Chương 33: Bring It On

Ryan stared at the white-robed man before him—and memories of his last life surged up. Achilles Boyd! It was this seemingly devil-may-care man who, in his last life, had single-handedly held off an army of a hundred thousand savage beasts, and in the end fought his way back victorious to become a legend. To run into him here, of all places—Ryan felt a pang of reflection. In his last life, when his own end drew near, Achilles had been the one teammate still willing to fight at his side.

Back then, the two of them had been hailed as the Twin Prodigies of the Northern Desert Domain. Both favored the sword, so they'd often sparred—though their blades differed: Ryan preferred the longsword, Achilles the greatsword. If he remembered right, the two had fought no shortage of bouts for the title of foremost swordsman of the Northern Desert Domain—two hundred in all, of which Ryan won one hundred and one, taking the title by the narrowest margin.

You could say Achilles was one of the few true confidants Ryan had in his last life.

"I'm talking to you, kid—are you Big Gunn?" Seeing Ryan silent, Achilles frowned, snapped the folding fan against his chest shut, and tapped it against his palm. It really was him. Though this was their first meeting in this life, the temperament felt strikingly familiar.

"That's right, I'm Big Gunn. And you are?"

"I'm Achilles Boyd—I share my name with the legendary warrior of old. Though next to him, I'm the stronger one!" Achilles tipped up his chin, smug. Ryan shook his head slowly. The kid really did dare to say anything. Recalling a scene from his last life—someone being chased screaming through the Qin Emperor's Tomb by Achilles—the corner of his mouth couldn't help curling.

"What are you smiling at?" Achilles's gaze sank.

"Nothing. I just happen to think that, as you are now, you're a far cry from that legendary warrior." Ryan shook his head and glanced at the stooped old man in gray beside Achilles, smiling faintly.

"Wouldn't you agree?"

"Heh heh…" The gray-robed old man smiled and shook his head, saying nothing.

"Elder Wind? What's your view?"

"This… I couldn't say." The old man shook his head slowly.

"But do you think this young fellow could beat that legendary warrior?"

"Him? Not even close!" Achilles frowned and snorted.

"Then if you can't even beat him, doesn't that prove his words right?" The gray-robed old man smiled faintly. He'd sought Ryan out for exactly this: to make his little terror of a charge settle down and temper himself in the game rather than turn the real world upside down. So he'd set his sights on Ryan, meaning to let Achilles taste the flavor of defeat. Unbroken victory in the real world had left the boy's mind restless and impetuous—a grave failing for one who sought the Dao through the sword.

"I, inferior to him?" Achilles frowned.

"I'll grant he's a good deal sharper than those run-of-the-mill nobodies, but even so, he's no match for me." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"You won't know unless you try." The old man fanned the flames. Watching from the side, Ryan saw plainly what medicine the old man was peddling, and could only smile wryly and shake his head. He'd heard of this old man in his last life, from Achilles—his sword-servant, surnamed Wind, real name unknown; Achilles had always called him Elder Wind. From the time Achilles was old enough to remember, Elder Wind had stayed at his side, helping him cultivate, sharing every insight on the way of the sword without reserve.

To Achilles, Elder Wind was a friend and mentor both, a bond across the generations. But later, Elder Wind died. Of his death, Achilles never said much in the last life—only that it was afterward, cornered in utter despair, that he broke through, grasped his own way of the sword, and ultimately achieved all he became.

"Young man, do me a favor. Thank you." Ryan received a private message from Elder Wind.

"Sure." After messaging back, Ryan's gaze settled on Achilles.

"Your servant here has a point. You'll have to prove your words to me."

"Who are you calling a servant? Who said I have to prove anything to you?" Ryan's words struck straight at Achilles's heart, and he flared up in an instant. In the real world he'd always been first among his peers—he needed to prove his strength to no one. And Elder Wind was his friend, not his servant. Ryan's words had touched a grave nerve. Of course, that was deliberate.

"What's wrong? Don't have the nerve?" Ryan's tone carried a hint of provocation.

"Are you joking?" Achilles sneered—taking the bait right on cue.

"Don't think a few First Kills make you invincible! Today I'll show you the gulf between us!"

"…All right, then." Ryan shrugged. BOOM! With a muffled thud, Achilles swung up a hand, seized the greatsword taller than a man wrapped in white cloth on Elder Wind's back, planted it on the ground, and stared straight at Ryan.

"Let's go!"

"…Are you a complete game-idiot?" Ryan's mouth twitched. This was a public area in a main city; brawl freely here, and you'd draw the wrath of the city guards—every one of them a Level 30-plus Gold Boss in strength, and they traveled in packs. Even Ryan was no match for them.

"Ryan! We're here!" Just then, a delighted call came from afar; a beauty in a water-blue robe came trotting over.

"You made it?" Ryan smiled at Rosalind in her blue mage's robe.

"That outfit suits you—very pretty!" Rosalind ducked her head, shy.

"The others are close behind—they'll be here soon." Ryan nodded, then turned his eyes to the fired-up Achilles and couldn't help a small frown. Forgot there was still this hothead to deal with. Now what?

"Kid, are you scared?" Achilles crooked a finger at Ryan, taunting.

"…" Ryan's mouth twitched. He'd never expected the kid to be such a peacock right out of the gate. Achilles had been a bit of a goof in his last life too, but never this much of a clown—it was hard to picture him becoming a legendary-tier power someday.

"Who's that…?"

"Ah—he's a fan of mine. A bit slow in the head; pay him no mind." Ryan laughed it off.

"Who's your fan?! I want to PK you!" Achilles bellowed, his inner edgelord ablaze.

"Once a greatsword's drawn, it's death or injury—you don't just sheathe it again!"

"…" Ryan rubbed his brow in distress. I'm begging you, let me off. He wailed inwardly behind a wry smile. Who knew the kid would be this kind of menace in the early game? At the thought, he shot the oddly-faced Elder Wind a sympathetic look—and suddenly understood the old man's design. Sigh. Everyone's got it rough.

"Hold on. A bout's fine, but we'll have to do it a different way." Ryan checked the time; the studio's others would arrive any moment, and he had no leisure to waste here.

"Here's the deal—we contest who can clear a dungeon faster. How's that?"

"Clear a dungeon?" Achilles frowned.

"What, scared?"

"Scared, and I wouldn't be Achilles! Bring it on!" Achilles fumed.

"Just don't go crying when you lose." Ryan was genuinely tickled by this edgy youth. Reborn, he hadn't expected to find something so amusing in this future legendary war god—a pure profit, really. Soon the rest of the studio arrived, and together they made for the Dungeon Plaza.

"Let's begin." Wasting no words, Ryan jerked his chin, signaling the start.