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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Prøks]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
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Chapter 1: The Mad Dog of the Underworld
There are some things in life that cannot be changed from the moment you're born. No matter how talented you are or how fiercely you live, some things remain immutable.
What use is the competence of a man born to penniless parents in the slums?
At best, he'll die a meaningless death as a blade-for-hire in the Underworld or he might become a disposable weapon for those born into nobility.
I could live with that. That's the way the world was meant to be.
But if they insist on spitting on that blade and trying to break it...
"That won't do."
I am a discarded blade.
* * *
-The city air will make you free.
This was the proverb that convinced a serf couple to flee their remote rural fief, where they lived treating a tiny plot of land as their entire world.
Instead of the freedom they sought, the city air brought my parents a terrible plague.
Beside them lay their young son, exhausted from crying, cradled in their cold, lifeless arms as they lay collapsed from endless days and nights of toil.
"Child, where are your parents?"
"..."
"The plague always claims the poor first. Will you follow this old man?"
That shabby old man became my light. I grabbed his hand desperately like a mewling kitten clinging to a passerby's pants.
"Ouch! This one's got quite the grip."
Despite the wind and rain, the old man's warmth reached me in a shack in the slums.
"Boy, have you been sneaking off somewhere to eat something good behind my back?"
"No, sir."
Despite surviving on wormy bread and watery soup that the old man shared while going hungry himself, I somehow grew stronger than other children my age.
"Karzan, come sit here."
Though he was a common man, he taught me how to write letters by drawing in the dirt with tree branches and shared wisdom about surviving in this world.
I loved listening to his stories. I would fall asleep imagining foods I'd never tasted, places I'd never been and the people I'd never met - there were always exciting adventures waiting.
Looking back now, what kind of life did the old man live? Even as a child, I thought he must have been someone who had experienced all sorts of hardships.
But he never told me about the things I really wanted to know.
"Karzan, I'm sorry. Our food won't be much today."
"I'm used to being hungry, it's nothing."
Children who grow up poor tend to mature early. Even at a young age, I tried my best to pull my own weight.
I knew better than anyone that it would be shameless to act spoiled.
If it weren't for the old man who took me in despite having no obligation or connection to me, my life would have ended as just another orphan's corpse and grew cold without even a place to be buried.
"Karzan, were you fighting again?"
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what? I know well enough that you don't throw the first punch."
The old man would show his missing front teeth as he smiled.
"Well, well. Who did you inherit such fighting skills from? How many were there this time?"
"Jack, that bastard brought five older boys to gang up on me."
"Ha! You're the king of this alley, aren't you?"
I can barely remember ever being scolded by the old man.
However, he often had one request for me.
"Karzan, live with honor. Poverty and illiteracy are challenges, not curses. True shame lies in forsaking your humanity."
The old man was the only person who treated me as a human being.
"Don't let your struggles consume you. As I offered you shelter, be willing to offer a helping hand to those facing similar hardships. Your simple act of kindness can be a beacon of hope to others."
Those words became a sort of spell for me. In life's most cowardly moments, I would think of the old man.
Damn it. I couldn't become a man who would shame the old man. After all, I would have died starving in the streets if it weren't for his light.
"But in the winter of my eleventh year, my childhood, the most impoverished yet most peaceful chapter of my life came to an abrupt end."
"Karzan, I wish I could have given you more. A life filled with good food and beautiful clothes, but it was beyond my reach..."
In the unusually cold winter, I buried the old man's stiff body on a nameless mountain.
After digging through the frozen ground until my hands were covered in blood, I stuck the shovel in as a makeshift gravestone and...
I wept like the most pathetic man in the world.
I became an orphan again and lived on the streets doing all sorts of odd jobs.
"Karzan! I got a loaf of bread today. Let's share!"
"Big brother Karzan, our brother got beaten up somewhere but won't tell us where."
I was born with natural leadership qualities. People naturally started following me. Orphans, vagrants, pickpockets, drunkards' sons, gamblers' daughters... every one of them had a pitiful story.
They were foolish ones who would approach me with smiles no matter how coldly I treated them.
From kids I'd saved from being beaten by adults to those who'd get beaten again the next day after I helped them or those who followed my words absolutely despite their nasty temperaments - there were many little ones trailing after me.
“Please stop bothering me and get the fuck out.”
"But when we're with Karzan, we don't get beaten up for no reason."
"Dad said he'd kill me if I came home when he’s drunk again."
"Oh? My mom said she'd pull all my hair out."
"Lucky you. She's nicer than my dad."
They were mostly pathetic and unnecessarily bright-eyed kids who would give you bad dreams if you left them alone.
So by the time my voice started changing and my Adam's apple showed, I decided to gather these kids with nowhere to go under my name and protect them.
That was the moment a back alley orphan dove into the black sea of the Underworld. Or in other words, you could say it was the beginning of a legend.
It's funny coming from my own mouth, but back in the day, everyone in the area knew the name ‘Mad Dog Karzan.’
The story of a certain organization that identified spies based on whether or not they knew Karzan was a legendary anecdote that is still talked about today.
But...
"Fuck."
To think that very same person was now running to the ends of the earth following the moon's shadow with three knife wounds in his belly. You truly never know what life has in store.
'These bastards sure are persistent.'
As expected of the infamous black society's hunting dogs their tenacity was unmatched.
Every deep night destination I reached had ambushers lying in wait and none hesitated even as they uselessly lost their lives to my blade.
Were they that afraid of their master? Even I was intimidated by the killing intent of these pursuers who doggedly chased me as if dying while catching me or dying while failing to catch me were the same to them.
Slash!
Behind the door of the safe house I'd barely reached, three blades shot out like lightning from the ambushers. I dodged all their attacks in one motion while cutting through the black-clad men's waists.
Thump!
Even as they died, they tried to mark me with tracking incense on their bloodied hands.
I easily avoided that too while retreating, but then throwing knives came flying. I deflected five blades while doing a backflip in the air, and crushed some unlucky bastard's shoulder under my foot.
"Ugh!"
The black-clad man collapsed and clutched his broken bones while swallowing his scream. I used him as a stepping stone to land gracefully on the ground.
Right then.
"Die!"
There was a blow that flew in as if it had been waiting. It was the mysterious assassination sword of the executive who had been weighing me down from behind.
I looked straight at the trajectory of the sword that was aiming for my vital point. I changed direction twice in the air and then cut off his wrist with a single stroke.
"Arggghh!"
How pathetic. Screaming because you can't even endure the pain.
After cutting the throat of this incompetent man who had less endurance than his subordinates, I once again concealed myself in the darkness.
"He's escaping! After him!"
To think that even this expensive safe house would end up like this... It's such a sorrowful thing to have nowhere in this world to rest this body.
I looked up at the stars twinkling in the night sky and recalled that shabby shack and the old man from my childhood.
'So fucking brilliant. Damn it.'
I have lived fiercely, but my situation is now such that I have no place to rest. How is it any better than back then?
This was all because of the ‘Dark King’ and that hairless toad bastard.
'Fucking bastard. I wanted to rip his dick off. No blood, no tears, no loyalty, and no hair either.'
Anyway, I ran and jumped through alleys until my feet sweated and tried to shake off the pursuers.
The guys hiding here must not have had much skill, so I was able to easily shake them off.
"...Good."
I guess I can take a breather for now.
"Phew."
But where did I leave off?
***
There was, of course, a reason why a street orphan with no proper background could dive into the Underworld and become a legend.
While I had no extraordinary destiny, I possessed something else.
Talent.
Talent so overwhelming that no one could come close to matching it.
To be honest, from the moment I first held the sword, I knew I was a born swordsman.
Though I had never formally learned swordsmanship or any other combat technique, no renowned swordmaster, retired knight, or even giant with ogre blood could stand against me.
“Huff! Huff!... You're a born fighter, no, a born swordsman. You worthless street rat, you absorbed everything I had while fighting with me. Like a blood tree growing stronger by drinking blood..."
"Did you just copy my technique? How the hell?"
“Why? Why can’t I kill a small and weak man like you!”
Any technique I saw became mine instantly, and any movement I imagined in my mind could be perfectly executed.
My footwork was like a bird soaring through the sky, and my intuition was so extraordinarily developed that I could dodge blades aimed at my back.
I could see through my enemies' intentions plain as day, and my adaptability was always impeccable.
'You could say I'm like a phantom thief who steals others' sword techniques.'
Originally, I was a blank slate as a warrior, and I filled that pure white canvas with stolen sword techniques.
'It was a painting that had never existed in this world.'
Therefore, the sword I wielded could be called 'martial arts born from no martial arts.' Like a rootless thornbush that grows by wrapping around a rotting tree until it becomes as massive as a great tree.
A wandering swordsman once described my talent this way.
"What a waste, what a waste indeed. Had you been born into a noble or prestigious family, you would have had the talent to advance their martial arts by several levels. Or perhaps you could have become a grandmaster of a generation, creating martial arts that had never existed before."
In other words, there was no one in the Underworld of that era who could stop me.
I quickly took over the territory and grew my influence day by day.
However, the Underworld was a cold and ruthless place that doesn't tolerate upstart youngsters who don't know their place.
"Hey, are you one of Karzan's lackeys?"
One day, thugs from a rival organization caused trouble in my territory, and when one of my younger brothers stepped up, he was severely beaten and taken away.
It was an obvious trap. I knew it was their plot but I still went in alone.
"It's Karzan!"
"Boss, this bastard came alone! Hahaha!"
"So you're the crazy one I've been hearing about. Did you come alone asking to die?"
"B-big brother... I'm sorry."
The moment I saw my brother gasping for breath who was beaten to a pulp I couldn’t think straight.
"Aaargh! Monster, he's a monster!"
"Please spare me! I'm sorry, please!"
“I’ll call you Daddy! Please spare me this once! Daddy!”
My brother's lifeless body was in my arms when I returned after throwing them all into a pool of blood.
That bloodbath made me a legend of the era. The insult ‘Mad Dog’ began to be used almost like my title.
'But the problem was that their backing wasn't something to be taken lightly.'
Their parent organization was too massive and we had no proper excuse to back out.
Moreover, they were quite skilled at politics.
They practically handed over all their earnings while wagging their tails like dogs that hadn't eaten for three days, so the parent organization had to step in considering all the money they'd received.
'If we stayed put, we'd all die like dogs.'
I stormed into their leader's place to negotiate directly.
"Which little pup dares to seek Daikin?"
'Godfather Daikin' or 'Daikin the Butcher.'
He was the absolute ruler of the Underworld during that time and was usually called by honorifics and slurs filled with hatred and resentment.
"Me, Karzan."
"Ah, so you're the Mad Dog I've been hearing about lately. Have you come all the way here to confess your sins and offer your neck?"
The giant who was a head taller than the others was emanating the scent of blood and murderous intent.
“How could that be? I came here because I wanted to talk face to face.”
Instead of answering, Daikin turned around and asked.
"Who's in charge of security today?"
"M-me, Sir."
When a man who wasn't even fully sober stepped forward fearfully, Daikin cut off his head in one stroke.
"...!"
“I let it slide as long as you only embezzled the organization’s money, but how dare you neglect your duty and come reeking of alcohol in front of me? That’s a sin that must be repaid with death.”
Daikin looked down at the headless corpse and announced his crimes.
"By the way, some brat who's been playing territory games with one of my subordinate organizations dares to seek an audience with me without permission. Because of that brat who couldn’t tell the difference between heaven and earth and ran wild, I had to take the head of an executive."
Daikin threw the executive's head, which had become a chunk of dripping meat at me.
"How will you repay this?"
"My-My, how brutal. That fellow merely drank comfortably because no madman would dare attack Lord Daikin's headquarters in this area. This is truly a pity.."
"What?"
“Besides, thanks to me you got one less rotten branch, wouldn’t that actually be beneficial? Come to think of it, I should be the one being thanked.”
"You crazy bastard. How shameless."
"No need for long words. I'm here to make you an offer you can't refuse."
"Hahaha!"
Daikin burst out laughing at my shamelessness.
"Interesting. Where did such a fellow come from? Well then, let's hear what you have to say."
My gamble was successful. Instead of being executed, I was forgiven by the boss who valued my qualities and courage and ended up joining under him.
Even now, I think I was lucky. I had been prepared to either lose my wrist or my head, depending on how things went.
...And now.
"The encirclement has been broken!"
"Third squad leader is down!"
As I emerged from the cave of thoughts, I heard the screams of my pursuers cursing behind me.
"Damn it! How can you not catch one man? What kind of disgrace is this!"
Actually, it was to be expected.
Even when I was a young kid with nothing special to do, I would barge into a den where dozens of people were waiting, and I did the same thing in my twenties when I had both skills and experience.
If they thought they could overcome me with numbers, it was nothing but a midsummer night's dream.
Isn't that something to be said after being stabbed with a knife until your stomach is torn apart?
Of course, it doesn't matter. I haven't fallen, so I haven't lost yet.
* * *
The moon had descended a hand's width.
How long had I been running now?
'Ah... I'm exhausted.'
I felt increasingly dazed. Though I thought I had stopped the bleeding well enough, I had lost quite a bit of blood.
I had already exhausted my body by not being able to sleep or eat properly.
"Stop right there!"
"We'll kill you, Karzan!"
The enraged pursuers threw away even silence as they shouted furiously.
"Stop if you don't want to die!"
"If we catch you, you're dead!"
Well, they should make up their minds whether they want me to stop or run away.
"You stupid bastards. At least get your words straight."
I turned around and raised my middle finger. This was considered an extreme insult even among the dregs of the Underworld, and the response was particularly vicious.
"You son of a bitch, when we catch you, we'll give you the most painful death possible!"
"You'd better forget about dying peacefully!"
Their fury was so intense it sent chills down my spine.
What did I do so wrong? I suddenly cried out in anger.
"You little fuckers, stop chasing me already!"
"Then give that thing back, you crazy bastard!"
A man with a demonic face shouted from the front of the pursuit.
I knew his name.
'Ivan.'
As for this guy-
He was the right hand, loyal dog, faithful servant, and slave to the toad-like bastard who had put me in this state. In short, you could say he was the right hand of the Dark King's right hand man.
'What right hands do? Ugh, disgusting.'
[PR/N - Huh? What in the world is bro thinking?]
"Ivan. Is killing me really that important?"
Ivan dismissed me as if I was talking nonsense.
"Stop spouting bullshit. Return that item or I’ll skin you alive."
"Oh, so you'll let me live?"
"Well, not exactly."
"That’s why I’m running you little maggot."
“You.. Fuc–.”
I jammed my middle fingers into my ears to avoid hearing any cursing.
Where in the world was this such an unfair deal? I didn't feel like giving in easily, even if it was just because I felt wronged.
'By the way.'
I felt the small jeweled box carefully stored in my chest as I kicked off the ground with all my might.
'Is this really such an important item?'
Fine then. With the determination to die running rather than die captured, I ran toward the endless darkness of night.
"Hehehehehehe."
It reminds me of my childhood. I prayed to the night sky while laughing like a madman.
'Lord, oh Lord.'
Please let me be a righteous phantom thief today as well.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Prøks]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
Join our Discord for release updates!
https://discord.com/invite/dbdMDhzWa2
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