home

search

4: Im a Mage, Not a Warrior, a Monkey, or a Mouse!

  After leaving the blacksmith shop, Zethir found himself in the mercenary union in the middle of the night. Although the building was open all day, all week, at this time, only two mercenaries were lounging the night away.

  As for the staff, two ladies gossiped behind the counter, with a sleeping guard stationed near the door.

  'Hmph,' he glanced at the guard, before walking toward the mission board, his gaze scanning the available tasks. Unfortunately, he was bound to be disappointed.

  ‘There are no good ones,’ he thought. The board was full of escorting or gathering missions, all of which weren't his forte.

  He was a swordsman. The type that only knew how to kill.

  ‘Better wait for other missions,’ shaking his head, he scanned the lobby and found an empty seat near the corner. After sitting down, he bowed his head, closing his eyes.

  Then and there, his consciousness blurred, his mind in the middle of dreams and reality.

  BANG!

  Suddenly, the door slammed opened, making his eyes snap open. Tilting his head up, he looked at the wide-open door and the man standing before it.

  ‘It’s him,’ Zethir narrowed his eyes, watching Agustin in silence. ‘Does he want revenge? …whatever. When the time comes, I'll kill him too.’

  With that in mind, he lowered his head, closing his eyes again.

  “Hey, master!” Augustin yelled, pointing at Zethir. However, the latter didn't raise his head.

  “I know you're awake! You just looked at me!” Augustin huffed, storming his way toward Zethir.

  Zethir's fingers twitched, and a vein in his forehead bulging in irritation. Exhaling to calm himself, he opened his eyes, raising his head to look at Augustin.

  “What do you want?” He spat, his voice deep like a drum.

  Augustin gulped, while a girl whistled from the side. Both of them ignored the whistle.

  “Since you killed my teammate, you have to take responsibility and accept me,” Augustin, with a proud smile, patted his chest. It was like his “teammate” that Zethir watched die yesterday wasn't his “best brother.”

  Zethir hummed, lowering his head and pulling the hood of his cloak to cover his whole face. “Sure.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Hell yeah!” Augustin cheered, grinning with all his teeth.

  Siting next to Zethir, he tweeted like a fledgeling. “Sooo, master, what's your name? I definitely didn't forget." He definitely did.

  But Zethir didn't reply—he quietly entered his half-asleep state.

  “Hey?” Augustin tilted his head, trying to look under the hood of Zethir's cloak.

  However, realizing that if he did, he'd be in an awkward position, he changed his mind. This time, he poked Zethir's arm.

  “Hey?”

  No response. Brows furrowed, he moved his finger, poking Zethir's thigh.

  “Heh,” smirking, he moved his hand, pointing his finger at Zethir's stomach.

  “Hey,” Zethir's voice startled Augustin, who tried to take his hand back. But Zethir was already gripping his wrist, staring right into his blue eyes.

  “Since you want to follow me so much, then come. Let's go.”

  Faced with Zethir's ruby-like eyes, Augustin shuddered. Opening his mouth…

  “So slow,” Zethir growled, tugging on Augustin's wrist and dragging him out of the mercenary union.

  Then, under the bewildered gaze of Augustin, Zethir took him deep into the forest.

  {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}

  Hours later...

  “Are you a mage, or are you a warrior?!” Zethir yelled, holding a long, thin, and flexible tree branch. Raising his hand, he used the branch as a whip against Augustin's back!

  “ARGH?! Fuck—”

  Zethir whipped him again, hitting the same exact spot.

  “EEK?! Shit—”

  The branch struck thrice, hitting the same spot yet again, turning it a bright scarlet. One more hit, and blood might fountain out.

  “URGH!!! Fffuu—haaa! Hoo! Ha!”

  Zethir's lips twitched, his hand holding the "whip" trembling a little. “So you're neither. You're a monkey!”

  “No!” Augustin yelped, his back arched in pain. “I'm a mage, da—... I swear!”

  “You swear?” Zethir narrowed his eyes.

  “Yes—No! I mean, I'm certain,” Augustin rubbed his shoulders, while trying to look at his back. If he could see it, he'd cry.

  His once unblemished skin, milky-white like a lady's, was now soiled by a crimson, whip line.

  “Hm,” Zethir moved his gaze to the five foot log in front of Augustin's feet. “If you're a mage, then why can't you lift that tiny thing?” He asked, pointing at the log.

  ‘...I'm a mage, not a warrior! Why should I lift heavy weights?!’ Augustin threw a tantrum—inside his head of course.

  After Zethir brought him into the forest, his hell began. First, Zethir made him run until his legs snapped. After that, he was forced to crawl on the ground, past thorny vines, centipedes, spiders, and snakes, until they reached a random clearing in the forest.

  But that wasn't the end of it—Zethir cut down a tree and had him lift it!

  “I'm out of practice,” Augustin whispered after half a minute of contemplation.

  Zethir shrugged. “Well, now's a perfect chance to get back in shape,” he swung his “whip,” making a loud snap, followed by the sound of wood tearing apart.

  Augustin looked at the nearby tree, where a cut appeared on its surface like someone hacked it with an axe.

  “Sure, but can I…” he mumbled, making Zethir furrow his brow.

  “Are you a monkey-mouse hybrid? Speak loudly!” He crossed his arms, his foot tapping the ground.

  “Can I start with something smaller?” Augustin looked at Zethir's lips, not daring to look at the other's eyes.

  Zethir chuckled. “I don't know, can you?”

  Augustin beamed, nodding like a woodpecker. “Yes! Yes, I can!”

  “No, you can't,” Zethir scowled.

  “Why can't I?” Augustin frowned, scratching his head.

  “Because I'm carrying this,” Zethir pointed at his back with his thumb.

  Augustin peeked behind Zethir, before shaking his head with a sigh.

  “Fine…” After giving up, he crouched, placing his hands on both sides of the log.

  ‘Damn it, I'm a mage…! But at least, I don't have to carry a lump of iron…’ He smiled, comforting himself at the thought.

  As for what Zethir was carrying, it was a thick pillar of iron. It was wider than his body, longer than his torso and head, and three times as thick as his body. Augustin had no idea where Zethir got it, since Zethir wasn't carrying anything when they entered the forest.

  {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}

  In a tent sitting at a mountain foot…

  BAM—"Where are the reinforcements?!”

  Slamming his fist on the metallic desk, a middle-aged man wearing bloodied iron armor roared like a lion. Around him, a dozen young soldiers gathered, wearing bloodied armors just like him.

  “Sir, I'm afraid they've been ambushed,” one of the soldiers said, his voice light like the squeak of a mouse.

  “And you think I don't know that already?!” The middle-aged man yelled, turning to face the soldier who spoke up, his face more unsightly than a disfigured man.

  The soldier obediently shrunk his neck, though inwardly, he was cursing. ‘Then why did you ask us?!’

  The middle-aged man cleared his throat. “Come on, it's not suitable to stay here. Let's depart and head into the nearest city… But wash up first, or the city might not let us in…”

  Simultaneously, all of them looked at their armors. The blood stank, but their bodies were letting out foul odor too.

  War wasn't exactly a walk in the park.

Recommended Popular Novels