Author Notes:

Hey there, guy! It's been some time since the last time we meet. Sorry for not showing up but things got kinda hectic in my place and a lot complicated stuff happened IRL, which resulted with a reduction in my writing time and quite the toll for my mental health I needed to pay.

Now, before we continue, it has come to my attention that some of you have shown some confusion regarding the Gamer System I am using in this story. I certainly didn't expect many of you to be familiar with it but boy, was I surprised.

Long story short, the System I am employing for this fic is the Archetype System, a major element that plays an extremely important role in the plot of Infinite Dendrogram. It's a really amazing Light Novel series that features the adventures of a bunch of Players in a virtual world, not unlike other shows like SAO or Overlord.

That's not to say the series is a copy of either of them, I'm just pointing out it got similar elements regarding the very gamey aspect of the plot and how (most of) the main characters are people playing a videogame. But the similitudes end there because the System this show employs is probably one of the very best and even the NPCs have shown on several occasion that they are more compelling than some Players.

I seriously recommend you to give the Light Novel a shot, you won't regret it. In fact, I encourage you to read it so you can have a better grasp on the situation and the inner working of the Archetype System.

That said, I'm willing to make a small, independent "story" (or "Omake" mini-chapters) where I explain the basis of the System and how it works in the grand scheme of things since I'm well-aware some of you are not fans of Light Novels or just lack the time to go through that whole ordeal. Let me know what you prefer in the reviews.

Anyway, without further else to add, let's go to the good stuff. Enjoy the chapter.

=CHAPTER 2=

Do Not Bully the Dragon

(?)

The life of an exorcist was a complicated matter.

On the one hand, someone is set to become a protector of mankind and fight off the many evils that plagues the world. A very noble job at its core and one that gives you some handy benefits like getting the chance to travel to new lands, learn more about the supernatural world and meet new people.

Nonetheless, it has its downsides, particularly there is the fact that you sign up to become a glorified errand boy whose life doesn't belong to yourself anymore and you must comply to whatever order those of the upper echelon gives you, even if that mean overworking or doing things one wouldn't like. Then we got the fact that you have to fight vicious monsters from time to time, creatures with magic powers that could turn even the most experienced of the exorcists into pieces of mincemeat.

After making such a deep analysis on the job's description what does its main activities pertain, especially for the low rank members, it should be obvious that most people would rather work in an office like a mundane corporative slave instead of becoming the snatch of the next heinous beast you'll be forced to battle, whatever you're prepared enough or not. Heck, the death rate in this job was pretty high and most trainees never reach adulthood.

Better to live as a cowardly cynic than die as a naïve fool.

That's the philosophy August believe it. He didn't have an ounce of faith in that 'Holier than Thou' attitude most of his coworkers took for granted and would never engage in a mission where the success rate was less than 75%. He preferred to make proper analysis and work on Intel gathering, where he wouldn't have to risk his life needless just to amuse old pricks that neglected the life of their employers and brainwashed the young minds with cringy propaganda… and it was for that reason he got excommunicated.

Turns out, those assholes in the upper echelon weren't so fond of the broad-minded individuals like him and would take any slight against their pride as a personal offense.

When he voiced his opinions and showed his superiors how utterly stupid and unethical their methods were, it didn't take too long before he got his house invaded by a group of fanatics accusing him of being a heretic. Fortunately, he managed to escape mostly unscathed and found his way to the Grigori, an organization led by Fallen Angels— one of the enemy factions of the Holy Church— and now he works for them as a low-rank Stray Exorcist.

Normally, he would've voiced his opinions on this matter immediately but after a whole set of unpleasant experiences with the old pricks from the Vatican, he knew better that it's less likely for them to backstab him if he was amiable enough. Plus, he got the chance to visit the hometown of one of the few friends he made back when he's still a trainee, Kuoh Town.

However, it turns out the city was deceivably dangerous since several Stray Devils pops from time to time, the High Class Devils overseeing the area and the fact it's a city under the protection of TWO Satans.

Admittedly, he didn't knew much about Devil Society or the leaders but you don't need to be a genius to know that pissing off beings that could wipe out an entire country with a sneeze was a bad idea. Luckily for him, his assigned squad was a surveillance team whose only job is to monitor the supernatural activity within the town, send reports to the HQs and try to recruit new members if the situation warranted it.

It was the perfect job for him; zero suicide missions, no need to fight monsters constantly just to get an unfairly low paycheck and he has the chance to go to visit the town and explore freely.

Sure, his new squad leaders were basically a collection of psychotic bastards and bratty bitches but at the very least they never tried to entice the ire of the Devils, though they have the tendency to overblown their own achievements and one of them has an inexplicable crush for the Governor, Lord Azazel, and has this delusional idea that she's the fated mate of their boss.

As one of the few "lucky" guys who has met the Leader of the Fallen Angels, he could say the man was pretty cool and laidback yet he didn't see Lord Azazel romancing someone so despicable and bratty like Raynare or any of her lackeys. Heck, the Governor probably didn't even know their names to begin with!

Whatever. It wasn't his job to fix the psychological issues of his coworkers. He wasn't a therapist. He has enough on his plate already with all the reports he needs to make and the patrolling assignments, such needless gossips was unnecessary and unwelcomed for someone like him who preferred to work in a quiet and safe environment as a model salaryman, like the Japanese people often says.

After over thirty years of life-and-death situations with no chance to enjoy his youth whatsoever, the least August could ask for would be a quiet and uneventful life— or, given his less than pleasant circumstances, some quiet workplace to do his job without any disturbance from the loud muscle-heads and bratty men-children he has for colleagues.

Yet it seems like he wouldn't get any of his wishes granted, just as he expected.

"Hey, did you hear the news? Freed-sama has already healed from his wounds!"

"Ugh, don't remind me. I was so happy without having to deal with the antics of that psycho."

"Sheesh! You shouldn't say something like that so carelessly, man. What if he hears you? The last guy who badmouthed him didn't come out unscathed."

"Please, in his current condition he shouldn't be so threatening anymore. He just got out of the infirmary. I bet he can't even walk properly without some crutches."

"I dunno about. It's Freed we're talking about. You know, the man who has been regarded as a genius exorcist when he was still a member of the Holy Church."

"Yet such title and credentials didn't save him from getting offed by a missing truck."

"Indeed. I heard that he didn't escape unscathed from it and apparently his health was precarious to say the least."

"Oh, so that means we could, say, make a small riot here?"

"Dude, are you out of your mind?!"

"Hey! I'm just saying! The guy should be too weak to pull his weight around and, honestly, I doubt Raynare-sama would care anyway!"

"I bet could be a better leader and fighter than him. If only Raynare-sama would give me a chance, I'll show her I'm the better man."

"Ah, the things I'd do to have those magnificent mounts soothing all my pain away…!"

"You japs are such a bunch of simps. Do you realize he is the best fighter we have?"

"""Like you are any better! You ogle at Mittelt-sama! At every chance, you dammed Lolicon!"""

At this point August is uncertain if his peers are really this bloodthirsty killers always eager to commit carnage or a bunch of gossiping brats with no control over their hormones. Maybe they were a rare combination of both.

Their rant was really annoying. He couldn't even eat in piece without getting some idiot asking him for the details and get unwillingly dragged into the conversation. August was half tempted to take his meal and leave the "cafeteria" but ultimately decided against it. He is already about to finish his meal anyway.

"Excuse me, sir. Is this seat taken by any chance?"

August blinked as he heard the voice but his surprise was replaced with indifference as he responded without looking back in laidback manner. "Eh, you can take it if you want... or not. I don't care." He said with a gruff.

"Ah, thank you." The person, a young man if August gauge his age correctly, hummed jovially accompanied with a quiet, serene tone. "By the way, can I ask you what were those guy talking about? It looks like they had a fun chat."

The thirty-something man merely shrugged his shoulders, still not looking at the new guy. "Something about a guy who got himself offed by a truck." He responded with a wry tone as he tried to focus on his meal and ignore the needless noise.

"Is that so? Then that guy should be a real asshole if they can laugh so hysterically and joke about it. Was this guy particularly hated or something?"

"Well, he wasn't popular here, that's for sure." August snorted at the dumb questions but still decided to humor the stranger.

"Huh, he must be a real piece of crap if so many people hates him with so much passion and are secretly wishing for his death."

"Oh, you have no idea." August responded instantly.

Still, he found it very perplexing that the new guy was unaware of the whole trend following Freed's incident and is asking him, a man who wasn't particularly well-liked among his co-workers due his still functioning moral compass and was written off as an useless old man.

It was no joke to say that August wasn't loved even among the pariahs of this place, mostly due the fact he is one of the few genuinely decent guys who just happened to possess a relatively functional moral compass when everybody else was either a sycophant, a delusional idiot, degenerates or some genocidal. In fact, when they don't make fun of his deficiencies in the field and bully him, some often ask him to do favor for them in exchange for "protection" from the most unstable minions in the building.

Their modus operandi was pretty simple, if a bit overrated. They put a façade of a noble, kind-hearted individual to make him drop his guard, protecting him from the bullies from time to time to earn his trust… but he knew better. They only wanted to use his brain for their own needs and if he doesn't comply to their demands… well, let's just say that he hasn't lost the count of how many fractures he has received.

It happened when he was a member of the Holy Church and it against happened when he got 'recruited' by the Grigori and he has become extremely distrustful of people because of this. Having a seemingly well-mannered kid who somehow didn't know about the whole fiasco with Freed and was trying to make a casual conversation out of nowhere with him was a tad suspicious.

"Hey, kid… Forgive me if I sound rude but how come you haven't heard of it? Are you a new recruit by any chance?" He couldn't help but ask with some suspicious in his tone, he silently moved his free hand on his side to take his hidden knife.

If this little piece of crap is one of those leeches trying to utilize him for his own gains and thought he wouldn't put resistance, August was gonna show him with his fists and knife that he isn't one a little newbie should piss off.

"Ah… well, that depends of you definition of a 'new recruit.' True be told, I'm not sure how to categorize myself as." The guy said with an awkward chuckle. "By the way, it's just me or everyone is looking at us strangely?"

'… What.' He couldn't help but blink at that response and it was only at that point that he realized none of his coworkers were chatting as eagerly as usual. In fact, they were all looking at him as if he was a ghost and were silently taking their distance from him and the new guy. 'The hell…?' The thirty-something man was at lost here. The situation with this kid already seemed too strange as it was but this was ever weirder.

Why was everyone so scare out of nowhere? It's not like he was talking with a Stray Devil or some nightmarish monster… right?

Suddenly, he found the presence of the apparently well-mannered kid a bit too suffocating and cold sweat began to from on his forehead. It was as if he just found himself trapped with a vicious predator who would jump at him at any second.

'Just who was I talking to?!' His mind exclaimed in panic.

It was until he finally dared to turn around and look at the 'newbie' that he got his answer… and August realized that perhaps this could be his last meal.

Because the person he has been talking to was none other than the main man, Freed Sellzen, who was giving him the blankest of the stares as his red orbs stared into his own eyeballs, almost as if they could pierce through his mortal vessel and see him cowering spirit slowly breaking apart.

Anyone else would just think he was merely overreacting; that the young man's death glare was just him making a poker face without any malice. But to August Piani, this was the face of a monster. Compared to the psychotic, trademark grin and deranged glares everyone in the squad learnt to associate with Freed, this was worst. At least they knew what to expect whenever he showed that foul expression!

But now… looking at those cold, calculative death eyes whose sharp look felt like a lobotomizing kit defiling the inside of his mind in a morbid attempt to analyze him with inhuman coldness as if he was just a piece of meat… he didn't know what would happen. And the anxiety was killing him on the inside.

'This is it…! I'm gonna die!' Those were the thoughts that plagued August mind, already picturing himself getting his eyes gouged out and having a large hole where his stomach used to be.

(Freed Sellzen?)

Shit.

Now I have done it. What a way to shoot at my own foot, eh? I guess it's expected for them to be so scared of me given the less than ideal impression they have on Freed and how utterly perverse he was. Still, perhaps I underestimated the true extend of his infamous reputation.

I just came here to eat breakfast before taking a small tour across the town and test my new abilities now that I managed to find a Job suitable for my needs but it seems like I made a major mistake.

'An awfully stupid mistake.' I reminded myself with a grimace, chastising myself for being such a fool.

In my defense though, I have been dealing with too much stress recently after getting transmigrated into the body of a previously fictional character and awakening Gamer Powers whose main functions and gimmicks come from another seemingly fictional world whose universal rules varies vastly from this one.

I love Infinite Dendrogram since it was one of the few Light Novels I was invested in and was justifiably outraged when its animated series defiled all the epicness and informative moments just to throw some atrocious CGI and bad 2D animation sequences, but even I ain't that blind and now that the Gamer System depicted by it was a little bit restrictive at times.

It wasn't like Overlord where you can just chose whatever Job Class you want and make your character play whatever role you wanted, the Archetype System forced you to be extremely mindful with your decisions because a flawed Build could led you to a career filled with unnecessary struggles and an ill-suited set of powers.

There is a clause that states you need to choose Jobs with good synergy — that is, those which belong the same grouping or its most immediate variant (Like Fighter, Gladiator and Swordsman) — if you wanted to use all the Abilities, Passive Buffs and Skills from your Jobs without the need to switch Classes.

Doesn't mean you cannot select an unlikely combination like, Researcher + Mage + Assassin, but the immediate benefits and cons are annoying to deal with and your stat growth will be affected negatively because of this. While one of those hypothetical options are selected as your Main Job, you won't be able to use the abilities from other Jobs unless they are part of a compatible grouping.

Also, you cannot just switch Job mid-battle unless you have a special item and even then, such a thing takes time. For any game, it's an amazing and perfectly functional balancing mechanic that makes the entire campaign fair and just. But when you take into the real world, this limitation could prove to be kind of stressing to deal with.

On the flip side, there are about thousands of Jobs with many special abilities and even some rare ones called Superior Jobs (or SJs for short), which are essentially the McGuffin in the Archetype System not only for their amazingly beneficial Skills and unique abilities but also for the fact that they have No Level Cap in the first place.

In layman terms, you could theoretically be a Level 10,000 Player and still be able to Level-Up! And that's without taking into account that other benefit all the Players of Infinite Dendrogram are blessed with, one which only made them all the more BROKEN even when they have a SJ.

The only issue is finding the right Build that compliments your needs, which isn't so much of an issue when compared with the boons but I still find it irritating due my unusual circumstances and how stressed I was because of it.

Fortunately, after spending hours reading the Help Guide of the System and making a long-ass research looking for the ideal Build, I managed to get an amazing first Job Class that will surely become a handy tool later on during my unavoidable Hunting Quest.

Yet it seems like I was too hyper-focused on my personal task of figuring out the inner working of the System and my own carelessness has come back to bite me in the ass.

I'm stuck in a really awkward situation. Worst case scenario, I shall embrace my inner Heath Ledger in order to play the role of the psychopathic villain so these degenerates and fanatical murders won't grow suspicious and report my OOC behavior with the Fallen Angels.

While I'm sure as heck the stupid crows won't give a shit about myself or my mental issues, it never hurts to be cautious.

It's still a drag though.

… Huh. Now I know how that pineapple-haired ninja felt.

Let's see…

Hmmm. Maybe I could just mock them for not realizing I was there or threaten them with psychological torture instead of physical damage. Most of the people here already know Freed's character and would probably believe the bluff. These guys are already scared shitless so it wouldn't be that difficult.

'Yeah, that would do.' I thought with light hum as I mentally myself to play my role.

But someone else beat me by a punch…

"Well, well…! Look what we got here! Our valiant leader here is willing to go out of his way and spend time with us!"

I blinked owlishly at the first brave (or perhaps foolish) person who made the first move and speak to me without becoming a shivering mess. Normally, I would feel frankly relieved to find such a fearless, kindred soul and strike a cordial conversation between coworkers.

Yet that's not the case, since the person before me was anything but a decent person himself.

"I must commend you for being one tough bastard, man. Really, not everyone could manage to go around walking normally after being hit by a truck in the middle of the night after a hunting task." He might be 'complimenting' me but his facial expression was anything but friendly, if anything he looked like a snobby asshole. Moreover, his words sounded insincere and has this exacerbating and derisive tone about them that irked me to no end.

'Just who the heck is this little brat?' I couldn't help but wonder in irritation as I stared at the Idiot exorcist with a blank expression. Eyeing him from toe to head, I could tell this guy certain has the looks of a condescending bastard.

Completely oblivious of my thoughts, the brat continued to talk. "I bet it must be frustrating. For a great exorcist with such an impressive track record when it comes to devil hunting business, someone regarded as a talented child whose skill has no match, you certainly didn't live up to your reputation. All the things you've arguably faced in your career, yet all it took to put you down was a damn truck? That doesn't sounds right." The Idiot said while smirking at me with an annoyingly smug expression, placing a hand on one of my shoulders and squeezed it slightly in a very classy patronizing and arrogant tone befitting his idiocy. "Maybe this is sign that you should change your ways. Perhaps it's a message from God that you must repent for your sins and become a humbler way. Just look at you!" He motioned at me with his arms as if he was emphasizing his point. "Several broken bones, severe damage in your internal organs, a dislocated spine and cranial trauma… I gotta admit it's a miracle that you are alive. Truly, if it weren't for the ever beautiful and lovely Raynare-sama, you'd be food for maggots!"

Ugh, the guy sure loves to hear the sound of his own voice, huh? We get it, man! I was a mess but now I'm completely fine. Don't need to make such a big deal of this just because you feel mistreated and want to be cuddly with the damn crow woman.

"Seriously, I still don't understand why in the name of Heaven you got personal treatment from our charming lady! To have her divine and succulent body whose peerless beauty far surpass any mortal woman, pressed against your tainted skin… Makes me want to puke in disgust!" He all but shouted in self-righteous, derisive anger as he took the plate where my still warm meal laid harmlessly… and…

BONK!

—He whipped it in my face.

(?)

'Holy shit! The guy pulled it off! He truly did it! Hah! Serves him right for being a bastard!'

That was the collective thoughts of the great majority

Malcolm Sikorsky, one of the many low rank soldiers among the exorcist in their group and resident schemer. A man whose only good asset was his silver tongue and ability to sway others to do his bidding thanks to that deceitful personality of his. The guy was probably one of the less pleasant guys around here, a first rated swine.

It was quite an unexpectedly relieving feeling, August won't mince his words. Freed did deserve a beatdown after all the shit he has been pulling them through. Sure, the guy was one of the best combatant they have but his attitude wasn't strikingly appealing, not to mention his tendency to mock them or bully whoever dared to backtalk him, which only make this situation all the more enjoyable for everyone.

Before, no one could hope to face Freed without getting a rather bloody beatdown or most likely get killed in the process. The guy was not only their direct superior in rank but also an extremely skilled swordsman.

His strength and ruthlessness was something to be wary of and, in the supernatural world, being a strong individual was a sign of success worth of many praises. Power was just that important and if were deem as weak then your chances of getting respect or dignity were almost nonexistent.

It's a form of Social Darwinism for all intents and purposes. Everyone devour each other like a pack of ravenous wolves the very instant they detect weakness, which also applies to the strong who lose their strength in the eyes of others.

Freed's situation was the perfect example of this.

Not long ago he was feared by his coworkers but it only took one single moment of weakness to shatter this dreadful feeling they all harbored and now that feeling of helplessness and fright turned into anger and delightfulness. Furthermore, the appearance of Freed wasn't helping his case.

Befitting his status as a man recovering from grievous wounds, Freed sported several improvised bandages that, frankly, seemed to have been made by someone with a lack of medical knowledge despite covering the correct areas of the young man's seemingly 'battered' body. His head and forehead were covered with bandages using the same primitive techniques which only made him look ridiculous.

To say he became an easy target would be an understatement, and this fact was being abused by Malcolm in this little act of "rebellion" of his. And thanks to the aforementioned schemer, all the other exorcists soon followed his lead and began to mock Freed either by blatantly throwing insults at him openly or snickering uncontrollably and sending mocking smirks and glares at his direction.

One of them, possibly a henchman of Malcom, went so far as to grab the seemingly stunned Freed by his hair and slammed against the table when it seemed like the silver-haired young man was about to snap.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk!... We are not done yet, Freed. My guys and I still have a lot talk about with you. This time you'll be a good boy and hear us out, hm~?" The manipulative bastard clicked his tongue tauntingly with a dark smirk as he patted the cheek of the red-eyed guy. "Now, let's start with the beginning, shall we?"

He ordered his henchmen, three guys that included the tall man seizing the red-eyed young man, to force Freed to get up from the table and led him to a corner of the 'cafeteria,' being followed closely by the crowd of exorcists who were eager to see the show. It wouldn't be an understatement to say that everyone were savoring this sweet moment to the fullest, Freed's reputation among his peers was quite the shitty one.

"Honestly, man. I think I talk for everyone here when I say that we're had enough of your bullshit. Always mocking us for being too weak and treating us like livestock or some kind of disposable toys for your enjoyment... And we could do no shit because you're the top dog here, the most dangerous man in the room and the favored asset of the ever beautiful Lady Raynare…" Malcolm spat at the last statement, clearly finding the whole notion disgusting as he stared at Freed with a scornful glare. "A scumbag like you doesn't deserve her praises and favor!"

'Oh, right. The swine has a crush on Raynare.' August, who was watching the whole ordeal from the sidelines, couldn't help but grimace.

It seemed like this whole show was ignited by something more personal than righteous justice. Not like he was expecting something honorable or philanthropic from a coward and double-faced bastard like him anyway.

"Still, for a showman and self-proclaimed Chessmaster like him, it would be kinda random to throw that line about Raynare… and loud enough to be hear by everyone here?" August muttered with a slight frown before widening his eyes in realization. "Ah, now I get." He said he glanced at the glaring crowd, who were now starting to look really livid.

Many of the exorcists in their squad were mostly cannon fodder, people with little to no real utility aside from their evident conviction and desire to be acknowledged by their leaders, the Fallen Angels. Since so many of them were mostly trash and people with some mental issues here and there, being "chosen" by a "Superior beings" to act as their apostles was a blessing and the great majority felt utter devotion for the Fallen leaders.

That "Love" everyone desired so much was like sweet drops of water after a long and strenuous trek through the scorching plains of a desert. And since this precious nectar was scarce and could only be given to a few, the members of the squadron could not help but turn against each other. They all wanted to capitalize that "Love" for themselves and considered each other as rivals.

And human beings are greedy and petty creatures after all.

"Damn, psycho. Thinking he is hot shit and whatnot!"

"The bastard sure has it coming. Always treating us like garbage and rubbing his bullshit to our faces."

"I cannot understand why Lady Raynare allowed him to become the leader!"

"Beat him to a bloody pulp!"

"Yeah, give him a piece of our mind!"

By throwing around Raynare's name, Malcolm manage to alienate the entire group and appease to them by using those feelings and desires as fuel to ignite the flames of conflict.

Not only it made them all the angrier with Freed, the real motive being this stunt was to elevate Malcolm as a man who shared the same feelings as his peers and was a man of the people. It was a classy move and by successfully pulling this off he could secure a good position if they could manage to convince Raynare to name a new leader.

'Cunning bastard… I wonder why he is still an exorcist when it's obvious he could make for a decent politician.' August mussed with begrudging approval at the tactic.

Back to the show, it seemed like things were getting heated since Malcolm's henchmen were making sure Freed couldn't escape from their grip and forced him into a nearby wall.

"Now, how about we share some of our pain with you?" Malcolm chuckle darkly as he stared at the crowd with a knowing smile, and shouts of agreements were heard quickly afterwards. "Well, there you have it? The guys already said their part and it's not like you can blame them. After all, you're a piece of shit and the time for you to repent has come!" Feeling satisfied with his performance and after getting the approval sign from the audience, the schemer made his move and threw a punch to Freed's unprotected face while his goons made sure he could move.

He went at it like a mad man, hitting his target repeatedly restlessly with incredible accuracy and strength behind all his punches. Malcolm punched, kicked and elbowed anything his eyes could discern as a weak spot with a vigorousness of a wild beast.

A display of public humiliation against a person who has earned all the collective hatred of the public sure was an effective way to appease the masses and earn a spot in their heart as the righteous hero who freed them from their oppressor.

Roars and cheering echoed in the hall.

Everyone was watching the show with eagerness.

Nonetheless, among the crowd there was one person who didn't look so satisfied or amused.

'A power move like that sure will earn him points with his audience.' August hummed with narrowed eyes. 'However…' Unlike the rest of his peers, he hardly found the situation that funny and was more worried about something else.

Namely, that Freed didn't look perturbed or uncomfortable even though he has two guy twice his height pressing his body against the wall and having a ruthless exorcist whose skill was above the norm hitting his already battered body into submission and that a bunch of his former subordinates were witnessing this show without even attempting to defend him, going as far as mock him derisively and throwing food at him whenever they got the chance.

Nothing was making him react. If anything, he looked at them from the corner of his eyes with absolute boredom— as if he deemed all this situation as something completely inconsequential and insignificant.

No matter how many strikes he received in his face, he stood firm like an impenetrable wall. He didn't try to force his way out of the grip or fight back with his legs, he simply let Gambino did what he wanted for 10 minutes and showed absolutely no sign of anger, fear or any emotion beside sheer apathy.

He just looked at them with those frightfully cold red orbs.

It was disturbing to say the least. And it seemed like the others soon noticed that Freed's unusual demeanor was making their spines shiver. Even Gambino has a troubled look in his face but that hardly stopped him from his task. Unlike them, this lack of reaction was more irking than dreading.

"What is it? Aren't gonna defend yourself?!" The schemer shouted angrily, looking at Freed with a furious and exasperated expression. "Come on! It's not funny when you just stand there! Do something! Struggle more!" He exclaimed with righteous indignation.

Malcolm wasn't the only one who found this lack of feedback frustrating, all the other exorcist within the "cafeteria" also felt the same and were starting to get pissed themselves for obvious reasons. What's the point of beating their tormentor to a bloody pulp if they couldn't revel in his pain? Looking at the unmoving figure being seized by the two large men, they couldn't help but find this whole ordeal a bit boring.

The crowd was about to request Malcolm to do something so they wouldn't feel so disappointed and get a good surplus of stimulus to satiate their thirst for blood.

—However, at that very moment they all heard something unexpected.

ZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzZZZZZZ!

It was the unmistakable sound of a snoring man but what truly shocked the entire group was the source of the annoying and tension-cutting sound. Because, the person emitting it was none other than Freed, the same guy who has been subjected to a cathartic beating and has been thoroughly humiliated!

"""Did he just fell asleep?!""" An incredulous bellow echoed in the halls. Everyone present was stunned at the bizarre sight, their eyes went wide like dinner plates and jaws dropped comically. No one could believe what they were seeing and some of them assumed it was an act or an illusion.

"What the hell...?" August whispered in shock, sharing the same thoughts his peers have.

The red-eyed young man was getting his entire being punched relentlessly as if he was a toy for their amusement and he even got people launching food and other types of objects at him for quite a few minutes ago.

Yet, here he was, napping peacefully like an infant!

Certainly, it was an act. That's what August thought since there was no way a normal human could just sleep peaceful when they were receiving a barrage of punches and kicks and come out unscathed. It was common sense that no one could pull such a stunt.

But still, he couldn't understand the purposes of such a scheme. Freed was cornered and didn't have enough strength to oppose four persons when his body was still weakened due his wounds. Any kind of dangerous maneuver would put a marginal strain on his battered body and it's obvious he couldn't just walk away unscathed.

Perhaps Freed is truly desperate and was trying to save the little dignity he has with such a petty stunt.

"H-Hey, snap out of it already!" Malcolm shouted angrily, enraged by the apparent ploy of Freed. He pulled a tonfa out of his tunic and slammed it directly on Freed's face. "I haven't come here to get mocked by the likes of you! And in such a pathetic way at that! You're fooling anyone, you know?!" He exclaimed with rage and frustration filling his voice.

And Freed's response…

"Aaaaahh-haaaaa~…!" He yawned tiredly like an old man who just get up late in the morning! Then, Freed clicked his tongue lazily and opened his eyes sluggishly. "Ah, sorry. Did you say something?" Freed tilted his head and blinked at Malcolm quizzically with half-opened eyes. "I kinda felt asleep just know, sorry. Your punches were so sloppy and soft that I thought you're massaging my body. Hehe. My bad!" He confessed with an apologetic look.

…

….

… … …

"What." August couldn't help but blurt out.

Freed, who until that time was uncharacteristically quiet and stoic even when receiving a beatdown that could easily put even a man twice his weight in the hospital was laughing and he compared the whole ordeal he went through with a massage of all things.

They couldn't believe what they heard and more than one instantly called him out of it, saying that he was bluffing or acting tough for the sake of whatever little dignity he has left and it was easy to understand where they come from given the context of the situation and how 'wounded' he was. August was among them but a part of him also wondered how much of Freed's statement was true.

The man has always been a freak so it shouldn't be so difficult to picture him as someone capable of withstanding a torture like that but surely he was bluffing when he said he didn't feel a thing.

'Wait a minute…' In that moment, August noticed an alarming detail.

Instead of having multiple bruises, cuts on the skin or blood splattering from his body, the most noticeable "damage" on Freed was not even a wound but dirt and leaftovers on his face!

'Just what the hell is happening?!' Call him crazy but August was pretty sure a human should at the very least look a bit battered after getting in a one-sided match like this, yet Freed didn't look worse to wear except for his dirty clothes and face due the food Gambino earlier slammed into his face. "Y-You gotta be kidding…!" He whispered in shock.

Back in the quarrel between Freed and Malcolm, the former merely looked at the latter with an amused smirk while the other was gritting his teeth angrily at the derisive way he was being mocked by the one who should be (in his opinion) begging for mercy or throwing a fit.

"That is? You're done with your nonsensical speech of rightfulness and justice and all that crap about how much of a douchebag I was with all of you?" Not even in the mood to give the cunning bastard time to articulate a response, Freed pressed on with a slight glare. "Please, tell me you're done. 'Cuz I gotta do a bunch of things and having a dick measuring contest with a brat who can't even fight me by himself and needs the help of his goons is hardly something worth of my time." He added, looking absolutely disinterested in the whole show he has been part of for the last minutes.

"W-Why you…! Don't you dare to mock me! Guys, let's teach him a lesson!" The livid Malcolm shouted at his henchmen and they complied with a swift nod.

They threw him to the wall and took their distance to draw their respective weapons: a dagger, a brass knuckles set with spikes, and a whip. An odd selection but it's still intimidating to see three physically imposing men having expertise with such a variety of weaponry.

"Well, this is it. The asshole is dead." August sighed with a mix of relief and worry.

Contrary to what Hollywood has led the vast majority of people who have seen action films to believe, a three-on-one fight is hardly a fair contest even when the individual fighting alone is a martial artist. Realistically it is not something that can be performed with the same level of mastery that the actors show us.

There is an obvious imbalance in situations like this that stems from the number of combatants. After all, with three people you can form various attack plans or even a fighting method that can overwhelm even professional athletes without much effort. Defending yourself from three different angles at the same time, from three experienced fighters with different tactics is no walk in the park.

Sure, Freed was showing a good deal of being a capable tank but if he couldn't escape from the grip of two muscular, grown men there is nothing he could do to fend off three of them. And doing so in such a narrowed space with no weapons available to him made the task all the more infeasible than it already was. Plus, he is still trying to recover from the wounds of the truck incident. Additionally, he was unarmed while all three henchmen have equipped their chosen weapons.

August half-expect Freed to put a decent fight a first before being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers alone. It was a bad matchup if anything.

"Things are gonna get ugly…" He whispered with a grimace, already picturing a relentless show where someone will get beaten to a bloody pulp.

His assumptions weren't off the mark

—The only real mistake August made in his predictions were the assumptions that Freed would be on the receiving end of the beaten.

"You'll go first…" Freed muttered with a dead serious expression, glaring directly at the brass knuckle-wielding henchmen.

"Ugh…!" The aforementioned man flinched slight but quickly got over it and valiantly went for the kill, cocking his armed limbs slightly as his muscles tensed and he prepared himself to launch a barrage of demolishing punches. "Don't underestimate us!" He exclaimed angrily, charging directly at the red-eyed exorcist.

SWOOSH!

"GUAAAARGHHH!"

Not long after the first goon took a few steps and tried to reach his target, Freed rushed at him in the blink of an eye with surprising speed unbefitting his supposedly crippled state and threw a frighteningly potent strike to the stomach of the henchmen.

BANG!

The impact was so devastating and charged with so much strength that the large man was catapulted a few meters in the air like a ragdoll and feel in ground completely unconscious and with a lot of blood dripping from his mouth.

All it took was one punch, and one of Malcolm's henchmen was down. "W-What…!" The schemer couldn't help but exclaim in shock as he lost balance and fell on his own butt.

…

… …

… … …

No one dared to say anything for about ten solid seconds and instead stared at the fallen exorcist with evident horror and shock written all over their faces, it was even more apparent for those who were close enough to see how effective Freed's punch was. In fact, if it wasn't for the slight movements of his demolished chest and belly, August would've assume the poor bastard was death.

"W-What are you doing, you dimwits?! Don't just gawk at him like a bunch of scared brats! If you attack as a group he won't have a chance!" The tension was suddenly broke when Malcolm shouted angrily at his remaining goons to take the initiative and assault the deceitfully strong young man at the same time.

A tactic like that makes sense. In order to overwhelm a particularly strong or skilled person, a group had to attack at the same time and use their numerical advantage to turn the tables. It was simple common sense that no ordinary man was capable of competing against the collective strength of a large number of fighters, especially if they had weapons at their disposal.

However, in their rush to take on the man who they thought was just a weakened brat, they forgot an important detail they'd normally be aware of in most situations. They live in the supernatural world— a realm filled with beings whose powers and abilities defies common sense and even the Laws of Physics.

And Freed just proved to be one of this type of monsters when he faced his opponents with ruthless violence.

It all started when the whip user tried to blind the silver-haired young man by using his whip to strike his face with great precision, hoping to make an opening for his compatriots to attack, but Freed used one of his arms to catch the weapon and, employing a swift movement, he stripped the exorcist from his weapon to then use it against the knife-wielding goon.

Showing great skill, he used the whip as a makeshift noose, wrapping it around the knife user's arms and neck. Things didn't end like, however, as Freed used his great strength to throw the exorcist against a small group that tried to join the fight but were unfortunately unable to show off.

A slippery woman tried to stab the young man in red from behind, taking advantage of the chaos to try to strike a decisive blow. Her efforts were futile as Freed detected her presence and caught her hands instantly.

The woman tried to struggle to free herself but Freed showed no mercy on her and simply applied more pressure on his grip until...

CRACK!

"Aaahh…. GRAAAAAGH!"

The woman's cries of agony resounded in the walls and hot tears began to flow from her eyes as everyone flinched visibly at the gory sight and sound of her arms snapped like wooden sticks to such an extent that her broken bones tore the skin and muscles to reveal themselves to the world.

Fortunately for her, Freed showed a small modicum of 'mercy' and knocked her out so she won't suffer too much… by slamming her head very violently against one of the tables.

"Y-You bastard! That was my girl!" One lone exorcist exclaimed as he tried to avenge his fallen lover. He rushed at Freed fiercely with a metal pipe and attacked him like a mad beast, continuously hitting his face with wide swings. Nonetheless, as he finished his onslaught, the red-eyed young man only stared at him with a bored expression.

"… That is?" He asked with a deadpan expression, much to the shock of the pipe user and the witnesses. The poor guy couldn't even articulate a single sentence. Freed's counterattack was swift and precise, yet very relentless.

DON— CRACK!

The bandaged exorcist savagely headbutted his attacker and broke his nose, teeth and lower jaws— which left the now crippled laying in the ground, groaning and crying as he suffered from his miserable state.

"YOU ARE WIDE OPEN!" Malcolm shouted as he lunged at Freed, carrying a light sword with him and preparing to unleash a downwards slash with all his might to split the red-eyed young man's body apart.

Everyone watching the scene couldn't help but feel a bit of hope as they saw Malcolm about to defeat Freed using a surprise attack using their trademark weapon with viciousness and the resolute worth of a veteran exorcist.

However, that was just blissful thinking. An optimistic thought that ignored reality in favor of an impossible dream.

And reality was a cold and cruel mistress.

SWOOSH!

Twisting his body at the last second, Freed grabbed the metal pipe laying in the ground to use it as a makeshift sword and crossed blades with Malcolm, successfully blocking the incoming attack with ease.

"D-Damn you! You were always an agile bastard, huh?!" The Schemer spat in frustration, then he quickly changed his stance for a proper posture for a frontal attack as his expression morphed into a self-reassuring smile. "Doesn't matter, though. I know you might be acting all high and mighty but you are surely burning your energy just by pulling this crazy stuff!" He shouted wickedly, gripping his Light Sword tightly. "And I'm gonna show you and Lady Raynare who is the worthiest man!"

The entire crowd halted their actions, almost as if an unheard order has been issued and simply stared at the two fighters with unhinged interest written in their faces. All of them were very eager to know which one would come out at the top in this battle.

Their expectations, however, were short-lived.

"Now, you'll see my trump ca—!"

"Shut the fuck up already." That's the only thing Freed said, interrupting his opponent with a sharp tone.

"Huh?! What was that you—GAARRGH!"

Just as Malcolm began to make another speech, Freed threw his metal rod at the aforementioned as if it were a javelin. And the projectile not only allowed him to pierce Malcolm's left shoulder but was also accompanied by enough power and potency to hurl the schemer's body airborne like a soaring bullet before impact the nearest wall with a loud 'THUNK!' and leaving him firmly dangling on that spot.

Their piercing screams caused everyone to freeze and they took a step back as they watched Freed pick up the Light Sword on the ground, which Malcolm released from his grip due to the pain and subsequent disability in his arm.

Freed hummed quietly while inspecting the blade, taking a few swings to test its weight.

Most of them flinched instinctually, fearing that he might decide to test the edge of the sword on them. Fortunately, he didn't seem to be interested in any of them.

He approached his agonizing opponent lazily, showing no concern or a reaction from the spine-chilling cries and bellows of the latter. Instead, he merely stared directly at Malcolm with a stoic expression while scratching the back of his neck slightly.

No one tried to stop him or attempted to help Malcolm.

How could they?

Perhaps it took some time and the adrenaline and turmoil of emotions fueled by their righteous rage were too strong at the time for them to realize, but now they all knew that putting resistance would only bring forth disgrace and pain for anyone fool enough to face Freed.

All they could do was watch silently how this tyrant crushed all their hopes so easily, gulping at the sight of their leader reduced to a pathetic mouse that could only wait for the cat to finish the job.

"What was that? Weren't you gonna humiliate me and take my spot as the leader of this squad?" The red-eyed exorcist began, walking steady and emotionless laxness. "For all your boasts and that elaborated speech of yours I expected something more." He said with an angry sneer, approaching with every step his now terrified opponent, who was trying his best to escape and failing futilely. "I honestly thought you could be something more menacing but... all I see is just a petulant and spoiled brat asking for things he doesn't deserve. How pathetic." Freed growled as he grabbed the embedded pipe and began to shake it slightly, earning groans and cries of agony from the schemer.

"Y-You damn—AACK!" Malcolm tried to spat at Freed but the silver-haired young man silenced him by shaking the metal pipe embedded on his shoulder.

"I told you to shut up." Freed sneered with a dry. He then turned around to face the crowd of exorcists surrounding them, all of which showed signs of great anguish and terror written on their faces after witnessing how the apparently wounded and weakened Freed had wiped out dozens of his companions using only his bare hands.

No one of them had dared to move from their positions. They dreaded the possibility of being victims of the same brutality that left a large number of exorcists in such crippling states.

SHIVERS~!

The air suddenly turned chill and a sense of dread spread like a virus, infecting the hearts and minds of every-single-one of the exorcist within the room which caused them to gulp as their back straightened on instinct. Further observation shows how several of them went as pale as ghost, sweating cold and with shaky legs.

"T-This is…"

Fear.

What they were feeling was fear on a primal state. Their human minds, long ago having forgotten about their primitive origins and having most of their base instincts dulled from countless years of modern decadence and complacence, recalled all those dreadful memories engraved in their genetic code.

It only took one look on Freed's face.

Usually, no one was a stranger to the psychotic expressions and devilish laughter of this demon in man's clothing. But this time things were different.

It was clear for them that they have a tiger by the tail. The monster that they foolishly mocked and stopped considering as a threat now watched them with total and cold indifference, as if their lives were nothing.

"You lot better be ready, because I'm in a very bad mood and mercy will be the last thing will expect from me." The monster said with a blank tone, sporting an equally impassive expression.

At that moment, they all got front row seat to witness and experience a completely one-sided massacre. And though none of them died, miraculously enough, the thoughts of messing with Freed faded into nothingness.

August once heard that Freed was named after the legendary Dragon Slayer of Scandinavian and Germanic myths, but now he think that his parents really made a fatal mistake when naming this monster. He looked more like a dragon in human form. A very pissed off dragon.

That day, they all learned an important lesson:

Do not Bully the Dragon.

← To Be Continued