Chapter 14: Chapter 13: Rupturing the White Rapture, Part 3

By the time we reached the central square, Erizora handled a lot more enemies than I thought despite the number of times she used her skills that cost HP. She had to sit out a few times when she got exhausted, though. Ren tried to maintain a distance and get effective strikes in to immediately down her enemies when she could. Even when she tried conserving her energy, she still got worn out to not be able to go on at times. Finally, Ms. Gallofree definitely showed better technique and skill with the sword than I ever would, both one-handed and two-handed, and I’m not sure how much more complicated it would be to master them with her equine lower body, so that alone made her even more impressive. She also had a lot of energy, too—perhaps, a common similarity between Centaurs and horses? —I was amazed she was only slightly out of breath when we got to our destination. I’ve defeated enough cultists to lose count from when I last checked my status, the most out of all of us from what I’ve noticed, and surprisingly, I hardly broke a sweat. I always did have enough energy to get me going for a while back home, but with these many fights in one day, I’m amazed I got this far, and so did the rest. One thing about a few cultists that stood out to me was that they were dressed differently compared to the majority wearing only robes. They looked more experienced in battles, but I managed to beat them anyways. I pilfered them of any belongings as we went by, mostly money and weapons I stashed away in my [Storage] without anyone looking and whatever potions I could get to heal the girls, especially Ren and Erizora, who have also started going through the infiltrators’ persons and bring me their belongings at one point.

The energy they had as they brought me the infiltrators’ money and weapons were like when Ren did it the first time back at the tent. They looked eager to bring me the goods and earning praises. I had to show them I could use [Storage] at one point so they know where I’m even keeping all the stuff. Ms. Gallofree noticed that and suggested we confiscate all of the infiltrators’ weaponry by that point. She didn’t seem to mind me selling all of them to some dealer later, so I went ahead and stored all of the confiscated weapons and money away for my own use while giving them the potions needed to heal wounds.

When we get to the central square, I see one of the robed cultists shouting something to someone dressed differently from the others. Like a few others I had beaten, instead of the usual robes covering the entirety of his person, his ‘uniform’ is more like one a Shaolin monk would wear with only the right half of his body exposed. Half-sleeveless top, flappy trousers, special fighting sandals, it’s all there in pure white with the same emblem on his chest like the other cultists. Aside from everyone else looking either crazed or in panic, this one has a mellow, chill air, even going so far as drinking alcohol out of a jug as he’s listening to one of his subordinates practically screaming his report.

A drunken state while wearing those clothes? If that’s what I think it is, then this may very well be our second-in-command, and I shouldn’t underestimate him.

“Graaaugh! Die, you bastard!”

Just I was thinking, one of the beefier Centaurs charges at the monk with a spear. The cultist who was yelling at the monk runs off to the side in fright while the latter stays there.

“Oi! Stop!” I exclaim while reaching out to him, but I couldn’t do it quick enough.

Just as the beefy Centaur was about to make contact, the monk drops his jug and knocks the spear out of its trajectory with his elbow, evading the attack while using the momentum to fall. One would think his drunk state caused him to lose balance and fall on accident, but no, this staggering movement was intentional as he moves his legs in a sweeping motion, somehow being able to trip one or two of the Centaur’s hooves enough to tumble forward. His momentum crashes into the stone statue at the center of the square headfirst and breaks it into many pieces. The impact must’ve been strong enough to knock him out right there.

We look to the monk who now lies there on the ground, guzzling more alcohol out of the jug.

“Quick! Get him while he’s down!” one of the humans defending the city exclaims before he and others behind him charge at the monk on the ground.

I notice Erizora, Ren, and Ms. Gallofree following the humans’ lead in my peripheral and I act quickly.

“Yipe?!”

“Ow!”

Bwooooon!

“Grk! W-What the?!”

I grabbed Erizora by her slave rag skirt to stop her, stretching the material enough of me to accidentally get a glimpse of her taut ass cheeks, realizing then I’m grabbing the panties as well and giving her one hell of an embarrassing wedgie; Ren, by her tail which probably hurt like heck for her at the speed she was going; and finally, I had to do quick thinking and use ‘Glare’ to stop Ms. Gallofree in her tracks, unfortunately causing her to trip and fall due the momentum after being ‘stunned’ mid-step.

Despite the very unusual scene and how guilty I feel making Erizora so flushed from getting caught in this situation, I try to keep my expression stern.

“Don’t get too hasty and confident! This guy isn’t as he seems!” I exclaim while watching the other guys making the first move at the monk on the ground. The monk throws the now empty jug of alcohol to the side and sweeps his feet in a circle, tripping over the first few guys attacking him before he gets right back up to a staggering fighting stance like he’s holding a shot of sake in front of him.

“Blowback Punch. Multi-Punch. Multi-Hit. *Urp.* Gonna barf. Knockback. Thrust Kick.”

With every attack coming his way, he manages to weave and block them away, despite looking off-balance, before making quick, light, and effective counterattacks. Not with just his uniquely-formed fists, but elbows, arms, legs, feet, shoulders, even his own body, he fights back like he’s really … well, drunk, but his deceptive, unpredictable movements using his whole being to fight back is this guy’s way of fighting. I’ve seen it in a few rented movies with Mom and Hyo-chan before.

And … the more I watch how this drunk monk fights, the more I see myself doing those movements, playing it all back in a video-like manner, similar to when I was learning my new ‘Slugger Style.’

All of the monk’s attackers are down and out before I realized it, they all lie there in KO status while the second-in-command staggers as he stands. He takes another jug of alcohol from somewhere and downs it … with his eyes on me.

“What in the world … is he?” Ms. Gallofree asks, now standing up and relaxed with my ‘Glare’s’ effects having worn off moments ago.

This isn’t something I can solve by flailing around like usual. “You three, take care of the cultists around us and hold our allies off from this guy. I’m taking him on next,” I say while dropping all my weapons to the ground before walking towards him. I hear one of the three try to stop me, but someone or something holds her back.

I’ve never fought a real martial arts master back home before … this day is just full of firsts.

“Why, hello, young man~,” the monk drawls. “Are you a new member of White Rapture, or are you with the demons?”

“I’m just a guy fighting for his own morals.”

“… You’re a rebellious kind of guy, are you?”

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“Are you the second-in-command leading all these cultists here?”

“Indeed, I am. Seeing as you held your allies back from attacking me, are you aware of who I am?”

“Nope. I just know how not to underestimate my opponents when I see them. I’m Jinma Kotori from the Brawler class.”

“Well, now, I guess it takes an underestimated to know one, doesn’t it? Gin, from the Advanced Class, Monk.”

“Advanced Class?”

“Surely, you know the difference between Novice and Advanced Classes, don’t you? While Brawler is where everyone begins, Mercenary, Mage, and Pugilist are a few of today’s known Novice Classes. Monk is a promoted class from Pugilist, making it an Advanced Class.”

“I see …”

“And for you to come this far while being a Brawler, you must’ve received a revelation from watching my fighting style just now, did you?”

“Revelation?” I ask before a notice screen appears in front of me.

[Congratulations! You have learned a new brawling fight style: ‘Drunken Style!’]

“Ah, there it is. You learned my ‘Drunken Style’ brawling that I created and honed in my younger days before I was even old enough to drink. Oh, this is no good, you’re a ‘Natural-Born Brawler,’ aren’t you?”

“I … am?” Come to think of it, I don’t even know what good it is having a title like ‘Natural-Born Brawler’ would do for me. The ‘Assassin’ title gave me ‘Ambush’ and did something with my ‘Stealth.’ Is there more to ‘Natural-Born Brawler’ than just a fancy label?

“Not just the scars, but I can see in your eyes that you’ve fought many battles before now … though the basest of classes, you’ll soon pose a more dangerous threat to our cause if you’re fighting for the demons.” Gin downs the rest of his second jug of alcohol before throwing it at me, of which I catch and gently set down on the ground. He staggers into his default fighting stance that is his ‘Drunken Style’ brawling. “This sucks … I’d have to get serious and kill a fellow human this time around. Haven’t done anything that dirty since my adventuring days.”

“If you’re that in grief over taking a fellow human’s life, why don’t you share that same grief for the demons and demis you guys are trying so hard to kill?”

“Oh, but I am in grief. Demis are a different matter, but demons are beings known for their chaos and disorder, handling matters through violence and aggression, it’s a wonder how the previous Demon King convinced the three kin to have a peace treaty. Now, the demons are drawing in humans like these poor souls as well as you to their side, seducing them with lust and materialistic goods. I do not wish to kill them, but merely show them a better path to enlightenment and peace. If enslavement is what it takes to rehabilitate them for the better of all, then I’ll do whatever it takes for White Rapture to achieve their goal of peace.”

“… You’re so full of shit.”

“Hm?” Gin responds with a quirked brow.

“Here’s what I think is really going on. You and the rest of White Rapture are terrified of something you don’t understand, something out of your control. You’re jumping to conclusions to what they might do and charge in like dumbasses without looking at the bigger picture. Can you really say we humans are that different from demons when it comes to ‘handling matters’ and how disorderly we are? Have you looked at yourself in a mirror recently? Saying you’re enslaving them for their own good to attain peace, you probably can’t remember the last time you were sober to be thinking up such garbage, can you?”

Gin furrows his brow.

“So, here’s what’s gonna go down,” I say before copying Gin and ready myself in the default fighting stance for the ‘Drunken Style,’ a.k.a. the drunken boxing kung-fu I’ve seen in some movies and arcade games. “You’re going to teach me all you can of your Brawling Style, and I’ll use it for my own benefits before I beat the crap out of you and all the other shitheads in your cult who’ve pissed me off tonight.”

“… Foolish, disgraceful child,” he mutters. “I’ll have you dead before you learn any of my moves, much less pose a threat to the White Rapture, and we will see who is the more terrified one.”

“I’m not afraid of a pitiful, old drunkard, that’s for sure.”

Tonk!

Our battle began the moment I kicked Gin’s jug I set down earlier right up to his face.

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