As I arrived a few inches away from the fighting figures and the hordes of Rethons they fought off, I slowed my pace, taking calm, measured steps that carried no trace of urgency.
My steel pipe rested on one shoulder, and my smirk had fully faded.
I began to believe that maybe I was finally sober. No longer high on Exp.
I shrugged.
But there's no way that's possible, is there?
I fought the overwhelming urge to burst out in laughter, tightly cocking my lips as I approached the figures.
Sometimes it feels really good to roast yourself. But I doubt you'll understand. You aren't as crazy as I am.
…I hope.
And yes, I'm talking to a second person again. What are you gonna do about it?
Sparing the brain-twisting details of my self-argument that even I couldn't fully understand, I continued my stroll to the figures who were completely oblivious to my presence.
I squinted my eyes, viewing every detail of them with measured precision.
One person stood in front of them all. Like the barrier of their defense.
A boy?
I strained my vision even more.
No. A man.
One way too big to be called a 'boy.'
He looked thirty at the very least, with large biceps, barely contained by the folded sleeves of his brown leather coat that poured all the way to his calves.
Needless to say, his coat was torn and ragged, almost as ragged as mine. Except, I was pretty sure his were caused by goo burns and claw marks.
His gritted teeth outlined his rough oval face, riddled with outpouring sweat and black, thin streaks of goo.
He drew my attention the most out of all four of them.
And so I assumed he was their leader. And by 'leader' I meant the one who coordinated their desperate, pathetic effort of defense.
But I gotta admit it, though…
I placed a hand on my chin, reading the movement of the weapon tightly clenched within both his palms. A long, slightly large, glistening hammer that made quick work out of every single Rethon that crossed him.
…He's strong.
My forehead twisted as I almost scowled.
Where the hell did he get that hammer, though?
Tch. Lucky guy.
I let out a short sigh, shaking my head as the top left corner of my lips curved.
Feels like I'm glazing him or something.
"Heh."
If I did 'glaze' him, then he most likely deserved it, because all my life, I'd always admired people who had what I lacked:
Strength.
The funny thing was that I was always surrounded by people who possessed that very attribute.
I mean, I literally worked in a gang. My boss possessed it, every 'colleague' I worked with possessed it…
I could go on and on, rambling names on the list of 'strong people I know.'
But…
Among all of them, the strongest I'd known was.. Jericho.
His strength was overwhelming.
And it wasn't just physically, too, the guy was smart as fuck. I considered that a strength.
No matter how much I hated to admit it, I wasn't that smart.
And that's exactly why I need him. Not just because he gave me money. Although that does contribute.
So far, he'd been the compass to the little moral I have left. Plus, he's the only one who knows how to rein in my crazy.
My half smile widened, forming a fully stretched smirk as my gaze remained locked on the sight of that older-looking guy who kept on swinging his hammer, effectively stunning, knocking out, and even killing some Rethons.
But it came at a cost.
"Ha."
Bro was already sweating buckets and breathing way, way too hard for an Unc.
One thing I know now, though, is that…
I lowered my steel pipe, and I leaped, soaring through the air as I made my way toward the middle of the horde of Rethons.
…I no longer lack the 'strength' I've only ever admired.
Sensing my incoming presence, every Rethon halted instantaneously, their necks moving in my direction.
This time, even the four figures — a frail looking young woman clenching a goo-smeared cutlass, an unremarkable 'glasses-wearing' gentleman dressed in a fine navy suit holding a crowbar, a young man with red eyes that shone with intense fury clenching two short steel pipes in both hands, and the rough looking Unc with white spikey hair dressed in that brown coat, clenching his hammer — they all froze, confusion adamant in their expressions as they gazed down at the flood of whimpering Rethons they barely fought off.
And as their eyes met the direction that the Rethons' gazes — or lack thereof — fixated on, they traced it, their necks slowly moving skyward.
Their widened eyes finally met the sight of the shirtless madman, streaming through the air with a steel pipe clenched in his hands. A wide smirk plastered on his lips. A smirk that portrayed his madness.
The mad man was me.
At the area I approached, all the Rethons gathered in that spot slowly inched away, giving way to my landing.
–Bam!
I landed.
Dust fluttered, and audible Rethon whimpers echoed.
Never talk about yourself in third person again, Dustin. It's not as cool as I thought it'd be.
The force of my landing caused my knees to quiver slightly as I crouched. And a stinging pain zapped through my calves. Nothing I couldn't endure.
My scar-filled back stared at the four Exp thieves that had been playing defense. I didn't even turn to look at them.
I sucked in a deep breath.
"Hooo…" I exhaled, looking up at the now clear sky, devoid of that half darkness that had engulfed it earlier.
From the strangely calm evening sky, the setting sun spilled its golden sunlight upon me and the flinching Rethons that I paid no mind to.
[Ding! Your feats have been compiled.]
My eyes widened at the sight of the annoying system notification that covered the evening sky.
I furrowed my brows, almost frowning. And I think a vein popped on my forehead. Most probably.
[Mortal, you have gained a title.]
[Rethon Slayer{Rare}]
[Effect: All Rethons cower in your presence. When in battle with a Rethon or group of Rethons, your stats will triple.]
If a vein truly popped on my forehead earlier, then I was damn sure the thing dissolved as soon as I read the message.
Same with my furrowed brows. It 'unfurrowed.' And my pupils enlarged as I stared at the screen.
My strength stat is 8. That means 8+8+...
Tsk.
Am I really doing maths right now? I hate that stuff–
=====
°|STR: 24(8)|
=====
I blinked, staring at the strength tab that appeared from nowhere in my field of vision.
My lips curled.
I nodded.
I could work with this.
It's exactly all I needed to know. I have triple strength. I don't care about the other stats.
"Um…"
I frowned as a frail voice trickled into my ears. A female voice.
That girl earlier with the cutlass?
Yeah, there was no way I'd turn back to glance at 'em. Instead, I cracked my neck, rolling my shoulders.
It was fun. Anytime I cracked my body, I could feel the surge of strength racing through my veins.
Now that the strength had tripled, I couldn't wait to test it out.
–Grrrr…
All the Rethons snarled in a last stand of.. resistance before their inevitable deaths. Really weak-sounding snarls.
I walked forward, positioning my steel pipe to attack.
"Kid." A male voice rang out.
I took a step. The Rethons inched back.
"Kid, I don't know who you are, but you need to move with the crowd; it's dangerous here!" The man kept yelling!
And who the hell is he calling a 'kid'?
My veins boiled, and the same veins popped once more on my forehead as I kept walking forward.
I took deep breaths.
Calm down, Dustin. Just ignore them.
Exp… Yeah, Exp.
"Aren't you listening?!" A different voice yelled out. Less thick than the other one. More wimpy.
I closed my eyes.
They don't exist right now. Don't think about them, Dus–
A calloused palm touched my shoulder.
"Kid, I don't want you to get hurt."
My gaze grew cold, and my smile totally dissolved as I slowly turned my neck, staring straight into a warm pair of grey eyes.
They belonged to the white-haired Unc.
"You'd best get your hands off me," I uttered, my tone carrying no atom of friendliness.