Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 31

The door to the abandoned mansion opened with a creak. The chilly night air slipped through the gap, brushing against the patches of skin not covered by his leather armor. Beyond the darkness that had settled all around, a few flickering lights became visible.

They were torches. Leon narrowed his eyes, and the shadows cast by those flames sharpened into clearer silhouettes.

There are five of them.

It was an awkward number to guess their purpose. If they had come to rob him, they would’ve snuffed out the torches and snuck over the wall in secret. Not that it would’ve gotten past El-Cid’s detection.

Their clothes didn’t quite match the image of common thugs either. The matching black leather armor, each marked with the same unfamiliar beast, looked almost like a uniform.

A gang. Could it be the Bastards? Leon wondered.

While he had spent most of his time training, he had made sure to eavesdrop on gossip near the slums and asked around at the Guild. He had gathered information on the powers that split the slum’s interests into thirds.

There were three men of significance: Simon the Golden Pig, the loanshark known as the Keeper who was an assassin shrouded in mystery, and at the top of them all, the man known as “Fang,” Khan. The gang he led was called the Bastards.

“What do you want?” Leon asked across the iron bars.

Politeness only made you look weak to people from the slums. Respect was something the weak showed to the strong. If he came off as soft from the get-go, they’d keep pressing their luck.

He also subtly drew up his Aura. The pressure alone made the thugs instinctively step back. Only the one who seemed to be the leader managed to open his mouth.

“A-are you the ‘Sweeper’?” he asked.

Leon cut his reply short on purpose.

“What if I am?”

“Apologies for coming without notice. Orders from above, you see. I hope you’ll be understanding.”

“Above?”

“Yes. We’re members of the Bastards.”

It seemed that mentioning the name of their gang gave them some confidence. The other thugs puffed out their chests with pride—or more likely, to show off the beast painted across them that looked like a lion but with no mane.

Leon remembered seeing it in an encyclopedia. A tiger. Unlike lions, they were known to roam mountainous regions and were fierce enough to tear through most monsters with a single bite.

Perhaps interpreting Leon’s silence a certain way, the thug grinned slyly and continued, “Our boss has asked to see you. Said if you refuse, we’re to leave you be. But who knows what some of the others who fear our boss might try to gain his favor... Best come quietly.”

It should have been an effective threat. Anyone who had heard of the Bastards’ infamy, or Khan’s reputation, would’ve been terrified. Of course, to Leon, it meant nothing.

If he was going to fight the Demon King someday, he couldn’t afford to fear some thug. He didn’t even deserve to be called a Hero if that scared him. All that mattered was how he could use this situation.

This is a chance to get inside the heart of the slums. If they meant me harm, they wouldn’t have come like this.

And this wasn’t just anyone—it was Fang, whose name alone was enough to clear a path through most trouble. The real question was why he wanted to see Leon.

They had no bad blood. They didn’t even know each other. It couldn’t be an attempt to recruit him into the gang—approaching an adventurer that way would be as good as spitting in the Guild’s face. Eliminating every unlikely theory left just one answer.

“Lead the way.”

Leon opened the iron gate and gave a small jerk of his chin. The thugs were momentarily stunned by his boldness but soon clenched their jaws and turned around.

They were used to living in a world run purely on power dynamics, but still, getting upstaged by a kid’s presence was humiliating. They thought that even if this little punk had skills, he clearly hadn’t seen real carnage yet.

El-Cid chimed in, —Their thoughts are painfully obvious.

The comment made Leon smirk. Leon could tell from their rough breathing and unstable footing alone. His senses had sharpened even more since awakening his Aura. If these guys were this rattled already, it didn’t matter how many there were—he could handle them with ease.

El-Cid, now completely unbothered by the thugs, asked, —So, why do you think he called you?

Probably has a quest for me. Doesn’t want to use his own people and heard enough about me to get curious.

—Hmm? Criminals can submit quests too?

Leon shook his head.

Not formally through the Guild. You can’t be a client unless your identity and credibility are verified. Criminals usually fail one or the other—or both.

—Then?

You can bring your quest to an adventurer privately. But since it’s not notarized by the guild, there’s a high chance they’ll bail.

—High risk, high return... that sort of thing. Since they can’t go through the Guild, they’ll offer a premium.

That was exactly right, but the risk was quite high. This kind of job was commonly referred to as a “Black Quest,” and more often than not, the quest’s actual difficulty didn’t match the client’s description.

The ame went for what happened afterward. Because Black Quests usually had one foot in the criminal world, they could become liabilities for the adventurer. It wasn’t uncommon for the client to use that record as leverage or throw the adventurer away when they were no longer needed.

They’re planning to use me, so I’ll use them right back. Since it wasn’t an officially sanctioned quest, I also have no obligation to see it through, Leon thought as his eyes glinted coldly.

“This way,” one of the thugs said.

Leon and the gangsters were walking through the slums. The sight of a boyish-faced youth flanked by a group of thugs was bizarre, but no one dared point it out. People who had been laughing and chatting just moments ago went silent.

A drunk who spotted the tiger emblem on their clothes stammered under his breath, “T-the Bastards?!”

Even in the slums, where blood and violence were a daily routine, that name was synonymous with fear. Some people swallowed nervously, others averted their eyes and backed away several steps. It was a scene that confirmed the Bastards’ infamy.

Someone who had been blackout drunk stopped hiccupping. Women who had been dancing vanished behind doors. It was like a wolf had wandered into the middle of a flock of sheep.

“What are you looking at?! Get back to work!”

“You there, what’s so funny, you little worms?!”

The underlings walking beside their leader threw in their jeers. Startled by their barks, the bystanders quickly scattered, leaving the street almost empty in seconds.

Only after that did the gangsters relax and start chuckling. They strutted down the street like it was their birthright.

Then, El-Cid said, —Don’t.

Leon’s hand, which had unconsciously begun to lift his sword, stopped. If El-Cid hadn’t spoken, he might’ve actually swung.

Even he was surprised. These gangsters weren’t even people to him anymore. They were beasts that happened to speak human words and mimic human behavior. There was no hesitation in his decision to end their lives.

—Don’t let the Aura control you. You control the Aura. If you blindly follow the power of the sun, you’ll end up just another zealot for righteousness.

I’m fine. I’ve cooled down.

—Watch the swings in your emotions. If you act like that in front of Khan, it’ll be the end of you.

That warning sent a chill through Leon’s mind.

I’ll be careful.

With a few deep breaths, he recovered his composure and continued after the thugs, who were completely unaware of what had just happened. They walked past the cloying perfume in the air, the back alleys reeking of booze, and the roads dirtied by blood and sewage.

After nearly thirty minutes of walking, they finally arrived at one of the Bastards’ hideouts. The stench of blood was thick in the air, a violent aura hanging over the place like a storm cloud.

“They ever think about cleaning up around here?” Leon muttered.

The warped iron door creaked open. The thugs who had escorted him turned tail and ran as if terrified of what lay ahead.

Bloodstains on the floor and pillars, a tooth rolling at his feet—none of it was subtle. They were clearly old, but the fact they’d been left alone told him everything: it was all for intimidation.

It’s such an obvious attempt at intimidation.

Leon let out a dry chuckle and walked forward. It was then when a voice said, “Hey. So you’re that janitor kid?”

Time froze. Something was behind him—less than a meter away. A death sentence of a distance. If whoever was back there wanted to, Leon could be killed with a single blow. Hundreds of possible reactions flashed through his mind.

I’m going to die.

Even if he poured every ounce of his strength into it, he couldn’t win. His well-honed instincts, forged through relentless training, could already see the end.

No, no I’m not!

A true Hero surpasses even that fate. A loud clang—a terrifying one—rang out. Leon didn’t even know what he had just done. His body had moved on its own, reacting before his brain could catch up.

He’d poured every last drop of Aura into that single strike. It was the strongest blow he could currently unleash using all of his skills and knowledge aside from the unfinished Seven Star Sword.

Even so, the result was daunting.

“Hah. ‘The Sweeper’ isn’t a nickname that suits you, kid!”

The brute laughed menacingly after taking El-Cid’s blade with just his bare fist. Only a few drops of blood dripped from the barely torn skin. There was a momentum that looked like he might crush Leon’s skull at any moment.

Ah. I’m dead.

Even with the world slowed down by Rodrick’s Vision, Leon couldn’t see that punch. The air twisted violently with the pressure. The space around it wavered like a mirage, sending chills down his spine.

His brain barely kept up, but his body couldn’t follow. Even with Accel activated, he couldn’t react to the speed of the punch of overwhelming velocity. However, Leon didn’t give up. As long as it wasn’t instant death, he could still fight. He trusted El-Cid’s powers, and the toughness of his own body, and stared down the oncoming fist.

A loud thump! sounded, but he wasn’t sent flying back.

The fist stopped right in front of his face, filling his vision. Just a few centimeters—less than a finger’s height—had spared him.

His face stung as blood gushed from his nose, burst open by sheer pressure, and strands of hair snapped off and flew backward. It hadn’t even connected, and yet the result was this. If it had, his head would’ve exploded.

Leon barely managed to speak.

“You’re the Fang?” he asked as the blood dripping from his gums trickled down his lips—it wasn’t just his nose that had burst.

Interestingly, Khan seemed pleased by even that.

“You’ve got guts. I like it,” he said with a savage grin that revealed a sharp fang.

Not quite human—more beast than man. Is that where the name “the Fang” came from? Leon found himself caught in that random thought for a moment.

Khan continued, “I figured a C-ranker would be trash, but you’ll do. Yeah, you’ll do nicely.”

“For what?”

“The job, of course. Didn’t you come here expecting it?” A scent of blood lingered on Khan’s face as he continued, “Sweeper, I’ll give you what you want.”

Leon’s expression hardened at the offer. This didn’t sound like a blind guess—how did this guy know? Could a thug like him have figured out Leon’s true identity?

El-Cid had kept his divinity sealed. Probably because he hadn’t sensed any killing intent from Khan. The clash just now had been Leon’s own effort so he shouldn’t have revealed a single clue that would suggest he was a Hero.

“What I want? And what’s that?” Leon asked back with a calm expression, daring him to say it aloud.

Khan responded with a crooked smile.

“You see, I’ve already done my homework.”

His beast-like gaze pierced Leon.

“A permanent second place in the Royal Academy’s commoner class for years. Kicked around noble brats through sheer grit. Dropped out and registered as an adventurer in Blaine. Only took on quests other adventurers avoided, and now you’ve got the city’s big names whispering your name.”

Leon’s personal history spilled out without a drop left behind. In hindsight, it was expected. Buying and selling information was one of the staples in the back alley business, and at the top of the slums, a guy like Khan only needed to give the order. It was a piece of cake.

“I can guess why you dropped out. You never wanted to be a knight. You didn’t want to kneel to those useless nobles and serve their flabby egos,” Khan said, seemingly getting heated. “So you beat the crap out of them and became an adventurer. Unlike all the clowns chasing quick cash, you played the long game. Put on an act of being the useful adventurer the city’s elite would want to hire. Jumped to C-rank with just two quests—am I wrong?”

Yes, he was. Regardless, he continued, “If you were chasing money, you wouldn’t have done all this. You’ve had one goal from the beginning. And I saw it clearly.”

Like a predator smelling blood, Khan leaned in, eyes glinting as he shouted, “Honor! The kind of honor that even nobles have to respect! The kind of honor that transcends class! That’s why you came to this hellhole of a slum without hesitation, answering my call! You complete this job, and your dream becomes real!”

“Is that so...?”

Leon offered a vague answer to Khan’s wildly off-the-mark theory. It was all nonsense—but Khan’s guesses weren’t completely absurd. From what he had done so far, it would be reasonable to assume he was after some grand reputation.

There was no need to correct him. They might end up enemies anyway. If he wanted to misunderstand, Leon was happy to take advantage of it.

“Let’s hear it then.”

Seeing Leon’s apparent interest, Khan smiled as if he’d been expecting that all along.

Thus began a deadly misunderstanding.