Dark Fantasy: Magical Eye Knight – Chapter 21

Chapter 21: The Unquenchable Night of the City

TL: Potato-tan

Proofreader: Asianpotato

What the hell was Thunder Warrior? Russell slowly watched the approaching men. The man who pulled Shasha tightly pulled her towards Russell.

Shasha looked between Russell and the mercenaries, her face pale. Russell could see her arms turning red because of the way he was gripping them.

The man who had brought Shasha forward thrust his face close to Russell’s. He had a face that resembled a badly kneaded lump of dough that had somehow sprouted rudimentary features. He grinned, revealing yellow teeth. His breath was awful.

“You know what, you little sh*t? You know how to drink alcohol. Don’t you have hands or feet? Are you disabled? And what the hell is wrong with your eyes? What kind of f*cked up purple is that?”

The mercenary named Delson started to speak, but his words became slower and slower as he looked at Russell. Soon, his face had gone slack.

The mercenaries who had been chuckling behind him looked confused when his voice trailed off. However, Delson’s bulk blocked their view of Russell’s actions.

Delson let go of Shasha’s wrist and suddenly pulled a dagger from his belt. Shasha screamed. The mercenaries behind him gasped.

“Delson!”

“What the hell are you doing? Stop!”

“Why is he suddenly doing this?”

Naturally, the city forbade violence, robbery, and murder. If the guards or the police caught them, they would confiscate their belongings and throw them into jail. Should they encounter misfortune, they would face immediate execution. Even mercenaries who had a fair amount of wealth or backing would rather avoid trouble.

Delson’s face was blank as a mannequin’s as he lunged at Russell with the dagger. The other mercenaries tried to reach out and grab him, but they were a little too far away.

Russell’s senses accelerated. The normal flow of time seemed to slow down a little. He could see Delson stabbing at him in slow motion, like he was moving through water, and the mercenaries behind him reaching out with wide eyes and slack jaws. The customers, who had stood up to watch, stood frozen in mid-movement, clutching their heads or holding up their hands.

Russell was about to move through the slowed-down time when he paused, surprised by what he saw. Shasha, whom Delson had dropped, had thrown herself in front of him.

She extended her arms, seemingly attempting to embrace Russell. She could face a stab in the back if she continued to approach, yet her lack of concern was evident.

Russell stared at Shasha, his eyes slightly dazed. There was not a hint of hesitation on her face. Her expression was one of pure determination. She was going to protect him.

Russell smiled slightly as he looked into those resolute eyes.

He stood up and gently reached out. He guided Shasha to the chair she had been on and sat her down. Then he turned around and grabbed Delson by the wrist as he came at him, still holding the dagger. He twisted it, driving it straight into the man’s heart. Time sped back up to normal.

“Ugh! Hrk.”

Delson let out a strangled cry as his own dagger pierced his heart. Delson appeared perplexed, seemingly unsure of the reason for his dagger’s presence in his chest. Delson looked up at Russell, who was standing right in front of him, swaying slightly.

“W, What the hell? What, what did you do?”

Delson managed to utter those few words before his legs gave out and he collapsed backwards. In his dim vision, the only thing he could see were two eyes burning with purple fire. And then even that disappeared, and darkness enveloped him.

“What, What the hell, Delson?”

Delson’s mercenary guards looked on as he fell dead with a dagger through his heart. They saw Russell standing before him. The other patrons, their vision blurring, looked between Russell and Delson, who’d stabbed himself with his own dagger.

“The whelp! How dare he! Delson?”

The hot-blooded ones drew their weapons upon the death of their comrade. They charged.

Those seated nearby screamed and scrambled back. Some ran for the exits of the inn. Tables and chairs overturned, and platters of food and drinks crashed to the floor. What a waste.

“Die, you son of a bitch!”

“Uwaaaaah!”

Berserk mercenaries were charged. Their minds were devoid of thoughts of the city, the guards, the prison, the hangman’s noose, or the executioner. They knew only to kill the tall one. And Russell responded to that killing intent.

He made a fist with only his index and middle fingers extended, and he moved naturally between the mercenaries, who were swinging their swords and axes wildly. It was hard to believe, considering his large frame, but Russell did it.

Like a salmon swimming against the current, he slipped past the mercenaries, one after another. With each passing moment, Russell’s fist, glowing a faint blue, struck and pierced the bodies of one mercenary after another.

Lexi, still sleeping at the table with a muffled snore; Evelyn, propping her chin in the crook of her elbow; and Shasha, who covered her mouth with both hands, watched that graceful figure without taking their eyes off him.

Russell dodged or shrugged off five men’s attacks and escaped to the other side. The electric glow that crackled from the tips of his index and middle fingers flickered and died.

Clang! Thud! Crash!

With a clatter, the rigid mercenaries’ weapons dropped to the floor.

“Kuh, kuh, kuh!”

“Hih, hih, hih!”

“Keh, keh, keh.”

Their mouths foamed, and their eyes rolled back in their heads like epileptics. The lightning coursing through their bodies sent spasms through their muscles.

Extreme pain wracked their bodies as they involuntarily flexed and contracted, but their vocal cords were also paralyzed, rendering them unable to scream properly.

“Stop this at once!”

At that moment, guards in chainmail, alerted by someone, kicked open the front door of the inn and rushed into the dining room, brandishing their spears.

The one in front, who appeared to be their leader, was the only one with a sword at his waist. His left shoulder and chest were adorned with a blue epaulet. He spoke in a commanding voice.

“We’ve received a report of violence and murder within the Breezy Winds of Lanshmoore Inn. All armed individuals, drop your weapons and raise your hands!”

‘How quick.’ Russell shrugged, raised, and lowered his hands. He hadn’t been holding a weapon in the first place.

The man with the blue epaulet looked momentarily confused. He could tell that the man lying dead on the floor with a dagger through his heart was the murder victim. The tall, unarmed man standing there was probably the killer.

But why were his supposed comrades also lying on the floor, twitching like insects? Why were they drooling and rolling their eyes? The man looked at Russell, who was standing alone, lost in thought.

“Did you do this?”

Russell was about to respond when Shasha, who had been sitting, suddenly stood in front of him.

“Ru, no, he saved me! That dead guy just touched me, and so, so.”

‘Ah, I see what’s going on.’ The man with the blue epaulet sighed. It was something the dirty mercenaries did every day. But they’d finally met their match.

“Procedure is procedure. What about them?”

When asked if they were alive, Russell nodded.

“They’re still breathing.”

“That’s good. Was it self-defense?”

At the blue-epaulet man’s question, affirmations came from here and there. They were from the other patrons, who had kept their distance.

They approached as if it were their business and spoke out of turn, saying that the ugly man had harassed the waitress and then suddenly pulled out a dagger and swung it around, and that the tall man with black hair had killed the mercenary and taken down the others who charged at him with a single blow.

Perhaps because the things they had just witnessed had left a deep impression on them, the number of mercenaries who had fallen kept increasing, from six to dozens, as they exaggerated their story. The blue-epaulet man, who had been listening in silence, grimaced and shouted.

“Stop, stop! I get it. But this is still a murder that took place in Calisden, and the man must follow due process. So. . . What? What did you say?”

The man with the blue epaulet suddenly started muttering to himself, his face a picture of confusion. Only Russell, seeing one of the guards’ lips moving slightly, realized that it was magic.

It seemed that there was a member of the guards who’d infiltrated them without revealing their identity as a wizard. Whoever thought of it was quite clever.

To Russell’s eyes, a stream of mana was visible, flowing from the mouth of the man with the blue epaulet to his ear. If he concentrated a little more, he would be able to understand its meaning, but he didn’t bother.

The man with the blue epaulet widened his eyes as if he had heard something, and then he looked at Russell. To be precise, look at his black hair and purple eyes. He approached quietly and inquired.

“Are you, by any chance, Russell-nim?”

Russell nodded. The man with the blue epaulet looked surprised and bowed his head deeply. The eyes of the others widened.

“My apologies! The city’s laws will punish these mercenaries. We will also provide appropriate compensation for the Breezy Winds of Lanshmoore Inn. Let’s go!”

And with that, they left the inn as quickly as the wind, carrying with them the body and the five mercenaries who were still twitching on the floor. The remaining people could only look back and forth between themselves and Russell.

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

The quick-moving staff, having fled to the kitchen, quickly restored the dining room to order. The customers went back to laughing and chatting, eating the food, and drinking the alcohol on their tables.

Russell returned to his table, and Shasha approached him with a full mug of ale. The innkeeper was with her. Russell smiled and took the wooden mug.

“Thank you.”

“. . .Yes.”

Shasha said only one word and then ran back to the kitchen. Her reddened ears were visible. The innkeeper watched her go, then bowed to Russell in gratitude.

“Thank you, warrior.”

“What for? I only ordered a drink.”

“For protecting my niece.”

Russell spilled a little bit of ale on his chest. With a dumbfounded expression, he looked at Shasha, who had disappeared into the kitchen, and then at the man in front of him.

“You’re her uncle?”

“I’m ashamed to admit it, but yes. I am her incompetent uncle.”

Russell’s face became sullen for some reason. He dismissed the innkeeper, who was still trying to thank him. Lexi, who had woken up at some point, spoke to him with a mischievous expression.

“What? Does your conscience bother you?”

“. . .I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, dear. Humans are so good at lying. Never mind. Evelyn, let’s go upstairs and sleep.”

“Why are you only talking to me? Whatever. I can sleep by myself.”

“Aw, why not?”

‘When did they become so close?’ The two of them went upstairs together, leaving Russell alone at the table. Russell didn’t mind and simply drank his ale.

Then, realizing that he had forgotten to inquire about the dragon due to the recent events, he glanced up at the stairs leading to the upper floor, only to find that the red-haired witch and the white-haired dark elf had already made their way upstairs.

Russell had no choice but to think back to what he had done earlier.

In this other world, where a force known as qi or mana flowed through the atmosphere, it was natural that techniques to utilize it would develop. Of course, the foundation of these techniques was the physical body.

Meridians, also known as qi channels, were the channels through which this mana, or qi, flowed through the body. On the distant eastern continent, people referred to these channels as meridians, whereas on this continent, they were known as mana channels.

In any case, since humans do not have innate magical organs, they had to have the talent to awaken to magic in order to manipulate it. Those with skill could awaken to mana within a month or a few months, but those without talent could not even guess at it after several years.

And once they had awakened to the sensation of mana, they would go through a process of gathering and circulating it within their bodies using secret techniques passed down through their families. This circulation took place in the mana channels.

What Russell had just done to the mercenaries was based on the concept of pressure points that he had read about in martial arts novels in his previous life. The mana channels also had certain points where the energy would gather, like stations or rest stops, and if you concentrated mana there and stabbed it, the body would react differently depending on the strength and location of the attack.

However, in this world, warriors all wore protective gear, whether it was leather or chain mail, which was very effective at protecting them. This was only natural, as the forests, mountains, deserts, and plains were filled with monsters that could easily tear through the soft skin of humans. As a result, techniques like pressure points did not exist.

However, Russell had been fascinated by such techniques ever since he was born in this other world and realized that he had a talent for magic and could manipulate it. Despite his inability to accomplish anything significant with them,

As expected, pressure points are not very useful in this world. At best, they could delay bleeding in a body part, put someone to sleep, or knock them out without using drugs or violence. Magic already possesses the ability to accomplish those tasks.

His only real achievement was that he had gained enough control over his mana to be able to draw it out into a thin thread, like a sewing needle.

But when he had awakened to the power of the thunderbolt from Karugon earlier today, he had thought of a different possibility, and it had worked.

Human nerves work by sending electrical signals to stimulate muscles. That was why Russell had been able to knock out the mercenaries like fish out of water with a single electric shock from his fingertip.

He had stabbed the crook of the arm, the armpit, and the hollow of the throat, areas not shielded by armor, but that was sufficient.

The electricity he had stabbed them with continued to follow Russell’s will, rampaging through the mercenaries’ bodies, so it was only natural that they would collapse like wooden blocks.

Of course, it wouldn’t be difficult to create the same effect with a few bolts of lightning magic. But the important thing was the surprise factor. No one would expect Russell to concentrate electricity in his fingertips and stab them with it. And since it didn’t produce any bright light or loud noises, it would be difficult to figure out his technique.

Russell finished his reminiscing and touched his index finger and thumb together. A blue electrical shape stretched out between his fingers, like a long thread.

When he touched his other fingers to his thumb, the number of electrical threads increased. Russell’s hand soon connected five electrical threads, creating an electrical sphere at their center.

Any wizard would have been amazed by the control of mana that he displayed, but unfortunately, there were no magic users around Russell. So, he was the only one who could see his skill.

He played with it for a while and then turned it off when he saw more customers entering the dining room.

The dining room was now packed with people compared to before. They had come in to see what was going on after the guards had entered the Breezy Winds of Lanshmoore Inn and left with only a bunch of slumped mercenaries.

When they asked what had happened, the customers who had been there first told them about the incident that had just occurred in great detail, laughing as they did so.

Then a few of them approached Russell and asked him if it was true, and Russell, who was getting annoyed, flicked a gold coin at each of them to buy them a drink. The people drank their alcohol and sang songs without showing any displeasure.

The noise level was getting louder and louder, but it didn’t bother Russell. It was just the sound of people living their lives.

Russell sat quietly and drank his ale. The dining room was so full of people that there wasn’t a single seat left, but the new customers didn’t mind.

Shopkeepers and staff who had finished their hard day’s work, as well as farmers with flushed faces, drank alcohol.

A blushing maiden climbed onto a table and sang a hum.

The staff, engrossed in the atmosphere, couldn’t resist the offered drinks and consumed them all at once, creating a cheerful atmosphere that delighted both customers and staff.

When people with instruments such as guitars and harps stood in the middle of the dining room, they cheered. The musicians sang songs about monsters and valiant soldiers in clear voices.

“Oh, look at the horde of monsters overturning the plains🎵. My father and son aim their spears at them. The monsters’ blood stains our sweat! They fall and die without a pause. Oh, look! The Thunderbolt Warrior, holding a thunderbolt in the sky, reaches out his thunderbolt! The black giant bows his head and falls🎵.”

‘I think that’s about me.’

Russell enjoyed the song. The musicians, who had collected coins by passing around a hat, stepped back, and another musician appeared to sing a song. Russell just sat near the fireplace and watched the people.

It was a lively party that he could never have dreamed of in his weak body in his previous life, and he liked it very much. The lights of the city and the inn didn’t seem to want to go out, even as the night grew deeper.

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