The Heavenly Demon Is Just Stuck In My Head

Silence fell over the guild.

The mercenaries, who’d been laughing moments before, now stared at the fallen brute with rigid faces.

“…Dogon went down in one hit?”

“He may have been careless, but still…”

“That sound… Is he a mana-user?”

Their eyes flicked between the unconscious Dogon and the red-eyed man who’d slapped him flat.

Ashuban grinned, waving the same hand that had just met Dogon’s cheek.

“Anyone else want to greet me?”

“…”

“No one?”

“Ahem.”

One by one, they averted their eyes and returned to what they’d been doing.

Fabio, who had followed without returning to the inn, blinked at the toppled brute before looking up at Ashuvan with wide eyes.

In that gaze lingered something close to awe.

“Mister… you’re really strong, huh?”

Ashuvan couldn’t help but feel pleased.

‘When’s the last time I heard that?’

Not since the stray dog, Bangul, had barked it at him in a dream.

In the Sherwood Mercenary Corps, he had been the weakest without question.

A wolf pup raised among tigers.

Even now, he wasn’t sure how he had ever ended up in that band of monsters.

After so many years of living with them, he had grown accustomed to hearing nothing but how weak he was.

So hearing such words from the boy felt fresh.

Ashuvan gave Fabio a crooked smile, then strode toward the reception desk.

The man there—somewhere in his thirties—rested his chin in his hand, staring with open curiosity.

As Ashuvan approached, he asked,

“What brings you here? What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to get a mercenary tag.”

“You mean register as a mercenary?”

“That’s right.”

“You’ll need to take a rank test first.”

“Then let’s get on with it. Will it take long?”

“Not particularly.”

The methods varied from branch to branch.

Some even traveled to distant guilds for the test, depending on the reputation of the examiners.

‘I wonder how they test here?’

Ashuvan’s pulse quickened a little as he looked at the man.

The “receptionist,” who had been there simply because he was bored, rose slowly to his feet.

He was Colin, branch master of the Akenaten Guild.

“…Follow me.”

I followed him out into the backyard of the guild.

Fabio trailed after me, while the other mercenaries crowded out, eager to watch.

We faced each other in the wide, open yard.

Colin rolled his neck with a crack, then asked,

“Name?”

“Ashuvan. And you?”

“Colin. Don’t recall seeing you before. Where from?”

“Somewhere far.”

“Where exactly?”

I answered honestly.

“Maia Kingdom.”

“Maia? That’s quite the detour. And you came here with no papers?”

“How’d you know I don’t have papers?”

“When a stranger wants a mercenary tag, the reason’s obvious. You look the part, but how’d you get here from Maia without documentation?”

I shrugged.

“Climbed down a cliff. Didn’t take that long.”

Colin snorted.

“You’re insane.”

“Sharp of you.”

He shouted to the side,

“Bring two wooden swords!”

A woman, ten years his junior by the look of her, hurried over with them.

He tossed one at me.

“Here.”

I caught it.

“What’s this? Thought I was taking a rank test.”

Colin swung his wooden blade loosely, warming up.

“The branch master supervises all rank tests.”

My eyes widened.

“Oh? So you’re the branch master?”

“More or less.”

He shrugged.

“You’re impressive for your age.”

“Not really.”

I nodded knowingly.

“No wonder.”

That easy air about him—slack on the surface, but radiating the pressure of a true master.

That was the hallmark of the gifted.

The kind who acted indifferent to all things, who treated life like a lazy nap, yet possessed overwhelming talent none could ignore.

Branch masters were usually at least Gold rank.

And the gulf between Silver and Gold was immense.

Gold ranks wielded mana, channeling it into their blades as aura.

They could take on B-rank beasts alone, and even A-ranks in groups.

I mimicked Colin’s casual swings, testing the weight of the wooden sword.

“So, what’s the format?”

“We trade blows. I gauge your skill, then assign your rank.”

I tilted my head.

“That’s it? No mana crystal test? No shock gauge?”

He scratched his cheek.

“Too much hassle. Costs money.”

“So we just fight?”

A crooked smile tugged my lips.

“This place is even more slipshod than back home.”

He waved a hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry. We’re using wooden swords, and no aura. I’ll go easy.”

“Easy, huh? That suits me just fine.”

“Good.”

Simple was good. I had no desire to fight seriously for a higher rank.

All I needed was an ID and some money.

Get that, and I’d be gone before rumors caught up.

No need to stir up a scene.

“Don’t bother giving me a high rank. Just a copper tag will do.”

Colin leveled his wooden blade at me.

“How could I hand one over to a suspicious man like you without proof? No more talk. Show me with your skill.”

Unlike knights, mercenaries valued strength above all else.

Backgrounds, titles, pasts—none of it mattered.

If you were strong, you were in.

That was why I’d come here in the first place.

I raised my blade as well.

“Fair enough.”

A few token exchanges, then I’d throw the fight.

The match was about to begin when I overheard the mercenaries muttering bets.

“Three copper on Colin.”

“Five on Colin.”

“Who’re you betting on?”

“Colin.”

“Me too.”

“What, no one betting on Red Eyes? He floored Dogon in one shot. He might beat Colin, right?”

“You idiot. Colin’s an aura-user. How do you compare that to some mana-less wanderer?”

“You’re betting on Colin too, so shut it.”

Colin might’ve looked half-asleep, but he was a branch master.

And Gold-ranked mercenaries weren’t common.

“Still, what if Red Eyes is an aura-user too?”

“No chance. Don’t be stupid.”

“Then stop talking and put your money down, dumbass.”

I raised a hand.

“Hold up.”

Colin blinked as I turned away from him and strode toward the crowd.

“What the—”

“Why’s he coming over here?”

The mercenaries flinched and shuffled back.

But I ignored them and stopped in front of Fabio.

“Kid. How much money you got?”

He dug in his pocket, then held out a few coins in his palm.

“Eight copper.”

“Damn. That all?”

I scratched my neck, then leaned down to whisper.

“Listen, kid. Put it all on me to win. I’ll make you rich. And that settles my tab, yeah?”

Fabio looked at me silently, then nodded.

“Yes.”

Huh.

I expected him to hesitate, but he agreed instantly.

I studied him for a moment before chuckling.

“Kid’s got a good eye for people.”

I tapped the boy lightly on the head, then walked back toward Colin.

On the way, I overheard Fabio talking to the mercenaries.

“Eight cooper. I’ll bet it all on the red-eyed mister.”

“What? Hey, Fabio! You kidding me? If that guy loses, you won’t have a single coin left.”

“I know.”

“Damn it… taking a kid’s pocket change feels wrong.”

“What’s the problem? This is how Fabio grows up, like an adult. Smart choice, kid.”

“You bastard, you really want to rob a child?”

“What if he loses and goes whining to his father, huh?”

I returned to my spot and faced Colin.

“Done with your business?”

“Yeah.”

I raised my sword.

I had beaten thieves who wielded Aura, and even knights who lived by honor.

A Gold-grade mercenary didn’t seem any different.

After all, I knew how to use Aura now.

“Huuh…”

I steadied my breath and fixed my gaze on him.

At first, I’d meant to throw the fight.

But I’d changed my mind.

I’d crush him.

That arrogant genius.

A crooked smile tugged at my lips.

“Come on, genius.”

Colin studied the red-eyed man before him.

At a certain level, you could sense the flow of mana from your opponent and judge their strength.

But from this man—nothing. Not the faintest trace.

And yet he’d dropped Dogon in a single blow.

He was strange.

Colin felt an unusual interest stirring in him.

Let’s see, then.

He lowered his stance slightly—then burst forward at Ashuban.

To the onlookers, his charge was so fast it left afterimages.

The opening strike was a textbook thrust.

A clean way to mark the start of a duel.

Hmm.

Ashuban’s eyes swept over Colin’s entire posture—footwork, waist, shoulders, elbow, wrist.

Before the strike even arrived, he already knew the line of attack.

Centerline. A thrust.

The path of the sword was clear.

He waited calmly as the strike came.

A thrust was straight and sharp, carrying all its power at one single point.

But no sword strike was perfectly steady—there was always that fleeting moment when the tip trembled.

He’d learned it through countless clashes in Baranquilla, and his body remembered the timing.

Now.

The instant Colin’s sword was weakest.

Ashuban’s blade snapped out and flicked it aside.

Clack!

Colin’s wooden sword was batted away far too easily.

Shock flashed across his face.

What—?

At the same time, Ashuban spun with the momentum of the deflection.

His movement flowed like water, until it exploded into violence.

Thud!

His spinning back kick slammed into Colin’s gut.

Colin pulled his shoulders in, guarding his stomach with his arm.

Even so, the force drove him stumbling backward, his arm numbed and throbbing.

…Where the hell did this guy come from?

He stared at the man anew.

Ashuban, was it?

A warrior this strong should have been known somewhere.

But it was a name he had never heard.

“What’s wrong? Not attacking?”

Ashuban tilted his sword in invitation.

Colin shook out his stinging arm and lifted his blade once more.

But then—something was off.

The basics of swordsmanship dictated holding your weapon close, ready to defend or strike.

Yet this man simply let his sword hang, as if defense didn’t matter.

Colin frowned, then lunged again.

The only way to know was to clash with him.

And indeed, he understood the moment he closed in.

Though he hadn’t expected it at all.

Crack!

Ashuban’s wooden sword dug into the earth, scattering dirt and grit into the air.

“What?!”

Colin’s eyes widened in shock.

He hadn’t imagined the man would fling dirt at him so brazenly.

Would he take it in the eyes—or shut them tight?

Either way, he’d lose sight for an instant.

“Kh!”

Colin chose neither.

He channeled mana to his feet, and with reflexes beyond human, launched himself skyward before the dirt reached his face.

Oh.

Ashuban’s eyes gleamed with admiration.

That instant judgment and preternatural reaction proved why Colin was Gold-grade.

As expected of a Gold. That much is only natural.

A grin spread across Ashuban’s face.

But thanks to that jump… you left an opening.

Against anyone else, Colin would have soared gracefully past, turning the dodge into a counterattack.

But his opponent was Ashuban, a man with the talent of a Heavenly Demon.

And Ashuban saw the gap.

He shot out his free hand, seizing Colin’s ankle mid-air.

“…?!”

“Heh heh!”

Then he slammed him down.

Boom!

Dust exploded skyward in clouds.

When it cleared, the sight left the mercenaries speechless.

The tip of Ashuban’s wooden blade rested against Colin’s throat.

“…Impossible.”

The spectators’ jaws hung open.

Silence reigned—

Until Fabio alone burst out with a triumphant cheer.

(End of Chapter)