Zero to Overlord: The Forsaken God's Ascension

The Mercenary’s Disdain

The border town of Iron-Rock smelled of cheap grease, wet mud, and desperation. It was the perfect place for a dead prince to hide.

"Keep your head down," Valeriana whispered, her hood pulled low over her silver hair. "And for the love of the gods, stop looking like you’re judging the architecture. You’re a mercenary now, not a royal."

"I'm not judging," I said, stepping over a puddle of murky water. "I'm looking for mana. These people are... empty."

"It's a border town, Zero. Most people here couldn't light a candle with their spark. That’s why we’re here. Low stakes, low attention."

We pushed through the swinging wooden doors of The Broken Anvil tavern. The noise hit us like a physical wall—drunken laughter, the clinking of mugs, and the off-key strumming of a lute. We took a corner table in the shadows.

"Two ales and the cheapest stew you have," I told the barmaid.

"Coming up, honey," she chirped, though she eyed my tattered cloak with pity.

I leaned back, my eyes scanning the room. My "Zero" vision was active. To everyone else, this was a room of drunks. To me, it was a room of faint flickering lights. Most were dim embers, but one table in the center was burning like a torch.

A group of armored men sat there, wearing the crimson capes of the Governor’s Guard. In the center was a young man with blonde hair and a face that looked like it had never known a day of hard work.

"Look at that," Valeriana muttered, nodding toward them. "That’s Julian’s influence. The Empire is putting more 'noble' blood in these border posts to keep the commoners in line."

The blonde noble slammed his mug down. "Another round! And make it fast, you lazy peasants!"

The tavern went quiet. Nobody dared look him in the eye. He was a Level 2 Spirit—weak by my old standards, but a god among these townspeople.

The barmaid hurried over with a tray. As she passed his table, the noble stuck out a foot. She tripped, the tray flying. Ale soaked his expensive leather boots.

"You clumsy bitch!" the noble roared, standing up.

"I-I'm sorry, my lord! Please!" the girl cried, scrambling on the floor.

He raised a gloved hand, mana shimmering around his palm. "A lesson in respect is what you need."

He didn't hit her. His eyes shifted, landing on our table. Specifically, they landed on Valeriana. Even under a hood, her regal posture was impossible to hide.

"Wait," the noble said, a greasy smirk spreading across his face. "Forget the girl. You there, in the silver. Show me your face."

Valeriana didn't move. "I'm eating."

The tavern gasped. The noble’s face turned a shade of purple that reminded me of my father’s rage.

"Do you know who I am?" he hissed, walking toward us. "I am Silas Thorne-Vane. The Governor’s nephew. My cousin is Julian Thorne, the Crown Prince!"

"Small world," I muttered into my stew.

Silas reached our table and grabbed Valeriana’s shoulder. "I said, show me your—"

He didn't finish.

I didn't use a sword. I didn't even use a fist. I picked up the heavy iron soup spoon from my bowl and slammed the handle down onto the back of his hand.

CRACK.

Silas screamed, his knees hitting the floor. His hand was pinned to the wooden table by a common spoon, the metal bent at a sharp angle.

"You shouldn't touch things that don't belong to you," I said, my voice as flat as a tombstone.

"My hand! You broke my hand!" Silas wailed. "Guards! Kill him! Kill this animal!"

Four guards drew their swords, the metal singing. The tavern patrons scrambled for the exits.

"Zero," Valeriana said, sounding more bored than worried. "The plan was 'low profile.'"

"He touched you," I said. "The plan changed."

I stood up. The first guard lunged, his blade glowing with a faint fire enchantment. I didn't dodge. I stepped into his guard. I grabbed the blade with my bare hand.

The fire didn't burn me. It vanished. The guard’s eyes went wide as he felt his mana being sucked out of the sword and into my palm.

"Thanks for the snack," I whispered.

I snapped the sword in half like a dry twig and drove the jagged end into his shoulder. He went down with a grunt.

The other three hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?!" Silas shrieked from the floor, still pinned by the spoon. "He’s a commoner! He has no mana! Use your skills!"

"That's the problem, Silas," I said, stepping over the table. "I love skills."

One guard tried a 'Heavy Strike.' I caught his wrist and drained him until he fainted from exhaustion. Another tried a 'Wind Blade.' I breathed in the air and felt the wind settle in my own lungs.

In ten seconds, four guards were unconscious heaps on the floor.

I turned back to Silas. He was trying to pull the spoon out of the table with his good hand, his face pale with terror.

"You... you’re a monster," he gasped. "Who are you?"

I leaned down, my eyes turning into two black pits of nothingness. "Tell your uncle the Governor that a debt collector has arrived. And tell Julian... I'm coming to take back what he's keeping warm."

I grabbed the spoon and yanked it out. Silas collapsed, clutching his ruined hand.

"Let's go," I said to Valeriana.

"You’re a terrible mercenary," she sighed, though she was smiling. "But you’re a hell of a face-slapper."

As we stepped out into the rain, I felt a prickle on the back of my neck. In the shadows of an alleyway across the street, a figure in a dark cloak was watching us. They didn't have the clumsy energy of a guard. They had the cold, sharp presence of the Thorne Shadow Guards.

"We’re being followed," I whispered.

"I know," Valeriana replied, her hand moving to her hilt. "The Emperor’s dogs have long noses."

"Good," I said, looking toward the Auction House down the street. "I’m going to need a better weapon if I’m going to kill an army."