Chapter 31

This story is in third person.

One early morning, the guards crowded into the pebble house.

"There should be a child with black hair about this tall here. Hand him over."

The guards rudely opened the door of the pebble house and said to Gustav in a domineering manner.

Their silver armor covered the joints, torso, and head, and the connecting parts were made of leather. There were several of them, some holding spears, some shields, and some carrying large bags, but all of them had unapproachable faces.

The shop owner welcomed them with a nervous hand-rubbing.

"Sir, what brings you here? I haven't dealt with any contraband for a while now."

"Didn't you hear? Hand over the child."

The guard, speaking in a matter-of-fact and intimidating tone, struck the ground with his spear and slowly looked around the shop.

He then fixed his gaze on the storage room behind Gustav and signaled to his subordinates with a hand gesture.

"Alright, that's enough. We'll search the shop. Surely, you're not hiding anything, are you?"

"Please stop, ah, ah, the child is behind the shop. He hid when you all arrived."

The lead guard snorted and immediately ordered his subordinates to go to the back.

"Go. Though he's a child, he's a dangerous criminal who has attacked many people. If he resists, bring him in by force."

At these words, several subordinates ran out of the shop.

"Um, sir? What about the search of the shop...?"

"There's no need anymore. Thanks for your cooperation, shop owner."

The guard said this and threw a silver coin to Gustav.

"Thank you."

Gustav received it respectfully.

In the back of the shop, a child who could hardly be called a boy was surrounded by the guards.

"Hey, are you really taking this kid?"

"Yeah, it seems so. Really, what strange things Bar does, huh?"

They expressed their confusion about what they had to do.

Their orders from their superior, Bar, were to capture the child in the back of the shop and take him to the detention center. However, the child was just a child.

They had imagined a child on the verge of adulthood.

A dangerous criminal who had successfully attacked and assaulted many good citizens. They had imagined a criminal with a physique and demeanor indistinguishable from an adult, even if he was a child.

"Yes, I'll follow you. I understand."

But the reality was different. The child in front of them was undoubtedly a child, not even ten years old, weak and seemingly unable to distinguish right from wrong.

It was impossible for this child to take on multiple adults. The guards, who had actually seen the child, were in agreement on this.

"What are you dawdling for? Take him."

But in an organization, the orders of a superior are absolute. The subordinates had no choice but to follow the order given with a nod toward the street.

"Sorry, but it's the rules."

While saying this, they tied the child with a rope. They bound his wrists behind his back and attached a rope to his waist to lead him.

The sight of a criminal being led away was a kind of picture. The image of a criminal being led away while cursing or showing a look of despair was something familiar to the citizens. However, the sight of a child being led away with a smile, like a pet being taken for a walk, was very strange.

"Where are you taking me? Are we walking?"

The child's carefree voice, as if on a walk, added to the strangeness of the scene. The guards, bound by the rules, could only speak minimally when spoken to.

"Are you all really strong because you wear such strong armor? That's cool. What kind of training do you do? Do you fight with people? By the way, what are your names?"

As they passed through the slums, down the 12th Street, and along the edge of 5th Street to enter 6th Street to the south, the child's questions never stopped. The journey was about three kilometers, but the child's questions continued.

"What kind of famous bad people are there? Have you caught any? How do you get into 1st Street?"

The child's relentless questions drained the guards' morale.

"Hey, is this our destination? Thank you for the walk."

The child called out in a carefree voice, as if not understanding the situation.

The detention center was a stone building surrounded by a wall about three times the height of an adult. The wall was designed without any footholds, making it difficult to climb.

There was a gate in the gap of the wall, and the guards led the child through it.

"Huh? A child? What's going on?"

The receptionist, who was inside, could not hide his surprise at the child the guards had brought.

"It's Bar's order."

"Ah, I see."

With that, the receptionist stopped asking questions. He took a key from a bunch and threw it to the guard.

"The second room from the back of the basement. I feel sorry for the kid."

"Me too. Really, what is Bar thinking..."

The guard, who was about to respond to the receptionist's light-hearted comment, suddenly fell silent. The receptionist was looking at the entrance with a serious expression.

Bar was slowly entering from there.

"Check his weapons and then detain him. I'll come later."

Saying this, Bar went into the back room. It was originally a meeting room but had become Bar's private room.

"Understood."

The guard, now serious, saluted.

The child watched this with a smile.

The search of the child's belongings was quickly over.

The child was wearing a blue-dyed shirt of unknown origin and leather boots. That was all.

The child, who had obediently submitted to the search, was looking around the unfamiliar room with curiosity. The guard left him alone, thinking it was just a matter of curiosity, but now he couldn't leave him unattended.

"Alright, follow me downstairs. Go into that room and stay there, okay?"

Saying this in a persuasive tone, the guard loosely held the child's waist rope and led him. The child obediently followed.

The sound of footsteps echoed on the stone floor.

The damp basement detention center was lined with rooms for particularly rebellious prisoners. Tools to make rebellious attitudes more docile were also available.

The long corridor was dimly lit, with only a small amount of light coming from above.

In the almost sealed space, it seemed that no one would hear even if one shouted.

"Maybe this isn't what I expected..."

The child's softly spoken words sounded like a faint mutter to the guard. Since it didn't seem particularly important, the guard ignored it and didn't stop walking.

"Here we are."

The room the child was led to was, as instructed, the second room from the back.

The walls were stained as if something had splattered, and it was far from clean.

The guard, who felt the same way the child did, frowned.

"Sorry, this isn't a place for a child like you... But you'll be out soon, so hang in there. If I have time, I'll bring you something."

As they parted, the guard said these kind words to the child.

The child looked at the guard's face intently. Then, with a slight smile, he said brightly,

"You're different, aren't you?"

The guard didn't understand the meaning of these words.

Then the door was closed with a loud thud.

In the room with no movement, the child sat down.

His eyes were bright, and there was no sign of confusion.

He continued to think, planning the next steps smoothly.

The child, sensing someone's presence, looked toward the door. The area outside the door suddenly became noisy.

Then, the door was roughly opened.

A middle-aged man with an oily face slowly entered.

"Well, you seem to be in good spirits."

"Thanks to you."

The child responded with a light-hearted comment and looked behind the middle-aged man. There, Bar was also present.

"Well, I did as you said and caught him, but is this really the right child?"

"It is. He's the brat who made a fool of me."

Haman, rubbing his hands, affirmed. He hadn't forgotten the humiliation inflicted on him by this child. And because of this child, many craftsmen had been injured.

Haman, having put aside the fact that he had incited his own craftsmen, was burning with righteous indignation.

"Well, brat. When you do something bad, you have to reflect on it first, don't you?"

Haman sat down in front of the child and glared at him.

"I haven't done anything wrong."

However, the child said this with a smile. Irritated by these words, Haman slapped the child's head.

The child fell to the floor silently. But Haman was laughing at the sight.

"Haha, that's what you get for making fun of adults."

The child, still bound, skillfully got up and looked at Haman.

Then he laughed.

"Beating up a defenseless child, from a safe distance, and only to this extent?"

"Huh?"

Haman narrowed his eyes and punched the child's nose.

The strange hardness of the impact puzzled him for a moment, but the excitement of hurting a hated child overrode that.

However, the child still laughed.

"Ahaha, making fun of adults, huh?"

"...What do you mean?"

Haman tried to slap the child's head again. A sharp pain ran through his palm.

The child didn't move at all.

"What is an adult, anyway?"

The child slowly stood up.

"Is an adult just someone with a big body? Is an adult just someone stronger than a child?"

By now, the bindings on his hands had been undone.

"At the very least,"

The child looked straight at Haman.

"I don't want to call someone who can't be a role model for children an adult."

The unusual atmosphere made Haman stand up. Bar was also silently on guard.

"What the hell...!"

Haman, frozen in shock, was looked at with a look of weariness. The child's face no longer had a smile.

"Goodnight."

In an instant, the child moved in front of Haman and pressed a palm strike to his solar plexus. In the next moment, Haman collapsed.

He was foaming at the mouth and rolling his eyes.

"You bastard!"

Bar, who had been like a ghost, finally moved to subdue the child.

He picked up a spear from the wall and, with a fluid motion, aimed it at the child's shoulder. The child easily dodged and slammed it to the ground, breaking it.

"..."

Bar was surprised by the strength but, as a guard, he immediately picked up another spear.

However, he noticed something strange as he raised it.

The tip of the spear had cleanly broken off and fallen to the ground.

"Using weapons is useless."

The child said this and slowly extended his hand toward Bar. Just before his hand touched Bar's body, Bar jumped back.

Then he ran down the corridor.

"Prisoner is resisting! Urgent! Urgent! Arm and assemble!"

Bar shouted as he fled.

This was all part of the plan by the child and Gustav.

"Found him! Hold your positions!"

Armed guards quickly assembled. As the child walked calmly toward the exit, he was surrounded in the square in front of the stairs.

Looking around at the more than thirty armed guards with spears, the child smiled and said,

"I don't have a grudge against most of you, but I'll have to push through forcefully."

Hearing this, the armed guards tilted their heads.

A weak-looking child surrounded by armed adults should be more afraid.

Or, why were they surrounding such a child in the first place?

Such a child could be subdued without weapons or a large number of people.

Confusion spread among the armed guards.

But Bar shouted.

"Feel free to injure him! Capture him!"

They couldn't disobey their superior's orders. Hesitantly, the armed guards pounced on the child.

The armed guards' memories of that day ended there.

"Ah, ah...!?"

Bar, his legs giving out, groaned.

More than thirty armed guards had been swept away by this child.

The sight of the fallen guards was gruesome.

There didn't seem to be any dead, but the armor was dented, and the floor and walls were cracked. It was hard to believe this was real.

"I'll leave you here. And this one."

The child, who had been dragging someone, threw him in front of Bar.

With a thud, Haman rolled to a stop.

"Choose your friends wisely."

Saying this, the child walked out boldly.

Bar couldn't move for a while.