The Mercenary Slayer Of Holy Knights

As I rested my empty mug on the table, a translucent window appeared before my eyes.

─ 『『System 』』 ─ ─

「Active main quest」

Objective: find a row C guild and join it in order to increase its reputation.

Reward: EXP + Réputation increased.

─

I folded my eyes.

A guild, huh?

I had never been the type to work in a team. But if the system imposed this objective for me, it was that there was a strategic interest in following it.

I sighed and straightened up.

"It's not that I get bored, but I have something to do."

Vorsha, still hilarious of our previous discussion, gave me an intrigued look.

"Ah yeah? And what is this "something"? "

"I have to join a guild."

Vorsha had an eyebrow before letting go of a mocking laugh.

" You ? In a guild? Since when did you like to work with people?"

"I have my reasons."

I crossed my arms.

"Besides, do you know the worst guild of this city? The most miserable, the most pathetic, the one whose reputation is a real shit?"

Vorsha fixed me for a moment, before an amused smile stretched on his face.

"Oh, I know one, indeed ..."

Vorsha took a new sip of beer before smiling.

"The worst guild, huh? In this case ... you should go see the corbeau's claw."

I haired an eyebrow.

"Rank?"

"C. Just good enough not to be dissolved, but too shabby to attract the slightest talent. Their reputation is catastrophic, they chain failures and no one takes them seriously. If you're looking for a shit guild ... that's this one."

He marked a break before adding:

"They have been operating from an old dilapidated barrack a few kilometers from here, just after the receiver district. You will not be able to miss it, this is probably the most shabby place in the area."

I nodded and got up.

" GOOD."

Without one more word, I left the lair of bone breakers and took the direction indicated.

Guilds and their operation

In this world, the guilds were independent organizations which took charge of various contracts. They went from simple mercenaries associations to real private armies.

The guild ranking went from F (the weakest) to S (the most influential). A row C guild, like the corbeau's claw, was barely tolerated in the middle. She had neither prestige nor influence, and survived thanks to low -end contracts.

The contracts were divided into several categories:

Hunting contracts: elimination of monsters or criminals.

Escort contracts: protection of merchants or important personalities.

Recovery contracts: search for rare objects or relics.

Clandestine contracts: illegal missions often funded by corrupt nobles or criminal organizations.

A guild prospered by completing success with success, thus gaining reputation and resources.

But the Corbeau claw ...

She was another story.

I crossed several valleys, taking advantage of the freshness of the night wind and the calm of nature.

Finally ... calm, it's quickly said.

On my way, I witnessed several absurd scenes worthy of a bad comedy.

A mercenary tried to intimidate a gang of goblins with his sword ... until he stumbles on a root and damages against a stone.

Further on, a type in too heavy armor was running after a giant rabbit, screaming that it was his dinner. The rabbit, visibly annoyed, sent him a paw that sent him waltz in a bush.

I sighed.

This world was sometimes desperate.

Arrival at the Corbeau claw

After a few hours of walking, I finally saw the guild.

The crow's claw.

A real dumping ground.

The walls were cracked, the wooded wood, and the brand hung miserably on the side, half torn. Holding accumulated in front of the entrance, and a dubious smell floated in the air.

I pinned the edge of my nose.

What misery ...

Pushing the rugging door, I entered.

The interior was little better. Broken furniture, overturned beer mugs, and a handful of poorly shaved mercenaries stirring with a blasé air.

Barely I had put a foot in the room than an old bald man in a battered armor threw herself at my feet.

"Please don't close our guild! We will do better, I swear! We can still improve, pity!"

I put an eyebrow.

"... Close your guild?"

The old man swarmed his head frantically.

"You ... You are an inspector sent by the Guild Federation, right?! "

I sighed.

" No. I just came to register as a mercenary."

A silence fell into the room.

The mercenaries looked at me as if I was an idiot.

One of them, a skinny guy with a red headband, burst out laughing.

"Wait ... Do you want to join this guild? Seriously ?! "

Another added:

"Either you have a shit level or you have a grain."

I folded my eyes and sketched a sufficient smile.

"HMPH. I could all sweep you down in a fraction of a second if I wanted."

The atmosphere changed instantly.

The mercenaries stopped laughing.

Silence was this time much more heavy.

The tension went up in the room. One of the mercenaries, a type stocky with one less eye, rose suddenly and approached me. His gaze was full of challenge.

"Did you say you could sweep us into a fraction of a second?" He said in a loud voice. "Well, prove it. I challenge you in PVP. If you win, you join our guild."

I let a smile float on my lips. A PVP, huh? It was laughable. But hey, if it could make things happen ...

I gave a head. " All right. But I'm not going to use my sword."

The looks of the mercenaries quickly turned to me. A whisper crossed the room.

"Do you not intend to use your sword? You're not serious there."

I sighed inside before explaining to myself.

PVP. A duel between two or more players, in which the objective is to bring down the opponent without necessarily killing him. The rules were simple: no external resources (no help from other members), and the equipment used should not be too powerful. But there was a rule that everyone was unaware of: if the intention to kill is issued, the system will react accordingly.

And with Akatsuki, my sword, even without a worn blow, it was already too much. My sword had a very particular power: his intention could kill, even if the user only drew it without really using it. A simple thought could be enough to make it lethal. It was one of the disadvantages of having a weapon of this type.

The mercenary in front of me sneered. "Are you really not very serious, huh? Come on, draw your sword and prove it."

I shook my head, but he insisted. "Come on, draw your sword. We want to see if you're really up to it! "

Too late.

I didn't need to draw my sword. A moment of concentration, an intention, and everything was decided.

The mercenary decapitated himself, as if his own body no longer supported the invisible attack that had struck him. He collapsed on the ground, his headless body gently rolling on the pavement.

A dead silence settled in the guild. The other mercenaries remained frozen, their eyes widened, their faces decomposed by the horror. Some had morve nets hanging from their nostrils, frozen in total stupor.

I left the guild without a word, the noises of the scene still resonant in my ears.

The old bat, who had observed the scene in silence, rushed towards me as soon as I passed the threshold.

"You are a hero!" He cried, the trembling voice of admiration and fear.

I didn't answer anything. My gaze lingered on the decapitated corpse of the mercenary. These people had just died before my eyes, but it was not the pity that invaded me. No.

The interest of their guild went above all. They had launched this challenge. It was their choice.