MDBC 04

Chapter 04

At the proposal, Cesare’s chewing stopped mid-bite. The brothel owner’s mention of “ruffians” was probably referring to the man who called himself Dane.

A request from the brothel owner who had taken over Domus. It didn’t sit well with him. Perhaps sensing his hesitation, the mercenary added,

“They’re paying 200,000 Baht per head. It’s just one guy anyway. Should be quick.”

Two hundred thousand Baht.

The man who called himself Dane had promised 500,000 Baht if that same target came to find him—but something about receiving payment for nothing felt unpleasant.

A straightforward transaction, like this, was far more comfortable.

Cesare idly rolled the bread in his hand before stuffing the rest into his mouth.

“Fine. Let’s go. What time are we meeting?”

At this point, he had nothing to do with Varanus anymore. The brothel owner was the client? Didn’t matter.

And that man claiming to be his master—didn’t matter either. The dead don’t come back to life. He was probably just a fraud who happened to resemble him.

With that thought, Cesare prepared for the job. He considered drinking before leaving, but decided against it.

Instead of his usual spear, he brought a wooden baton. The brothel owner had only said to incapacitate the man—not kill him.

About thirty mercenaries set off toward the Domus of Varanus, now the brothel. The moon lit their path, and a strange unease clung to him like a hangover.

As he tried to shake it off, their destination slowly came into view.

Once, he had dreamed of saving up enough money to reclaim that place. But it was a foolish dream.

Varanus no longer existed. It had fallen. That place was a graveyard. A ruin.

So it didn’t matter what happened there.

Just as he thought that and approached the Domus—

Creeeeak…

The groaning of rusted hinges echoed as the door of the Domus opened.

From inside stepped Dane.

Through his pale golden hair, sharp gold eyes gleamed with renewed intensity.

He held a wooden sword and scanned the mercenaries. After a brief silence, his voice spread through the air.

“This is the Domus of Varanus.”

His voice was loud and clear—he wasn’t shouting, yet it carried overwhelming pressure. His expression was dry, without a trace of humor, but his eyes burned fiercely.

“Anyone who trespasses on the Domus of Varanus…”

For a moment, Cesare felt their eyes meet.

“…will pay the price, no matter who they are.”

A chilling sensation crawled up Cesare’s spine. The man in front of him felt entirely different from the one he had seen during the day.

One of the mercenaries scoffed.

“The Domus of Varanus? What’s that? It’s just a brothel.”

Dane’s gaze remained calm despite the mockery.

As moonlight bathed them, a cloud drifted over the moon. The moment darkness fell, one mercenary shouted,

“Charge!”

At that signal, the mercenaries rushed in, weapons drawn. Blades flashed in the dark.

The leading man swung his sword first. Steel clashed, but only briefly. The moment Dane’s blade met it, he twisted and disarmed him.

As the man staggered, Dane grabbed his collar and pulled him in. A warhammer from behind struck the man’s shoulder instead.

“Aghhh!”

Amid screams and blood, Dane remained composed. His eyes shone like a beast’s.

Mercenaries behind him tried to attack, but he reacted as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

Crack!

Without even turning, he deflected an attack and twisted his body, stabbing his opponent in the chest. If it had been a real blade, it would have been fatal.

“He—he’s a monster!”

Nearly half of the thirty men were already down.

Groans filled the air, and the remaining fighters hesitated, their morale collapsing.

Then a low voice rang out.

“Cesare.”

At the call of his name, Cesare swallowed dryly.

“I told you.”

Dane walked forward step by step, wooden sword in hand.

“Anyone who trespasses on the Domus of Varanus—no matter who they are—will pay the price.”

In an instant, he vanished from sight.

Or it only felt that way.

Sensing the shift in air, Cesare quickly twisted aside and raised his baton.

CLANG!

Their weapons collided with a heavy thud. Cesare’s eyes widened.

‘This is manageable.’

After watching Dane earlier, he had expected a monster—but in terms of raw strength, he was ordinary.

In pure physical power, Cesare was superior. Relieved, he smirked and swung his baton.

Thud, crack!

Their exchanges rang out sharply. To any observer, it looked evenly matched.

But as the fight continued, Cesare grew uneasy.

‘Damn it… should’ve drunk.’

Without alcohol, his hands trembled. His condition only stabilized when drunk. His body swayed.

Seeing Dane, Cesare frowned.

“What are you smiling at?”

Dane was smiling—like a teacher looking at a promising child. He deflected attacks casually and spoke.

“The things I taught you are still in your sword.”

“What?”

“I taught you from when you were ten. Not much—but I made sure you never lost your center.”

Center.

Yes. That was what he had learned at Varanus.

“Cesare, I can still feel it in your attacks. Crude… but your center remains.”

Dane smiled faintly.

“Even a dead great tree retains its majesty.”

“Shut the hell up, what are you talking about?”

Center or whatever—it didn’t matter. He had already abandoned Varanus. Nothing of it should remain.

Everything had disappeared when Varanus fell.

If this man was a ghost of Varanus, then he had to be beaten down.

Cesare widened the distance and threw his baton like a spear.

The wooden weapon shot forward like an arrow. The moment Dane dodged—

Cesare vanished.

A presence appeared behind him.

A heavy fist struck.

CRACK!

Dane blocked without turning.

Then, glancing at the shattered baton, he said,

“So you can move to where your thrown weapon lands. But your body can’t withstand the strain—it breaks.”

Had he figured him out already?

Cesare was shaken but did not retreat.

He pressed forward with agility, striking with fists and feet that could crush bone.

But none of his attacks landed.

And then he realized it.

Center.

Dane’s center existed in his feet, blade, and gaze. Even when attacks came inches away, he did not waver.

He moved minimally—only what was necessary.

Cesare was stunned.

“…You’ve grown well.”

The tone carried warmth.

Meeting Dane’s eyes, Cesare froze.

He looked exactly like his master.

Kind. Gentle.

But in the next instant, Dane’s smile vanished.

“Still, there are things that must be corrected.”

His attack came.

A direct charge. Minimal power, optimal trajectory. Elegant and sharp.

As Cesare barely dodged, memories surfaced—storm-like strikes from his childhood.

He finally understood.

“…Master?”

Yes. This was the same sword.

He had seen it since he was young.

The realization struck him.

“You’re… Master?”

But he had died.

In his confusion and joy, Cesare froze.

And in that instant—

Thud.

Dane’s wooden sword struck his chest.

His eyes turned sharp.

“Then let’s start by correcting you.”

“Agh!”

Cesare collapsed under relentless blows.

“Stop it! Why are you hitting me?!”

“You insolent brat! You think you can betray Varanus and join those who invade the Domus?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Still not enough. A teacher corrects his student.”

WHACK!

Blows rained down mercilessly.

“Stop—!”

“Don’t run away!”

“I can’t breathe!!”

“Don’t swear!”

WHACK!

On and on it went.

“Tell me. Will you quit drinking?”

“I’ll quit! I will!”

“Will you return to Varanus?”

“I’ll go back, I will!”

Only then did Dane stop.

He looked at Cesare like a troublesome child.

The mercenaries stood frozen, watching half their comrades down and Cesare being beaten senseless.

Dane turned to them, his gaze murderous.

“So.”

“Who else wants to get beaten?”