Urban Vagabond: Reload

The moment the brute and I drew our knives and pointed them at each other, the place went wild.

“Life-and-death match!”

“Make some room first!”

“Wait! Don’t start yet—hold it!”

Most of the customers in The Dark Den were small-time organization grunts or freelance vagabonds.

The kind of psychos who lived for fights, gambled away their lives, and got excited the moment they saw blood.

Underworld scum are all like this, really.

Egged on by customers who weren’t satisfied just cheering but wanted to set the stage for us, every table was cleared in seconds, and an empty space opened up in the center.

Normally the guy running the bar would step in before things got too big, but here... the guy running the bar was the biggest problem.

“A life-and-death match you can only see in The Dark Den! How could we skip the winner predictions? A perfect chance to test our heroes’ eyesight!”

A loud-voiced middle-aged man shouted as he looked around like some seasoned barker.

It was followed by a roar of cheers.

The man was Hwang Suksu, the owner of The Dark Den.

A human disaster addicted to betting duels, known for gathering vagabonds drowning in debt and hosting prize-money life-and-death tournaments.

“Place your money, folks! The bald giant wins—left side! Masked guy wins—right side! If you guess right, double your money after fees! Guess exactly how many exchanges it’ll take—five times payout!”

He’d done this way too many times—his skill at whipping the crowd into a frenzy was insane.

Money stacked up beside him in an instant.

“Fuck me...”

The actual fighters always get awkward when the crowd starts riling them up like this.

The brute cursed under his breath, clearly pissed that he’d become the subject of a bet, but there was no backing out now.

If he sheathed his blade in front of this many people, he’d be branded a coward and mocked forever—and that tied directly into his organization’s reputation.

Too late for regrets. The moment he got excited and drew his blade, the rest was predetermined.

The moment that bald bastard lost to me, his organization wouldn’t dare try recruiting Bokja again.

Everyone in the underworld wants to climb to a stronger group.

Meaning, just by showing strength here, I could chase off a swarm of future pests.

“I gotta admit, the simplicity of this world is nice.”

“What the hell are you talking about? If you slip for a second, you’re dead.”

Bokja was biting her finger, watching me nervously.

Telling her not to worry wouldn’t help, so instead I pulled my wallet from my pocket.

“Go place my money.”

“...You said you were broke. Was that a lie?”

“I don’t have surgery money. But I’ve got some allowance.”

“What the hell is... this...”

I whispered low so only she could hear and took out all the cash inside.

Seeing the pathetic amount, she clicked her tongue softly, looking almost sorry for me.

“You really are a high-school kid. Getting allowance from mom and dad...”

“Just shut up and place the bet.”

“Fine. I’m betting on you too, okay?”

That blunt comment was her version of cheering, so I grinned and nodded.

“If you want a big payout, go hit an ATM or something.”

“Psycho. If you lose, you’re dead.”

She snickered, then went to Hwang Suksu and placed both her money and mine.

From what I glimpsed, she’d bet a pretty hefty sum.

Predictions are about half-and-half... no, I’m losing slightly.

More money was stacked on Hwang’s left—meaning the crowd expected the bald brute to win.

Apparently they thought twisting his arm earlier had just been a lucky surprise attack.

With zero info about who I was, that reaction made sense.

Anyone betting on me was either chasing the underdog payout or genuinely had sharp eyes.

Hwang Suksu, who clearly belonged to the latter, stared at me with a strange expression.

“Stretch a bit, boys. Would be a shame if stiff bodies made you underperform.”

“Five exchanges.”

“Hm?”

“You said five-exchange guesses get five times payout. Put me down for winning in five. Mark it properly.”

“Heh. Got guts, kid. I like you!”

Hwang grinned big and nodded.

Human trash who treated lives like fly lives, but still... it didn’t hurt to build rapport with him in the underworld.

“That f***er...! Hey! I’m betting everything too! I’ll kill that bastard within five exchanges!”

Hearing what I said, the brute’s eyes turned blood-red and he threw in his entire fortune as well.

The betting pit’s heat skyrocketed.

Once everything was sorted out, Hwang walked up to us—still standing awkwardly in the center, blades drawn.

“Just so you know—any property damage gets billed to the loser. If you die, I’ll take your organs. If you’re lucky enough to live, I’ll work you washing dishes until I collect. Both of you agree?”

He smiled while saying something that would haunt a normal person’s dreams, but neither of us had plans to lose.

We both nodded vaguely.

“And even if it’s a life-and-death match, spare them if they surrender. Too many corpses are bad for business.”

Pointless to listen—he clearly didn’t mean it. His expression said so.

The brute twitched his brow.

“No need for mercy. I’ll kill him before he can say ‘I surrender.’”

With a THUNK, he slammed his huge blade into the floor, murderous eyes glaring at me.

“Heh. Youth sure is impressive. Then—good luck to you both.”

Hwang stepped back to the crowd’s edge, and the excited spectators screamed for us to start.

The brute yanked his blade back out of the floor and slowly approached me, licking his lips.

“You said five exchanges? I’ll cut off your limbs one at a time, then your head last. That makes five.”

“Got anything more creative? I’ve been thinking all day how to make a strong first impression in my debut.”

“...You little f***er!”

He instantly swung his blade at my throat.

Cheap bastard. Breaking the agreement right from the start.

This was my first real fight since returning to the past, but there wasn’t a shred of tension.

Even without using qi, underworld thugs like him weren’t my competition.

The mask covering my mouth and nose and Bokja’s red goggles limiting my vision weren’t even handicaps.

WHOOSH!

I tilted my head slightly, dodging his blade, and scanned the crowd sideways.

There they are—the real ones.

Men who hadn’t gotten drunk on the betting frenzy and sat quietly in the corners, observing.

Members of the bigger organizations.

A few of them were familiar faces—bad memories attached.

Guess I’ll give them a little taste today.

Decision made, I brushed past the brute’s side.

“One.”

And sliced off one of his ears like shaving apple skin.

“Graaah!”

Blood streamed down his neck.

His eyes turned red with burst capillaries as he glared back at me.

“I’ll kill you—!”

He rushed like a wild boar, swinging his blade wildly.

He had enough strength to smash rocks, but if you never hit your target, it meant nothing.

“Two.”

I slipped past him again, grazing him.

This time I cut his side.

“Heuk!”

When the pain finally hit, he staggered back, clutching at his ribs.

But once he realized it was shallow, he shouted triumphantly:

“You think that pathetic swing can cut someone trained in external arts?”

Despite the bravado, sensing danger, he quickly pulled a syringe from his pocket and stabbed it into his arm.

Drugs, huh.

Common in the underworld.

Some numbed pain, some removed fear, some boosted physical ability or qi circulation temporarily.

The side effects were brutal, but in a life-or-death situation? Anyone would use them.

Against an overwhelming opponent, though... worthless.

“Three.”

SPLASH!

I sliced off his hand—blade and all—from the wrist.

Drugged numb, he didn’t even realize it was gone and kept swinging, spraying blood through the air.

“I’m not a fan of ketchup splatter.”

“U... ugh...”

Realizing only now that his hand was missing, he stumbled backward in terror.

Even with drugs in his system, panic and fear spread through his eyes.

By now he was finally realizing the truth—

No matter what he did, he couldn’t win.

I lowered my knife a little and scratched my cheek.

“Wanna stop here?”

“S-su... surrender...”

I glanced around.

The spectators booed loudly.

BOOOOOO—!

Kill him! Kill him!

And while I glanced away for just a moment, the bastard charged with a hidden throwing knife.

“...Like hell I’d let you do that—!”

Of course.

You never deviate, do you.

Without looking, I sidestepped and hooked his leg.

He toppled over.

Then I plunged my blade deep into his thigh.

“Four.”

STAB.

“GYAAAAAAH!!”

The blade dug all the way into the floor, pinning him like an insect on a tack board.

Blood streamed from his ear, his side, his wrist, and now his thigh.

He looked nothing like the arrogant brute from moments ago.

“S-save me...”

I approached the pathetic, squirming creature and clamped my palm over his mouth.

“Listen carefully.”

He gagged and struggled, but that ruined body wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’ve spared you four times.”

I whispered into his ear—deep enough for everyone in The Dark Den to hear.

“When I cut your ear, I could’ve taken your head. When I cut your side, I could’ve spilled your guts. When I cut off your hand, I considered stabbing your heart. I spared you every time. I gave you chances.”

I twisted the blade lodged in his thigh a little.

He couldn’t even scream—just writhed in agony beneath my hand.

“Mmph... mmph...!”

“And I could’ve put this fourth strike between your legs, not in your thigh. But I didn’t. Because I don’t enjoy killing people.”

That was the truth.

Twenty years eating steel as a vagabond taught me everything.

I killed who deserved killing, spared who deserved sparing.

I didn’t live like a righteous-path hero, but I never harmed the innocent.

By my standards... this guy deserved to die.

Gulp...

Someone swallowed hard somewhere in the crowd.

Everyone was silent now.

I ignored them and asked the dying man beneath me in a calm voice:

“Wanna try again? Curious what the fifth strike will be like?”

He cried and shook his head frantically.

I slowly removed my hand from his mouth.

“S-surren—!”

Before the word finished, I punched a hole through his throat.

“Too late.”

Blood sprayed up, splashing across my goggles like paint.

He collapsed sideways, dead.

Leaving the corpse behind, I stood and looked at the spectators.

“Hope the betting was fun. And I’ll say it again—Red Rabbit belongs to our organization from now on. Don’t touch her. You get one warning.”

In the silent crowd, Hwang Suksu suddenly started clapping.

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP!

He looked at me like he’d found treasure.

If not for the goggles, he’d see the disgust in my eyes.

“What are you all doing? Applaud the winner of a life-and-death match!”

Late but loud, applause and cheers broke out.

Some whistled, some sprayed alcohol around.

This place is full of lunatics, for real.

I shrugged once and walked toward Bokja, whose expression had frozen stiff.