The guttural sound of outrage arrived as the men that were now coated in food stood up in order to confront the woman. This poor woman must be seeing stars at this point. There were two of them, booze lingering off their bodies like vapor. The one that essentially bitch slapped her was actually human.
His eyes nearly closed with how drunk this man was, but his wet brown hair draped down his neck. These two were sitting relatively away from the rest of the other members of this event, and it was obvious why. His gaze was like that of a vulture, and his clothes were disheveled with threads poking from the collars. This man clearly didn't fit the prim and somewhat proper atmosphere of this event.
"Yo-YOue tHInk tHat you bULLy US! We CamE here Wi-...wiTH Master Dante and Master Catalan!"
The drunken male spoke and his spit traveled and violated the poor waitress. They began berating her with their drunken slurs and lisps. The woman, who was once frozen with fear had started profusely apologizing to the men even though it wasn't really her fault. It was mine. I was low-key starting to feel bad about it, but I had caused too much trouble earlier.
If I overlook this, then perhaps someone else will step in. Since the two men were causing a commotion, then that was a matter of time. There are supposed heroes here, so they can do something. Yet, here as I breathe no one has moved an inch after they declared who they are associated with. They just stood around gossiping.
"Poor Arlette. Be strong…", a man said.
"Even at my strongest…I wouldn't dare go against Master Catalan…", another chimed in.
"That's like challenging Lord Percival, himself. It's best that we look the other way. Sorry Arlette."
'Ah Shit. I suppose there is no point making shit more complex than it has to be.'
Despite the rough looks of the people that spoke around me, they were simply cowards. I just have to kick my own ass for just standing around when the choice was clear from the beginning. It is Mark's job to do all the overthinking, and it'll be Claire's role to think of a work around since this is her area. I can only do what I do best.
"You think that excuse is going to work. I'm not too drunk to have you fired, harlot!"
The other man spoke this time, his bloodshot eyes prevalent over his pale face. His hair was bleach blonde, and he was much slimmer than the other gone. Though they were both somewhat tone, that shit didn't matter. What mattered is that when he grabbed her by her collar and held her airborne, I would clench my hand around it.
"Aye now. Them hands bisexual?", I mused, cracking a playful smile towards the man.
Sure, she spilled some shit on them, but treating her like that was inexcusable. Based on what the others were saying in their cowardice, Drunk and Drunker here were also drunk off power. They weren't going to be bullied by her, because they are going to bully you first. Though there was one thing that we three had in common. I too like bullying those obviously weaker than myself. It was kind of my thing.
Handling a child would have been more challenging than this drunken asshole. As soon as I began tightening my grip around his wrist, the woman found her feet safely on the ground. My iron grip made his knees buckle from the pain.
"He-Hey! Who the hell are you?", he spats, literally.
Disgusted, I instinctively headbutted his ass in his forehead. His body went limp, and he fell slump across the table. His partner seemed to have sombered up after witnessing his partner being dropped like that.
While his friend got his beauty sleep on the table, the instigator would move around the table to better check on his friend. In the meanwhile, I went to the aid of the woman that had been knocked down twice now due to my actions.
"Ah shit. You doing aight, Lady?"
Her eyes were red, clearly pointing that she had been attempting to prevent herself from breaking into tears. Though one came, I would make sure to wipe it away with the tip of my thumb. Looking at her, this woman was a human as well. She was a redhead, and a petite at that.
"Yes. Um- thank you. I could've handled it myself."she says firmly.
I was actually caught off guard for a bit, but I accepted it nonetheless.Seeing that she could handle herself, I left her to stand up by herself. Instead, I shifted my focus to Drunk and Drunker, and realized drunk had come too once again.
"I believe that I owe ya an apology. I bumped into you, and now you find yourself a victim of roughhousing. Not the good kind, either. Only a drunken fool would damage such a beautiful face.", I mentioned to the waitress.
"So you did this?", she says to me with a bit of an attitude. "I do not need you to fight for honor or protect -"
"Shut up. I don't give a damn whether or not you accept my apology. It's there, so I settled that. Now, I am not really here to fight for your honor. But-"
It was at that moment when I felt something break across my back. Wooden splinters traveled the floor, and when I turned around, I found Drunker standing there with the remnants of a chair in his hands. Surprise colored his face as he attempted to punch me in my side following that. Both blows did absolutely nothing to me, and I was probably more shocked than he was.
"Son… of… a… bitch- You're drunk because you were thirsty, but… I hope you're hungry now. I got a can of whoop-ass with your name on it."
Being hit with a chair would lightly have done more than stunned me in my previous world, but I'm not there. I'm not inside of a video game either, so it was more surprising that not even an ounce of pain flowed through my body from the impact. In fact, I was more annoyed now than I was shocked. Although he didn't know it, I was strong enough to fuck up that big ass Lynx. What could he possibly do to me in that intoxicated state?
I suppose it would only be fitting that I teach him a lesson right now. Drunker had dropped the chair scraps and raised his hands towards me almost in a pleading manner. Only a fool would beg for mercy after punching someone in their stomach after hitting them with a chair. With his friend gone, I simply reached forward and grabbed the man by his collar. My strength being more than enough to lift him off of the ground.
"H-Hey! Put me down! Y-You'll regret this!", he barked.
I merely side eyed the man and shook him from left to right. I highly doubt that I will regret doing this. I will not lie that ragdolling this man through the air was kind of amusing in its own way. He whined and complained, but yet I still toyed with him.
"Alright now. Didn't you say that I was gonna' regret this? Why are ya screaming and crying, then?", I mused before dropping the man onto the ground.
His body fell awkwardly onto the floor, and considering how much I had tossed him around, the male struggled to scramble to his feet due to how dizzy he likely was. His struggles brought immense amusement to me, and when he failed to use the table as a prop in order to stand up, my laughter boomed throughout the air.
The recipient of my laughter quickly grew angry at my display. After all, he was being humiliated to those nearby, and their subtle laughter quickly raised his temperature. When he had finally successfully propped himself onto the edge of the table, the male launched himself forward.
His fist clenched, and his target was naturally me…or so I had thought. The man soared past me, and his fist traveled towards the waitress that stood next to me. She was the origin of his humiliation, so he likely tried to settle the score. It was that or he was so drunk that his equilibrium was off, and he attacked the person next to me.
Either option was ultimately futile. The woman flinched from the charging drunkard, but I stopped in after a moment of reflection. Once more, the man's feet dangled as I pulled him by his rear collar, much like an older dog would grab one of its young.
"C'mon now. You said that I was gonna' regret it. Attacking her won't cause me to regret anything.", I said to him, tossing him back in front of us.
After bouncing across the ground, the man eyed me with an obvious anger.
"You-You'd better back off! I helped save Theoscryan, Ba-Bastard!", he spat, literally once more.
This man was utterly disgusting. Damn near every time he opened his mouth, his saliva somehow found its way to land on my clothing. I had enough of that. So I decided that I had enough of his nonsense and empty threats. I got in his face, but not on his level. In a swift motion, my fist rained upon him and smacked him in his temple. I held back my strength for it and tapped him like one would do a disobedient toddler. One smack and the man's once irate body laid there as light as a feather.
"Look at this. I accidentally knocked him out. Some Savior he turned out to be. With how weak this drunk was, then perhaps this event was nothing but hype.", I say, crouching down to touch the male's neck.
I had seen on television that you could check the pulse of someone by pressing their neck with my index and pointer fingers. Although I did hold back my strength, I was still unsure whether or not that actually mattered. If I had accidentally killed this clown, then I would have regretted it.
So a sigh of relief escaped my lips when I felt some type of movement in his neck. I'm assuming that meant that he was alive. The startled voice from the waitress behind me soon came out, and before my curiosity allowed me to turn around, there was a tinge of coldness pressing against the side of my neck.
It was odd, but merely shifting my eyes to my left revealed that there was a blade extended next to my neck. It actually startled me a bit.
"That's him! That's the man, Sir Catalan! He bullies the waitress and we tried to intervene. Look at how he did Gawne! "
That slurred voice was quite obvious. That there was Drunk talking, but he wasn't directly behind me. There was another individual that dared to hold that blade pointed to my neck. Even the slightest movement of this individual threatened to draw my blood if not worse. Not only that, but the bastard was also lying through his teeth.
"Is that true, Madam?", the man known as Catalan asks.
Although I couldn't see them from my crouched state, there was a hesitation in her response. That enough allowed that slimy liar to once again open his mouth.
"She's scared, Sor Catalan. This man laid hands on her and Gawne. Likely, he was trying to take his hard earned coin!"
"Oh, so I'm a thief now?", I speak up. "You're a weasel faced, son of a bitch. I'll rock your shit just like I did your friend."
"That is enough.", Catalan says afterwards, pressing his blade further to my neck.
If the blade to my neck wasn't threatening enough, Catalan's voice was firm. He spoke as if he had authority over me. Such authority did not exist. He merely snuck up on me when I was preoccupied and placed a blade to the side of my neck while I was crouched down. Seeing that he surrounded himself with troublemakers and liars, this Catalan individual was likely the biggest asshole of them all.
The man I knocked out must have been named Gawne, and he kept mentioning that I would regret my actions. He also mentioned that he helped save that place called "Theoscyran". Not to mention that they worked underneath the man that held this blade. In layman's terms, these clowns are Catalan's goons.
Crouching like this was a bit tiring to my legs, so I had no choice other than to stand up. My actions likely raised the guard of Catalan as he immediately spoke up.
"No rash movements."
I didn't listen to the words of this man and as such the blade pressed directly against the skin of my neck. This man meant serious business. I suppose that I should show him that I do as well. My finger moved up and in a soft clang could be heard when I nonchalantly flicked the tip of the blade. A piece of it flew off as if one was flicking a bug off of one's shoulder.
Boom!
The now familiar sound of wind whipped up as the piece of metal that I flicked barreled towards the ceiling. Upon impact the violent sound of destruction whipped up, and debris rained from above. It was as if an explosion had transpired right there in the corner of this room.
Since coming to this world, I had learned that I had immense power at my fingertips, and in this case I meant that literally. Whether it was throwing small rocks in order to harm the Lynx or leveling a treeline, whatever I put my mind to would likely yield to my power.
Catalan's sword proved to be no exception. There was a downside to my display of power though. Not the sizable hole now in the ceiling, but the undivided attention from those around us. It was not my intention at first, but I was not going to back down from a fight, nor will I allow that clown to tarnish my character. Thus this result was only natural.
It was then that the blade soon retracted itself away from my neck allowing me the freedom to turn around to look at the responsible party. When I did so, the result actually surprised me a bit.
'Look at that. I can't say that I am surprised, but I am a bit intrigued.'
His dark red eyes lingered over my body, and his maintained, black bob traveled down to his pointy ears. There was a clear look of shock on his face as he examined his now damaged sword. It was quite the well designed blade. It was a fairly short, broad, jagged blade made of iron held by a grip wrapped in regular, ivory crocodile patterned leather. It was a shame that I had flicked at least a quarter of the blade off. That left me to assume that he was probably overwhelmed at that moment. That wasn't what got me intrigued, though.
The man that stood before me now was the exact same man that Mirield gazed at from a distance. There is a lack of an entourage here, though, and no women fawning over his side. A smile began warping my lips, and in a clear tone, I asked him,
"C'mon now. What are you gonna do with that besides make me mad?"
My words clearly struck a nerve with the stunned Catalan, but as I expected, he did not allow me to speak all that freely. His slim figure moved to his left, eyeing me carefully. His shattered sword now pointed to the ground. Inch by Inch, Catalan moved away from Arlette.
"I've never seen you around here before. You have some nerve to raise your hand against a hero of Theoscryran. Not only that, but you raise your hand against this woman as if you own her.", Catalan declares righteously.
"You think I care whether or not ya'll are playing heroes here. Even thugs can be considered heroes if they do one good deed."
"A thug?"
"Yes. I didn't stutter. Any man that surrounds himself with slimeballs like those two should be considered a thug."
Reaching out, I grabbed the sleeping Gawne and held him up by the scruff of his collar.
"I didn't raise a hand against that woman anyway. It-"
"Silence.", Catalan barks.
"You bitch. Who the hell do you think that you are talking to?", I snapped back.
"You are low born trash. How'd a scoundrel like yourself sneak in here is beyond me, but I will personally see to it that you are removed."
A thud could be heard as I dropped Gawne onto the nearby table. I sized up Catalan. Those were fighting words there. He might be armed with a weapon, but I believe that it was nothing more than a decoration in his hands. A fancy butter knife in the hands of a rookie chef. He posed no threat to me.
"I would reconsider that decision if I were you. It wouldn't look good on your résumé when I kick your ass."