The Snake's Head

"Angel Pionic."
Former wastrel of the Pionic Count family.
Currently Guildmaster of the Red Bull Guild.

From a young age, he showed the greatest talent in swordsmanship among his six brothers. His childhood was incredibly happy. Every day, praise from his father and relatives showered upon him. Each day was filled with satisfaction.

Angel's misfortune began when his eldest brother turned sixteen. On his brother's sixteenth birthday, the eldest inherited everything of the Pionic family. The massive count's castle. His father's wealth. Vast lands. All belonged to his eldest brother.

Although the title of count is not hereditary, when he turned eighteen, it was said that he'd enter the palace with their father to receive the title anyway. A succession that was not a succession.

'So... that's how it was?'

Angel, who had spent his youth immersed solely in swordsmanship, was completely unaware of the family affairs.

Or perhaps he did know, but chose to ignore it, intoxicated by the sweet praise and attention.

The succession of the firstborn. The oldest son inherits everything—the old tradition of the Pionic Counts.

'Then what about me...? They said I was the best. That I was the most outstanding among the six brothers!'

No one gave Angel the same praise as before any longer. Not his family, nor relatives, nor the people of the territory—everyone only tried to get on the eldest's good side.

It was only then Angel realized. His swordsmanship, once the most talented among his six brothers, was nothing more than a child's performance.

The compliments that made him feel as if he owned the world were only responses to childish antics.

The other brothers, too, did whatever it took to curry favor with the eldest.

With nothing left to inherit from their father, they had to at least get some crumbs from the eldest.

That was when it started. Angel's behavior began to deteriorate rapidly.

The child prodigy of swordsmanship from the Pionic Count's family became the family's wastrel in just a year.

The eldest would constantly summon Angel for lectures.

Angel's mischief changed every time, but the eldest's lecturing was always the same.

'If you want to get anything out of life, you'd better get your act together. If you don't listen to me, you'll end up with nothing.'

The more the eldest lectured, the wilder Angel became.

'Who does he think he is! Why does he tell me what to do? I was better than him in swordsmanship, in history, in everything!'

Eventually, on the day Angel Pionic turned eighteen, at his coming-of-age party, after a huge fight with his eldest brother, he was cast out of the family.

* * *

"Hyat!"

Angel's heel struck the horse's flank. The horse picked up speed and galloped faster.

'Mad Dog Pablo!'

Mad Dog Pablo of the Brown Hawk Guild was rampaging, wielding his warhammer mercilessly.

Right behind him was the bald Guildmaster Calvin.

The number of attackers was just under twenty. Red Bull still had a numerical advantage.

'I'll deal with Pablo and Calvin first.'

Just then, Mad Dog Pablo locked eyes with him.

"Boss! Over there! It's the Guildmaster!"

Calvin, hearing Pablo's shout, quickly moved to stand beside him.

'It's useless! Do you think my sword, Angel's, will be stopped by the likes of you who only lurked in back alleys?'

At that moment—

"Pablo, Calvin. Keep doing what you're doing."

A kid came running straight at Angel.

"What the...? Who's this brat? Get out of the way! Unless you want to be trampled to death by horse hooves!"

He'd lived a rough life, from family wastrel, now risen to Guildmaster of a mercenary guild.

As much as possible, he'd chosen not to harm women and children.

But if a kid comes running at him with a drawn sword and eyes like he wants to devour someone, then Angel wouldn't show mercy either.

"Damn it! There's a limit to being fearless! I won't be responsible if you get trampled underfoot!"

One last warning. But the boy only sped up.

Red Bull's guild members could not handle Mad Dog Pablo and the bald Calvin.

To reduce the guild's losses, Angel needed to take care of those two as quickly as possible.

He couldn't stop just to save some boy who ran in on his own.

Besides, wasn't he rushing forward voluntarily?

'I'm just going to ride him down!'

Having made up his mind, Angel's heel struck the horse's side again.

"No hard feelings, kid."

Shwack!

The boy, now even closer, slashed both of the horse's front legs at once.

Neighhhh!

With a coarse cry, the horse tumbled, and Angel leapt from its back, landing on the ground.

"You...!"

The boy who had rolled on the ground after cutting the horse's legs stood up, dusting off his clothes.

"You're the Guildmaster, right? Your name was... Angel Pionic, wasn't it?"

Angel quickly drew his sword. Anyone who could roll across the ground and slice through both front legs of a horse in one blow was no ordinary person.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Guildmaster of the Brown Hawk Guild. Evan Dagon."

"Guildmaster?"

"That's right. I only recently took over."

'... This brat? A guildmaster?'

Angel studied Evan carefully.

Looked to be in his early teens, with a height to match.

But after running in and slicing the horse's legs so swiftly, his breathing hadn't even faltered.

The blade he carried looked crude and rough, but its length, thickness, and balance were perfectly suited to the boy's body.

Skill displayed, posture, confident voice.

Other than the small frame and youthful face, Angel's greatest threat right now wasn't Calvin or Mad Dog Pablo, but this very boy in front of him.

Snap.

Angel slid his left foot forward half a step, bringing his sword up into a battle stance.

* * *

He's not someone who should be playing mercenary guildmaster in a small city like this.

Even from the way he rode in, it was clear he was no ordinary kid.

Refined, upright carriage like someone who trained in noble swordsmanship, yet brutally rough horsemanship like a bandit.

The sneer of a rogue, but eyes like a knight.

You could guess what kind of life he'd lived just by watching him ride.

And one thing was for sure—Mad Dog Pablo and bald Calvin were no match for him.

He'd charged in with his sword drawn and cleaved through the horse's front legs in one stroke. In this, Evan's small size was an advantage.

"What are you, kid?"

"I told you. Guildmaster of Brown Hawk Guild. You, on the other hand—your skills are wasted in a place like this. You're not bad at all."

"Insolent brat!"

Swoosh!

A sharp blow. But—insufficient.

"That's not all you've got, is it? Are you going easy on me because I'm a kid?"

Angel Pionic's eyes trembled briefly.

Must be surprised how easily I dodged. A lack of mental discipline.

Mental discipline.

Not some 'Do you know the Way?' nonsense.

It's essential training for a true swordsman.

No matter how much you train your body or attune yourself to nature, if the mind is undisciplined, you can miss the chance to perform at your best in a split-second.

And missing such a moment means you're giving your opponent a chance.

Clang!

Swords collided.

He had not only agile movements but also considerable weight behind his blade.

They crossed blades several more times.

"The more I see, the more impressed I am. Want to become my subordinate? Just for a while, at least—until I enlist in the army."

The same offer he'd made to Calvin and Pablo (though that one had come after beating them into a pulp).

"Don't talk nonsense, brat. I, Angel Pionic, will never again live in someone else's shadow."

As expected, he's got a story. Now I see why he's stuck as a mercenary guildmaster in a little town despite his skills.

"So you're playing king here? Even though there are so many chances out there for you to become something greater?"

Clang!

Angel Pionic's sword grew heavier with the weight of his blows.

Well, well.

I might not be able to hold this off for much longer.

I'm still in a child's body.

Even if I've breathed in nature since birth, it's only been twelve years.

It's still a bit much to face a seasoned adult swordsman with such ripened skill.

But this isn't an arm-wrestling match.

There are countless important factors besides strength when two people are pointing swords at each other's hearts.

For instance, like this technique—

Clang.

My sword met Angel Pionic's. I locked blades, then smoothly guided his power.

My sword slid along his, following the blade down toward his hilt.

"Huh?"

Angel Pionic, startled, tried to break away with force. It was useless.

Rather than resist, I simply moved with the force, letting my sword continue to slide toward his handle.

"You little—where'd you learn such cheap tricks?"

Trying to widen the distance, Angel Pionic kicked at my stomach.

A fitting response for his level—not bad, but not great either.

I dropped my sword and struck his shin with the pommel.

"Argh!"

His shinbone, stretched out to kick me, fractured, and Angel Pionic's body staggered.

Thud.

In that moment, my blade pierced right through his shoulder.

"You lost. Angel Pionic."

"Who the hell... are you?"

"I purposely avoided your vital spots. Now, let me ask again. Want to be my subordinate?"

Ptuh, spat!

He spits bloody phlegm right in my face. Damn, that's disgusting.

"You really won't serve under anyone, not even if it kills you?"

"... Yes. That's the life I've chosen. I don't care if I die—whether it's the head of a snake or the head of a chicken, I'll remain on top. Better a spectacular death as the head of a snake than a miserable life as the tail of a dragon."

"That's a fine resolve. I like it."

Shunk.

I pulled my sword from Angel Pionic's shoulder.

And then—

Slash!

I severed his head from his body.

"I'll respect your choice. After today, you won't be the boss anymore anyway."

Whatever story he had, whatever talents led him to live out such a foolish life—I don't know.

But humans are a species prone to making foolish choices.

Huff.

I took a deep breath, then channeled internal power into my voice and shouted:
"The Guildmaster is dead! Surrender and I'll accept you as my subordinates! If you want to keep fighting, I'll make you follow your Guildmaster to the grave!"

My power-infused shout echoed loudly across the field. At the same time, the clamor of clashing weapons fell silent.

* * *

"We're going to Komus City."

Bald Calvin asked,

"The metropolis Komus? Really?"

"That's right."

"Don't tell me... are we going after Eye Tooth?"

"I see you're well-informed."

Komus City.

It's a large city east of Erium City, where the Red Bull mercenary guild was based.

With its size, the mercenary guild there is massive. The guild that dominates Komus City is called Eye Tooth.

"It won't be easy. They have over a hundred members."

Mad Dog Pablo added,

"Now it's probably over 150."

These guys...

"Well, our numbers are up too, now."

Since the battle with Red Bull, we've taken down and absorbed two more guilds—the Brown Hawk's roster now exceeds fifty.

Still, that's only a third of Eye Tooth's.

"It's not just their numbers—their guildmaster is a former military commander. Rumor is he was kicked out for insubordination, but his skills are formidable. Other guilds never pick a fight with Eye Tooth."

Mad Dog Pablo chimed in again.

"Appeared out of nowhere, unified the Komus City mercenary guilds in just three years, and grew them to over 150 members."

"Not only is he personally strong—he knows military tactics."

"That's what makes him scary. That's why the other cities don't mess with Eye Tooth."

Bald Calvin, Mad Dog Pablo. Weren't they always this talkative?

"So their guildmaster uses army tactics, you say?"

"Yes!"

"That's right."

Well, what now. I can use them too.

Not that it matters. That's not the real issue here. These guys—look at how scared they are. I thought they'd be braver than this.

Looks like they need a little more training.