I Am the God of Games

Be that as it may, neither the young noble nor the city watchmen expected that the scrawny Mufasa who looked not much better than than the peasants, aside from some color on his face was so agile and strong.

Even in the small, narrow ruins, he was nimbly using the pillar and half-crumbled walls as cover, easily evading all attacks. The city watchmen simply could not reach him, and were running around in circles instead.

The noble youth’s face darkened even as he watched his men clumsily tried to close in on Mufasa like clowns on a troupe, only to be bamboozled and humiliated.

“Enough! I don’t have the time to play hide-and-seek!” He roared, seizing the skinny Nala with one grab while unsheathing his ornamented sword and holding it over her neck. “Stop right there or she dies!”

“Could you sink any lower? Are you even a noble?!” Mufasa cursed from overhead and frowned, half-crouching after having lightly leaped over a doorway to avoid being ambushed.

“That’s why I hate talking to filth like you.” Perhaps believing that he had won, the young noble spoke with brimming confidence. “Nobles are people like us: prestigious bloodlines, powerful and born above others! Everything you peasants have from wealth to life are ours! You should just quietly survive by earning for us, stay obedient like livestock and not give us any trouble! Why would your kind always get some dumb idea to resist meaningless like this?”

“…”

Mufasa was shocked.

He was certainly caught off guard by the young noble’s perspective.

As a former citizen of Lovinia, the royal capital of Tierra, he had gone to the Unnamed Town with Marni after staying in the Cromwell Refugee Camp for some time.

Being a peasant, he never had any dealings with the nobles and basically never wet one. Still, Tierra was itself a kingdom of wealth, and coupled with their faith in the Church of Games that kept them free from religious taxation, the citizens lived in stability and happiness, and their nobles were naturally widely respected.

But as Lovinia was reduced to a battlefield and Tierra’s fall soon after, the former citizens were displaced and led by old Vanke, Tierra’s registrar and a noble to Cromwell.

Although Mufasa did not encounter any Cromwell nobles, they had at least kept the refugees supplied every day so that they did not starve to death.

Later, as he followed old Vanke to the Unnamed Town out of trust and became a Player, he met Angora, who often mingled with the Players in spite of being a noble and Princess Leah herself, who physically mingled with fists.

Those experiences left Mufasa instinctively grouping nobles as great characters worthy of respect who would make a stand for their subjects, and he earnestly respected old Vanke and the liege Angora.

Those opinions kept Mufasa a law-abiding citizen, and he did not even resist when he was captured by the Lancaster city watch a few days ago for preaching.

And yet, the young noble he met today widened his horizons from a certain point of view, allowing him to see the dark side of nobles he had never seen because of his place in society.

“I see. I understand now.”

Mufasa said softly, hanging his head.

There wasn’t much noise in the abandoned house since it wasn’t large and because the city watchmen were trying to quietly surround Mufasa, allowing his quiet voice to be heard.

“Finally decided to surrender? Hmph, wasting so much of my time…” The young noble had expected Mufasa to give up on all resistance, only to find that he was unsheathing his exceedingly narrow blade.

“Your thoughts are completely warped. I have given up on trying to convert you.” Mufasa declared, pointing his sword at the young noble.

Feeling tricked and embarrassed, the young noble exploded and roared at the watchmen who had completely surrounded Mufasa. “Take him!”

Even so, none of them had understood what Mufasa had meant.

Perhaps they did, but they simply were not concerned.

Mufasa leapt forward from the wall, and the watchmen up front had the look of ‘Here comes my contribution’ on their faces, spreading their hands as if to catch him.

Too slow.

While it may be steady and firm to have heavy armor, but they were too slow in Mufasa’s perspective.

The light reflected from his blade flashed in an unimaginable angle, and the watchmen were cut into tiny pieces before they could react, watching as parts of their body sprinkled all over the floor.

Even the heavy armor that granted them the confidence to bully peasants as they wished was simply useless now, all of which were sliced away with their bodies with relative ease like paper!

It was only three seconds from the moment Mufasa leapt off the wall and the city watchmen dropped to the ground.

Several other watchmen—either unable to react or having their ferocity provoked—drew their short swords to attempt ambushing Mufasa from behind.

However, a single flash from his blade, and those watchmen were cut in two along with their weapons!

It was only then that the other city watchmen understood that they weren’t trying to capture some weak refugee but a demon, in the truest sense of the term.

Despite the young noble’s shock, he still noticed the unsullied edge of Mufasa’s sword.

A flash of greed appeared in his eyes.

Even if he had siphoned credits off the equipment budget of the city watch to the point that their heavy armor were only defective items, everything was ultimately made of steel.

And any weapon that could slice off those steel so easily was definitely a treasure.

Still, he wasn’t brainless and knew that only the bootlicking captain beside him could be relied upon.

One shouldn’t count on the captain’s lack of dignity, because it takes more than groveling to become captain of the city watch. After all, the mayor was not so stupid to entrust the lives of his family to some trash.

In fact, this captain named Bolt had a fine set of sword skills that make him formidable even amongst the empire’s military.

Moreover, he had spent a large amount of money bribing a priest of the Temple of Glory to tattoo a crude God of War seal over his body, and was therefore able to use qi surpassing normal fighters—he could have been a knight in certain isolated locations.

“Bolt, take him. Cripple his limbs and that sword is yours!” The young noble determinedly commanded at that very thought.