Undead Beast Master: Living Solely for My Desires-Chapter 276: First Day in Drakmire
"Hey, who do you think you are?"
Hearing a sluggish voice of an obviously drunk middle-aged man being directed at him, Zaroth shifted his gaze to the source of the nuisance.
When he walked into the tavern, he decided to ignore the brawl of the drunk people and went past them, but it seems that for some reason one of the two wanted to act like a big shot.
'I am so tired, do I have to bother with this now?' Zaroth thought. For a portion of a second, he wondered if he should avoid trouble and search for another, less busy tavern, but now that he had sat on one of the stools at the bar, he realized that he didn't want to get up on an empty stomach.
'Should I kill him?' The thought crossed his mind without warning. He usually didn't have these kinds of thoughts, but considering the events of the past few days and coupling with the fact that he was tired and hungry, he was running low on patience.
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While Zaroth was busy thinking looking quietly at the middle-aged man that had called upon him, the man realized that looking at the white demonic mask made him terrified.
Even in his drunken state, he knew that this was the person that the rumors were about, and that was the reason as to why he had approached him.
First, because he didn't believe the rumors. He was asleep when the skeletal dragon appeared above the city, so he had not witnessed it firsthand. And second, even if the story about the dragon was the truth, it didn't mean that the person before him was strong — he was just able to call upon a dragon.
At least, that's what he told himself.
In reality, his motivations were far more pathetic. His eyes
had shifted—briefly—toward the blonde beauty behind the counter. Her flawless figure, those striking blue eyes like polished gems… and the way she looked at him now. Not with desire or admiration, but concern.
However, the middle-aged man was too drunk to realize that at this point in time, Betty was worrying about him. He just took the glance as encouragement. After all, Betty had never looked at him with those beautiful eyes of hers!
'I just might have a chance with her! I know it was written somewhere in my fate that I was going to spend a night with her!' he thought, a surge of confidence rising within him.
He wanted to impress her. And what better way to show off than to take down the man the whole city suddenly idolized?
Seeing that the mystery man was still looking at him silently made the middle-aged man's blood run hotter in fury.
"What are you looking at?!" the man barked, stomping closer.
'I am too lazy to get up. I will just let him get close to me instead,' Zaroth thought as he patiently waited for the man.
"Please wait—what are you doing?!" Betty called out, panic in her voice, trying to bring the drunk to his senses.
"I'm just going to prove this guy's not as scary as you all think!" he shouted, now a meter and a half before reaching Zaroth.
Making his palm into a fist, the man prepared to throw a punch. He was so out of it that he failed to realize that his legs were shaking — trying to warn him that what he was doing was a terrible idea.
Zaroth looked at the man that was about to throw a punch with mild interest. Unlike the miners that he saw at the mining site, this one's arms were skinny, almost like a girl's, and yet despite that, he had a big belly, most likely from the large amount of beer he drank every day.
'This man is weak,' Zaroth thought. The man before him was most likely even weaker than the average man. Zaroth didn't particularly enjoy beating the weak, but if they acted first, then it was all justified, no?
With a quiet sigh, Zaroth reached for his odachi but didn't draw it—he had no intention of killing anyone tonight, not on his first day in the city. Instead, he struck with the sheathed blade.
His hand moved so fast it appeared like a blur, The dull side of the odachi slammed into the drunk's ribs with a sharp crack, echoing through the silent tavern. The man's body flew backward and crashed into the tavern doors. The frame held, but the doors splintered apart from the impact alone.
The man lay outside, motionless, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. If someone didn't flip him over—or if he didn't wake up soon—he'd choke on his own blood.
'Not my problem,' Zaroth thought as he calmly returned the blade to his back and looked at Betty.
"Can I get a menu?" he repeated. After a few seconds, he added, "And sorry about the door."
Betty stood frozen for a moment, visibly shaken, her shoulders trembling as she struggled to maintain her composure. Such a display of power was unheard of outside the capital. Even the soldiers who had been stationed here not long ago paled in comparison to this man.
"R-Right away, sir!" she replied, her voice shaky as she handed him the menu.
Zaroth flipped through it casually, thinking about what to eat. Around him, the tavern slowly came back to life—though now the voices were hushed, wary not to upset the man who nearly killed someone without leaving his seat.
The other drunk had gone to help his friend, dragging him to his feet. Strangely enough, the two seemed close. Which made their earlier argument even more pointless. Not that Zaroth cared.
Eventually, he made his decision.
The mountain goat steak—apparently the tavern's specialty—was the most expensive item on the menu. The next item was nearly three times cheaper. He ordered it anyway, along with the strongest drink they offered. Still, it was nothing compared to the stuff he used to share with Roran and Zack.
Maybe it was because he was the only one to ordered food this late. Maybe everyone was just afraid. Either way, his meal arrived fast. He didn't question it.
Sliding his mask up just enough to uncover his mouth, Zaroth took the first bite.
'This is good,' he thought, savoring the flavor. 'I might start coming here every day.'
The drink was pleasant, though it didn't get him drunk—sadly. But considering he was the one supposed to protect the city, he had to be ready for action at any moment, so he didn't order more.
When he was done, he gazed at the beautiful waitress for a few seconds. "She really does look like a model. I can see why the tavern is so packed." He was more tired than he thought, and as a result, he ended up speaking out loud his thought by accident.
Hearing the unexpected comment, she wasn't sure how to react — but it seemed that her body did, as her cheeks began to blush a bit red.
Zaroth didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he didn't care. He stood, dropped a gold coin on the counter, and said, "Keep the change," in his usual calm tone.
It wasn't because he was generous; he wanted to pay for the damage he had caused to the doors earlier.
Then, without another word, he left.
And just like that, Zaroth's first day in Drakmire Bastion came to an end.
