That night, Johnny dreamed of nothing. His young body soaked up rest like a sponge absorbing water. Without the throbbing Brand of Sacrifice or the torment of malevolent spirits, he slept deeply—a luxury that had been priceless to Guts.
Marilla peeked into his room before she went to bed, watching her son sleep on his back, mouth slightly open, snoring softly. She smiled, pulled the blanket up to his neck, and slipped out silently.
The next morning, the miracle of youth was at work. When Johnny woke at 5:30 AM, ninety percent of yesterday's muscle cramps and soreness (DOMS) had vanished. His body felt light, yet dense. His muscles had adapted to the strain of his training.
"This body's recovery system... is incredible," Johnny muttered, clenching his fist.
He went downstairs and helped Garrick open the rolling door of the workshop. The morning proceeded normally. Johnny hauled boxes of nails, organized PVC pipes, and served a single customer buying a water faucet.
However, the tranquility shattered at 10:00 AM.
KYAAAAAAAAA!
A woman's piercing scream erupted from the direction of the vegetable market, about two blocks from Garrick's workshop. It was followed by the sound of crashing cans and a cacophony of aggressive, high-pitched chattering.
"What is that?" Garrick dropped his screwdriver, his face paling. "Monsters?"
Johnny didn't ask. His body moved on autopilot.
"Dad, get inside! Lock the door!" Johnny commanded firmly. He didn't wait for his father's answer.
Johnny sprinted to the back, grabbed his Scrap Greatsword, unwrapped the cloth covering as he ran, and bolted toward the source of the noise.
The scene at the vegetable market was chaos.
A large sewer grate had burst open. From the foul, black hole, dozens of Wererats were flooding the street. Not one or two, but around fifteen of them.
They were starving. Their sizes ranged from that of a cat to a bulldog. They attacked vegetable baskets, gnawed on table legs, and chased panicked civilians.
"Help! Help!"
A woman stumbled as she ran. Two Wererats leaped toward her.
WHOOSH!
A massive black shadow cut through the air.
CRASH!
Johnny's iron slab slammed into the ground right in front of the woman's face, crushing the two mid-air rats into instant meat pulp. Black blood splattered onto the asphalt.
The woman's eyes went wide, staring at the small back in a shabby jacket standing before her.
Johnny wrenched his massive sword from the cracked pavement. He stared at the pack of rats. His eyes narrowed.
"Vermin," Johnny hissed.
The pack of Wererats stopped attacking the civilians. Their animal instincts detected a predator far more dangerous than ordinary humans. They turned, fixing Johnny with glowing red eyes, and charged in unison.
Five rats leaped at once from different directions.
Johnny didn't panic. The space was tight, crowded with civilians. He couldn't swing wildly.
Low Sweep: Johnny pivoted low, sweeping the legs of the rats with the long handle of his sword. Three rats were sent tumbling.
Vertical Smash: Without pausing, he lifted the sword and brought it down like a sledgehammer onto the head of the nearest rat. CRACK.
Iron Kick: A rat tried to bite his calf. Johnny kicked it with his hard work boot, sending the creature flying into a shop wall.
"Run! Get inside your houses!" Johnny shouted to the stunned onlookers.
Taro and his friends, who had been playing marbles nearby, watched the scene from atop a stack of wooden crates. Their mouths hung open.
"That's Big Bro Johnny..." Taro whispered. "He... he's really protecting us!"
The fight lasted a full five minutes. Johnny moved efficiently, wasting no energy. Every swing of his iron sword meant one less rat life. He was like a meat grinder, moving slowly but surely, cleansing the streets of the infestation.
When the last rat—the largest one, likely the pack leader—tried to flee back into the sewer hole, Johnny didn't let it.
He threw a loose piece of iron pipe lying on the road with his left hand. The pipe impaled the rat's tail, pinning the creature to the ground. Johnny walked over casually, raised his massive sword, and ended its suffering.
Silence.
The market was littered with rat carcasses and the smell of blood. But no civilians were seriously injured, only scraped from falling.
Johnny's breath came in short bursts. He wiped the sweat and blood splatter from his cheek. He looked around. Citizens began to emerge from their hiding spots. Their gaze upon Johnny had changed. From looking at the "quiet kid from the workshop," it shifted to a look of respect mixed with awe.
"Thank you, son..." the woman Johnny had saved stood up, her legs trembling. "If you hadn't been here..."
Johnny gave a curt nod. He didn't wait for applause.
Johnny pulled out his pocket knife, knelt beside the carcass of the largest rat, and went to work. He began cutting off the fangs and tails, one by one.
The citizens were confused. "Johnny... what are you doing?"
"These can be sold," Johnny answered flatly without looking up. "The skin has value. The fangs have value."
One of the market vendors, an old man who owned a grocery store, stepped forward. He reached into his wallet.
"You saved my merchandise, Johnny. Those rats would have eaten this month's Flour stock," the old man said. He held out several bills. "200 Gil. Consider it a security fee."
Other citizens were moved to do the same. "Here, son. Thank you for saving my wife." 100 Gil "Here, for your snacks." 50 Gil
Johnny stopped cutting. He looked at the money being offered to him.
In the past, Guts was a mercenary. He fought for money. But this time, this money felt like gratitude, not just a transaction for life.
Johnny stood up, accepting the money politely. "Thank you. I'll use this to buy laundry soap for Mom. My clothes are filthy."
The innocent answer melted the tension. A few citizens chuckled.
That afternoon, Johnny returned to the workshop not just with stained clothes, but with heavy pockets. Today he had earned:
12 Pairs of Wererat Fangs and 10 Whole Tails, sold to Uncle Drove for 1,200 Gil.Gratitude Money from Citizens: 550 Gil.
Garrick and Marilla, who had heard the heroic tale of their son from excited neighbors, welcomed Johnny at the workshop door. Marilla immediately checked Johnny from head to toe.
"You weren't bitten? No wounds?" Marilla asked in panic.
"Just a few scrapes from the asphalt, Mom," Johnny answered calmly.
Garrick stared at the massive iron sword now leaning against the workshop wall. He looked at his son with new eyes. There was the fear of loss, but also a deep respect.
"Sector 7 is getting more dangerous," Garrick said softly. "But... it seems we have our own guardian now."
Johnny handed half of his earnings—800 Gil—to his mother, and kept the rest.
"To buy meat again, Mom," Johnny said.
Then he looked toward the east. Toward Sector 5.
He had money. He had supplies. He had ensured his parents were safe and had savings for the next few weeks. The neighbors also knew he could be relied upon, so they would look out for each other.