The Otaku's Odyssey: Reincarnated with a Grand System

Astrid stared silently at the group of robed mercenaries standing before the dazed and bloodied survivors.

There were ten of them in total—seven men and three women. Five carried swords with the calm discipline of veterans, clearly swordsmen. Four crackled with magic energy—mages. And leading them all was the most dangerous of the bunch: a magic swordsman.

A rare breed.

Even among mercenaries, magic swordsmen were rare.

Magic swordsmen were nicknamed the Talented—blessed with both aspects of cores and monstrous potential.

Astrid could already tell this wasn't some ragtag band of criminals. These people were organized, deadly, and far too comfortable standing over the corpses of innocent bystanders.

Everyone on the floor had been taken hostage. A few brave souls tried to resist early on, but they were swiftly put down—vaporized or sliced apart before they could even scream. These mercenaries weren't just dangerous—they were efficient.

Astrid sat on one knee at the back of the cluster of survivors, feigning submission. Leo knelt beside him, unnaturally quiet, his golden brows furrowed deep in thought. A ten-year-old deep in contemplation while surrounded by carnage was… well, Astrid would've laughed if the situation wasn't so damned serious.

'Maybe he's just in shock,' Astrid thought.

At the front, the mercenaries gathered near the still-smoking wreckage of the elevators, their robes dusted with blood and ash. They murmured amongst themselves, likely planning their next move. Astrid saw it as the perfect opportunity to scan their strength.

'Let's see just how screwed we are...'

He closed his eyes for a split second and began releasing faint tendrils of aether into the air, so thin they could hardly be called wisps. The mercenaries didn't react—good.

Thanks to Orion's brutal aether control training, Astrid had learned how to suppress his output to an invisible trickle. According to his father, real strength wasn't just about power—but precision. And right now, it was saving his life.

One by one, he felt out the mercenaries' cores.

'Hmmm… the five swordsmen… three are middle-stage Warriors, the other two are Initiates. The four mages... all peak-stage Arcanists. And the boss man—middle-stage Virtuoso. Of course.'

Astrid clicked his tongue mentally.

'Of course the boss is Virtuoso level. Just my luck.'

He sighed. His current rank? Initial-stage Blade. Respectable for his age. But against a Virtuoso? It was like throwing a kitchen knife at a tank.

He'd been absorbing aether constantly for weeks, yet his progress felt sluggish. His instincts screamed that he was stronger than his current stage implied—maybe his core had a higher threshold than most, or maybe he was just cursed.

'Whatever it is, this isn't the time for a breakthrough arc. I need backup… where the hell is Mom?'

Surely Lia had noticed the explosion. With her strength, she could squash these fools in seconds. But knowing her… she was probably watching from a distance, arms folded, eyes narrowed, waiting to see what her son would do under pressure.

'Testing me in a hostage situation? Seriously? Are you trying to traumatize me into greatness?'

Astrid sighed again, internally. 'Fine. Let's see how this all plays out.'

Just then, a tall man in a green robe—clearly a civilian—stood up confidently.

"Hey! You there!" he shouted at the mercenaries. "Why the hell are you taking us hostage?!"

Astrid blinked. '...Is this guy trying to die?'

But to his surprise, more people stood up beside him, their courage apparently contagious.

"Yeah! What do you want from us?!"

"You can't just—!"

"You don't have the right—!"

The mercenaries turned slowly. Their leader stepped forward.

"Do you fools believe you have the right to question us?" he said coldly.

Then came the pressure.

A wave of pure killing intent swept over the floor like a crashing tide. Hostages gasped, fell to their knees, or simply fainted. The leader's bloodlust was overwhelming—thick and suffocating like a noose around their necks.

He had killed before. Many times.

But the man in green held firm. Suddenly, a surge of mana burst from his core, whipping his robe about him like a storm. His eyes glowed faintly as the floor beneath him cracked.

Astrid's eyes widened slightly. 'Initial-stage Novus… no wonder he was bold.'

Behind him, more cores ignited—swordsmen ranging from Initiate to Apprentice ranks, their eyes steeled with resolve. They'd been hiding their strength. Hostages? Not quite.

"Stupid mage," the mercenary leader sneered. "You think six of you can stop us?"

He didn't wait for a reply. With a flick of his wrist, he signaled three swordsmen forward to intercept the rebels. A mage and another warrior followed after, heading straight for the Novus.

Immediately, the three mercenary swordsmen lunged toward the five hostage swordsmen. The civilians scrambled out of the way as the combatants separated from the main group. But the difference in strength was like heaven and earth. The mercenaries moved with brutal precision—each of their blades flashing only once. Blood sprayed in all directions. Within seconds, the five had been sliced into clean thirds, their upper and lower halves dropping lifelessly to the floor.

Astrid flinched.

'That was a massacre… not a battle.'

The Novus, now standing alone amidst the carnage, trembled with rage. The aura around his body erupted in a volatile surge. Sparks danced across his skin as he cloaked himself in crackling lightning magic.

The moment the next swordsman moved, the Novus reacted, slipping the downward strike with a single backward step before blasting forward and striking the enemy squarely in the gut.

The swordsman stumbled. But before he could recover, the Novus summoned a flaming orb in his hand, compressing it until it glowed white-hot. The sheer heat made Astrid sweat despite the distance.

Just as the Novus prepared to launch the spell, a mage countered with a water blade, slicing through the air. But the Novus was faster. He raised a wall of flame that turned the incoming attack into a hissing cloud of steam, then released his attack—a searing beam of fire that split the swordsman in two.

Blood and entrails painted the once-polished floor.

The Novus pointed toward one of the female mages, his voice low and laced with venom. "You… You're next."

With explosive speed, he vanished from sight, reappearing beside her with another compressed orb of flame. It struck her torso dead center, boring through her body and leaving a gaping hole.

Even Astrid had to admit it: the Novus was skilled. Lightning and fire—a dangerous combination for close-quarters combat. But reckless.

'He's getting too close for a mage…'

Astrid's eyes flicked to the mercenary leader, who hadn't moved an inch. That smug expression hadn't changed. No panic. No tension. Only calm confidence.

The Novus cut down another attacker who dashed toward him, catching the swordsman's blade with a wall of fire, then roasting him alive with a burst of flames to the chest. Screams echoed through the mall.

Some hostages began to cry. Others stared wide-eyed, hope returning to their eyes.

"What? Decided to give up?" the mercenary leader asked, chuckling as he watched the Novus pant from exhaustion.

"No… I'm just tired of this back-and-forth scuffle," the Novus replied, his eyes flashing a dangerous golden hue. Mana surged around him in waves as flames engulfed his entire body.

"When I could end all of you at once."

Gasps spread through the crowd. Even the mercenaries tensed slightly.

The mercenary leader frowned and folded his arms. "Hmph. I guess it's time to end this."

The Novus formed a massive fireball—blazing so hot the tiles near him blackened. The air shimmered from the intensity.

"You're wrong," the Novus growled. "It's time for me to end you!"

With a scream, he hurled the massive fireball. It exploded upon contact with the ground near the mercenaries, engulfing the entire area in a sea of fire. The floor collapsed from the force, crashing down onto the one below. Corpses disintegrated into ash.

Astrid acted instantly, forming a thin aether shield around the hostages. It wasn't perfect, but it held. They were shaken, a few lightly injured, but alive.

Smoke and dust clouded everything.

Then the smoke began to clear.

And what emerged was a nightmare.

Standing in the middle of the destruction was the mercenary leader—completely unharmed. His fist was buried deep inside the Novus's chest. Blood poured from the boy's mouth.

The hostages gasped in horror.

With a dead, emotionless gaze, the mercenary leader pulled his hand back—ripping out the Novus's still-beating heart.

"Haaaaa… I hate showoffs."

And just like that, all hope was extinguished.

….

Authors note: Hey guys, this is my first fight scene, I hope you guys enjoyed it though!

Still trying to improve

More chapters tommorow

Thanks for reading