God of Trash

Rhys didn’t hesitate. He’d already made up his mind, so he had to move immediately. After all, there were two options: he waited until they forgot about Lira, then attacked, or he attacked immediately, before they had a chance to move Lira around or seriously injure her. From Mouse’s telling of the situation, he chose to act immediately. If they’d known for sure that Lira was sent here, or that she had backing, then it made more sense to wait, and act as if she was low-value, but they didn’t. They hadn’t seen Mouse, and Lira had claimed she was alone. They might have doubts about Lira’s claim, but that was different than one-hundred-percent expecting someone to come after her. If he acted now, they would still be caught up in doubting, and wouldn’t have decided one way or another, whereas if he waited, they would decide their doubt one way or another. They might decide it in Lira’s favor, but they might not. Now, before they decided either way, he would strike, wipe out what he could of the Water Syndicate, absorb the rest, and rescue Lira.

No, wait. I’ve got that backwards. Rescue Lira, then the rest of that. A little shine of fear lived in the depths of his heart. Someone more dangerous than him. Someone far more dangerous. Not strong enough to notice Mouse, but what did that mean? The Empire had overlooked Mouse.

The rest of him pushed back against that fear. He had impurities, poison, and trash by the buckets. What could this mystery figure do against that? Even the Empress feared impurities. If this mage started stronger than him, he could simply impurify them down to his level. Long live debuffs! Long live poison!

Unless the powerful mage oneshot him from across the world. Unless he got headshot from the other side of the map. Unless—

Rhys took a deep breath. All his hellish FPS memories had nothing to do with this situation. The chances the mage could, or would, execute him from miles out without him being able to even react were low. He wasn’t going to get spawncamped. He wasn’t going to get hammered every time he poked his head out of cover. He wasn’t going to get wallbanged. Safe, safe, safe. He’d be… not safe, but not oko’d without even knowing which direction the bullet had come from.

This wasn’t an FPS world anyways, thank goodness. Well, I’d already be dead if it was. He’d had no talent at FPSes and no twitch reflexes to speak of. But in this world, he could sense things with his aura. He wouldn’t get surprised. Even if the mage was way stronger than him, he would be able to react and at least run away, if not respond.

Why am I so scared? He’d fought before. He’d even fought way stronger mages before. So why—

But no, he knew it. It was because of Lira. Because Lira had been captured. Until now, he’d been winning. He hadn’t lost anyone. None of his foes had demonstrated the ability to easily capture the warriors under him, with such strength and acuity that his men and women weren’t even able to fight back. From Mouse’s telling, the guy had just scooped up Lira. Forget fighting back. Forget resisting. Just swooped her up and taken her home. It… it spooked him more than he’d expected it to.

Sure, the Empire had taken his friends awa, from a certain way of looking at things, but that was one thing. The Empire was the Empire. Above-board. So incredibly more powerful than him that it didn’t bear thinking about. This was the Water Syndicate. A secret, hidden force that he knew near-nothing about, except that one of its members was capable of capturing Lira single-handedly and suppressing her to the extent that all she could do was flail like a little kid being kidnapped by an adult.

Rhys took a deep breath. Stop panicking. I don’t panic. I’ve been de-cored by the Empr… by a little white tampon asshat with what felt like a rusty spoon. I spent three years in the mines. I don’t panic.

The image of Laurent as a tampon with a face and little stick arms and legs actually did improve his mood, and Rhys moved on, steadier than before. Not steadily, because Trash Step didn’t work like that, and the ground was a mix of knotty tree roots (trash footing) and soft, rich earth (not trash), but steadier. His eyes narrowed, and his thoughts narrowed to a laser focus. Lira. He’d go there, announce nothing, hit the Syndicate so hard they’d feel it for months, rescue Lira, and then, if everything went well, behead their regional leader and install himself in their place.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.