice through Anagin's like a carrot.

Funnily enough, Anagin saw that smile and judged something was off, dodging a beat early to create distance.

Drip.

Though he did get a small cut on his face.

“What is that?”

Anagin asked, wiping the blood running down his cheek. The wound healed in an instant.

It was clearly the same iron, yet only Anagin's sword had been cleanly sliced through. And not only that—the blade had momentarily grown longer.

“Heh, you don't know what this is?”

Bander asked, holding up the long sword. Looking closely, an odd light seemed to flow along it. What the hell is that, scary.

“You've only just become an Ascetic. No—before that, are you even a proper Ascetic?”

“I don't know what a proper Ascetic is, but it's true I've only just started. It's been barely a day since I decided to become an Ascetic.”

“…What?”

Bander asked back in an incredulous voice. A day? You decided to become one just a day ago?

He was dumbfounded.

“Then you're not an Ascetic or anything! And a nobody like you dares to talk about me?!”

“Come on, what does time matter? It's resolve that counts. I don't know what your goal is, but I don't want to hear that from a guy who begs a God.”

“…You really are a blasphemer!”

Swish!

Bander swung his sword through the air. The blade destroyed the Old Man's carriage, which was much farther away. The carriage turned to debris, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“……”

Anagin looked at the smashed carriage. Inside it had been the Old Man's grandson and granddaughter.

Anagin stared at the wreckage and said a word.

“…For your age, your legs are quick.”

At the end of Anagin's gaze was the Old Man, holding his grandson and granddaughter in his arms. In that brief instant, he'd run over and saved the children before the carriage broke.

Thanks to that, the grandson and granddaughter were safe, but unable to understand what had just happened, they stared blankly up at their grandfather. How had he saved them in that split second?

After checking on the Old Man and the children, Anagin asked Bander.

“Hey. Do you want to die?”

Bander, perhaps not having heard, rambled on as he pleased.

“I'm in luck. I came to hunt a monster, and instead I've caught a blasphemer who mocks the Gods. I'll kill you and offer you as tribute to my God.”

“I was looking down on you, not on the Gods. So answer me—do you want to die?”

“I'll also renegotiate my relationship with this city! I'd planned to squeeze it for as long as possible…… but I'll make them pay the price for dragging in someone like you!”

The people nearby who'd gotten caught in the splash zone were all startled and terrified. Anyone could see he wasn't making an idle threat.

“Hey, answer me. Do you want to die?”

“A wretch who can't even properly use Gi dares to be impertinent!”

Bander shouted, his patience apparently at its end.

In time with his shout, Teros raised his axe and charged at Anagin.

“All right, let's go with dying.”

Anagin, seeing Bander, reached his conclusion and threw the broken sword in his hand at Bander.

A broken sword was still a sword, so Bander reflexively swung his blade to knock it aside—which tied up his feet for just a moment.

The three-man coordination had broken.

Anagin didn't miss the timing and charged, closing the distance to Teros in an instant.

Teros swung his axe in a wide arc. More to corner him to one side than to land a hit.

As Anagin moved just as he'd wanted, Ote burst out from his blind spot and threw the short swords in both hands.

The two short swords flew precisely, cutting through the air. Anagin, who'd been bare-handed, pulled the scabbard from his hip and lightly blocked the two short swords.

The short swords embedded themselves in the scabbard, and Anagin pulled them out and threw them at Teros, piercing through both his eyes.

Fwoomp—!

With a heavy sound, the embedded short swords dropped Teros without even a scream, and Ote, enraged, drew new short swords.

Thwack!

Again a heavy sound rang out.

Anagin had thrown the scabbard a beat earlier, piercing through Ote's neck.

Ote fell with the scabbard lodged in his throat, frothing blood at the mouth, and Bander, seeing it, quietly reeled in shock.

In that brief moment he'd paused to block the flying broken sword, he'd brought down both Ote and Teros……. It was so shocking it was hard to believe.

But Bander felt anger more than fear.

He was enraged that two of his comrades were dead, and—even having lost them—he still couldn't imagine himself losing.

They were all Giants, yes, but there was clearly a gap in level between himself and those two, and the idea that he could lose to some wretch who hadn't even mastered Eulogia—the art of imbuing objects with Gi to maximize their power—was simply unthinkable.

"Try blocking this one too."

Just watch. The man lifted Teros's giant axe and hurled it.

His strength, Bander would grant him—but that was all.

Bander swung his Gi-infused sword and, not content to merely cut the axe, shattered it to pieces.

"A petty little trick like this—khhk!"

Bander broke off mid-sentence and let out a strangled scream as the air caught in his throat.

A terrible pain shot through his neck.

Anagin had casually kicked a stone off the ground, and it had struck Bander square in the throat.

He'd aimed for the opening the instant after Bander knocked the axe aside!

Bander staggered from the unexpected pain, and Anagin didn't let it slip—he closed the distance in a single breath and drove his fist straight into Bander's face.

[Face Smash]

Craaack!

Along with that intuitive, ridiculous technique name, the sound of splintering wood rang out, and Bander was sent flying.

Silence fell over the city.