Gacha System: Reborn In The Hardest World

He pushed his way through the crowd until he had a clear view of the two combatants. It was happening too quickly; the cat woman moved nimbly, slashing towards the man with her daggers. 

On the other hand, the armored fighter blocked the swift strikes with his greatsword. 

"Get 'em, Kiri!" A spectator cheered. 

"I've got five gold on you, Balkron!" Another shouted. 

It was his first time seeing what two adventurers of Gaia looked like in combat—an eye-opening experience. 

"Rrraaah!—" 

The bald, scar-headed man roared as he swung his sword, sending a sharp wind with it. It didn't seem to merely be brute strength, but as if the warrior commanded the elemental of wind at his blade. 

With stunning elusiveness, the cat woman slid across the ground as a shade, vanishing from sight before reappearing a moment later. 

Like a phantom slipping through, the nimble woman swept her dagger across the thigh of the warrior. 

"Ngh!—" Balkron grunted, swinging his sword behind him. 

The wild slash produced a gust that pushed some spectators back. It forced Kiri to flip back, landing her feet against the wall as though gravity wasn't an issue. 

Of course, the strength of Balkron was undeniable; a single direct hit would mean death for the small, cat-like woman. 

On the other hand, he just couldn't imagine that brute landing a single hit. 

'This is intense…This is a battle to the death—one hit can determine it,' he watched, unsure if he should really be witnessing this. 

Despite the imminent bloodshed, the crowd of the bustling city didn't try to intervene. The warrior remained steadfast, using his sword to control his own space, saved by his armor multiple times as the swift strikes of the feline blitzed through. 

While the thought crossed his mind to step in, he knew it would only result in a negative reaction. 

"Go! Go!" 

"Get 'em!" 

"Take him down, Kiri!" 

—The cheers of the crowd grew louder as Balkron only grew more exhausted and the cat woman remained swift. 

"Ruuaaah!" 

A desperate swing from the warrior only resulted in carving into the side of the stone-built building. Slipping in, Kiri was right there, bringing her blade up to the man's neck— 

"I yield!" Balkon shouted, wincing as the dagger was pressed to his throat. 

Just like that, it was over. Some in the crowd cheered with their new profits, and others grumbled over their losses. Though none seemed to take it harder than the loser of the bout himself, who dragged his feet along and hung his head. 

"Hey—" 

Gael called out as Balkron passed by, but the man had nothing to say. It was as if his entire sense of self was gone just like that, nothing but a shell of himself. 

'I guess a loss like that in a kingdom ruled by strength…well, it's like losing everything,' he thought, only considering why anybody would risk it all. 

He stood there, watching the crowd disperse while the cat woman was still there, tucking her daggers back into their sheaths. The nimble woman didn't look much older than her early twenties, though her yellow, feline eyes certainly looked sharpened with experience. 

"What're you staring at? Got a problem?" The cat-eared woman called out, looking right at him. 

He was surprised to find himself pressed directly for a harmless stare, though brushed it off, "Nope, not at all." 

"Hm. Your scent is weird, and your clothes." 

"Yeah?" Gael raised an eyebrow. 

The rather sharp rogue stepped past him without another word, though he felt lucky enough not to also be faced with a duel. It wasn't more than a minute before the street was back to its buzz, with merchants advertising their wares and people on their stroll. 

'So, this is Galios? The kingdom of the strong—well, it's better than being hunted,' he thought. 

Wandering around far enough brought him to stumble into an alleyway. The dim, secluded area didn't seem to brew much of anything interesting. 

"Look what we found here." 

"A tourist getting lost." 

"Easy pickings." 

Though he recognized none of the three voices, they all sounded equally sleazy and up to no good. Without turning around, a sigh escaped his lips, already having an understanding of the situation he found himself in. 

"C'mon, lay down everything you've got and we'll let you off easy here!" 

"Yeah, turn those pockets out!" 

He turned around, finding the voices of the thugs matching their appearances. 

The leftmost was of an average build with baggy, hole-riddled clothes, carrying a knife. 

The middle thug was the largest, towering with a frame packed with muscle. There wasn't any weapon in his hands, though he cracked his knuckles as if his fists were enough. 

On the right, the pipsqueak almost made Gael laugh. He was likely of dwarf blood, standing no taller than an elementary schooler, though with the face of a middle-aged salaryman. 

"Seriously, guys. You should probably pick somebody else," Gael suggested, waving his hand to shoo them away. 

The ruffians blocked his way out of the enclosed alleyway, holding self-assured smirks and scowls. 

'Right. Guys like this don't really listen to words, do they?' He thought. 

Being in the situation he was in, he recalled similar times back in his past life. It made his heart race, always considering whether to run, scream, or fruitlessly fight back. 

Yet here, he felt no threat from the thugs. 

"Hurry up and drop your shit, or we'll drop you!" The burly of the three threatened, spitting as he spoke. 

He considered calling upon his scythe, though the idea of turning the ruffians into mincemeat didn't sound right. It seemed completely unnecessary, judging the thugs just by looking at them. 

Pucha looked ready to ram them, dragging one of its paws across the ground, though he recalled it. 

"Settle down," Gael calmly said. "I've got this handled."

"Hey, I'll turn that weird little pet of yours into a grilled patty if you don't listen up!" The sleazy, knife-holding thug threatened. 

Gael sighed, shrugging his shoulders at the empty threats, "You're not going to do anything. Just put a sock in it, wouldja?" 

It only seemed to further entangle the no-good bandits into rage as the burliest among them turned as red as a tomato. While he wouldn't want to openly admit it, he wasn't exactly trying to avoid a fight–he was looking for one.