The debuff from the Cursed Blade was brutal. If Jack took even a single point of damage, he’d drop dead on the spot.
But Jack didn’t care.
He knew exactly where he stood. He and his parents had been humiliated in front of thousands of onlookers. He had to settle this. No way around it.
Think about it. If he bit his tongue and let this slide today, even if he made it to S-rank professional someday, this moment would hang over him for the rest of his life. A permanent, gnawing nightmare he could never outrun.
He’d be nailed to the pillar of shame forever. Mocked. Looked down on. The punchline of every joke in town.
So this time, there was no way he was backing down.
Seeing Jack white-knuckling that dagger, ready to fight to the death, the guard captain’s lips twisted into a flicker of contempt.
Dealing with worthless trash like this? It’d take him less than a minute.
“You ungrateful little shit. Time to die.”
Murderous rage blazed in the guard captain’s eyes. He leveled his spear and drove it straight for Jack, every ounce of his strength behind the strike.
This was his signature skill: Fearless Charge.
[Fearless Charge: Unleashes a targeted strike on a single enemy. Grants the user immunity to all negative status effects. Inflicts Fear on the target.
Fear Effect: Temporarily reduces the target’s offensive stats.]
This move was his go-to finisher, the skill that had built his reputation. Against most low-tier opponents, it was a guaranteed one-shot kill.
Jack felt the Fear effect sink into his bones. But right now, he was up against an enemy with a higher level than his own.
Which meant the 3x multiplier on all his base stats jumped to 6x. With every attribute multiplied by six, Jack’s combat power was now on par with an A-rank professional—maybe even higher.
Of course, that didn’t mean Jack could actually beat an A-rank or even B-rank professional in a fair fight.
After all, the cost of those sixfold stats was non-negotiable. One scratch. Instant death.
Against the guard captain’s full-power strike, Jack simply sidestepped, light as a wisp of air, and let the spear slash harmlessly through empty space.
Then he spun around and drove a hard kick into the guard captain’s ribs. The man hacked up a mouthful of blood.
“What… how the hell is this possible?”
The guard captain staggered backward, whipping his head around to stare at Jack in total disbelief.
This was the reaction speed of an F-rank Scavenger?
Scavengers were supposed to be slow. Sluggish. Hunchbacked dead weight that only knew how to dig through trash heaps.
It wasn’t just the guard captain. Every single person in the surrounding crowd was gawking at Jack, their faces frozen in the same stunned shock.
“X!”
Watching from a distance, Viktor’s face was a mask of shock. He muttered to the person next to him.
“He’s just a D-rank professional. How the fuck is he going toe-to-toe with a C-rank?”
The truth was, X and Viktor had caught wind of the conflict between Jack’s family and the guards long before things escalated. They’d silently agreed to hang back and watch the show.
Their plan was simple: humiliate Jack.
If Jack chose to fight the guard captain head-on, he’d get beaten to a pulp. Maybe even killed right there.
If Jack swallowed his rage and let his father get dragged away in chains? That’d be their go-to roast material for years.
But this outcome? The one possibility neither of them had ever even considered? Jack holding his own against the guard captain, blow for blow? That had never crossed their minds.
“You’re fucking dead!”
The guard captain’s face burned with humiliation. He took a deep breath, ready to stop holding back.
Jack’s expression hardened too. Up against a battle-hardened veteran, he had zero confidence he could walk away without taking a single hit.
The two of them stood balanced on a knife’s edge, ready to strike, when a furious roar cut through the air from the distant city wall.
“Jackson! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Jackson. That was the guard captain’s name.
Jackson snapped his head up, livid—then his face went white as a sheet. The man standing there was none other than Craig, Lord Lawrence’s most trusted right-hand man.
Craig stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring down at Jackson with cold, unforgiving eyes.
Jackson pulled himself together and jabbed a finger at Jack, his voice boiling with rage.
“Mr. Craig! Jack has violated
Frostveil City’s laws, and he’s defied his superior officers. What’s more, I suspect he’s tapped into some kind of forbidden power. He’s wielding strength he has no right to!”
Hearing Jackson’s loud, frantic accusations, Craig’s brow furrowed. His voice dropped to a dangerous low.
“Who told you Jack defied his superiors?”
“Huh?”
Jackson blinked, caught off guard. He scrambled to get his words out.
“He’s a low-rank professional! The sorriest excuse for a Scavenger there is! How is that not defying his superiors?!”
Craig shook his head. His tone was ice-calm.
“Who told you Jack is a Scavenger? He’s a D-rank professional now. A Wreck Reaper.”
“A D-rank professional?”
Jackson froze. Then a cold, sinking feeling of unease crept up his spine.
Even if Jack was a D-rank, how was he trading blows with a C-rank like him?
The thought barely finished forming before he blurted out his doubt aloud.
“Then you’d better ask yourself that question.”
Craig’s face was like stone. He didn’t give Jackson an ounce of leeway.
“Mr. Craig.”
Jack dismissed the Cursed Blade and spoke in a low, steady voice.
“Since you’ve stepped forward to clear up the truth, that means I didn’t break any laws, right?”
Hearing Jack’s question, Jackson stood frozen. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest.
He turned a desperate, pleading gaze toward Craig—who only gave a small nod and said to Jack:
“You’re correct. The
Frostveil City government was in the wrong here. I offer you my formal apology.”
With that, Craig tilted his body slightly in a respectful bow toward Jack.
Jack acknowledged the gesture, then shifted his cold gaze back to Jackson. His voice was flat, no trace of emotion in it.
“You’re the one who owes me an apology.”
Jackson went rigid. Defiance flashed across his face.
“Mr. Craig, even if I made a mistake, I acted without knowing the full situation! And even if he is a D-rank professional, he’s still a raw newbie. I’ve fought for
Frostveil City for years. My body’s covered in service medals. How the hell does someone like him compare to me?!”
At those words, something seemed to click in Craig’s mind. He let out a cold snort.
“Then let me make this clear. In this Wasteland expedition, Jack ranked first among all participants of his cohort. He’s set to be granted a personal audience with Lord Lawrence soon. Jackson. You’ve served under Lord Lawrence for years. Have you ever once received an honor like that?”
The second Craig’s words landed, the crowd exploded into whispers.
Even Jack’s parents stared at each other, barely able to believe what they were hearing.
Their son Jack… had taken first place in the Wasteland expedition?
When they’d found out Jack was heading into the Wasteland, their only prayer was that he’d come back in one piece. They’d never, in a million years, expected him to bring home any kind of honor or reward.
And now Craig himself had said it. Jack was first.
“Honey. Our boy isn’t worthless.”
Rick wrapped his arms around Alice. For the first time in years, tears glistened at the corners of his eyes.
These past months had been hell. His colleagues, once close friends, had looked at him with cold, distant eyes the second they learned Jack had awakened as a Scavenger. But today, his son had let him hold his head up high again.
“Jack. What compensation do you want?”
Craig stood with his hands behind his back, directing the question straight to Jack.
Jack locked eyes with Jackson. Five words fell from his lips, slow and ice-cold.
“I only want him dead.”