Chapter Text
Morning of September 2, 1349.
Marcus Shaw was on his way to the Stonecreek Bar. It was time for his appointment with the person the bartender had sought out to create a new identity for Shaw. His mood was positive, and he had a slight smile on his face as he made his was down the street.
The past few hours had been very fruitful. The memories of Old Tony had been exceptionally useful, which Rimuru had predicted, and so had specifically chosen to keep the man alive. That wasn't to say that the others hadn't been useful. He had consumed a total of 14 bodies excluding Old Tony last night, and their accumulated spoils were quite valuable, even without claiming Old Tony’s admittedly small bounty, the reason for that being to avoid attention from the authorities.
The total spoils collected were: 67 pounds, 10 soli and 6 pence in pure cash, along with 18 guns, 19 blades of various kinds, clothes, trinkets and jewellery, etc.
But even with all that, Old Tony's memories were still the biggest prize for me. His mind was a treasure trove of information. Secrets unknown to the public, pirating information, knowledge of the events behind the scenes and the Bayam underground, dirt on several important people, insider information of various groups, and most importantly, a bit of information about the Beyonder World.
While he wasn't a Beyonder himself, Old Tony had multiple encounters and dealings with people who were in that category. He was extremely wary of them, referring to them as “Monsters in human skin” and trying his best to avoid them as much as possible. To be honest, that's perfectly understandable, considering what they're capable of.
Their powers seemingly originated from special potions they consumed, and they could grow stronger through the consumption of more such potions. These powers ranged from hypnotizing people, to controlling waves and destroying entire walls with a single punch.
There's no way that's even remotely close to the full picture, this information is still too vague and unhelpful. I need more… He grew more and more curious the further he learned about these Beyonders. It birthed a strange anticipation within him. A thrill born from the unknown depths of the world and a willingness to explore it. I need a solid plan of action moving forward… He concluded.
He was broken away from his thoughts as he reached the Stonecreek Bar. Pulling out relatively a cheap pocket-watch he had gained from the last nights events, he pushed open the wooden bar door, noting that he was 10 minutes early as per the discussed 10 o' clock meeting time.
He casually walked up to the bar counter and took a seat.
"Ohh, Shaw, you're here," the bartender commented looking up from his work. "Good, I'll take you in the back, the person you're meeting is already here due to other business," he said quickly, not wanting to waste any time and lose any potential customers because of negligence.
Shaw simply nodded in response and got up to follow the man past a door behind the counter to the back of the bar.
It's surprisingly well maintained compared to the shoddy outside. I guess the back of the bar that is reserved for the more high-level clients and visitors is bound to be of a higher quality than the outside. Shaw thought as he walked down a passageway into a larger room.
The first thing he noticed was a hooded man sitting on the sofa in the center of the room. He leaned back in a relaxed manner, in his hands a thin stack of paper. There was an exposed revolver attached to his waist, suggesting that he had a permit for it.
"Mr. Cole, here's the guy looking for identity documentation," the bartender spoke up.
The hooded man, identified as Mr. Cole, looked up from the papers in his hand at the pair of men who had just entered the room. His eyes lingered on the bartender for only a second before they focused on Shaw. "I'll take it from here, you can go back to your duties," he said casually.
The bartender nodded in thanks and left the room, giving Shaw one last glance. Mr. Cole gestured for Shaw to take a seat on the sofa in front of him, "I'm quite busy, so let's get straight to business."
"Perfect," Shaw said as walked over and took a seat, looking at the hooded man before him intently. "So what exactly can you provide?"
Mr. Cole cleared his throat before speaking, "There's two types of fabricated identification documents. The first type is just a surface copy. You can show them to patrolling police and at inns to book rooms, but that's it. They're simply visual copies of identification papers that will fail under any official scrutiny," he paused to see Shaw's reaction, but continued when he received none.
"The second type is near-authentic fabrication. Along with with ideal identification documents, this new identity will also be officially registered with the government, which will make it so that even official scrutiny will not notice anything amiss. Of course, this type is significantly more expensive."
Shaw nodded as the man finished speaking, having already come to a decision, "How long will producing the second type take?"
Mr. Cole smiled, "That depends entirely on how much money you have, my good man."
Makes sense. Shaw nodded in satisfaction and asked, "Would it be possible to get those papers by tomorrow?"
Mr. Cole's smile widened, "40 pounds in total, 20 pounds as an initial deposit and the rest after your request is complete."
That's a sizable amount of money, no average person would be able to afford it without a heavy strain on their pockets. As for me, I have enough, although I'll be left with little after this. That won't be a problem for much longer anyways…
Shaw got up from the sofa, extending his hand and said, "That's acceptable. We have a deal."
Mr. Cole rose to shake his hand, delighted by Shaw's willingness to part with his money. "Give me the details of the new identity, I'll have everything ready by this time tomorrow."
"It isn't for me, it's for someone else. Here's the details…" Shaw said as he picked up a pen and paper and jotted down the details, passing them to Mr. Cole. Following that, he took out a stack of 5-pound notes, counting and handing 4 of them over.
Mr. Cole accepted the paper and cash, "Pleasure doing business with you."
After exiting the Stonecreek Bar, Shaw had another destination in mind. He had assimilated a vast and expansive amount of knowledge of Bayam and it's underground through Old Tony, and he was fully intending to put it to use in the following days.
His path was set for the Swordfish Bar, a widely known gathering spot for adventurers. It was a hub of activity, and Rimuru was sure he would become a regular visitor there soon enough.
After reaching a main street on foot, he hired a carriage and boarded it to save time, as the Swordfish Bar was quite far away.
As he sat in silence taking in the sights on the streets flying by, he pondered over his current situation and actions moving forward. Rimuru's primary goal for the day was to gather information and familiarize himself with Bayam, it's culture, and it's inhabitants. Although he had memories of two people, first hand experience made a huge difference.
Once he got his identity, he had decided that he would start working as an adventurer and bounty hunter. He had several reasons to choose this line of work. First, there was a lot of money in the business, second, it would give him access to various information and resource channels which he would slowly involve himself in, and third, he could delve deeper into the world of Beyonders.
The only necessity for being in this trade was skill and power, both of which Rimuru didn't lack. He wasn't so conceited to think that he was at the top of the food chain, no, in fact he was quite certain he was much closer to the bottom. However, he was far beyond any ordinary human, and he had extremely unconventional abilities, which gave him confidence that he could flourish as long he didn't get involved with any absurd dangers, until he could uncover the secrets of this world's powerhouses.
This is the best path for me right now, I have to take certain risks if I want results. In order to unveil the mysteries of this world and grow my power and knowledge, I'll have to take leaps which could lead to my downfall… heh, although that just makes it more thrilling.
On top of that, another bonus to becoming a bounty hunter is that I'll get to clean up the filth that plagues this world. I made a small contribution yesterday night, and seeing that old bastard's memories just made me glad that I did… It hadn't been pleasant looking through the man's mind. Innumerable crimes of all kinds, things Rimuru had never imagined he would see. Although his first kill, Marcus Shaw, hadn't been a saint by any definition, Old Tony was a sinner of a whole different caliber.
Even though what I saw in his mind is just a glimpse into the depravity this world has to offer, I already feel like my eyes have been opened to a reality I was ignorant to before. Hearing about such crimes on the news and reading about them in fictional stories is much different than viewing it first-hand involving real people.
I don't believe myself to be a truly good person, or a savior of any sort, but kindness is still a virtue I would like to uphold as much as I can. Despite my ultimate goal being selfish, I don't mind going out of my way occasionally to do something for the good of others, even if it's just based on my whimsical desires. That, and I'll also continue to contribute however I can to cleanse the world of shitstains like Old Tony. I know there won't be any lack of opportunities to do so in the path I'm going down.
Rimuru was aware that he was changing rapidly, adapting perhaps a bit too fast, but he couldn't help it. The memories he had absorbed, along with the situation he was facing and the situations he had already faced in the past had made it so that he was progressing quickly, forming ideas and opinions very much unlike what a 37-year old human would. But that was alright. He wasn't just a human after all.
He knew his mind would keep changing as he kept growing and learning, his stance shifting as he experienced more and matured further, but for now, he knew how he was going to live. He would stay true to his beliefs, to his humanity. He trusted his desires to steer him the right way, and he trusted his instincts to make the right decisions. He would live as per his whims, and he would pursue the power and knowledge required to do so.
A small smile graced his lips as he felt an inner conflict die down. His eyes barely registered the sights of the streets from inside the carriage, as his racing thoughts calmed down.
"Sir, we've reached the destination."
The atmosphere inside the Swordfish Bar was chaotic to say the least, very much unlike the norm. The bar was a regular gathering spot for adventurers, meaning individuals of considerable strength, skill and smarts, which made it so that fights didn't break out as easily.
However, today, a pair of adventures had gotten into an argument which was escalating by the second, initially ignited over the splitting of mission rewards. Both parties were backed by a group of fellow adventures, leading to a dangerous situation involving multiple problematic individuals.
The bartender looked sick with worry, even forgetting to attend to the other customers amidst the chaotic environment. The two bouncers were half-heartedly trying to dissolve the conflict, but their efforts were useless. The adventurers involved were particularly infamous, known around the area as some of the richest and most powerful in the locality. As such, the conflict had quite the stakes for both the sides, with not only money, but also their egos and reputations on the line.
And in such a situation, no one noticed when an inconspicuous man slipped in through the door and closed it silently behind him, entering the bar. Quickly taking note of the situation, he lowered his presence and made his way to the corner least affected by the commotion, yet having a clear view of the confrontation.
Without pause, he took a seat and began taking in his surroundings, observing and analyzing. On the other end of the bar, the fight had reached a boiling point, shifting from verbal taunts and threats, to a brawl.
Marcus Shaw merely sat and watched. Hey, [Great Sage], I have a feeling this is about to get interesting, gather as much data as you can. He commanded his skill.
«Received. All available processing capacity will be dedicated to observation and analysis.»
Perfect.
Right on cue, the mob of brawling adventures suddenly broke apart as all but two of them were thrown back.
Two men, the adventures who were the main cause of the whole situation, stood facing each other, ignoring the broken furniture and scampering men around them. One of them, tall, lean and raven-haired, had a mocking grin plastered on his face, knives in both his hands and his stance poised to strike. The other, even taller, huge, bulky and blonde-haired, had a wrathful expression on his face, his hands unarmed but his body exuding waves of power and rage as he stood straight.
Shaw narrowed his eyes. They have an unusual aura, it's weird, but I can't put a finger on it… Wait, could they be—?
"Why do you even want the money so desperately, eh Alan?" Asked the raven-haired man, his mocking grin never fading.
"That's none of your fucking business, Clive. That money is rightfully mine," Alan replied, his voice gruff and filled with anger.
Clive ignored his words, and his eyes gained a glint, "Could it be that you want to compensate the family of your friend who died on the mission?"
Alan's fists clenched and he looked on the verge of breaking into action.
"Is it the same friend you sacrificed to save yourself? Could it be that you feel a righteous urge to repay him in some way?" Clive continued, his voice overflowing with mirth.
"Shut the fuck up," Alan growled, his voice low and dangerous, veins popping on his forehead.
"Let me tell you something, my dear Alan. You know your friend… he's already dead, and you killed him, heh, nothing you do now will change tha—"
The enraged Alan, unable to control himself any longer, suddenly threw a punch, aimed straight at his opponent's face, with a speed such that Shaw saw the actual air being displaced. But before it could connect with its target, Clive ducked, as if expecting this action, and immediately raised his knife-wielding hand to stab Alan's outstretched arm.
"AAARGH!" exclaimed Alan as the knife sunk into his flesh, somehow only barely penetrating his skin.
That punch was way faster than what a regular human should be capable of, and so was that dodge. Moreover that stab easily had enough power to pierce through his arm… are these the Beyonder Powers in effect? Shaw wondered as he focused all his attention on the fight.
It was then that he noticed illusory scale-like growths on Alan's arm, disrupting the knife's momentum and blocking it from moving deeper.
Supernatural powers!! I get to see them in action, this feels unbelievably lucky!!
I should observe and record everything I can from this encounter, I can analyze it later with [Great Sage] to decode all available information. Shaw decided to dedicate all his attention to reading every single detail no matter how minute, from the scene playing out before him.
As Clive grinned at the successful bait that had enabled him to stab his opponent, he quickly shifted positions and retracted his arm, creating distance between himself and Alan.
Meanwhile Alan was standing still, his arm limp to his side, bleeding slightly. His expression was warped with rage as his breaths became heavy. "That's it, you're fucking dead," he growled, before leaping at Clive, his uninjured arm drawn back to punch.
Clive's grinning face showed a hint of caution as he rolled to the side, barely avoiding the hulking Alan. The wooden floorboards exploded into splinters as Alan's fist dug into the ground beneath. Unfazed by his missed punch, Alan simply got up and leaped towards Clive again, smashing his fist at his target. This happened over and over again as Alan kept attacking relentlessly.
Clive dived and rolled repeatedly to dodge the overwhelming onslaught, looking for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Alan stood up for the umpteenth time, his arms covered in sinister illusory scales and his knuckles coated in dirt and debris. The crowd in the bar had completely dispersed, with some leaving and others retreating to corners to avoid the rampage. Even the bouncers didn't dare interfere, they knew what kind of fight this was and what kind of people the fighters were.
"Is that all you've got? Out of fuel already?" Taunted Clive, unharmed by sweaty and weary. Alan didn't respond, instead walking slowly toward his opponent, with his arms to his side. Clive raised his knives in front of his chest, concluding that merely dodging wasn't going to get him anywhere and he would have to attack too.
As the distance between the two slowly reduced, the first one to make a move this time, was Clive, as he bent his knees, leaning forward, and dashed toward Alan, launching a flurry of slashes.
Alan was prepared, deflecting and parrying them with his scaled forearms and elbows. Clive then slashed upwards at his chin, to which he reacted by leaning to the right to dodge while simultaneously launching an overhand punch towards Clive's head.
To his surprise, Clive didn't dodge the hit, instead simply turning his head to absorb as much force with his cheek as he could to minimize damage, while at the same time using his other knife to slash at Alan's torso.
Both of them moved away from each other, Clive falling backward because of the punch and Alan clenching his slashed gut in pain, trying to limit blood-loss. They took a few seconds to recover, before coming back into position, ready to continue.
Clive's grin hadn't faded despite the nasty bruise on his cheek and the trail of blood dripping from his mouth. He looked at Alan, whose shirt had been dyed crimson, and whose eyes contained less reason than ever. He had gone mad with rage, and that meant his strength would be at an all-time high.
Then he charged, straight at Clive like a mad bull, his hands outstretched as if intending to grapple instead of punch. Clive, deciding to change strategies, discarded one of his knives, freeing a hand, and prepared for his opponent. As Alan approached him at terrifying speeds, he jumped up with all his strength at the last moment, reaching above Alan's height and avoiding the charge. As he began falling back down, he drew his free fist which was in a suitable position, and launched it towards Alan's neck.
But due to gravity and the leftover momentum of Alan's charge, he missed the neck and hit the upper back instead, pushing Alan away, who slammed into a wall.
As Clive regained his bearings on the ground, he was surprised to see Alan already recovered and ready to charge back at him again. For the first time since the fight had started, his grin faded as he grimaced. "He's like a damn rabid monster..." He muttered. "I have to finish this fast."
As Alan began dashing towards him again, he shifted his stance to a standard boxing pose, his lead hand empty and rear hand armed with a knife in reverse grip.
As soon as Alan came into range, he threw a straight punch, which Alan parried with an open palm, reaching out to grab his head in return. Clive tilted his head to dodge the grab and then slashed his knife-hand diagonally upwards, which Alan blocked with an elbow.
They exchanged a few more blows, growing more intense as each second passed. Clive suffered a few bruises and Alan was riddled with tiny cuts. Frustrated by the inconclusive exchange, Alan used his height advantage and clenched both his hands together to shoot a double axe-handle at Clive's head below him.
Clive raised his both his arms above his head horizontally to block the blow, wincing in pain at the sheer strength behind it. His feet dug into the ground, shattering the floorboards and launching splinters everywhere.
Unable to resist for long, Clive swiped at Alan's legs, using the brief moment of imbalance to escape from under his arms. Without waiting, Clive took the opportunity and moved to stab Alan in the side.
Unfortunately for him, Alan had recovered his footing and managed to grab his forearm, locking it in place. He was rendered immobile as Alan drew his fist back for a punch.
Clive's eyes widened. His intuition was giving him a warning. This punch was different. This one would be much more powerful than any punch the blonde man had thrown before. Clive's instincts were screaming at him, but he couldn't move.
He used all his strength to pull away, trying to free his arm. But he quickly realized that it was futile, deciding to abandon that tactic. He would have to do something else.
Alan's fist shot forward at his face at frightening speeds, the air cracking under the pressure. As Clive watched the fist begin to close in on his face, he twisted his entire body, forcefully dislocating his own shoulder which the arm Alan was holding was attached to. Then, using Alan's unmovable grip as leverage, he swung his legs into the air, his body following along.
Just as Alan's fist caved into his elevated torso, he kicked his raised leg at Alan's head, a glinting hidden blade protruding from the tip of his shoe.
CRACK
SQUELCH
A disgusting noise resounded in the bar, the sound of bones cracking accompanied by the sound of flesh being pierced, which was then followed by the sound of two bodies slamming into the wooden floor.
Silence prevailed for a few seconds.
The two fighters lay a few feet away from each other. Alan's eyes blank as his head leaked blood in droves. Clive's eyes showing unbearable agony as his chest was caved in, ribs shattered.
The silence was suddenly broken by a shout, "SHIT!! The hyenas are coming! Those Military fucks already sniffed this fight out! Everyone SCRAM!!"
Within seconds, the entire bar was embroiled in chaos as the mob of rowdy drunks struggled to leave as soon as possible.
In one corner of the bar, a man sat unmoving, as opposed to his surroundings, his eyes containing immense glee. As the hooligans stumbled everywhere around him, he slowly got up, his eyes never leaving the two bodies laying on the ground.
Splendid! That was utterly amazing! Shaw exclaimed to himself. Unfortunately though, I can't get involved with the Military just yet, so I have to leave. Otherwise I'd have stayed longer.
As he steadily walked toward the door, somehow avoiding every other person in the mob, a satisfied smirk formed in his face. Today was so very productive…
In just a few more seconds, the bar was nearly empty, while outside, people scattered in all directions, Shaw blending in, leaving unnoticed just like he had entered.