God of What? 6 (Patreon)

God of What?

Chapter 6

-VB-

Hey, have you heard about that newbie?

Who?

The Bloody Fister.

… That’s a frisky name.

No, you idiot! He’s the newbie who walked out of the dungeon with blood all over him. Like literally all over him!

I heard about him, too. He likes punching goblins and kobolds. Doesn’t even go below the fifth level.

How long has he been around?

They say only a month.

I guess it’s expected?

It’s not expected if the guy comes home with a bag of magic stones harvested from goblin and kobold.

A bag? Like are we talking about a small pouch or a supporter?

Fistfuls.

By himself?

Yeah.

Damn, he’s pretty good at hunting by himself, huh?

Yor ignored the whispers behind him as he headed back down.

Part of the original’s plan was to act like a regular familia, and how did regular familia act?

There were three types of familias: crafting, explorative, and supportive. Yor may not like that Ishtar Familia ran the brothels, but it was a stress relief necessity for many adventurers. Brothels aren’t widely spread or prominent in cities where violence and over-the-top stress didn’t dominate.

(Amsterdam excluded).

And as an obviously exploration-oriented Familia, how would Marris Familia gain more of everything?

By becoming famous, of course.

What was initially just Yor testing himself out without pulling any punches became a daily occurrence as both he and the original realized that “oh, we can get famous by doing this.”

And so he walked out of the dungeon every day, drenched from top to bottom in the blood of their foes.

But today… today was special.

Yor walked towards the dungeon, but he didn’t miss the way a group of adventurers leered at him while “trying” to keep themselves hidden among the flow of other adventurers coming and going to the dungeon. He glanced at them once without slowing or stopping and then headed into the dungeon as usual.

As he made his way down the steps of the dungeon and into the first floor, Yor readied himself. He knew that he would inevitably get into fights with a few of the less scrupulous groups within Orario.

The question was how he was going to solve this issue.

If he was fighting just a group of bandits, then he would kill them and be done with it. If it was a familia, however, then that would change the equation. For example, if Yor got into conflict with the Soma Familia, then he and the original would have to take a lot more nuanced act. Because if they struck and got rid of the entirety of the Soma Familia sans Soma himself, then there would be retaliation from other Familias who are enthralled by that god’s drinks, nevermind the deities themselves who would be pissed that Soma would be too poor to make their drinks.

… Actually, what do you think about Soma, original? Couldn’t they use him as a test bed for one of the plans for how they intended to take over Orario?

---

“... It isn’t a bad idea.”

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Wonderful.

Soma Familia might just become the first Familia to experience a … how should Yor call it?

… Ah.

Restructuring.

For now, Yor needed to focus on the would-be bandits behind him.

Once he walked deep enough into one of the “rooms” of the Second Floor, he turned around.

Four adventurers - three men and a woman - stalked up to him at the edge of the room.

“You’re not a smart one, are you?” one of them sneered.

Yor didn’t bother taking in their faces. They were soon going to be dungeon food. Why would he care?

“We’re all Level 2’s, so I think it’s for the best that you hand over anything you made today-”

“But can you handle it?”

“Wh-”

Yor leaned forward and then kicked off from the ground. His legs swung back and forth with enough force to make the wind blow around him. With each swung, Yor propelled himself forward faster and faster.

And only after three steps and one second, he was right underneath one of the four.

Oh, they reacted but their bodies couldn’t move quickly enough for them to match him in speed and reaction.

Muscles - each a cord created with carbon nanotubes and fibers buried underneath each muscle cell - swelled as he reared his fist back.

And like a bullet, he shot it forward, making the air hiss as his fist cut through it.

His fist didn’t make a sonicboom, but it was still enough for his knuckles to smash into his first target’s nose, snap it, crack the skull underneath, shatter it, and scramble blood, sinew, brain, and muscle into one unfinished hamburger bun.

Then he opened his fist, grabbed the head of by the shattered front, and swung the entire body as a makeshift blackjack at the second guy.

The bandana got took the hit and flew away.

The other two finally squared up, suddenly realizing that they might not be prepared for Yor.

Too bad.

“I didn’t make any money yet,” Yor grinned as the cuts he got from shattered skull shrapnels quickly fixed themselves with the blood on him. “But I think taking and selling your shit will make me some nice coins.”

The woman shouted as she pulled out a warhammer and swung at him.

He lifted a hand up and used the outside of his arm to let the blow slide away before punching her in the throat.

Her eyes popped open as she gagged with her broken windpipe and collapsed to her knees.

Yor turned to the final guy standing. Grabbing the dropped warhammer, he took a step.

The guy screamed as he tried to run.

Tried.

Yor wasn’t an expert warhammer thrower, but if an object moved fast enough, then it didn’t have to land on its head. He hefted the warhammer once before he threw it.

The air hissed and the warhammer vibrated once before the sharp butt of the handle planted itself in the runner’s spine.

The guy went down screaming just as the second guy who took the body-blackjack got up and pulled out daggers.

And then promptly went invisible!

He actually ran for it!

Clicking his tongue, Yor gave chase, looking at the ground where blood touched the floor with each step the guy took. He made a prediction and jumped.

Though his eyes told him he shouldn’t have, his body landed on something not there visibly. The invisible guy screamed as he crashed into the ground, and Yor wasted no time in smashing his fist into where he assumed was the guy’s head.

He missed, punching the ground.

He tried again.

He didn’t miss, and the screaming ended.

With a satisfied smile, he stood up.

And found himself staring at a bunch of other adventurers.

These guys looked more well-armed and experienced, and they looked horrified by the then-invisible body turning visible. Or they were horrified by the smashed skull.

“Y-You’re the Bloody Fister.”

Ugh, that name.

“These guys tried to ambush me,” Yor explained. “I hope you aren’t going to make a deal out of bandits?” he asked as he got ready to fight. Unlike the first four, these five had actual plate armor on their tank, bows and arrows with their backlines, and one magician. The last person had daggers.

“No,” the tank woman said as she pulled her party away. “What happens in the dungeon stays in the dungeon.”

“Great,” Yor smiled.

They shivered and quickly left.

Once they were gone and Yor didn’t see any monster around, he knelt down and began looting the guy.

“Ooh, shiny.”