Reincarnated as a Son of the Sword Saint and the Sage



"Thank you for tonight, everyone. Have a good night." 

"We also wish you a good night, Rick." 

Once their major performance was perfectly done, Rick and his three companions bid farewell to their other colleagues before they took a carriage ride on their way to their residence. 

It was midnight, so the streets were not showing any activity as the snow slowly fell to the road. After a few turns and hundreds of meters on the wheels, they finally made their way to a mansion in the city's noble district. 

Due to their popularity, they were socially obliged to have an abode suited for superstars like them. Given how famous their group was and how influential their company was, purchasing a mansion was not something they could not do.

After the carriage stopped in front of the patio, the four handsome members of the Rickroll stepped out of the vehicle and entered the house. One of the manservants they hired then received them at the door upon their arrival. 

"Welcome back, masters." The old butler graciously bowed before them. "How's your night?"

"Busy as usual," Rick responded as he was taking off his coat. "But thankfully, I was able to fit all my schedule in time." 

"That sounds stressful." The butler then received the coat. "You all seem tired. Let me warm up the bath for you." 

"That helps a lot. Thank you." 

They all started walking inside the mansion after that, with the butler leading the way. They actually did not get tired since they had the resistances and skills from Raphael's soul. But their ostensible levels and stats were a little above average, around a hundred, so they had to show some weariness to people around them.

"By the way, Master Rick." The old man spoke while they walked. "You have a letter from him." 

He said that with a serious tone, and Rick recognized its significance. "I see," Rick muttered.

"From him, huh?" One of the Rickrolls with red locks caressed his beardless chin. "Do you think it would be important." 

"Of course, you idiot," the blonde one scorned. "If it is from that person, it's definitely important."

As with all the clones of Raphael, the clones of Rick were instructed to have their own personalities. Even though the two interacted like that, they had been in a charade the whole time. But in some instances, they unconsciously used their personalities in reality.

"Stop, you two," Rick told the two. "About the letter, I will read it later." 

"I understand." 

Once they came to a conclusion, the five of them continued tracing the corridor. The bulter then headed to the bathhouse as the members of Rickroll went straight to the living room to discuss their plans for the future.

◆◇◆

Later on, Rick entered his room clad in a bathrobe. He just finished washing his body, and he was about to go to sleep. 

When he took a seat on his bed, Rick looked at the table beside the bed. On the table, a white envelope sealed with red wax could be seen. He had instructed the butler to put the letter on his table.

Rick reached out and grabbed it. He broke the seal and took a folded piece of paper out of the envelope. He then unfolded the letter and started scanning its contents, beautifully written in cursive.

"[Met me at the usual place at the usual time tomorrow.]" He read it out loud. "[I am going to introduce him to you.]"

That was all the contents of the letters; there were no more details. But even with that little information, Rick already understood the context since he had been seeing this person for a certain reason. 

After reading the letter, Rick put the paper back in the envelope. He then threw it into his subspace before he lay on the mattress and rested his body after a long, hard day.

◆◇◆◇◆◇

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Kingdom of Astley

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

A man was running along a forest in the northwestern part of the kingdom, marking his footprints on the snowy earth. The man was not just a human; he had something in his body that differentiated him. 

With animal ears sprouting out of his head and a wagging tail on his hips, he was without a doubt a beastman, specifically a member of the grey wolf tribe. 

"Pant... Pant... Pant..." 

The beastman ran at an extraordinary speed, as if he were exerting his full speed. Based on his terrified expressions, he seemed to be desperately running for his life. He was being chased by a small group of people.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Immediately after he made prints, they were then overlayed with his pursuers feet. The beastman was chased by three individuals, but unfortunately, they were significantly running faster than him.

"Heh." One of the pursuers grinned cynically. "Playtime is over. Let's end this pointless chase already, can we, beast?" 

"Haaa!!!" 

The beastman heard the man's words and desperately tried to run faster. Suddenly, a flash of light and a strong gust of wind passed his peripheral vision, which immediately brought chills to his spine.

"What?!" 

Before his eyes, a man had been blocking his way. The moment he saw him, his instincts told him how dangerous the man could be. He eventually realized he was trapped, and then he ran leftward to escape.

"Running is futile, beast."

Soon after the man said that, he pulled out his beloved gun from his hip holster. Even though the gun looked like a flintlock pistol, it was actually powered by magic. 

He aimed its muzzle at the escaping beastman and then channeled a little mana into the gun. The ammo and the black powder had been loaded into the gun. All he needed to do was pull the trigger to activate the fire magic circle within the gun.

"Fast Shot."

Bang.

Thud.

An explosive noise rang out of the snowy forest, followed by a collapsing sound a hundred meters away. The bullet had precisely hit the target's skull, and the beastman dropped dead on the snow, painting the white surface with his blood.

"Headshot," the man said as he blew out the smoke coming out of the muzzle.

For a sure hit, the man used a Level 1 Shooting Art technique for additional velocity. If he did not, the beastman's intrinsic reflexes would surely dodge the round. 

"You hit him, sir." One of the pursuers praised the man. "One bullet once again." 

"Serves this beast right," said the other one as he kicked the lifeless, cold body. 

The pursuers were actually soldiers of Astley, and they were patrolling the northwestern border looking for some beastman to eliminate. They hunted and killed beastmen, and for these men, killing them was as easy as breathing.

Since the coronation of the current king, racism had become prevalent throughout the kingdom, and the discrimination against the beastmen had worsened. Many beastfolk in the country had been persecuted, and some were even publicly executed. 

Through the years, the western borders of the kingdom had been stationed by more military troops deployed by racist nobles in order to prevent any beastmen from setting foot on the country.

"Hmph," the shooter scorned as he rubbed his long blonde hair. "Beastmen are disgusting pieces of shit. They should all die."

"As expected of Sir Austin, the greatest marksman of Astley,"

"Hehe. I detected three beasts coming this way. They must have heard the gunshot. Let's kill them all, shall we?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" 

After leaving the body behind, Austin's gun once again ended the lives of three more gray wolf beastmen.

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