Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 008. Bandits (2)

“Puhahahahahah—!!”

Bender burst out laughing with his mouth wide open. Everyone around him looked at the scene with puzzled expressions.

It was shocking enough that some kid had called Bender a failure, but to see Bender laugh instead of getting angry? No one could make sense of it.

Ignoring the confused stares, Bender laughed for a while before wiping the corner of his eye and speaking.

“Cute. Real cute. I knew you weren’t ordinary, but this is beyond what I imagined. A way to become a god, huh? So you’re a practitioner aiming for godhood?”

“Yeah.”

Anagin answered without hesitation, as if it were nothing special.

At that, Ortega and Theros, standing beside Bender, also started laughing belatedly.

It was such an absurd statement that they thought they must have misheard.

Seeing them laugh, Anagin asked with genuine curiosity,

“Huh? Why are you laughing? Did I get something wrong?”

“No, you got it right. What’s your name?”

“Anagin.”

“Anagin, huh… Alright, Anagin. You’re not wrong. The only way for a human to become a god is through the path of a practitioner.”

“Whew~ that’s a relief. Thought I might’ve been wasting my effort.”

“But you are wasting it. Plenty of fools dream of becoming gods, but those who actually do? Barely a handful.”

“So it is possible, then.”

Bender meant it as if it were a hopeless fantasy—but Anagin took it differently.

He saw even the rarest examples as proof of possibility. All he had to do was become one of those few.

And that thought put him at ease.

He had heard from his master and from the old man that one could reach godhood through practice, but he’d always been half-doubtful. Ironically, it was hearing it from this rude thug that finally made him certain that the path he was walking was the right one.

“Mmgh…”

As his once-fuzzy plans for the future became clearer, Anagin rose from his crouched position and stretched his body.

Crack. Crackle.

The stiffness from riding the carriage melted away, and his head felt refreshed.

Just as he was about to leave, satisfied with what he had confirmed, a voice called out.

“Hey, did you even listen properly?”

It was Ortega, the youngest of Bender’s Caravan, raising his voice as usual on Bender’s behalf.

“Idiots like you are everywhere!”

“My mother always said, the one calling others idiots is usually the real idiot.”

“What?”

“I mean, you’re the idiot. Don’t get it? Guess you really are one.”

Anagin pointed both index fingers at Ortega playfully.

The tone was teasing enough to make a few bystanders chuckle.

Ortega, who had never been treated like this since joining the caravan, flushed red with anger—but Anagin didn’t care and continued.

“Besides, I don’t really mind what others say. It’s my goal, and I set it myself.”

“So that’s why you’re acting so reckless?”

Bender cut in. His voice dropped a tone, cold and heavy enough to fill the air with tension.

“What’s reckless?”

“You clearly haven’t been a practitioner for long, and yet you’re picking a fight with us.”

“Oh, that obvious?”

Anagin thought Bender meant he looked like a novice, but Bender seemed to interpret it differently.

“If that weren’t the case, you wouldn’t be provoking us like this.”

“Ah… that’s—”

He was about to say, ‘You’re misunderstanding. I just happen to have this kind of personality,’ but Bender ignored him.

“Sorry, kid, but you’re being used.”

Bender turned his gaze openly toward the City Lord.

Anagin, curious where this was going, stayed quiet and listened.

“That guy probably told you something like this: there are villains making life impossible for everyone, so help us. Do that, and you’ll be a hero saving countless lives—and of course, there’ll be a handsome reward, too.”

Oh, that was actually close, Anagin nodded.

Bender clicked his tongue.

“Just as I thought. Parasites. Can’t do a damn thing on their own, not surprising at all.”

A moment ago, Bender had at least pretended to be respectful, calling him City Lord.

Now, he flipped his tone like a coin, showing open contempt and disgust.

If anyone else had said it, it might have been irritating at best, but coming from a Gigant like Bender, the City Lord and even the citizens around them grew pale with fear.

The thought of Bender going on a rampage again was terrifying beyond imagination.

But Anagin, unfazed, raised a fundamental question.

“That’s a funny thing to hear from someone who steals goods with brute force, don’t you think?”

His tone was light, completely out of place amid the rising tension.

Anagin scratched his head as if genuinely confused and continued,

“I mean, sure, I know the City Lord plays his little mind games, but isn’t it even funnier for someone who bullies people into lowering prices with strength to talk like that? Am I the weird one here?”

He turned toward the old man beside him, but the elder, not wanting to get dragged into this mess, remained silent.

An awkward silence followed before Bender finally spoke to defend himself.

“A merchant is one who seeks profit. Bargaining to lower a price is a perfectly natural act.”

“We agreed to call that robbery, old man. Those two things aren’t the same.”

“They are. Lying, exploiting your monopoly, squeezing people dry—that’s what merchants do.”

“That’s what swindlers do, and bastards at that. Merchants might be greedy, but at least they trade within reason, don’t they? Hey, what do you say?”

Anagin called out to the City Lord Rio, who stood stiff as a wooden statue.

“So, which one are you? A robber? A swindler? Or just a bastard?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Rio stammered for a moment before regaining composure.

“…I may be calculating, but I’m neither a robber, nor a swindler, nor a bastard.”

“You heard him.”

Anagin pointed both index fingers at Bender, relaying Rio’s words as if to say, So the robber, swindler, and bastard here is you.

Bender’s jaw tightened.

“So what, you wanna take me on?”

The air tensed, sharp enough to snap.

Anagin shook his head.

“Nah, nothing like that. You told me something useful, so I’ll let it go. I’m nice like that.”

“……”

“At first, I thought about loosening up my stiff limbs by beating you down, but it doesn’t seem worth the trouble. Sure, this city looks like it’s had a rough time, but honestly? That’s none of my business.”

Anagin’s eyes swept over the city as he spoke like a detached observer. And indeed, it wasn’t his business. He’d only been here for what? A couple of hours? Whatever happened to these people had nothing to do with him.

The interspatial bag did catch his eye, but… it wasn’t worth fighting over.

If he ever truly needed it, he could always take it later.

“So what I’m saying is, I’ll be over there in the shade for a bit. Once I get paid, I’ll leave. You guys just go mind your own business.”

He pointed toward a shaded spot where he could avoid the sun and started walking that way. But then Bender called out,

“You’re awfully confident, aren’t you? Got something to back that up?”

Anagin stopped and turned his head.

“Confident about what?”

“I’m asking if, as a practitioner, you’ve got a plan or some backing.”

“Hmm? Not really. Plans are made as you go, and I don’t need any backing.”

“No need for backing?”

Bender let out a disbelieving laugh. Because for a practitioner, the very first step was to gain backing.

To be chosen by a god and receive their blessing was why countless practitioners wandered endlessly, explored the unknown, fought life-risking battles, and dedicated all glory to their god.

A practitioner without divine blessing couldn’t even be considered a true practitioner.

That was exactly why Bender was doing something as unfitting as running a merchant caravan.

“You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”

Anagin’s tone turned calm but sharp, like he was peeling away Bender’s patience one layer at a time.

“What do you mean, I wouldn’t understand?”

“I mean exactly that. You, who beg before your god, wouldn’t understand my way of thinking.”

“Beg…?”

Anagin nodded.

“Yeah, beg. You’re shaking people down so you can offer sacrifices to your god, right? Hermes?”

Hermes.

The god of thieves, travelers, merchants, magic, and spirits.

Not one of the grand gods of kings, war, sea, or death, but perhaps the most popular among practitioners.

‘According to my master.’

Unlike the other gods, who were picky and vague about whom they chose, Hermes would grant blessings to those who offered him enough tributes.

Because of this, practitioners obsessed with money were often those who had been chosen by or were trying to be chosen by Hermes.

Bender couldn’t refute it. Anagin had hit the mark perfectly.

“Not that I’m judging you for it… Honestly, I don’t care. My point is, I have no intention of doing the same. Becoming a god through another god’s blessing, that just doesn’t sit right with my sense of aesthetics.”

Satisfied with his answer and thinking he’d said his piece, Anagin turned to leave again, but someone was already moving fast behind him.

He turned his head and saw Theros, the burly man standing beside Bender, swinging down a massive axe.

“You should at least pay before you leave!”

Whoosh!

KWA-BOOM!

The ground quaked violently.

Theros’s axe slammed into the earth, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the dirt from the point of impact.

“Gigant?”

Anagin muttered, startled by the sheer force behind the blow he’d narrowly dodged.

“What, you thought there was only one Gigant in the group?!”

Ortega closed in, twin daggers flashing in both hands. His legs were fast, but his arms were even faster.

Swish—swish—!

He slashed like a gust of wind, aiming to shred Anagin into pieces. Or at least, that was his intent.

Clack.

Anagin deflected every strike with perfect precision, his blade moving so fast it seemed to multiply.

The ambush failed. Ortega’s form wavered for just a second—an opening. Anagin drew the curved blade at his hip and swung it toward him.

“Not so fast.”

Bender’s sword flashed at the perfect moment.

It came within a hair’s breadth, just close enough to cut.

Anagin withdrew his slash and intercepted Bender’s incoming strike instead.

At the instant their blades met, Ortega smirked.

Shhk!

Bender’s sword carved a smooth horizontal line through the air and sliced clean through Anagin’s blade as if cutting a carrot.

That was why Ortega had smiled.

He had known this would happen, knew Bender’s sword would cleave through the other man’s weapon with ease.

But Anagin, noticing that sly grin, felt something was off and instinctively pulled back just in time.

A thin line of blood trickled down his cheek.

“…What the hell is that?”

He wiped away the blood. The wound closed instantly.

It had been the same steel, yet only his sword was sliced apart. Worse, the enemy blade had extended mid-swing.

“Heh. You don’t even know what this is?”

Bender raised the long blade. Upon closer look, it shimmered faintly with an eerie light. What the hell is that thing? That’s terrifying.

“You really haven’t been a practitioner for long, have you? Or maybe you’re not even a proper one yet?”

“Can’t say I know what counts as ‘proper,’ but yeah, you’re right. It’s only been about a day since I decided to become one.”

“…What?”

Bender’s voice cracked in disbelief. A day? Decided to become one?

It was absurd.

“So you’re not even a real practitioner, yet you dare lecture me?!”

“Come on, since when did time matter? It’s all about resolve. Whatever your goal is, I sure don’t want to hear lectures from some guy who begs to his god for scraps.”

“You really are a blasphemous wretch!”

Slash!

Bender swung his sword through the air.

A split second later, the old man’s carriage, standing a fair distance away, exploded into splinters. The wreck collapsed in a plume of dust.

“……”

Anagin looked at the wreckage. Inside had been the old man’s grandchildren.

He stared quietly, then said,

“…For your age, you run pretty fast.”

At the end of his gaze stood the old man, clutching his grandchildren in his arms.

In that instant, he’d sprinted forward and pulled them clear before the carriage shattered.

The two children blinked at him in dazed confusion, unable to comprehend what had just happened or how he’d saved them so quickly.

Once he confirmed they were safe, Anagin turned back to Bender.

“Hey. Do you wanna die?”

But Bender didn’t seem to hear, or maybe he just didn’t care. He kept ranting,

“How fortunate! I came here to hunt a monster, and instead, I find a blasphemer who mocks the gods! I’ll kill you and offer you as tribute to Him!”

“I mocked you, not your god. Now answer me, do you wanna die or not?”

“I’ll also be resetting our relationship with this city! I planned to bleed them dry for as long as possible… but now, they’ll pay the price for bringing in the likes of you!”

The bystanders, those unlucky enough to be caught nearby, flinched in terror. It was clear from Bender’s tone that his words weren’t just a bluff.

“Hey. Answer me. Do you wanna die or not?”

“You insolent brat! You can’t even control your Energy(Γι) properly!”

Bender’s patience finally snapped as he roared.

At his shout, Theros hefted his massive axe and charged straight toward Anagin.

“Alright then, let’s go with die.”

Seeing that, Anagin made up his mind. He hurled the broken sword in his hand straight at Bender.

It was still a weapon, even broken, so Bender instinctively swung his own blade to deflect it. That brief, reflexive motion rooted his foot for just an instant.

The trio’s coordination was shattered.

Anagin didn’t miss the opening. He surged forward, closing the distance with Theros in a blink.

Theros swung the axe in a wide arc, not to hit, but to drive Anagin into a corner.

And just as he wanted, Ortega appeared from the blind spot, throwing both daggers in a clean cross pattern.

They whistled through the air, sharp and precise.

Anagin, barehanded, snatched the scabbard from his waist and blocked them both effortlessly.

Thuck!

The daggers embedded themselves in the scabbard. Anagin gripped them, spun, and hurled the two blades straight back—piercing through Theros’s eyes.

Thunk!

The heavy sound landed like a hammer. Theros dropped without even a scream.

Ortega, enraged, drew another dagger.

Thud!

But a heartbeat faster, Anagin threw the scabbard itself, impaling Ortega right through the throat.

He gagged blood, eyes wide, and collapsed.

Bender froze.

In the instant he’d paused to deflect that flying sword, Anagin had killed both of his men.

The speed, precision, and brutality of it were unbelievable.

But Bender wasn’t afraid. He was furious.

He was furious that his two comrades were dead, but he still couldn’t conceive of the idea that he might lose.

Though they were all Gigants, there was a clear difference in level between himself and those two. He couldn’t imagine losing to someone who hadn’t even mastered Eulogia(εὐλογία), the technique that amplifies a Gigant’s power by imbuing it into objects.

“Try to block this.”

Look at that. The fool lifted Theros’s massive axe and threw it.

Impressive strength, but that was all.

Bender swung his Energy-infused sword, cleaving through the airborne axe and shattering it into fragments.

“Pathetic tricks like—urk!”

His words stopped with a choking gasp.

A searing pain tore through his throat.

Anagin had flicked a pebble from the ground with his foot, and it struck Bender square in the neck.

Right after Bender shattered the axe—precisely when his guard was open.

Caught off guard by the pain, Bender staggered, and Anagin closed in instantly, driving his fist into Bender’s face.

[Face Crusher]

CRACK!

The name of the move was almost comically literal, but the result wasn’t funny at all.

The sound like cracking wood rang out as Bender was launched backward and crashed to the ground.

Silence fell over the city.