"What did you say?"
Viscoff blinked. The confusion on his face was genuine. He looked from the shirtless, arrogant teenager to the terrified blacksmith, trying to process the absurdity of the statement.
"Did you just... threaten me?"
"Threat?" Lexel smirked, stretching his neck until it cracked. "I would hardly call that a threat. A threat implies a possibility of failure. I gave you an option."
"Who the fuck are you?" Viscoff spat, his grip on the sword tightening.
"He's got nothing to do with this!" Anthierin shouted, stepping forward to shield Lexel. Her face was pale. She knew what a Level difference meant in this world. It meant death.
Viscoff pulled his blade away from Anthierin's neck, but he didn't sheath it. He laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "Let me get this straight, Anthierin. You reject a proposal from an aspiring, talented adventurer... over this guy? A [Level 1]? Are you kidding me?"
"Can we skip this part?" Lexel interrupted, digging his pinky into his ear and wincing slightly at the volume. "I'm getting bored here."
Viscoff's brows furrowed. He scanned Lexel again. No armor. Torn trousers. A pair of black gauntlets that looked expensive, but clearly offered no stat bonuses to a rookie.
Nothing special there. Just a pretty face. But why is he acting so cocky?
"What's your name?" Viscoff asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Lexel Torga," said Lexel.
Torga. Viscoff ran the name through his mind. No. There is no highborn family with that name in the Kingdom. No Guild leader carries that name.
Viscoff grinned inwardly. Even if there was, he looks like a beggar. He might be an exile. A disowned son with no backing.
"You said you want to kill me?" Viscoff asked, stepping back to give himself room.
"If you fight me, I will," Lexel said simply.
"Good!" Viscoff laughed. "Looks like this refined sword will get its first kill sooner than I thought. Let's go outside!"
"Fine," Lexel shrugged.
Anthierin stole a glance toward Lexel, her brow furrowed with worry and confusion. "Lexel..."
Lexel didn't answer. He just walked past her, stepping out of the blacksmith's house into the open air.
He was greeted by the wind brushing his face. The plains of the Fourth World stretched out before him, bathed in the light of the distant sun. The meadows danced in the breeze. He looked around and saw a watermill turning lazily in the river a bit farther away.
I see. The blacksmith is not exactly close to the nearby village. It's isolated.
He saw Viscoff already warming up with his sword. The adventurer was swinging the blade in wide, clumsy arcs, relying entirely on the weapon's weight and his own [Strength] stat.
Lexel was completely unimpressed.
He had grown up watching the Blade Empress, Selena. He had trained with Liu, the Pillar of the Blade. He had watched his brother Seleron split atoms with a twitch of his wrist.
Comparing Viscoff to them was like comparing a toddler with a stick to a god of war.
If Seleron was here, Lexel thought, shaking his head, I bet his skin would crawl seeing such... crude handling of a sword.
"You don't have to do this, Lexel," Anthierin whispered, stepping up beside him. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "You have no way of beating him. The stat difference... a [Level 1] cannot hurt a [Level 8]. It's math."
"Beating him?" Lexel looked at his gauntlets. He opened his palms, then slowly buried his fingers into a tight fist. The onyx scales clicked together.
"I don't think I can beat him," Lexel smiled, a cold glint in his eyes. "But killing him? I might."
"Hahaha! This is the first time an ant dared to threaten me!" Viscoff's voice bellowed across the clearing.
The commotion attracted attention. The blacksmith's hut wasn't far from the main road, and soon, curious villagers and low-level adventurers began to gather.
"Isn't that Viscoff?" one villager whispered. "I've heard he hit [Level 8] yesterday! He's a rising star in the Guild."
"Who is he fighting?" asked another, squinting at Lexel.
"I don't know," a man with a [Scan] skill shook his head. "But that kid is [Level 1]. This is... beyond bullying. It's an execution."
"Lexel, please stop!" Anthierin grabbed his arm. "Don't waste your life so stupidly!"
Lexel gently removed her hand. He looked at her, then at the crowd.
"Now, now," Lexel said, his voice carrying clearly to everyone. "You better give your husband a chance to prove himself!"
The villagers gasped. Anthierin froze, her face turning the color of a tomato.
"Die!" Viscoff roared. He didn't wait for the gossip to settle. He sprinted forward, driving his blade straight toward Lexel's chest.
Lexel raised his brows. As Viscoff moved, he saw something floating above his enemy's head.
[Lv 8] [Hp: Healthy]
Dad talked about this thing, Lexel thought. A HUD.
The sword thrust was fast—for a mortal. To Lexel, who was used to dodging Graham's discipline, it was telegraphed and sloppy.
Lexel didn't dodge. He made a perfect parry.
Clang!
He slapped the flat of the blade aside with his left gauntlet. The force of the parry threw Viscoff off balance, opening his guard wide. Lexel stepped in and delivered two quick, straight jabs to Viscoff's chest.
Thud-Thud.
What the...?! Viscoff stumbled back, gasping. He stared at Lexel in disbelief. I got countered? By a Level 1?
"Woah..." the villagers were stunned.
"That was a [Perfect Parry] skill, right?" asked a villager. "He must have a rare starter skill!"
"That's just luck," said another, shaking his head. "He's still [Level 1]."
Anthierin blinked twice. Her lips gaped. She knew blacksmithing, not fighting, but she knew that wasn't luck.
Meanwhile, Lexel tilted his head, looking at Viscoff. "What's wrong? Do you need to go to the toilet? Your stance is wide open."
"You!!" Viscoff roared, humiliated.
His body began to glow. A white outline surrounded his limbs.
"[Dash Slash]!!"
Lexel's instinct screamed at him.
This wasn't a physical movement. It was a Skill.
Lexel stepped back, trying to create distance, but it was already too late. The laws of physics bent. Viscoff didn't run; he accelerated instantly.
Slash.
Viscoff arrived before him in a blur. A slash directed diagonally across Lexel's body connected.
"Gah!"
Lexel was propelled backward by the force. Blood spurted out, adorning the air in a crimson arc, before he dropped heavily onto the ground.
Viscoff snorted, shaking the blood off his blade. He looked down at his latest victim with sneering satisfaction.
"See! It's already over," said an onlooker.
"The gap is too big," another villager shook his head. "A [Level 1] against a [Level 8]. Stats don't lie."
"Why would Anthierin choose him as her husband? What a dumb choice," muttered another.
"That's enough, Viscoff!" Anthierin shouted, rushing forward. "You can get the discount! Just stop!"
"Thank you," Viscoff grinned. "But right now... I need to kill him."
"What?! You don't need to do that!"
"He threatened to kill me," Viscoff said, his eyes cold. "It's only fair for me to do so! It's the law of the wild."
"Tch!"
The sound came from the ground.
"Hmm?" Viscoff and Anthierin looked at where the sound came from.
Lexel was getting up. Blood soaked his chest, staining his skin, but his movements were steady. He wiped his mouth with the back of his gauntlet.
"You know," Lexel said, wincing as he stood straight. "My ass hurts more than that blade."
He glared at Anthierin. "Thanks to my lovely wife, of course. The wound she left me kept me awake."
The world froze for a moment. The villagers exchanged scandalous looks.
"S-So you want to die the hard way, eh?" Viscoff shouted, his face twisting in rage. "So be it!"
He prepared another [Dash Slash].
Lexel took a breath.
Level 8. That's the problem.
Lexel analyzed the situation calmly. His stats must be naturally higher than mine. He is faster because of the System. But he is predictable. That's his weakness. If he were a polished swordsman like Master Liu, I wouldn't stand a chance. And that [Dash Slash] is too fast for me to dodge.
He looked at Viscoff.
Yet... he is not the only one with a skill.
Lexel smirked, focusing on his intent.
[Will of Torga]
His exclusive skill activated.
Viscoff charged.
Lexel looked at the emerging text above Viscoff's head.
[̶𝙻̶𝚟̶𝟾̶]̶ [Lv 1] [Status: Will of Torga]
The white outline around Viscoff flickered and dimmed. His speed... normalized.
What's going on? I'm... slower? he thought as his limbs moved slower.
10....
Viscoff thrust his sword. It was slow. Clumsy. Lexel moved in. He countered the sword easily, slapping it aside.
9...
Viscoff stumbled, confused by his sudden lack of speed. Lexel ducked under a wild swing and threw twin jabs at his abs. Thud-Thud. This time, the impact was heavy. Viscoff coughed bile.
8...
Lexel grabbed Viscoff's wrist. He twisted. Snap. Lexel dismantled the weapon out of Viscoff's hand by breaking his elbow. The sword fell to the dirt.
7...
Viscoff screamed. Lexel stepped close, keeping the enemy in his range. He clawed his fingers into both of Viscoff's ribs, pushing deep before crushing inward. He pulled them out, his gauntlets wet with red.
6...
Viscoff tried to punch back in desperation. Lexel used a charged palm to push the attack away, but the same hand immediately caught Viscoff's arm and pulled him back in, meeting him with a brutal shoulder slam to the chest.
5...
Viscoff stumbled back, his eyes rolling back, his breath wheezing. Lexel swept Viscoff's heel. As the man fell, Lexel's right hand shot out, catching him by the throat mid-air.
Crack.
It was a sound that everybody could hear. Crisp. Final.
It was the end of the round.
Viscoff's body went limp. Lexel dropped him.
Lexel stood up, panting slightly. He stood there, not just as a [Level 1], but as someone who had just done the impossible.
[Quest Complete]