Beyond Realities

So I walked around the main street until I found a simple-looking inn tucked between two shops. A small wooden sign swayed above the door that read: "The Silver Bloom." It wasn't fancy, but it didn't reek of rat piss either. That was already a win.

I stepped inside, and the bell above the door gave a soft chime. A kind-looking lady at the counter welcomed me.

"Room for one?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, placing some coin on the counter. "Just for tonight."

She gave a short nod and handed me a brass key with the number 7 carved into it. Then, with a polite smile, she stepped out from behind the counter and gestured for me to follow.

"This way, sir."

We walked up a narrow wooden staircase. The hallway smelled like lavender—probably an attempt to hide the scent of old wood and damp stone. She stopped at the third door on the right and gently turned the key.

Creak.

The door opened.

The room was… honestly, perfect.

Not too big, not too small. A large bed that looked like heaven to my aching body, a simple table, a cabinet, a wooden chair, and a window directly across from the door. Outside the window, I could see a portion of the city and the distant mountains cloaked in faint twilight.

Fair for the price, and more than enough for me.

"Enjoy your stay," the woman said, bowing slightly before walking away and closing the door behind her.

I stood there for a moment, just breathing in the silence.

No talking.

No fighting.

No training.

No Grim teasing me.

"You say that like I'm the problem," Grim muttered faintly in the back of my mind.

I ignored him this time. I was exhausted.

My muscles ached, my eyes stung, and my soul felt like it had been wrung out, dried, and reused.

So without thinking, I dropped my things near the bed, kicked off my boots, and let myself fall back onto the mattress.

Soft. Warm. Still.

I barely had the energy to pull the blanket over me.

My eyes shut instantly.

No dreams.

No voices.

Just sleep.

-----

I was in the middle of the best sleep I've had in weeks. My muscles were finally relaxed. My thoughts, for once, weren't bouncing around like trapped birds. It was pure peace.

Until I heard shouting outside.

At first, I groaned and ignored it—assuming it was just a drunk mercenary or two arguing over bad wine. I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to stay still.

But then—

BANG.

Something slammed outside loud enough to rattle the windowpane.

"Ugh… are you serious right now?" I muttered.

I forced my half-asleep body up, dragged myself to the window, and pulled the curtains aside. I was on the second floor, and outside the fenced street below, a commotion had gathered.

A group of thugs—at least five of them, all wearing dark green sashes with serpent emblems on their shoulders. I immediately recognized the mark.

"The Snake Gang."

Notorious for extortion, smuggling, and most of all… disturbing people's sleep.

One of them, a massive guy, probably 6 feet tall, with a cowboy hat, a metal claw on his left hand, and a black eyepatch, had a young lady by the shirt collar, lifted off the ground like she weighed nothing.

She was screaming for help. The others were laughing like it was just some twisted entertainment.

My patience broke.

I slammed open the small balcony door and shouted down at them:

"Hey! What's your problem? Can't you see people are trying to SLEEP here?!"

The big guy turned and glared up at me with his one good eye, like I just insulted his whole bloodline.

"Watch your mouth, little kiddo," he barked.

Ah, I definitely pissed him off.

He dropped the girl, grabbed a wooden chair from a nearby vendor stall, and hurled it up at me. The thing spun fast like a deadly frisbee.

I caught it mid-air.

"Tsk."

I placed the chair aside gently to avoid damage.

Then I let out a loud yawn.

"Look," I muttered, stretching my arm lazily, "I really don't want to fight right now. I'm extremely tired."

But he didn't listen.

With a feral growl, the man charged straight toward the building—claws out, eyes burning.

He scaled the fence, leapt onto the balcony with surprising speed for his size, and lunged at me like he was auditioning for a Wolverine remake.

So I did the first thing my instinct told me to do.

I flicked his forehead.

Just a flick.

He flew back like a cannonball, crashed into a fruit cart, and rolled into a pile of barrels.

His gang froze.

Dead silence.

Then—

"GET HIM!!"

All of them rushed at the inn entrance, yelling, cursing, and drawing weapons like I'd just killed their leader.

I scratched my head.

"What a burden…"

From deep in my mind, I heard Grim laughing.

"Ahhh~ You really can't catch a break, can you?"

I sighed.

"They interrupted my nap. That's unforgivable."

I sighed and looked down at the leader still groaning near the busted fruit cart. His gang circled like vultures, angry and embarrassed. This wasn't going to end quietly.

So I made them an offer.

"Let's make a deal," I said, raising one hand and yawning again. "If I win, you leave this place alone and never show your ugly faces around here again. If you win, I'll give you a hundred gold coins."

Their eyes lit up like fireworks.

"H-Hundred?" one of them stuttered, practically drooling.

"You serious, kid? That's a fortune!"

Faces that once burned with anger were now twisted in gold-lust. All except five of them. Those five... didn't smile. They stood back, eyes sharp, expressions unreadable.

From inside my mind, Grim whispered:

"Careful... those five aren't like the others."

"Yeah, I figured. But I'm stronger."

The injured leader, apparently named Orang, limped back to his crew, clutching his cracked jaw. Despite his bruises, he barked out a command.

"Let's take it outside."

And just like that, we all moved to the open area outside the inn.

The city was alive again, this time with tension. A crowd started to gather, curious heads poking out of windows, murmurs spreading fast like wildfire.

People whispered:

"That's the Snake Gang…"

"Who's the guy fighting them?"

"Wait, is he alone?"

The gang lined up before me—thirty of them in total. Most were just thugs with iron pipes, blunt swords, and mismatched armor. But five of them, standing at the back, were different. Controlled breathing. Measured steps. The aura of awakened fighters.

And in the center, Orang crossed his arms with a smug grin.

"Let's see you talk big after this, boy."

I cracked my knuckles.

"Alright. Come at me."

The thirty rushed like a flood—wild, disorganized, overconfident.

I didn't even pull out my scythe. I didn't need to.

They ran at me like drunk bulls. I sidestepped one, grabbed another by the collar, and threw him over three others. One swung a bat at my head—I ducked, elbowed him in the ribs, and kicked another in the stomach. Within seconds, I dropped ten of them like flies.

"Weak as heck," I muttered, sighing.

One tried to tackle me from behind. I flipped him over with a shoulder throw and made him kiss the ground.

"Tsk. No formation, no coordination. Just meat shields with fists."

I turned back to the gang—most of them now unconscious or limping away in fear. The crowd erupted into cheers.

Orang just stood there, pale.

"Still want those hundred gold coins?" I asked him, half-smirking.

He shook his head.

"N-no, sir. N-no thanks."