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(Re:Zero) Warlock of Fascination Chapter 5: The Bowel Hunter
🕑 Added 2025-05-09 08:20:29 +0000 UTCChapter 5: The Bowel Hunter
The little girl, named Felt, led Reinhard and Castor to a place called the “Loot House,” a rather well-known location amongst those dwelling in the slums. Where people could obtain illicit items stolen by none other than Felt herself, a revelation which really pushed the limits of Reinhard’s knightly code, every fibre of his being telling him to shut the whole place down and throw Felt into the slammer.
However, he needed to stay focused on the task at hand, retrieving Emilia’s insignia. It was crucial to Lugunica’s future, and he couldn’t afford to disappoint her.
“There’s a code I have to give before the Old Man lets me in,” Felt knocked on the front door, causing an old, hoarse voice to speak.
“To the giant rats—”
“Poison.”
“To the skeletons—”
“A pitfall.”
“To the noble dragon we are—”
“Shitbags.”
Reinhard and Castor exchanged a confused glance, following behind Felt as she led them into the confines of the Loot House.
Woah! Check out the size of that ham-hock!
Immediately, Castor was taken aback, his eyes widening upon observing the hefty figure positioned behind the counter, a aged man standing at a towering height that had to exceed seven feet at least, postured like a hunchback, with white strands of hair lining his eyebrows. A crimson symbol was plastered across the left side of his bald head, and his attire consisted of a sleeveless vest.
“I’m back Gramps!” Felt’s mood seemed to vastly improve upon greeting the old man, but apparently, the same couldn’t be said for the geezer himself.
Not because of Felt’s presence but because of Castor and Reinhard’s. It was pretty easy for the former to conclude that he wasn’t exactly the trusting type.
“Felt… Why is there a Royal Guard here? Don’t tell me you’ve poked your head into serious business?” He grumbled, both Castor and Reinhard noticing his hulking arm reach for something stashed under the counter—presumably a weapon.
He’s lucky this isn’t Earth; a police officer would’ve shot him five times just for that.
“I’m not sure,” Felt shrugged. “It has something to do with what the client told you about earlier, the one who asked me to grab some girl’s insignia.” She folded her arms behind her neck, reaching over the counter and grabbing a jug of milk.
“Is that so?” He narrowed his eyes at the Royal Guard.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Reinhard performed his usual courteous bow. “My name is Reinhard, I’m afraid your—”
“Reinhard!?” He yelped, frantically looking at the blonde-haired girl. “Felt! Hurry up and give whatever it was you stole back! I knew I had a bad feeling about that client!”
“Ah? What’s got you so panicky? That’s not like you at all Grandpa Rom,” she calmly sipped on a cup of milk, clearly not sharing Rom’s concern. “Bleh! This is disgusting!”
“You idiot!” Rom chopped her on the head, “That’s the Sword Saint! You’re lucky he hasn’t cut you down already!”
“Are you some kind of hotshot?” Castor asked Reinhard.
“I do happen to have a fairly well-known reputation,” he didn’t seem too enthusiastic with his response. “I’m off-duty today, so my title isn’t of any importance.”
Castor didn’t buy Reinhard’s downplaying, not even a little.
Uh-huh. You managed to make a guy who looks like he could eat the both of us squirm like a frantic child just with your name alone, not of any importance my ass!
“The Sword Saint!?” Felt spit out her drink, finally picking up on the gravity of the situation.
“If I may,” Reinhard cleared his throat to catch their attention. “I don’t mean to cause either of you any harm, I merely wish to see that the insignia is returned to its rightful owner, and investigate this so-called client who commissioned you to steal it in the first place.”
The fact that the Dragon Kingdom’s equivalent of a living nuclear bomb wouldn’t incite his wrath upon them brought Felt and Rom a significant amount of relief.
“I’m more than happy to give you back the insignia, but the client didn’t actually specify what time they’d be coming… they just told me it’d be sometime today.”
“Then we shall await their arrival,” Reinhard said, folding his arms and leaning against one of the walls.
Castor, on the other hand, wasn’t going to stand around and let his legs ache all day, so he proceeded to walk up and sit down at Rom’s counter.
“Got anything other than milk back there?”
“Sure…” Rom wasn’t audacious enough to try to charge someone associated with the Sword Saint, no matter how bizarre they seemed.
𑁋
Subaru and Emilia wandered around the Royal Capital with the exceptionally accurate drawing Reinhard had curated for them, asking around in hopes that at least one person amongst the masses recognized her—but alas, it was to little avail.
On the bright side, they had managed to help the lost daughter of the appa-stand owner reunite with her family, and Subaru was pretty confident he had scored some cool points with Emilia by calming the little girl down with the help of a neat coin trick.
As expected of the future lolimancer himself.
“I don’t think anyone in this area knows where she is either,” Subaru sighed, even though he didn’t understand why Emilia was so distraught about getting the insignia back, he still didn’t like seeing her in such a state. “Is there anywhere we haven’t checked yet?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head, breathing an exasperated sigh.
She needed to get that insignia back!
“Lady Emilia.”
All of a sudden, Reinhard’s voice resounded within Emilia’s mind.
“Sir Reinhard?”
The Sword Saint was using his Divine Blessing of Telepathy to communicate with her.
“We’ve located the person responsible for stealing your insignia,” Subaru watched as Emilia’s face lit up with hopeful delight. “We’re in the slums right now in a place the locals here call the Loot House—”
“I’ll be there immediately!” She took off in a full sprint, forcing Subaru to exert every last bit of speed he had if he wanted to keep up.
𑁋
“Hicc! Another!” Castor smashed the large, wooden jug drained of Rom’s ale onto the counter, a bright-red flush spanning across his face as he slurred his words, barely able to string coherent sentences together.
Rom was taken aback for two reasons, one, most people absolutely despised his alcohol—spitting it out the nanosecond the liquor touched their taste buds. However, Castor was completely infatuated with it, demanding refill after refill at the giant’s expense.
Second of all, the bookworm had a surprisingly high tolerance. Even though he was clearly as inebriated as one could physically be at the moment, it had taken him more than five large-sized mugs to get to this point. Rom had even suspected him of using some kind of magic to increase his handling ability.
Giant’s liquor wasn’t a drink for lightweights.
“Castor, I think that’s enough.” Reinhard decided it was time to intervene, prying the mug out of Castor’s hands while offering Rom an apologetic look.
“Ah? Wut’s enugh?” Castor swayed from side to side drunkenly, “I’m perfectly fine! Hicc! Give me another already!”
“You’re going to pass out at this rate.” Reinhard gratefully accepted a cup of water from Rom, sliding it towards Castor. “Here, drink some water.”
Castor pouted, his brows furrowing in annoyance once he realized that the giant wouldn’t give him another refill.
“Mou! I hate this! I hate this! I hate this! I just wanted to read some books like usual! But instead, I’m here helping some silver-haired elf bimbo get her stupid jewel back!” He pointed at Reinhard, repeatedly stabbing the Sword Saint in the cheek with his index finger. “It’s all your fault! Hicc! You and that lovesick Suba… Bara… Ugh, what’s his name… Bartholomew!”
I didn’t do anything though…? Reinhard awkwardly scratched his cheek.
“It’s still your fault!”
Reinhard’s eyes widened.
Had Castor just read his mind?
“Oh my, I wasn’t expecting our venue of choice to be so—lively.”
The Loot House’s front door opened, but their expected guests, Subaru and Emilia, weren’t the ones to step inside.
An unusually tall woman had entered. Her eyes were a dim shade of purple and angled downwards, conveying a sense of calmness and gentleness.
Her long, wavy hair fluttered freely in the evening wind, the coloration of which was similar to Subaru’s, and was braided into a long tail cascading down her left shoulder to her curvaceous hips.
She truly was a woman of incredible beauty, her body well-endowed with large breasts and sultry dimensions, furthered by the provocative clothing she adorned—a pair of black elbow-length gloves with purple trimmings at the top, black high-heel shoes, and a purple-black dress without any straps or back coverage.
“It’s you! Hicc! You’re the one responsible for all this!” Castor hauled himself to his feet, staggering over towards the woman and glaring at her as if she had insulted his entire bloodline through her presence alone.
“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re referring to, young man.” She remained composed as ever.
“Don’t play—Hicc! Dumb! This whole insignia thing, it’s because of you isn’t it?”
“Ah,” she glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Felt momentarily. “Indeed, I was the one sent here by my client to hand over the payment in exchange for the insignia that girl should have. Might I ask what your involvement in the matter is?”
Instinctually, Reinhard’s fists clenched, his gut warning him that something was about to happen.
“We’re here to give it back to the broad that owns the thing, so hurry up and tell us who this client is before—”
“Give it back?” She interrupted, her demeanor shifting a noticeable amount. “I see, in that case, I don’t think peaceful negotiations will be much of an option for me.”
Once more, Castor’s own voice started to talk to him.
“Short-length bladed weapon. Abdomen. Block. Retreat. Rearm.”
Both she and Castor acted at seemingly the exact same time.
She reached for a black-tinted Kukuri, slashing at Castor’s abdomen with the clear intention to disembowel him.
But despite her frightening speed, the time at which Castor had begun to move was just about fast enough to let him bring out the knife he had looted from Chin’s body, allowing him to block the oncoming slash.
Shatter!
The make of Chin’s knife was vastly inferior to her Kukuri, causing it to erupt into numerous metal shards upon impact, but still serving its purpose of allowing Castor to move backwards without his intestines spilling out onto the floor.
Drip, drip, drip.
“That doesn’t look good,” Castor grumbled, noticing a fairly deep cut that had appeared across his forearm, the pain of which was being numbed by the sheer quantity of Rom’s alcohol that he had consumed prior.
Even though she had missed her original target, the raw speed of her swing had been enough to land a slice on Castor between the brief window of their blades meeting and him retreating.
“I’m surprised,” she hummed inquisitively, licking Castor’s blood off the alloy of her blade. “You didn’t strike me as a grizzled veteran, or much of a fighter for that matter, but somehow you could still read my carefully concealed bloodlust. As an assassin, I can’t help but feel a little ashamed.”
“Reading is kind of my forte,” he brazenly extended his arm towards Felt’s waist, unsheathing the dagger hanging by the scabbard on her back.
“Hey! That’s mine!”
“Relax, you’ll get it back eventually… Hicc! If it doesn’t break.”
It was only after he did so that he realized something was off, enough to cause him to start to sober up a little.
Wait, why did I just grab another weapon? Don’t tell me I’m planning to fight this woman? Don’t be an idiot Castor, just let Reinhard handle everything. You’re a man of literature not violence, remember?
“No. We’re stronger. We’ll win. Fight her. We’re better. You know it.”
Shut up! You saw her speed just now didn’t you? She was clearly holding back, we just got lucky because she underestimated us. We’re obviously not going to get a second chance like that if we foolishly continue!
“Castor! You’re injured!” Reinhard called out to him in concern, stepping forward while staring the woman down. “Go tend to your wounds! I can handle this.”
“That appearance, and that sword hanging by your side…” Slowly, her lips curled up into an eerie grin. “You’re the Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea, right? I’m shocked, my client didn’t inform me about the possibility of encountering someone like you. However, I’m eternally grateful for the opportunity to view the bowels of a man such as yourself.”
“That knife…” Reinhard narrowed his eyes, carefully examining her Kukuri. “That’s a weapon only found in Gusteko, isn’t it? And judging by your statement just now… You must be the Bowel Hunter—Elsa Granhiert.”
“It’s an honour to be recognized by the Dragon Kingdom’s ultimate weapon…” She bowed, placing her knife against her bountiful chest. “Might I ask who the young man I just exchanged a blow with is? His appearance is quite… Odd, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“He’s just a traveler who happens to be helping me out with this situation, don’t pay him any heed, your opponent is me—”
Castor extended his arm, blocking Reinhard’s path for some inexplicable reason.
“Castor?”
“You are the brain. I am the sword. We have the power. I’ll show you. I’ll show you we’re better. I’ll show you we’re stronger. Watch. Observe. Understand. We’re powerful. You love this. You love battle. You can lie to them. You cannot lie to yourself. We are strong!”
While amid his drunken haze—Castor’s eyes start to flash bright gold.
Comments
Accel14
Seems like it.
Kurupt
His authority is acting up huh?? 🤔
