Damn Reincarnation

Chapter 168: Extra - Their First Meeting (2)

Chapter 168: Extra - Their First Meeting (2)

Did this guy really just invite him to share a meal?

Then, without even waiting for a reply, he just left on his own. Given Hamel’s personality, it wouldn’t have been strange for him to have slapped this insolent guy who seemed to be messing with him on the back of the head, but the unique atmosphere that Vermouth gave off suppressed Hamel’s impulse to choose violence.

Hamel was well aware of what this feeling was. It was a warning that he shouldn’t touch this guy, that if they fought, he would be the one defeated, and if at all possible, Hamel shouldn’t get involved with this guy.

“Fuck,” Hamel cursed, as he felt annoyed at allowing himself to be held back by such a feeling.

It wasn’t like this guy had shown him any hostility, nor had they met on the battlefield. They had just met on the street. No, come to think about it, this guy had just one-sidedly approached Hamel and then suddenly invited him to share a meal.

Wait, no.

In the first place, who the hell were they? They had addressed him as Hamel Dynas, and yeah, that’s right, that was his name. So why the fuck weren’t they introducing themselves? And who the fuck did those two think they were, flying down from the sky and staring at him with those disrespectfully judgmental eyes? And lastly, why was that hulking bastard with bulging muscles looking at him with sparkling eyes that didn’t match the fierce expression on his face?

Tap.

A stone caught on Hamel’s foot. As if the heavens had arranged it, the stone was in the perfect position for him to kick it. But wasn’t it only natural for there to be stones in a place like this? Eugene glared at the back of Vermouth’s head, who was slowly getting further away and at the backs of Sienna and Anise, who were following Vermouth as they continued to exude an air of disdain for him.

Molon was still at Hamel's side. As he looked down at Hamel with a hearty smile, Molon discovered that Hamel’s body seemed to have been designed and developed solely for conflict. Molon began to imagine just how flexibly and unpredictably such a body would be able to move once a battle began, and this imagined scenario progressed into a full-fledged confrontation inside of his head.

‘He’s strong, but I still won,’ Molon thought.

Not ‘I can win,’ but ‘I won.’ Their battle had already come to a conclusion inside of Molon’s head, and he nodded confidently at the result. As a brave warrior of the northern Bayar tribe, the Son of the Snowfields, he approached Hamel, who was to become his new comrade and stretched out his hand.

“Come on, let’s go together,” Molon offered.

Hamel was unresponsive and seemed flustered by Vermouth’s sudden invitation. Wanting to build a wonderful friendship with a man like Hamel, who would become his comrade in the near future, Molon tried to lightly pat Hamel’s shoulder as an early sign of their friendship.

But at that moment….

Hamel suddenly kicked the stone at his foot. The target of this kick was, of course, the back of Vermouth’s head. He kicked the stone so hard that if it were to hit, the force would be enough to explode an ordinary man’s head.

But there was no way that it would hit.

Before he had kicked the stone, and afterward as well, Hamel had already had such an expectation. And indeed, that was the case. The stone that Hamel had kicked — after flying just one step forwards — disappeared as if it had never existed in the first place.

“...Hoh,” Hamle huffed in astonishment.

Hamel had a clear view of what had just happened. The flying stone was caught in an elaborately constructed web of mana and then vanished. But the process was so fast that it had made it seem as if the stone hadn’t even been sent flying in the first place.

“...Hahaha,” Hamel laughed reluctantly.

Even though they had already walked so far ahead, they had been able to prepare such a mana construct without any warning of an attack. It was an extravagant display of skill to use such a construct just to block a single stone. Although his practical joke had been impeded right away, Hamel found himself more interested than embarrassed. Hamel had always been confident in his skills in mana manipulation, but he wasn’t sure that he would be able to do something as stealthy and sophisticated as what Vermouth had just shown him.

Though he hadn’t wanted to accept Vermouth’s offer of sharing a meal together, the fact that Vermouth didn’t look back even once after doing something like that made Hamel follow in their steps.

“Sienna,” Vermouth called out Sienna’s name in a low voice, still not turning around to look backward. “Don’t do it.”

“Where the hell did you find such a bastard?” Sienna cursed with a click of her tongue as she scattered the spell she had just prepared, vanishing the sharp blade of mana that had been floating in front of them. “I know mercenaries can be barbaric, but that bastard seems to be one of the most vicious, even amongst his kind. Vermouth, do you realize what he just tried to do? That bastard just tried to crack your head open.”

“But that didn’t happen,” Vermouth pointed out.

“You’re right, you’re right. It’s all thanks to how skilled you are,” Sienna agreed sarcastically. “You noticed and took care of it quickly before I even needed to do anything. But you know what? I really don’t like that bastard, so I want to first teach him a lesson by making him eat dirt. I should have the right to do so, no?”

“Sienna.”

“Fine, I’ve got it.”

Without any further complaints, Sienna instead just pouted her lips. As she did so, she glanced at Anise, who was walking beside them. Anise was looking straight ahead with a calm expression, but Sienna clearly recalled how the corner of Anise’s mouth had twitched slightly in amusement when she sensed the attack coming from behind them.

‘...Like I’ve always said, I’m the only normal person in this party,’ Sienna thought.

While Anise usually served Vermouth faithfully and always added Sir to his name, deep down, she seemed to have been looking forward to seeing Vermouth get hit by the stone Hamel had just kicked.

The place that Vermouth led Hamel to was an ordinary restaurant that could be found just about anywhere. In this sort of roadside diner, a few mercenaries could always be found drinking at this time of the day. In fact, a weathered group of mercenaries really was sitting together and holding a raucous drinking party in the middle of the restaurant.

Perhaps because of the noise, these mercenaries were the sole customers in this restaurant. So why had he chosen this restaurant? Unable to understand the reasoning behind this choice, Sienna shot a glance at Vermouth, but she soon realized why this restaurant had been chosen.

The moment that these mercenaries, who had just been catcalling Sienna and Anise with lustful eyes, saw Hamel’s face as he walked in behind the two women, their faces paled in horror like they had just run into a devil. Hamel didn’t even need to say a word or look at them, but the mercenaries quietly set down the bottles of booze they had been drinking and immediately got up from their seats.

“Pay the bill before you go,” Hamel tossed these words at the mercenaries just as they were about to leave the restaurant. “And make sure to leave a generous tip for the store owner who had to open up his restaurant early in the day because of you.”

The mercenaries meekly replied, “Y-yes sir….”

“If you’re going to be paying the man, I’ll also be quite grateful if you leave something to take care of our tab as well,” Hamel threw in.

“Alright…,” the mercenaries powerlessly agreed.

In the end, the mercenaries were left with no choice but to leave the entire contents of their wallets on the checkout counter before leaving. Before Vermouth had even chosen a seat, Hamel pulled out an empty seat and plopped his ass on it.

“You really are a piece of trash, aren’t you?” Sienna said with a haughty sniff, still heavily dissatisfied with Hamel. Tilting her head to the side at a crooked angle, she glared at Hamel and asked, “You’re a mercenary, and they are mercenaries, so aren’t you both colleagues in the same line of work?”

“It’s because we have a bond from being colleagues in the same line of work that we’re happy to pay for each other's meals. So isn’t it fine if I just pay for these bastards’ meals some other time?” Hamel argued.

“As if you’d do something like that,” Sienna scoffed.

“Aren’t you being too rude for someone I just met today? No, just now, in fact?” Hamel pointed out. “And also, I’ve been wondering for a while now… just why have you dyed your hair purple? Is it because you want to be more recognizable on the battlefield?”

“It’s not dyed!” Sienna yelled as she squinted her eyes in anger and pulled off her hat. She abruptly lowered her head to show him the hair roots at the top of her head and said, “I’ve had purple hair ever since I was young! A foolish mercenary like you might not be aware of this, but beings like me, who are loved by mana and magic, their favor can physically affect our constitution!”

“For the favor of mana to actually turn your hair purple… that’s quite a trivial show of favor,” Hamel commented.

Should she just kill him? Flames sparked in Sienna’s eyes as she glared at Hamel.

“You’ve got quite the sharp tongue,” Anise said as she stared at Hamel with narrowed eyes.

With his old, worn-out cloak and the scars on his face, his appearance wasn't anywhere close to ‘polished,’ and even the way he spoke was abrasive.

“Sir Vermouth, must it really be this mercenary in particular?” Anise pleaded.

“As I’ve said,” Vermouth confirmed with a shrug.

“Hamel might be weaker than me, but he’s still very strong. We’d be able to prove that to you if we competed with each other right now, but I don’t want to hurt Hamel’s pride by competing with him when he’s still not very familiar with me. A warrior must respect his fellow warriors,” Molon, who casually took a seat next to Hamel, said seriously as he puffed out his chest proudly.

In reaction to these words that seemed to have come out of the blue, everyone turned to look at Molon.

“...Why has this savage-looking person suddenly started talking like a fool?” Hamel eventually asked.

“Hey! Who do you think you are to call Molon a fool?” Sienna grabbed hold of the chance to immediately reprimand Hamel.

At the same time, she subtly drew on her mana to put pressure on Hamel and even went so far as to draw on her magic staff, Akasha, which was held beneath her robes for extra strength. If Hamel were to suddenly attack her like he had before, she was thinking of correcting this little quirk of his and making him realize the pecking order between them.

“What’s the matter with calling him a fool when he acts like one…? No, hold on a second. Molon? Vermouth?” Hamel belatedly realized what those names meant and quickly spun his head between the two men.

Although he had heard himself be called a fool several times now, Molon didn’t show any offense and was staring fixedly at the kitchen. His only concern seemed to be when the dishes he had ordered would be served.

“...Molon Ruhr, Son of the Snowfields,” Hamel finally said.

“Have you heard of my bravery?” Molon’s head spun back as he responded to Hamel’s muttered words with shining eyes.

However, Hamel had already torn his gaze away from Molon and was looking at Vermouth, who was sitting across from them.

“...And you, you’re Vermouth… Vermouth Lionheart, right? The master of the Holy Sword, the Hero of Light?” Hamel asked in confirmation.

“That’s what they call me,” Vermouth replied with a gentle expression.

By this point, Hamel had no choice but to let out a snort and shake his head in disbelief. Why hadn’t he recognized them immediately? When every one of these four people, even when taken on their own, were all extraordinary individuals with unique appearances?

There was the beautiful and voluptuous blonde priest with a benevolent face that always seemed to be smiling. But in contrast to her appearance, a heavy mace was hanging from her waist.

In this type of era, it wasn’t uncommon to see priests carrying arms, but clerics who insisted on wearing clerical robes instead of wearing armor while still proudly carrying a mace weren’t a common sight.

‘...The Saint of Light, Anise Slywood.’

As for the witch who had been quibbling with him since earlier while clicking her tongue at him — that cheeky face blatantly revealed her internal dislike of him without even the slightest intention of hiding it. Her purple hair wasn’t dyed but was instead altered into that color by her powerful mana. Finally, her green eyes reminded him of a forest.

‘The Archwizard, Sienna Merdein.’

Every one of them was a famous individual.

Molon Ruhr was the son of the war chief of the Bayar tribe, which was famously known as a tribe with an exceptional talent for fighting, even among the other native tribes that lived in that cold, northern land.

Anise Slywood was the Saint of Light that the Holy Empire kept hidden from the rest of the world. It was said that the light Anise could emit all by herself was even more intense and brilliant than the light emitted by dozens of priests working together. The divine magic she could call upon was known as the Realization of Miracles, as it could heal the crippled, open the eyes of the blind, and even reattach fallen limbs in an instant.

Sienna Merdein — a young witch who, despite being a human, was raised by the hands of the elves. One day, she suddenly left the Samar Rainforest and descended onto the battlefields outside the forest, where monsters and demonic beasts ran rampant. There, she acted like the very incarnation of a natural disaster — lighting, winds, and flames sweeping across the ground with each flash of her staff.

…Finally, there was Vermouth Lionheart.

A survivor from the Northern Kingdom of Ashal. He had been taken captive by the demonfolk when he was only fifteen. Then, while being transported to Helmuth… he revealed himself to be a monstrous genius when he, along with Molon, annihilated the accompanying demonfolk and rescued the other slaves with the help of a single sword. After that, he headed over to the Holy Empire and received the recognition of the Holy Sword, becoming the Hero of Light.

“...Well now, isn’t this something,” Hamel muttered as his lips twitched into a slight smile.

They were all famous heroes that he had heard about more than once. Rumors about them may have abounded, but this was Hamel’s first time meeting any of them in person.

“So why have the famous Hero of Light and his companions… come looking for an insignificant mercenary like myself?” Hamel asked sarcastically.

“It looks like you have a clear understanding of your place. I really don’t like you very much, but as long as you’re aware of your position and know when to bow your head, I think I can learn to tolerate you,” Sienna said with a smile.

Should he hit her just once… could he even hit her? While clenching his fists below the table, Hamel glared at Sienna.

“Let’s stop goading each other,” Vermouth spoke up. The sound of his voice instantly calmed the hostile atmosphere that had been starting to simmer at the table as he continued, “The food will be coming out soon.”

“Oooh,” Molon grunted in excitement as he leaped from his seat.

Then he suddenly picked up the entire table and hurriedly ran over to the kitchen. He had decided that rather than having them bring up each plate one by one… it would be more convenient to just pick up the entire dining table and use it as a tray.

Hamel muttered, “He’s one crazy son-of-a—”

“Molon is just kind,” Anise spoke up, cutting Hamel off. She popped open the lid of her holy water flask, shook it gently, then brought it to her nose to sniff the scent rising from its mouth as she continued, “Do you really think that he’s such a fool that he would foolishly allow you to keep calling him a fool? Even if Molon’s personality isn’t as savage as yours, do you really think that he will just keep laughing quietly if he keeps getting mocked for being a fool?”

“So what? Is he going to try and smash my head in?” Hamel challenged.

“Why don’t you find out the answer to that yourself,” Anise responded. “You’ll be able to tell whether he’s a fool or an idiot by—”

Craaash!

A large sound rang out from behind. Looking over to see what had happened, they realized that it was the sound of the table being crushed into pieces because it couldn’t withstand the strength of Molon’s grip. The dishes that had already been placed on the table were sent falling because of this, but Molon quickly picked up each of the plates as they fell with an agility that seemed unnatural with his large bulk and threw them back up into the air.

The plates sent flying through the air landed on the table that had been next to theirs.

…Booom!

The building shook slightly in reaction to Molon’s violent movements that had left several deep footprints on the floor.

“Um… Vermouth will pay the repair fees,” Molon announced.

“...What a fool…!” Anise sighed and shook her head.

“It seems that he’s alright with being called a fool because he really is one,” Hamel snidely pointed out.

“...That might be the case, but you, Hamel, have no right to call Molon a fool. The only ones who can say that Molon is a fool are Molon’s friends and comrades,” Anise declared.

“That’s right!” Sienna piped up. “Who do you think you are to keep calling Molon a fool? It’s true that Molon might be a fool, but it’s not okay for you to call Molon a fool, got it?”

“Just why have you guys brought me here?” Hamel asked abruptly, unable to understand the situation he had found himself in no matter how hard he tried.

Vermouth’s expression hadn’t changed as he listened to the entire conversation.

But just as Molon stretched his arms wide and started to carry the new table over to where the rest were sitting, Vermouth suddenly asked, “Hamel Dynas, are you willing to become my companion?”

Molon showed no intention of paying any attention to their conversation. He placed the new table in the middle of their seats, then immediately stretched his hand towards a large pork leg roast. At this, Sienna, who was sitting beside him, smacked the back of his hand.

After a start of surprise, Molon nodded his head agreeably. Then Molon held his large hands out in front of him. Once he did this, Sienna shook her finger and drew a circle, casting a spell that covered Molon’s hands in bubbling foam and water.

After his hands had been cleaned, Molon reached out for the pork leg once more.

Slaaap!

This time, Anise smacked the back of Molon’s hand. The sudden blow had Molon looking at her with a confused expression. While glaring at Molon through narrowed eyes, Anise snapped open a napkin and laid it down on her knees. Then she picked up a knife and fork and held them up for Molon to see.

“...Hm…!” Molon grunted in realization and nodded as he placed a napkin on his knees like Anise had.

But because of how thick Molon’s thighs were, the napkin wasn’t even able to cover one of his legs. Molon then picked up a knife and a fork in his large hands. They definitely hadn’t been made to be held by such large hands, so Molon had to hold them by his fingertips to use them.

Creak, creeeeeak….

Molon began slicing off pieces of the meat with frustrated eyes. With each stroke of his knife, the old table let out creaking noises. His knife skills didn’t show any traces of refinement, but Sienna and Anise, who were responsible for teaching Molon ‘manners’, had happy looks on their faces as they exchanged glances.

…While those three were doing all this, Hamel was busy thinking about Vermouth’s last words.

Vermouth wanted him… to become a companion? Hamel couldn’t understand what these words meant.

Vermouth, Sienna, Anise, and Molon were the most famous heroes on the whole continent, and their party had enough combat force to face off against one of the demonfolk’s many legions.

As for Hamel… he had already been planning to take a ship in this port and head over to Helmuth. Most of the wars fought in the lands of Turas had ended. The demonfolk and demonic beasts had now withdrawn to Helmuth, and the monsters had been exterminated to such an extent that they could no longer field any armies. There were no longer any battlefields left in these lands for Hamel to participate in.

However, that wasn’t enough for Hamel. Hamel wanted to kill even more monsters, demonic beasts, and demonfolk. If possible, he wanted to wipe them out until none were left in this world.

Was it for the sake of world peace? No. Hamel’s desire wasn’t born out of such a wonderful sense of duty. He just hated them. He wanted to kill all of them. So that he would never have to set eyes on one of them again. As such, he wanted to wipe out all demonic beasts, demonfolk, and even the Demon Kings.

It was for such an incredibly personal reason that Hamel had decided to head over to Helmuth. Over there, every day was filled with unending battles. Although reinforcements were being sent to Helmuth from all over the continent, Helmuth’s own forces were still leaving behind mountains of human corpses day after day.

Hamel had always attributed his continued survival until now to several factors: the first was that he was strong, the second was that he was a genius, and the third was that he had good luck. But he knew that once he traveled to Helmuth, then perhaps his luck would run out. Even if he was strong and a genius… he would probably still die anyway.

But even so, Hamel felt that it didn’t matter. His was a life that should have already been lost long ago in any case. He had been lucky enough to survive so far, but rather than continuing to live out of gratitude for his lucky survival, he would much rather live according to his desires and keep his eyes on the targets of his hatred to get this revenge. Even if he did end up dying in Helmuth, as long as he could kill at least one more demonfolk or demonic beast before he died, he felt he could be satisfied with that.

“...A companion, you say,” Hamel repeated as the corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile.

If he were to become a companion of the famous hero, Vermouth, he might be able to survive for a longer period in Helmuth. That fact alone might be enough for Hamel to be willing to become Vermouth’s companion.

“I don’t care what you want from me, but I don’t really want to listen to the orders of some scrub who’s weaker than me, alright?” Hamel said challengingly.

But Hamel really couldn’t stand the attitudes that all four people in front of him had shown so far. It was as if they didn’t really feel they needed to take someone like him with them. Even Molon, for all his friendliness, seemed convinced that he was stronger than Hamel. Sienna and Anise had clearly shown that they couldn’t understand why Hamel was even qualified to become their comrade.

Hamel wasn’t satisfied with any of this. No matter how strong they were, just how highly did they think of themselves? Did he really look like some scrub to them?

‘They’re just asking for a beating,’ Hamel thought.

“...Puhaha!” Sienna, who was in the middle of cutting off a slice of meat for herself, burst into laughter. “What did that bastard just say? D-did he really just say ‘scrub’? Vermouth, he was talking to you, right? Right? Ha, ahaha, hahaha!”

In a quavering voice, Anise said, “S-Sienna, don’t, ahem, don’t laugh so hard. If you start laughing like that, then I’ll… puhu…. Puhuhu, puhahaha…! L-laughing like this is—! A-a big, ahem, a big in-insult….”

“As expected, you really are a true warrior!” Molon said as he looked at Hamel with a big smile.

Baaang!

Hamel tilted his chair back and then slammed both feet on top of the table. At this action, both Sienna and Anise’s laughter was abruptly cut off.

Fwooosh.

“...Vermouth,” Sienna uttered in a dangerous tone as small wisps of flame ignited around her. “He’s just a bastard of a mercenary that you could find just about anywhere. Is there really any reason we need to take someone like him with us?”

“...I wasn’t expecting much, but isn’t he far too crude,” Anise chimed in. “Sir Vermouth, rather than a mercenary like this, who’s just a wild dog, there are countless other warriors who would be better to choose from. The only son of the Knight Commander of the Kiehl Empire is said to have a great appearance and personality along with exceptional skills… wouldn’t it be better to go to Kiehl and recruit him instead?”

Amidst this chilly atmosphere, Molon once again brought up something completely irrelevant, “I’ve heard that the warriors of the Sea Kingdom are truly brave men. I’d really like to compete with them.”

“...Well now, everyone else but you really seem to dislike me, don’t they? And I don’t really want to travel with bastards who dislike me, either. So just like that bitchy Saintess over there said, why don’t you go find some other bastard to take with you?” Hamel sneered.

“No,” Vermouth finally spoke up.

The sparks Sienna had ignited were extinguished. The light hovering around Anise’s feet also disappeared.

As he poured some alcohol into his glass with a graceful gesture, Vermouth continued, “It has to be you.”

No one was able to understand what he meant by this claim.

Vermouth then said, “If you really want to check my skills, how about we finish eating first.”

“...What?” Hamel asked in confusion.

“Let’s eat and have a drink until we’re full, then once we’re finished digesting….” Vermouth swirled the drink in his glass and then finished with a grin, “Let’s have a friendly match.”