One of Uta's bad habits was his tendency to mutter to himself. He gave the men a sheepish smile.
"Ah, sorry, my bad. It's wrong to judge people by their appearances, right? I shouldn't have called you bad guys just because you look like you smell awful. My apologies."
"YOU'RE STILL INSULTING US!"
One of the men, fuming, released the girl and stormed toward Uta, his fists clenched. Without hesitation, he swung a punch.
"Take this, you punk!"
"—!"
The punch connected, and Uta fell to the ground, flat on his back. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN MESS WITH US AND WALK AWAY? HUH?!" the man bellowed, spitting on the ground near Uta.
"Maybe we should sell this brat off, too! Or chop him up and use him as fertilizer!"
The men proceeded to kick Uta repeatedly, hurling insults as they stomped on him. Finally, when they seemed satisfied, they stepped back, sneering.
"Remember this, kid. Don't ever mess with us again."
"And stay the hell out of this neighborhood unless you wanna die."
"Scary. I'll be careful," Uta replied casually as he stood up, brushing the dust off his uniform.
"What the hell?!"
"You—what ARE you?!"
Despite the brutal beating, Uta appeared completely unharmed. Not a single scratch or bruise marked his body. His calm demeanor only served to unnerve the men further.
"Well, I deserved that for insulting you guys. I let you kick me on purpose. Glad you feel better now."
"Who… the hell… are you?"
"Explaining would take too long, and I'm getting hungry. Can I go now?"
"You little—DIE!"
Infuriated, the men lunged at Uta again. This time, as one of them swung his fist, his body vanished the instant it made contact.
"Huh?"
"What the—?"
The remaining man and the girl gasped in shock. Two of the men had simply disappeared, as if they'd never existed.
"I took my punishment for being rude. But if you're going to keep pushing, I'll defend myself."
"Wh-where did they go?!" the last man stammered.
"Being alone is lonely, isn't it?" Uta said from directly behind him.
"Wha—?!"
Before the man could react, Uta placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Your friends are waiting for you. You should join them."
The man didn't even have time to scream before he, too, disappeared.
"A-are you… what are you?" the girl stammered.
"They're just outside the city. They'll probably come back soon, so if you're going to run, you'd better hurry."
"Ah… o-okay…"
With a small wave, Uta turned and walked away, leaving the girl standing alone in the alley.
+
Stepping out of the secluded alley, Uta Hanachiru emerged onto the bustling main street of the city.
Before him sprawled a scene teeming with life and energy.
"Wow… now this is fantasy."
The town was a picture-perfect vision of medieval Europe: steep-roofed buildings lined the streets, and a lively crowd moved through the cobblestone paths. Humans mingled freely with elves, dwarves, and beastfolk, creating a tapestry of exotic, otherworldly charm.
"Cheap and fresh! Get your napple fruits here!" called out one vendor.
"Ma'am, check out today's fresh catch! Right here!" another bellowed.
Storefronts and street vendors competed for attention, their voices ringing over the clamor of footsteps and chatter. For all its fantastical elements, this world's marketplace bore a striking resemblance to a bustling shopping district back in Japan, filled with the vibrant hum of daily life.
"Oh, sorry about that!"
"Whoa—!"
Lost in observation, Uta was bumped by someone rushing past him. The figure offered a hasty apology before disappearing into the crowd.
"Hmm… doesn't seem like crime is unheard of around here," Uta muttered, patting his side.
His money pouch was gone. The small bag of gold coins gifted by the king had been swiped.
"Well… this is inconvenient."
With a simple gesture and the lightest application of his power, the thief materialized before him, seemingly plucked out of thin air.
"Wha—what just…?" the thief stammered, holding the stolen pouch in his hand, his face frozen in confusion.
"Sorry, but I'm going to need this back." Uta casually retrieved the bag from the man's trembling hand and tucked it back into his pocket. With his money secure, Uta turned to leave.
"H-hey! Hold on a second!" the thief shouted, grabbing Uta's shoulder.
"That's my money! Give it back!"
"Wow, you've got some nerve, don't you?" Uta sighed, turning to face the man. "You steal from me, and now you're trying to claim it as yours? That's bold—like, textbook definition of audacity."
"Shut up! Just hand it over, or I'll—"
"You really don't know when to quit, huh?" Uta said, shaking his head. "This world's got its share of idiots, too."
Before the thief could finish his threat, Uta waved his hand. The man's left hand—the one clutching Uta's shoulder—crumbled into dust from the wrist down.
"Consider this a warning. I'm in a decent mood, so I'll leave it at your left hand. Try to take better care of your right."
"GYAAAAAHHH!" The thief's agonized scream echoed through the street, drawing startled stares from passersby.
Without paying the man any further attention, Uta blended back into the crowd, his expression unbothered.
The thief had simply picked the wrong target. That was all there was to it.