A Deathworlder on Bet 2

free chappy.

-VB-

A Deathworlder on Bet
Chapter 2

-VB-

*Hic*

Legend knew that he was the best out of the Triumvirate to talk with the mystery old man, the same person who, after moments upon arrival, tore one of Simurgh’s legs away with a casual swat.

He was the fastest, possessed conditional invulnerability, and - for obvious reasons - proved time and time again that he was the most approachable among the Triumvirate. There was a reason why he was the leader of the Protectorate and not Eidolon.

*Hic*

He’s talked down villains on rampage, consoled grieving victims, and have been through almost everything a cape could go through.

*Hic*

But he never had to deal with a superpowered drunken elderly before.

“Good afternoon!” he greeted brightly. “Thank you for helping us drive away the Endbringer!”

*Hic*

Still floating in the air, the elderly man had, somehow, acquired a can of beer and finished it all.

*Sob*

Legend froze up for a moment. Why was the old guy crying?!

“S-Sir…?”

Unstable capes were bad news for everyone. If someone like this old man went on a rampage out of nowhere, then he didn’t want to think about the destruction they would have to deal with.

He took off the Simurgh’s leg, for crying out loud! No one’s ever done that before!

“This *hic* booze tastes horrible!”

Legend wished he could stumble and crash midair because he just felt all tension in his body explosively relax and left him feeling indignant, empty, and relieved.

“Sir, if you can answer some questions for me, then I will make sure to get you some great … beer.”

He didn’t know any beer types. He wasn’t a drinker.

Maybe David did?

The old man’s head snapped towards him instantly. “Really? Just a few questions for booze?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great! Why don’t we get started?” the old man chortled. “Let’s start with an introduction. My name’s Jiro. You’re…?”

“Legend, sir.”

“Legend? Well, I don’t know about you, but I think your father - there’s no way a mother would name their son like that - had a few screws loose.”

Legend chuckled. “No, sir. Legend is my cape name. Ah… how about superhero identity?” he tried, seeing as this man couldn’t possibly from Earth Bet.

If he was, then everyone would have known about him by now. He would also undoubtedly become famous after this.

“Superhero?” Jiro hummed as he scratched his chin. “Never heard of one back where I’m from. But then again, everyone’s too busy eating.”

Eating? How did that fit into someone’s worldview that superheroes didn’t even register, because clearly, that world had some powerful individuals like Jiro.

“Ah, I guess you can call the boys that, the Four Kings. Saving the human world from all sorts of troubles. When the Four Beasts came to devour the Human World, they stepped up to beat those monsters back. When the beasts’ rampage left no food for the people, they stuck their neck out in the Gourmet World to bring food back. Wonderful boys.”

*Hic.*

“By the way, do you boys and girl have some more booze for this old man? I feel parched.”

-VB-

David never met someone other than Cask who could drink an entire barrel’s worth of whiskey in one-go.

“Kahaha! Alright, this is pretty alright!” ‘Jiro’ exclaimed rambunctiously as another barrel of single malt whiskey, donated to the savior of Canberra by the city, rolled away from the five of them.

The fifth member of this tiny circle cleared his throat. “Hello, Mr. Jiro,” he spoke up. “I am Marmot of the Australian parahuman agency, Australian Parahuman Agency. Australia and especially the people of Canberra thanks you for your help, and we have some questions.”

“Ask away! What’s a few questions in exchange for some good booze~?!”

The four of them, the Triumvirate and Marmot, glanced at each other.

Was this really happening?

David cleared his throat. “How strong are you?”

“Ah? Why ask me something so vain?” Jiro drawled not unhappily but with a barely noticeable amount of irritation.

Alexandria also glared at him for asking such an useless question.

“I am as strong~ as I need to be~!” Jiro cackled. “But I guess my specialty ain’t even fighting!”

“It’s not?!” Legend choked out in surprise.

“No no no. I am a knocking specialist!”

Knocking?

“I knock out people, ingredients, and animals without causing them damage so that they are as fresh as they can be when they reach a chef’s hands. For good food, the ingredients need to be fresh, you know?”

David barely noticed the second barrel rolling away.

Jiro picked up the last barrel once again with his seemingly frail body and turned it upside down to drink it straight from the tap.

And then it was gone, too.

“We are heroes who protect this world from all sorts of atrocities and tragedies,” Legend spoke up. “I would like for you to help us, Jiro.”

“...”

“Sir…?”

Urk Urk Urk

He was too busy drinking.

The third and last barrel rolled away, and Jiro giggled, high as a kite and definitely not-.

His hand shot out in a blur and caught something.

“Now, what is this?” he said as he brought whatever he had just caught with his hand to the front of his face. “A bullet?”

Someone just broke the Truce and attacked the savior of the city.

Jiro tossed the bullet aside… and reached out for the third barrel he had just tossed. “Aw man, there’s no more booze…”

“We’ll provide you all of the alcohol you want if you join the Protectorate.”

“DEAL!”