With a timed front kick, Phane sent the shield user to the ground in a tangle of limbs and weapons. The single sword came at Phane with a thrust, but was promptly subdued with a hip toss.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” Carrick called to Phane, before turning to the candidates. “As you can see, Phane is of a different level; he’s fought ghouls in the dead city, Lizard Kings, and hognose broodmothers. As Sentinels, many times you will do the same.”

  Rook blinked, hearing what the gnome was saying, but only able to comprehend that Phane achieved the upper hand in the fight after only a minute or two of exchange, unarmed. The level of skill was painfully obvious; he wouldn’t be able to skate through Yorthon the same way he did Earth.

  He would take this path and run as far as he could with it. Gritting his teeth, he felt the weight of his inadequate power surging through him. “We have to get stronger.”

  Reina nodded in agreement. A quick glance told him she was just as impressed as he was at the performance. The other candidates seemed as impressed, dumbfounded even. All except one man, carrying a belt of small throwing knives around his waist and across his chest.

  Phane came over a few moments later, covered in wet, gritty sand. When he approached the group quickly stepped back, parting the crowd. Phane only laughed, seemingly used to the reaction. He had a thin smile pasted on his face. Rook couldn’t help but see him in a different light, one that awoke his military instinct to fix his posture and straighten his jaw.

  “How much of your power did you use, Captain?” The man with throwing knives asked.

  "I was going about fifteen percent, but I didn’t always use to be this out of shape.”

  The murmuring began once again around Rook. Fifteen percent? Even at my best shape, taking on multiple opponents would’ve wrecked me by the end. A newfound respect bloomed, setting a fire in his belly. To get better, to stop using words to get what he wants. Yorthon would require deeds and action.

  “Not too bad. Eh?” He asked Carrick while wiping his hands against his dirty knees.

  “Sloppy, come back to the Crucible and I’ll get you back to fighting shape.”

  Rook shook his head, proud to consider this man an acquaintance, a friend even. The rest of the scribe and Sentinel candidates around blinked at Phane, some with wide eyes, others slack jaws.

  “Well, don’t just stare at the man, applaud,” Rook said, with a smirk towards Reina.

  The group clapped and cheered for him, and deep appreciation and understanding twisted Rook’s face into a smile. He knew martial arts, though it’d been years, and he appreciated the effort it took to build this level of skill. To fight more than one opponent is tough, to fight four who can use magical abilities is near impossible, and the gnome called it sloppy.

  “As you can see, you don’t need magical abilities to beat those who have them; physical abilities work just as well. Phane is an excellent pyromancer; however, his Lieutenants would’ve died had he cast. Maker knows he’s seconded to Elaina Inferno, in terms of sheer power.”

  Elaina Inferno?

  “What do we do with our scribes during a battle?” The man with the knives asked, glancing over at the woman he came with.

  “Your scribe is expected to be an asset to battle, as much as you are.” He paused to look over the small crowd. “However, their main duty is to gather information about our enemies and catalog it. Once it’s done, then obviously they should help destroy the threat.”

  The knife man nodded, seemingly content with the answer.

  “Who was your Scribe, Phane?” A Maldoon woman carrying a thin katana asked.

  The guard captain blinked and swallowed, clearly caught off guard by the woman’s question. He and Carrick shared a solemn look.

  “Excellent question, next question,” Phane said, with a smile.

  Moments later, the group burst into a great deal of questions. Many about him dodging the question when Rook decided to pull the man out of the hole.

  “I think that’s probably a question best answered for those who become Initiates,” Rook spoke from his diaphragm, silencing the crowd. “We’re missing the big picture; half of us won’t be here in Ollar City after today, the other half don’t need to know the man’s secrets.”

  Command Presence- Silver Tongued Bastard Activated

  The group slowly returned to muttering agreements, planning to ask later, as if they had made it themselves. Phane and Carrick gave Rook an appreciative smile. They continued small talk for the next few hours, mostly about Carrick’s life growing up or Phane’s sister, Brianna. Rook was unable to shake himself for how strong Phane was. He beat the four seasoned Lieutenants with ease and weaponless. Instead of getting fired up like he initially did, he felt the urge to curl up in a ball.

  Quest updated: Join the sentinels.

  Join the Sentinels: 1/1

  Become an initiate: 0/1

  Rewards Experience: 600

  The weather turned sour on their walk back to Brianna’s. The darkened sky filled with patchy grey clouds and the promise of rain.

  “We should get back and game plan for tomorrow,” Rook said, with a tone of disappointment.

  “Everything okay?” Reina asked, frowning at him.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “Yeah.”

  Rook stared at the sky, letting the rain hit his face, and sighed. It wasn’t long until they returned to the Stumbling Ogre for a well-deserved meal and rest. Strike, true to his word, gave them a free round of ale. Rook didn’t mind the daily activity; in fact, he felt good having a duty again, on track to meet his grandfather’s goal of making something of himself. He just never would’ve guessed it would be in Yorthon and not on Earth. The only thing irking him now were his stats, the old mage on Earth told him that he was worthy, but in these Isekai stories Rook was used to the hero growing stronger to the point of being OP and he was not OP by any stretch of the imagination. The wool green blanket lulled him to sleep before long, and he dreamed of a pint-sized goblin whooping his ass.

  ******

  The day began with a bright ray of sunlight, pressing its way into the open window. Planning on a restful morning to replenish gear, Rook and Reina started early into the trading district. They replenished potions at a few different shops, and when Reina stopped.

  “I need to make a stop,” Reina said, pointing down the alleyways.

  “Sure.” Rook nodded, that morning they had mug after mug of water from the Stumbling Ogre. “Might as well go too,” Rook muttered to himself as he walked into the alleyway bathroom.

  Command Presence Activated.

  After a pit stop in the same alley bathroom he used before, he walked out and dried his hands on his pants. These pants are mid-quality at best. Hell, my whole outfit probably needs a replacement. He felt the fabric between his fingers and his thumb. Been a minute since we went to Jinxor’s and got armor. Lost in thought, his command presence activated, indicating he or the party was in a fight. Why the hell is my danger sense tingling? Rook jerked his head around the alleyway, looking for threats, when he saw them.

  Near the entrance of the alley, five men and a gnome stood, staring at Reina. She leaned against the wall, looking at passersby. She’s waiting for me, damn it. How does she not see them?

  One of them opened his coat towards the others, and there was a flash of metal. He thought of the duck walk, but that wasn’t a viable choice for fighting. Duck walking against a person with a weapon is akin to getting caught with your pants down in a race. Instead, he got low and crouched on the balls of his feet. To his surprise, it felt good and even natural. His sneak exploit was paying off; he smiled as he crept within conversation distance. Bandits. Stinky mofos too. Maybe a low crouch wasn’t my finest moment.

  The odor from the bandits drifted down the alley in a nauseating fashion. They smelled of old ale and moldy food. They look like every alleyway bad guy in every video game or movie ever, and they’re staring directly at Reina. She is attractive by the standard, so I can’t blame them. Maybe I’ll listen in.

  “I hear she has some low-level cub with her, not worth his weight in salt, but was spared by the Bloodstone,” one bandit said.

  Low level?

  “Shut your dirty human mouth. That’s just a rumor,” the little one hissed.

  So right now I have a gnome and a group of humans. Dammit, I wish I could identify right now. The identify skill required the caster to share the information with the party, and Reina was becoming very proficient in sharing. I don’t wanna go conking one of these bandits on the head, and I end up killing someone due to a misunderstanding. Rook took his mace out of his inventory and equipped, the long wooden handle felt good in his hands, like an extension of him. He came a long way from shaky hands and running from a giant crab. Cracking a goblin in the head with his mace was one thing; however, hitting a potentially innocent human in the back of the head with essentially a metal murder bat gave him pause. Might as well listen for a second.

  “That’s the Jax bitch. Word is she’s an enhancer. I bet she’d fetch a pretty ransom price,” one of the humans said with a dumb laugh.

  There goes the innocent human theory.

  “I bet she’d fetch more in the pleasure house as a slave,” the other responded with a snicker.

  “Stick to the plan, we follow her and she leads us inside her father’s house, then you can steal what you want,” the gnome growled. “We don’t touch the human, and we don’t supply the trades in The Waywards.”

  “Shuddup little bastard, we will do what we want. What I want to know is what a tumble with her will be like,” one of the bandits responded.

  The other bandit agreed with a series of grunts and air humping.

  “Disgraces both of you. You fools wouldn’t even get close before she pokes you with that sword. She and the other human are Sentinels, and our target is Roran.”

  “You didn’t say anything about any Sentinels,” one of the men said, his voice stammering.

  Rook heard enough. He wouldn’t let his friend get taken, and he especially wouldn’t let her suffer a fate as a slave and some rundown whorehouse. He did a quick check over the individuals. One man had a dagger out, hanging low beside his waist. The other obviously had some type of blade within his coat, and the little man didn’t have any weapons that he could see. Rook thought he possibly was a mage. Taking stock of the alley, he fished in his quiver for a handful of projectiles. Focus and don’t waste all your mana. If I get mana fatigued, I’m weaker.

  The first man, the biggest of them all, adjusted his cloak, revealing another dagger on his waist. Now or never. Rook surged his Attramancy, sending the projectile like a railgun towards the echo on the man’s head. The rock impacted him in the back of the head with a crack, sending him crashing into the man in front of him. Rook’s mana bar drained quickly, so he shot another rock, striking another man. He fell into his companions with a rock where his eye used to be.

  “That’s him from the plaza, he’s that Sentinel in training.” Three of the men bolted from the alleyway, leaving one man and one gnome.

  “What the hell!” The little one exclaimed, with a voice that was as high as his height was low. He glanced down at the fallen man and snickered. “You’re dead, you tall bastard human,” he said, pulling out a pair of brass knuckles.

  “There’s no way that you were going to try to use those on me, little man.”

  “Nobody calls me little, you ugly human,” the gnome said.

  In a small alley, the opponents would have to come at him one at a time. The first one drew a blade out of his ratty old coat. He smiled with a mouthful of missing teeth and licked the rusty blade. He actually licked the blade fucking cringey. Alright, let’s do this.