Chapter 12: The Threshold of Power.
"Where is he?!" the lead man barked, his voice echoing sharply against the tarped walls of the tent as he stepped fully into the small living space.
His eyes darted around the interior, scanning the sparsely furnished area for any sign of his target.
' Did one of those guys cause some trouble already?' Spencer thought to himself.
Spencer, who had been sitting upright on the edge of his cot, didn't move an inch, his expression remaining remarkably placid as he met the man's aggressive gaze.
"Where is who, exactly?" he questioned, his voice carrying a tone of genuine, mild curiosity.
"I'm talking about that ugly-faced brute! You'll do well to tell us where that bastard's stuff is right now, kid," the man sneered, taking another heavy step forward.
The two associates following closely behind him fanned out, their shadows stretching across the dirt floor to flank him.
They clearly expected the "youngster" before them to stammer or point toward the scarred man's belongings in a fit of terror, but Spencer merely let out a helpless sigh.
"Might I know why you kind gentlemen are looking for his specific belongings?" Spencer spoke in a calm, measured tone, making a conscious effort to sound polite and accommodating rather than offensive or defensive.
He kept his hands visible and relaxed, projecting an aura of non-threatening civility that seemed to baffle the trio for a split second.
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"Is this fool serious right now?" the leading man asked, gesturing vaguely toward Spencer while turning his head back to chuckle at his associates.
His laughter sounded dry, filled with a mockery that lacked any real humor, serving only to reinforce his perceived dominance over the situation.
"Looks like you really don't understand what's about to happen here, boy." He added.
"Oh no, I believe I understand the situation very much," Spencer replied, offering a light, almost pleasant smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You kind gentlemen are looking to vandalize or perhaps liberate the property of a tent-mate of mine while he is conveniently away."
He paused for a moment, his gaze shifting briefly to the bed the scarred man had claimed earlier. "Normally, I wouldn't have much to say on the matter, but since my roommates all technically left their things in my care when they stepped out, I'm afraid I simply can't let you do that. It would be a bit of a blow to my professional integrity, don't you think?"
"I'd really appreciate it if you three left now and perhaps returned later when the person you're looking for is actually back to defend his own honor. That sounds like a fair compromise, alright?" Spencer rubbed the back of his neck, looking rather awkward and sheepish as if he were genuinely embarrassed to be inconveniencing them with his refusal.
In truth, the scarred man had certainly rubbed Spencer the wrong way earlier with his blatant disrespect and his theft of the better bed, but Spencer wasn't hung up on that. This was a military camp not some daycare, here, if someone wanted something, they had to prove they deserved it, it was the natural law of things, and he was sure the ugly bastard was simply following along.
He could tell through his brief interaction that the man didn't necessarily hate him as an individual; rather, he hated the position Spencer represented.
The brute was a commoner who had likely spent his entire life being looked down upon by the very class Spencer belonged to, and that kind of resentment was understandable, even if it was misplaced.
It would leave an incredibly foul taste in Spencer's mouth to sit idly by and let these vultures pick through a man's life just because he wasn't there to stop them, especially when Spencer had indirectly taken up the duty to watch over the place by remaining behind.
It wasn't uncommon for the rank-and-file to dislike nobles, and Spencer couldn't exactly blame them.
His short time spent at the Luminous estate had been a massive eye-opener regarding just how entitled and insufferable the aristocracy could be.
If he wanted to be a different kind of power in this world, he couldn't start by being the coward who let his own roommates get robbed.
"This fool really doesn't know what's good for him," the leader muttered, his face reddening with a mix of confusion and mounting rage.
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"I said you should get out of our way, and you actually think it's okay for you to try and stop us?" the man growled, his fists clenching at his sides.
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"These new guys really don't know how things work around here." another one of the trio added, spitting on the floor.
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"Could you two please get rid of this fool before I lose my patience and beat the crap out of him myself?" the front man commanded, stepping back to let his subordinates handle the "problem."
"Don't worry about it, boss."
"Leave it to us. We'll make sure he learns some manners."
Both men spoke with a confident swagger as they began walking forward toward Spencer, who watched them approach with a look that could only be described as helpless.
He looked like a lamb waiting for the slaughter, his shoulders slumped as if he were already resigning himself to a beating.
However, internally, Spencer's felt like one forced to partake in unsatisfactory work.
If the notifications he'd been receiving from these three had displayed a +1 or higher, he might have been genuinely worried about facing off against all of them at once.
A +1 indicated a Tier 1 level of power, someone who had crossed the threshold of mortal limitations.
But since all he was getting were measly +0.1s, it meant that these three, despite their scars and their bravado, were still just "mortal folk."
They were common thugs who relied on intimidation and numbers rather than actual Tiered strength.
'I've been dying to see just what the actual difference is between a Tier 1 warrior and a regular person,' Spencer thought, a dark, hidden amusement bubbling up inside him as he watched the two men close the distance.
'It looks like my wish is finally going to come true today. I almost feel sorry for these three bastards, almost...hehehe'
He remained seated for a second longer, waiting for them to get just within striking distance.
To the thugs, he was an easy target, a weakling who didn't even have the sense to stand up. To Spencer, they were the perfect test subjects for his new, intoxicating strength.