Disaster-Level Player Is Too Good at Broadcasting-Chapter 47: « Kang Min Of The Mercenary Corp. [1] »

"You think the pay is actually tripled, or is the Duke just trying to get us into the meat grinder before we realize there’s no gold left?"

"Shut your hole, Boros.

Tripled pay or not, it beats starving in the outer slums.

Besides, the Dusk-Eaters only come out at night.

We just need to hold the gate until dawn and we’re golden."

"I heard the last squad didn’t even make it to midnight.

They found their armor, but their names?

Poof. Gone. Like they never existed."

"Move it, you lot!

To the left for the physical testing, to the right if you’re a magic-user who’s actually worth the mana you’re breathing!"

The courtyard of the Ducal Palace was a discordant symphony of clanking plate armor, nervous laughter, and the smell of cheap ale and unwashed bodies.

Thousands had gathered, a sea of desperate mercenaries, failed knights, and adventurers looking to cash in on the capital’s slow-motion collapse.

Kang Min walked through the thick of it.

"Watch where the fuck you’re going, you masked rat!"

A massive wall of a man...easily seven feet tall and smelling like a brewery’s dumpster slammed his shoulder into Kang Min.

The brute was wearing a mismatched set of heavy iron plates and carrying a club that looked like it had been carved from a literal tree trunk.

He tried to bulldoze Kang Min into the dirt.

Kang Min stopped, his boots grinding into the gravel.

The brute turned around, a sneer curling his lip.

"Look at this little shit.

What are you supposed to be?

Is that lil rag on your face supposed to make you look scary?"

He let out a booming laugh, glancing at his companions...four other thugs who looked just as greasy and ill-mannered as he was.

"Maybe the mask is there because his mother dropped him on his face as a baby.

Hey, I’m talking to you, gimp!"

Kang Min didn’t say a word.

The anger that had been simmering in his gut since he’d woken up in this simulation finally boiled over.

He was tired and frustrated.

Before the brute could draw his next breath, Kang Min’s hand moved.

-CRACK!

It wasn’t a punch so much as a ballistic launch.

Kang Min’s fist connected with the brute’s jaw with the force of a falling anvil.

The man’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling into his skull instantly.

He followed through, grabbing the brute by his iron collar and slamming him face-first into the concrete courtyard.

The sound of teeth shattering against the stone echoed through the sudden silence of the immediate crowd.

The brute’s body went limp, a pool of blood rapidly expanding around his ruined mouth.

Kang Min stood up, his breathing steady.

Through the narrow slits of his black mask, a trail of vibrant blue mana flickered and bled into the air.

"I have no time for this."

The four companions of the fallen brute froze for a heartbeat.

Then the tallest one who was a man with a jagged scar running across his throat pulled a jagged shortsword.

"You fucking piece of shit!"

He screamed, his face contorting in rage.

"Do you have any idea who we are?

We’re the Iron Hounds!

You just signed your death warrant, you masked cunt!

We’re going to peel that rag off your face and feed your eyes to the crows!"

"Kill him!"

Another shouted, pulling a heavy mace.

"Break his fucking legs and let the Dusk-Eaters have what’s left!"

The crowd surged back, creating a wide circle of empty space.

They attacked as a unit, two from the front and two circling to the flanks.

"Go to hell, you little fuck!"

The scarred one yelled, lunging forward with a horizontal slash.

Kang Min stepped into the strike, his movement so fast.

He caught the man’s wrist, twisted it until the bone groaned, and drove his elbow into the man’s sternum.

-THUD!

The scarred thug was launched backward, coughing up blood and air in equal measure.

The other three closed in, screaming profanities that would make a sailor blush.

"I’ll rip your fucking throat out!"

"Die, you bastard!"

Kang Min ducked under a mace swing, the blue mana trails from his eyes leaving streaks in the air like a painting.

He delivered a spinning kick to the third man’s temple, sending him spinning like a top before he collapsed into a heap of clanking metal.

The last two tried to grapple him.

He grabbed both men by their heads and slammed them together with a sickening clack of skulls. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

They fell like sacks of flour, unconscious before they hit the ground.

Kang Min stood amidst the wreckage of the Iron Hounds.

His hands stained with their blood, the blue mana still pulsing from his mask.

The surrounding mercenaries were dead silent now, their bravado replaced by a cold, sharp fear.

"HALT!"

A squad of Ducal Guards, clad in polished silver plate and carrying heavy halberds, pushed through the crowd.

They looked at the five broken men on the ground and then at the masked figure standing in the center.

"Drop your weapon and get on your knees!"

The lead guard shouted, his halberd leveled at Min’s chest.

"Brawling in the palace courtyard during the selection is a crime punishable by the dungeons!

You’re under arrest!"

Kang Min’s fingers twitched.

His mind was racing.

God dammit... why is the system suddenly including this?

I’m going all this far for a single item... I don’t need some forced character development or a sub-plot with the local guards.

He prepared to resist, his mana beginning to flare, when a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the tension.

"Stand down, soldiers."

The guards immediately snapped to attention, pulling their halberds back.

The crowd parted as a man in dark blue enameled armor walked forward.

He wasn’t as bulky as the mercenaries, but he carried an aura of absolute competence.

His hair was cropped short, and his eyes were the color of cold flint.

This was the Mercenary Corps Commander.

The commander looked at the unconscious Iron Hounds and then turned his gaze to Kang Min.

"It is a violation of the Duke’s law to engage in unsanctioned combat during the selection process."

He said, his voice calm but heavy.

"We are looking for knights to save our city, not thugs to clutter our courtyards."

Kang Min didn’t back down.

He straightened his posture, his blue mana-glow fading but his eyes remaining sharp.

"If the Duke wants knights, he shouldn’t allow ill-mannered animals into the pens with the humans."

Min said arrogantly, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

"I thought the core principle of the Mercenary Corp was discipline.

I see none here."

The commander’s eyebrows rose slightly.

A few people in the crowd gasped.

No one spoke to the Commander like that.

"You have a sharp tongue for someone who is currently one word away from a prison cell."

"And you clearly have the skill to back it up.

But skill without control is just another calamity waiting to happen, no?"

"I have plenty of control."

Min retorted.

"I controlled myself enough not to kill them.

That should be worth a thank you, no?"

The commander unbuckled his cloak and handed it to one of the guards.

He drew a long, elegant longsword from his hip.

"You think highly of yourself, traveller."

He said, stepping into the center of the ring.

"Let’s see if that arrogance is earned.

I offer you a deal.

A duel, right here, right now.

If you are able to land a single blade on me...just one strike I will grant you a place in the Mercenary Corp and overlook this...

incident."

Shortly after the crowd surged forward, forming a massive, chanting ring around the two men.

The sun beat down on the courtyard, reflecting off the steel as the Commander and the Masked man faced each other.