That Time an American was Reincarnated into Another World

After my meeting with Patriarch Tavera, I went for a few delivery commissions to kill some time and help out with the large list of Gala deliveries since it was still early in the evening. 

However, I only completed a few jobs, receiving a total payout of 50 thousand before disappearing and starting my hunt. 

Henevue Rence operated out of one particular warehouse in the city slums. That was supposed to be his holding area, but he didn’t appear there often. He personally worked out of a nice housing complex within the Founder’s Market where he could easily make contact with the Clockwork Association. It wasn’t uncommon for him to appear within their territory the few times he did appear.

Thankfully, this major auction was bringing him out of hiding. The window to kill him would be small, but there was still something I needed to check. 

Trust but verify. 

The Tavera Family apparently stood to gain quite a lot from Henevue’s death, though I wasn’t sure how. But I wouldn’t allow myself to be used to kill an innocent man. 

I would confirm for myself if this man was as heinous as Tavera made him out to be. 

It took me a while to get to the slums of the city. Even though they were called slums, they were simply less prosperous areas of the capital, still offering a modicum of comfort. Instead of tall stone buildings, people lived in short wood houses and ran small shops. It was far more modest than the flashy colors and materials of the Kingdom’s central areas, even making me feel a little out of place. 

However, it wasn’t enough to attract too much scrutiny. My coat was still drab enough that, disregarding anyone noticing the pulsing lines across its back, it just seemed a sound investment in clothing. Anyone who recognized me would probably come from the markets themselves, so I didn’t worry about getting spotted. Besides, I could feel every gaze through Aura. At most, there was some mild envy mixed in with brief curiosity. If there was anything out of place, I would know.

A few wrong turns and fallible directions later, I finally found a side alley that led into a more desolate place.

Under the faint light of the moon, it looked like an actual slum; seemingly abandoned buildings sat derelict and caked in dust; piles of trash forced me to navigate around them; stray animals lay despondent under collapsing overhangs. The actual infrastructure reminded me of a more dilapidated Trenches, but was a definite improvement over the ever-present haze of drugs. 

The warehouse in question was a larger building, a careful veneer of neglect torn to shreds by the fact it was one of the only structures in the immediate area not half collapsed. 

After confirming I was at the proper location, I looked around for an overwatch position. 

I laid eyes on a two story shop. Scaling another building next to it and using my enhanced strength, I leapt onto its roof, inwardly apologizing for the sudden thump that no doubt startled the inhabitants.

Summoning my Remington-Lee, I propped up the rifle in a comfortable position and laid down.

Close to two hours later, I was starting to think Patriarch Tavera’s intel had been mistaken. But just as I had resolved myself to move to another position, a wagon pulled up to a side door. 

A few people hopped out of it while another group exited from the building’s side door. They exchanged a few words. One of the second group signaled to someone inside, prompting them to let the wagon through a large door.

Thankfully, they didn’t bother closing the door, possibly because they were in a hurry. Once the wagon stopped, they immediately started loading it.

My heart rate, only just calming down from the wagon’s initial appearance, spiked again.

Two dozen people of all ages were herded from a cellar, all with various bruises and injuries. A few people, presumably Knights, practically threw them in the back of the wagon, sealing the seamless back doors like there had never been a human trafficking operation at all.

After that, two drivers drove the wagon away, heading deeper into the city. 

From a cursory assessment, those two drivers were only Authority 5 and 6. I sensed the strength of a knight from the Authority 5 and mana from the other. 

If I wanted to, I could kill both. If I wanted to, 24 people could be freed. However, I had yet to find Henevue. 

Tavera’s evidence had provided more than enough proof to irrevocably link Henevue with the worst of human scum. I was no longer worried about his connection in the slightest. 

My concern was alerting the man. If I ambushed his shipment midway, he might get worried. And the only way this assassination would work was if he was totally confident.

I watched the wagon drive away, my reticle hanging over the unsuspecting backs of the two men, the confidence to kill them beckoning me to pull the trigger. I could do it. I could save those people, sparing them from their fate as human experiments. The tortures they, and many like them, would suffer to provide the knowledge the Association wielded, were known to none.

This was the dark part of the black market. The truly dark part, not just the drugs or depravity.

And yet, despite the fact I now held the fates of 24 people in my palm, I held back.

I leapt off the building with a shuddering breath, assuming a steely expression.

I didn’t have a carriage, nor did I care to call and wait for one. Time was of the essence. I ran back to the Founder’s Market, opting for side routes and shortcuts, occasionally glimpsing the carriage I was shadowing; my stamina boosting mask doing little to help the shuddering gasps my breaths eventually turned into. 

I slowed as I started creeping into Clockwork Association territory. Using my Aura as a guide, I steadily made my way to Henevue’s residence, losing sight of the carriage in the process.

Like last time, I found a good vantage point about 150 yards away and two stories higher than my target building. 

And through my scope, I waited. 

After an hour, I saw the wagon from before roll out of the Association Headquarters. It had beat me here, and now, it was empty. 

Those people I saw were now delivered, fated to be test subjects until they died because I chose not to save them. 

But I forced those regretful feelings down and waited some more. 

And I laid there, rifle in hand, until the sun came up. 

I saw dozens of people come and go, mostly warlocks, but none matching the face of my target. 

Yet I stayed until the sun started to rise higher into the sky. It even started hurting to blink.

“Damn you. Come out already.”

I cursed, and yet no matter how long I waited, Henevue didn’t come out. 

Perhaps he mediated the earlier exchange while I was on the way. Perhaps I had missed him.

But I didn’t want to leave. I needed to kill this man and I wouldn’t leave until I did. 

So I remained on the rooftop. My vantage point gave me a clear view of where he made his exchanges. 

Taking out a cigar from my case and a leftover ration from my spatial sack, I took an irregular breath of smoke, calming my nerves and refueling my body.

After about 10 minutes of that, I put the trash away while stowing the cigar. 

I allowed myself to take a short nap. But when the alarm on my Aerial went off an hour and a half later, I forced myself from grogginess, started smoking my cigar under the afternoon sun, and went back to watching. 

I kept my eyes on that building and the Clockwork headquarters. I checked the face of every single person, my reticle resting softly on each in turn.

I ignored the texts I got from Umara, Vetsmon, Feiden, and Plex. Nothing was in my mind except for this mission. 

And I stalked the area for 7 hours. Every hour, I would bring out the page with Henevue’s face on it, reminding myself, despite the fact the bastard’s visage was ingrained in my mind already.

The sun set on the city as I waited. It’d been almost an entire day. My joints creaked, my legs cramped, and my spine shrieked for relief, but I shoved their concerns aside. Henevue was bound to come out eventually, and I would not let my body’s weakness prevent me from delivering righteous justice. 

And then, right as it started to become dark, my eyes widened. 

I saw him. Henevue and two other men, walking into the headquarters. 

My agitation suddenly rose, compelling me take the shot then and there. But rationality won, purging my mind of everything except grim professionalism.

I watched them discussing something while walking. Henevue motioned to the area twice, likely indicating another shipment. 

He received nods of approval before the two parties separated. He was a long-time broker, so there probably wasn’t much to discuss. The only reason he was out and about was because of the upcoming auction. 

Yet the man never stopped moving. I had confidence in my shot but wanted to be absolutely sure. One wrong move and I would lose my chance forever. 

So I watched as Henevue walkedright back into the headquarters and disappeared from my sight.

I didn’t panic or regret anything. I simply stayed there, watching the gates as night came. What was a little more waiting?

Midnight soon passed, and dawn’s light once again pierced the night.

The timing was different, but sure enough, another shipment came. 

There it was, the same wagon with more people in it rolling down the street. 

From where I could see, it had a few more streets to go before it arrived at the exchange point. 

And in that time, Henevue emerged. 

My heart pounded as I saw him walk out with another man. This man wore a heavily embroidered cloak, obviously high level, possibly even more so than Henevue. 

But I didn’t worry about him. He wasn’t the target. All I cared about was killing Henevue. 

The two strolled out into the street to wait for the wagon, utterly assured of their safety in the heart of Clockwork territory. 

My heart rate increased once more. This was it. 

Taking a deep breath, I recalled the Remington-Lee for my Springfield.

A few ticks on the ladder sight was all I needed for a proper zero. Then, I calmed myself and took aim. 

150 yards was a long way, but my senses were sharper and I could clearly see Henevue. No matter what, my aim would be true and even if I didn’t hit his head, I would hit center mass. Very little would throw my shot off; I made sure even the worst deviation would still kill.

Just one second of stillness was all I needed.

I was patient, even as that wagon only a street away continued to roll another group of people to their doom. 

Henevue crossed his arms, laughing at a joke his companion told.

I didn’t feel resentment at the fact that he was enjoying himself. I didn’t need to. All I could see were the faces of the people loaded into the wagon. 

My finger was steady as it stroked the trigger, as smooth as all the other times I’ve fired this weapon. 

And I let freedom ring.

*BOOM*

The explosion cracked through the surroundings, startling dozens. 

I watched as Henevue’s head exploded into a long stream of red mist and flesh. The man beside him jumped in shock, wildly flicking his head around as a defensive shield popped into existence. 

I crawled off the roof I laid on, unsummoning the rifle. 

I landed in an alleyway, preparing another ambush for the wagon going up the street.

I waited for a short time, letting them roll up to me before summoning my Trench Gun and firing. 

*BOOM BOOM*

The warlock of the two drivers had his hasty shield vaporized by the 12-gauge slug, blowing off his head. And the knight could hardly handle one of those shots to the chest, flying off the wagon and too injured to rise again. 

Barely alive, the knight tried to crawl to his feet, feeble hands struggling to grasp a sword.

I simply walked around as he blindly struggled, placing my barrel against his throat and sending him to the afterlife. 

With that, I walked around and blasted off the wagon’s lock before throwing open the door. 

Inside, I saw another unfamiliar batch of people. Children and adults, but no elderly this time. 

They stared at me, terror evident on their faces as I stared back.

I spoke. 

“Get out and run, if you want to live. This is all I can do right now.”

“...”

Nobody responded, so I simply took off running. 

I only had one destination in mind, my feet taking me right back to the city slums.

I panted as I slowed down near the warehouse, out of breath but filled with more than enough willpower to compensate. 

Through my Aura, I felt only one person at Authority 6, a Knight.

Still, I walked up to the door with my Trench Gun in hand, placing it against the lock and pulling the trigger. 

*BOOM*

The handle blasted inward, letting me kick open the door as I loaded a shell into the tube of my shotgun. 

The entire warehouse was alerted as people came rushing down. 

An Authority 5 warlock turned the bend on the stairs, a fireball already forming in his palms.

I pointed my stick at him and squeezed. 

*BOOM*

*SPLAT*

He folded over the new hole in his waist, collapsing into a bloody pool.

Two Authority 5 Knights rushed at me from a doorway, roaring in battle-rage.

I wasn’t taking any chances. 

*BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM*

A few seconds later, I realized I was racking the slide on an empty shotgun. A gory mess of armor was all that remained of the two.

The Authority 6 was right behind them.

Summoning as much Psyka as I could, I injected all of it into a grenade and lobbed it at the doorway.

The knight arrived right as the grenade landed. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t pay it any heed as he stepped forward, focused on me. 

“You son of a-!”

*BOOOMM*

The grenade exploded underneath him right as I stepped behind a pillar. 

He somehow wasn’t dead yet, despite collapsing on the floor. His armor had saved him, badly dented, but concussive forces were a bitch. He could hardly breathe from the sudden collapse of his lungs, nor was his face in much better condition.

So I walked over to him and hand-delivered another grenade, stuffing it down his armor with a vengeance.

His Aura disappeared with another explosion. 

I couldn’t feel anyone else containing power after that. So my legs guided me to a locked cellar door.

With easy steps I went and broke the lock, throwing it open before seeing a stairway. 

I stepped down, getting hit with the pungent odor of human misery, disregarding it entirely as some lights flickered on. 

And there I saw it. Rows of cages, all of them containing people of varied ages. 

They all looked at me, more eyes full of fear. 

After a few seconds of processing what I saw, I put away the gun and stepped back up the staircase. 

I went over to the shell of the Authority 6, searching around before finding a barely intact set of keys. 

When I went back down, I simply went to each cage and unlocked them, throwing them open one by one. 

There were close to a hundred people, none of whom moved despite the wide open door.

Once I unlocked the last one, I stood at the end of the cellar, the open stairway across from me. 

“I’ve killed your captors. There is nobody here that can threaten you. Go. You are free now.”

“...”

I was met with silence. However, there were some people who had more confidence than others, willing to take their chances. 

Some of the men stepped out, looking at me before looking at the staircase. 

Before they left though, I suddenly reached out. 

“Wait.”

They turned back to me, startled. I took out my bank card and withdrew small gold coins. 

I walked over with 10 in hand, worth 1000 coin total, and placed it into one man’s hand. 

And I did the same for the other two before stepping back. 

“Hopefully that can get you through the next short while. Now go. Everyone else, step up and I’ll give you something.”

This time, people were more eager as the three men stumbled up the stairs. A crowd started forming around me as I rapidly deposited stacks of gold into their eager hands.

One by one they went up the stairs, some in groups, others alone. I could feel the thoughts and emotions of every single person who walked up to me and slipped past me. 

Anxiety, hope, sorrow, dread, apathy. 

All of these people were ordinary. Not a single one had mana, vigor, or psyka within them. None could hide a single detail of their minds from me. 

It was all too vivid, like I was the one experiencing these things in their place. I could feel the pain of their bodies, the hunger, their beaten limbs, and I did nothing to stop myself from soaking it all in.

Nobody spoke as each person came and went, all of them simply too scared to disturb the process on the slight chance that I might change my mind, too eager to receive and escape this place. But then I heard a soft voice. 

“What’s your name?”

I looked up, seeing a young emaciated woman who looked at me with determination in her eyes. Unlike the others, she carried happiness and hope, even some admiration. Whatever she had gone through, it hadn’t broken her spirits yet.

And she was the only one among this group that was both chained and had a Crest on her hand, dozens of markings resembling slash marks, the indication of a knight. 

There was a bit of Vigor within her. But it had been almost entirely exhausted. She looked like she was on the verge of death as she carried her heavy chains. 

“...Just call me the American.”

“American… Thank you.”

“...”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I took out a recovery pill and lifted it to her mouth. She looked at me and opened, letting me place it in so she could eat it. 

After that, I took out the keys that had been on the body of that Authority 6, undoing the chains that bound her wrists and ankles. 

They dropped with a clang, each of them incredibly heavy. 

She dropped to her knees on the side, recovering as I handed everyone else their money. 

Once she was feeling better, I handed her the money too. 

She looked at it for a second before clutching her hand and running out.

I walked out behind her, exiting the warehouse. 

Everyone who had left already was gone, only a few in sight when I emerged, all of them rapidly disappearing behind buildings.

I looked up to see the moon hanging bright in the sky. 

There was no happiness to be felt. Only regret over the fact that I hadn’t been able to save more. That I had sacrificed a batch in order to secure my kill. That there were countless others before that one. 

And I didn’t feel like receiving anything for it. So I simply walked home. 

I arrived at the Black Spider Hotel, entering the lobby where I saw the Key Master waiting, as always. 

His face was filled with concern and understanding. I had a feeling he knew exactly what had just happened. 

“I recommend rest, John. Allow the night to cleanse your soul.”

“Mm. Thank you, Key Master, for your hospitality.”

“Of course.”

He gave a cursory bow, which I returned before heading up. 

The moment I hit the bed, consciousness was stolen away from me, like a candle in the wind.