The village of Liberbet is located in the country of Nara Force and is a place where people are allowed a lot, and the authorities are given a little. They live here quietly, and sometimes very noisily due to the fact that fights and wars are quite common here, and there are no inhabitants who would defend this settlement. There are only people in this place trying to protect their home and family, and they don't care about others. Even when someone is beaten up nearby, everyone passes by, because it's not their problem or their remorse. There are those who want to help and even go into battle to save the wounded, but everything ends up with more victims.
Quite a dangerous place has many minuses, but the pluses are also favorable for the residents. After all, here you can do whatever you want, you just have to conquer. Here you can live any person nailed court and no one will care whether you sleep on the floor or, in the center of the road or build yourself a house. You can make friends with someone or fight forever, it all depends on how you present yourself here.
This area is quite popular as the minerals are developed. Even though the region is not big, there is a lot of trade, so the village is somehow alive. But robbery and crime are still on the rise. Especially because of Syrtlan Zhanyl, who is the head of problems in the settlement...
But today is the day, the long awaited day that everyone has been waiting for - Trade Day. Where everyone rushes to buy and get what they want. The goods, and the workers are no ordinary craftsmen, quality salesmen. The only problem is the dissatisfaction of the inhabitants, who will find a place to get mad and complain, because of which the talent of such people disappears. Everything here is at the highest level especially the prices standing on them. Everyone's in a hurry and that's where the yelling and arguing starts.
— Hey! I actually wanted to buy this first!
— You should have bought it earlier.
— Why is it so expensive?!
— You'll give me a discount.
— Fuck off! I'll take it first!
— When will my order be ready???
— Get off my back! It's mine now, I've paid for it! — suddenly the buyer started talking to the stranger next to him.
— Really? I looked, and you haven't even given the money yet. Comrade seller, I'll buy twice as much of what he's trying to get.
— Bastard! Stay out of this, go look somewhere else! — already shouting, ready to fight with the one who decided to take his cut.
— This thing is the only one, so give it to me! — also aggressive resident, attacking him, which resulted in a fight between them.
— Excuse me, do you happen to know where the blacksmith is? — asked someone else's voice intervening in the conversation between the two shoppers as if not noticing the fury of their blazing eyes. It was a kid with dark blue hair, a little longer than a bob, with scars under his eyes and a bandage around his neck. The white-skinned weirdo looked at the two with interested eyes.
— Can't you see we're busy here, get out of here! — they said at the same time and continued their discussion again plunged into a fight.
The boy realized that there was no one to talk to and began to make his way through the huge crowd, which was pressing hard. In this crowd you could not only lose things, but also your head, which happened to him. But at last he was able to get out.
— Yeah, everyone here is so rude. Even if I just ask a standing person a question, they'll find a reason to get mad at me like I'm on theirI'm swiping at their turf. — he said to himself. Shook himself off a little and looked around, not knowing what to do next he decided to continue his search.
***
On the other side of Torgovshchina, as well as in other neighborhoods, the noise and power of the people was still as well as the power of the people.
— Hey terracotta hairy mole, come out and let's get this over with. — shouted some gruff voice across the street. He didn't look very benevolent himself - a scowling face with a line painted near his eyes, black hair, and a huge baton secured behind his back.
The stranger, hearing his unique nickname, merely continued his wiping of the weapons he weighed for sale as if not hearing the one who was venting his anger.
— If you don't come out voluntarily, I'll blow your shop and everything around it to hell!
— What are you picking on, big black eyebrow. — after finishing his business, the terracotta-haired man decided to go and see the culprit of the noise.
— Finally deigned to come out! First of all, my name is Syrtlan if your memory is gone, and secondly, when are you going to give me my sword?!
— Just because I have a blindfold on my face doesn't mean I'm blind. And anyway, I already told you that you should buy a weapon first and then get it.
At these words he pulled out his huge unusual baton and came very close and pointed it at the speaker.
— I think we've already discussed this matter. Either I get the sword, or you will be left without hands, with which you create them. — Syrtlan said fiercely, losing the crooked smile he had been holding onto until now. He twitched his club as if hinting how he would do it, and for good reason, because his weapon was not just big, but huge from a man's height exactly, and the different blades interlocked on it as if it resembled a torture weapon.
— It's weird, I remember telling you to go fuck yourself. And that I wouldn't give you anything for free. — he did not show the slightest fear of him, realizing what was coming.
Syrtlan fiercely raised his club high and wanted to hit the terracotta-haired man, but he quickly dodged. More-brow didn't stop there, continuing to try to hit him so that he turned into a tortilla. All the anger he tried to express in his blows, but the blacksmith just dodged the attacks as if he wasn't even in the fight.
— I don't understand why you need a sword if you use a club? — the guy in the bandage suddenly asked during the fight.
— It's not a club, dummy! It's a sword — a club! — he continued to make blows without hitting the target. But then a cat appeared under the terracotta-haired man's feet from behind, causing him to fall. The cat, seeing all this, growled and scratched his leg with its claws.
— Argh! Get outta here! — he yelled at it, and the cat, frightened, ran away.
From afar, people looking at the situation began to leave slowly, as if it were a simple phenomenon that would pass with time.
— It's my turn, — quickly retreated a few steps terracotta hair was grabbing the hilt, but felt nothing. — Damn, where did I put it? What a day, what a disaster.
Having lost his vigilance, Syrtlan had already managed to approach and make a blow, but his reflexes were able to react quickly, only because of the size of the baton he had to fall to the floor while feeling a millimeter of this weapon, which almost hit his head. The man with the baton wasted no time in aiming downwards:
— The blow of the baton hammer! — he said his technique as if he wasn't holding a huge object that was difficult to lift with a slight movement of his hand like a feather and pressed the weapon to the ground. It was so fast and strong that it formed after the blow not a large but deep hole. The blacksmith managed to dodge this powerful technique, and after a quick dodge, he fixed his hands to the ground and kicked him so that Syrtlan's jaw shifted, causing him to lose his balance.
— Aah! You bitch! — trying to take away the pain and dizziness said the big-browed one. While the blacksmith was recovering, he quickly headed straight for the shop.
«She must be there somewhere.» — the blacksmith thought to himself.
— Where are you going? Back to your hole? It's about time we had cleaning up in there, a terracotta hair mole! — Syrtlan raised his baton to 90 degrees up then started making quick circular motions forming a strong wind pressure.
— Circle the baton formation!!! — with all his might he threw his weapon straight at the fleeing armorer. The terracotta haired man went to the right so he wouldn't get hit,but the one shouted:
— Kreskere! — the weapon suddenly grew in size as it flew. The blacksmith, who had no time to dodge, flew with baton straight into his shop, which turned into ruins after the blow, and the stones flying from above fell directly on the wounded Terracotta Hairy.
— The cleaning is completed, I will take the payment myself, — Syrtlan grinned, approaching the no longer living building — Damn it! Now it's a pain in the ass to look for weapons in this pigsty! — pushing the stone with his foot, he said, and then looked at the blacksmith.
— You lie around outside for a while and let everyone look at you. — taking him by one leg he threw him out of the destroyed building and then began to examine the weapons.
"Uff...uff... no... just... ha... dare to take anything, I'll cut you into pieces... uff... cut you up." — ate, breathing, said terracotta hairy lying on his back trying to get up.
«Damn it, the main thing is that he doesn't to find Cruenta.». — it was spinning anxiously in his head, continuing his attempts to get up, not paying attention to the incessant pain in his body, which was felt at the slightest movement. For a long time he lay on the ground bleeding while Syrtlan sniffed at his ruined shop. He couldn't move in any way, he was very tired lately, but he didn't care about it.
"I won't let!!" — having already risen on his elbows, the man in the bandage was about to say something, when suddenly he felt someone's presence above his head.
— Young man, do you happen to know where the metalworking master is? They sort of call him the blacksmith bezokiy. I'm looking for him now, I can't find him," the boy squatted down and asked the blacksmith. — You're just lying here and there's no one around, so I thought at least you'd answer me if you're resting on the road.
— Phah. — terracotta hair is amused by the situation already half-risen.
— Wow, it's a cool bandage, but unless you see something in it...
— I'm not blind, remember. Better tell me why do you need it?
— Yes, that's , — he decided to answer evasively, to which terracotta hair remained silent — So do you know where he is?
— You'd better get the hell out of here, or you'll get hurt too. Can't you see what the situation is like here?
The boy looked around with a calm face and said in a short thought:
— No, I thought that was your custom here. Oh, I forgot! — He slammed his fist down on his palm — Since you're the only one I've talked to in this village for longer than ten seconds, I'll introduce myself. My name is Silius Aylan. — The boy smiled broadly as he held out his hand, which gave him a dimple on the left side of his cheek that brightened and made his smile even cuter.
— My name is Saif Gudbrandr. — Sparingly, but shaking his hand nonetheless.
— Saif nice to meet y-.
No sooner had he finished than a spear flew in and pierced him in the stomach, causing him to twist in pain. Blood came out of his mouth, which he tried to cover with his hand, but his eyes began to close, falling to the ground. Watching this Saif held his breath completely shocked at what was happening.
— Asshole! Why the hell are you killing those who are not involved! — He shouted at Syrtlan, unable to contain his anger.
— Huh? So it was a resident? My hand just slipped. He was talking to you so much I thought he was your friend. I wanted to join you, too, because I was getting lonely. — he said with a sad irony.
— You're not going to get away with this, club—head. I'll chop you into pieces so that you won't be able to commit any more atrocities. — He said to him in a calmer tone, but still with hatred.
Big-Brow silently walked up to the terracotta haired man with some sort of sword, and kicked him with all his might so that he rolled over onto his back.
— You say those words without even realizing the position you're in. Oh... Listen what it's to die by the sword you created mole? —touching some random weapon he seemed to like. And he did it smoothly and unhurriedly, like he was lengthening the moment.
— Fear not, my swords don't even deserve to be killed by you.
— Too bold for a dying man. — He stabbed Saif with a sharp thrust.
— Centrum Saul! — but suddenly Syrtlan flew to another house, making a hole in his figure.
— So you're alive! — said the blacksmith, stunned.
— Why should I die?
— But it's still in you. Are you sure you're all right? — Saif said, pointing to where Silious' body was. Aylan looked at the spot without realizing what he was talking about. "Huh?" was all he said as he downloaded what was happening. After all, the spear was still in his body, and the blood in his mouth had disappeared long ago. Raising his head back up the top the boy finally realized and yelled — Aaaaaaa!!!!
— Did he stupidly just only notice? — muttered Saif as he continued to marvel at the boy.
— You! — Shouted Syrtlan angrily, climbing out of the wall — I'll grind you into powder, you little brat! — Tensing all his calves with a lightning-fast movement he was near Silius already swinging for a blow. The boy managed to dodge, but the sword-jacket caught the pierced spear from his body, causing him to groan in pain and fall to the ground.
— Look out! — Saif shouted.
Silius only lifted his face as he was struck again, and flew straight back into the wall where earlier Syrtlan had been chained. A second silhouette form formed, and the weapon that had been in him even deeper went in, sticking in the wall.
— I'm not done with you yet scum! — Already though approaching Silius as someone threw a rock at him. He turned around and saw Saif standing on his feet, smiling at him, though he was covered in blood. — You'll get your turn, you'll be dead before you know it!
— Don't apologize, but I found my sword while you were distracted by it. As they say, don't leave it for last, or it will be lost, — and as if nothing had happened, he quickly held the sword in his hands and said — Kaekus tonitri. — Syrtlan immediately fell to the ground without even realizing what had happened, only feeling a strong pain from the blade from his shoulder to his stomach.
— The man in the bandage approached Sylius, who was still in the wall — Hey, are you still alive in there?
— Yeah, just get me out of this thing, — the blacksmith, not thinking long, pulled the spear with all his might — Aaagh!!! — Silius groaned in pain as he crouched down.
— I'll look for a first aid kit in my shop," Saif wanted to go, but saw Silious close his eyes and turn off. He looked at the place where Syrtlan was supposed to be lying, but there was no one there. — Yeah...What a day…
Two hours later
— Aaah!...Aaah?...stop...where am I? — Silius woke up trying to understand what was going on in bed.
— You're at my house. Well, I mean, this place is at the back of the vandalized shop. It was hit a little too, but still a lot of the rooms were intact, and thank goodness for that. — said Saif standing nearby.
Silius looked around the room with curious eyes, and then at his own bandaged body.
— I'm surprised you're not from around here, and you're obviously not human, since your body is beginning to regenerate, albeit slowly, and you're using magic.
— Why is that? I'm human.
— Ordinary humans can't regenerate, only Fuscus, Lucius and Miscellus can.
— Think what you want, but I don't even have wings.
— What about the mark of God?
— What God mark?
— What world were you born in? What don't you know?
— Well, it just so happens that I've only been studying the world for a year hehehe. — Silius smiled.
— Then you don't know much about what's going on. The God Mark is a power that is given to the chosen few, but only humans can receive it and use it, other races like the Fuscus, and, that is, dark-winged beings intelligent like us, Lucius light-winged and Miscellus - mixed, they can not have the God Mark. The mark appears on a person's body and there's no way to remove it. And how it appeared at all, they say that the God Sued himself discounted his power so that it fell chaotically to people. So we can fight on the same level as other races. These people are considered the elite in human country, they're very powerful.
— Wow, but unfortunately I don't have that tag either. I'm just a simple traveler.
— Well, well, well. That leaves you as a manna man, which is lucky. Because in the human world, you're either a simple man, a manna man, or God's chosen one.
— How confusing.
— Just the opposite. There is a "figurative" ladder in the world and everyone determines what level you are on. It's the same thing as Angel or Archangel the second rung will still be stronger. The problem is that in their case you can become someone higher, but in the human world you are either born this way or that way, you get it by chance and it doesn't depend on your strength.
— So no matter how hard I train, I can't become stronger than those chosen by God?
— At least that's what they say. But there's no definitive proof of that yet. No human has yet been able to defeat them.
There was silence.
— Oh, I almost forgot, thanks for saving me first, and could you tell me where the blacksmith is?
— I am he. — said the terra cotta haired man firmly.
— ...I mean, your name is Cyph, right? — the man in the blindfold made a face with his hand.
— Yeah, but the bezokiy. blacksmith is my nickname around here.
— I thought you wore a mask, but you're blind.
— I'm not blind," he interrupted. — I just need this bandage, that's all. You helped me defeat Syrtlan and saved my life, so I'll help you for free.
— Oh, thank you very much. Actually, I came to ask you to make me a little iron box.
It's a turn of events that Saif didn't see coming.
— ...Honestly, I was expecting you to ask me to make you a sword or armor. This is a box. I'm more into that than this...but...okay, I'll do it.
— Yeah! — Silius raised his hands in the air, and then cringed, forgetting that he was bandaged.
— I suggest you rest for now, and then you can go for a walk if you want, I'll go prepare the blueprints and everything you need to get started.
— Okay! — getting up quickly, despite the pain he ran outside.
— Where did such an energetic man come from... — the blacksmith was puzzled and started to work.