The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

It was true he had lied about sneaking off to the Northern Domain.

"Hey, you over there!" a voice called out from a corner.

Ben looked around. There was no one else on the street. This wasn’t a tourist spot; no one would be here unless they were making a submission.

"Are you calling me?" Ben asked, pointing to himself.

"Who else?" A skinny man and a burly man emerged from the shadows.

"Did you just make a submission?" the skinny one asked.

"What of it?"

"Let me put it this way: your submission has no chance of getting accepted. Those reviewers save all the slots for their own people. Why would they ever look at something from a random guy?"

The skinny man said with an air of authority.

"That can’t be right," Ben said, a little skeptical.

"Why not? Go ask around. Have you ever heard of anyone making money from this? I’m trying to help you, buddy. I know a bunch of the reviewers. Give me your design, I’ll submit it for you. I’ll only charge you 1 Silver Coin."

"But the staff inside said the reviewers’ contact information is on the forums." Ben’s intuition told him something was off about these two.

"Why won’t you listen?" The skinny man reached for the small bag Ben was clutching. It held the only existing sample of Ferin Chronicles.

Ben had spent several sleepless nights drawing it himself on pieces of cardboard.

Ben instinctively tried to resist, but he was just a child and not nearly strong enough.

The bag was about to be ripped from his grasp.

"My friend," a hand suddenly intervened.

"Who’s your friend!" the skinny man snapped. "Have you not heard of me?"

"Father!" Ben cried out in surprise.

It was Hakan.

"Stealing from a child is a bit much, don’t you think? How about this: 3 Silver Coins, and we can all be friends," Hakan said.

He was used to dealing with money-grubbing thugs. It was best to pay them off and avoid conflict.

"Heh, 3 Silver Coins? Who do you think you’re looking down on?"

"5 Silver Coins."

"I’ve taken a liking to the kid’s creation. The fact that I’m taking it is a compliment. How could a kid like him have made this anyway? Money should be earned by those capable of earning it."

The skinny man was unbelievably arrogant.

"Do you know who my master is? A real, bona fide Viscount of the Northern Domain. Are you trying to cause trouble for His Lordship?"

Hakan glanced back at his nervous son, then at the two domineering thugs.

He had always despised the nobility, yet for years he had longed to acquire a title of his own.

He had even forced this hollow dream upon his own child.

’What a failed life.’

"Run," Hakan mouthed silently to Ben.

Then, with a smile plastered on his face, he moved closer to the skinny man.

"Now, now, how could I dare interfere with the Viscount’s business?"

"Good, you know what’s good for you—"

Before the skinny man could finish, a sharp impact to his chin sent a wave of dizziness through him. His limbs went slack, and he collapsed heavily to the ground.

It took him several seconds to prop himself up.

He saw that the little brat had already run off, while the man who had interfered was now in a boxer’s stance.

"You dare hit me? What are you gawking at? Get him!" the skinny man yelled at his burly companion.

Hakan loosened his wrists. He had studied boxing for over a year in his youth, but he was far from an expert. He wasn’t confident he could win against an opponent with such a massive weight advantage.

He had to buy time for Ben.

But to his surprise, the burly man before him simply flexed his wrists and threw a couple of practice punches, moving with a speed that defied his size.

’A fluid flurry of motion?’

’Is he a Warrior-class Professional?’

Hakan’s heart sank. He’d assumed they were just common street thugs bluffing with a Viscount’s name, but it turned out this one was no ordinary person.

In the twenty-below-zero weather, beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead.

’What do I do now?’

’I told Karaman to get the city watch. Did he find them? Will they get here in time?’

Not that he had a high opinion of the city watch. After all, Twin Tower City’s Guard Corps was just the private army of the City-State Council.

They were obedient servants to the nobility, but to commoners, they were little more than legalized bandits.

Still, at least those legalized bandits had some rules when they extorted money, unlike these street thugs.

These guys probably wouldn’t let him off easy even if they got what they wanted.

"City Watch!" Hakan yelled, pointing behind the burly man.

The burly man spun around. He definitely couldn’t afford to mess with the Winter City Watch.

"Are you stupid?!" the skinny man, who had just staggered back to his feet, cursed.

Hakan seized the opportunity and used the same trick again, swinging a heavy punch at the burly man’s chin.

The burly man only swayed slightly. He then shot out a hand, grabbed Hakan by the neck, and lifted him off the ground.

"It really is the City Watch," Hakan tried again.

"I couldn’t find the City Watch!" Karaman yelled, panting as he ran toward them.

Hakan’s hopes plummeted.

"Haha, how old are you? Still playing these childish games," the skinny man sneered.

"But I did call for a Dial-a-Thug."

"Huh?" The two thugs didn’t understand what "Dial-a-Thug" was.

"He’s just bluffing," the skinny one urged the big guy. "Hurry up and finish him."

The burly man raised a fist larger than Hakan’s head, drew it back to build up power, and was about to bring it crashing down.

But it was stopped by an immense force.

The overwhelming power twisted his body, forcing his other hand to release its grip. Hakan dropped to the ground, coughing violently.

"Who called for a Dial-a-Thug?" a deep, rumbling voice sounded from behind the burly man. "Professional muscle, Beastman War Axe, at your service."

Hakan looked over. The towering figure nearly blocked out the sun. In comparison, the burly thug looked like a scrawny, underdeveloped child.

"Me! Me! I’m the one who called for a Dial-a-Thug!" Karaman shouted, running over and waving his arms.

"Oh, it’s Mr. Karaman. I love those spinning tops you make. Say, when are you going to design some attachments with real blades? The top battles right now just aren’t intense enough," said War Axe.

Karaman just gave a vague smile. ’What kind of spinning top battles are these Beastmen having, anyway? Isn’t putting blades in their Yo-Yos enough?’

"Maybe we should deal with the present situation first."

"These two? Oh, that’s easy. Watch me shove this one’s head up the other one’s ass!" War Axe said nonchalantly, completely dismissing them.

When he was bored, he wrestled bulls for fun. Several at a time, of course.

"You can’t do that!" The skinny man, realizing things had gone south, immediately shouted, "We work for the Viscount!"

Hearing this, War Axe paused and pulled a small notebook from a leather pouch at his side.

"Scared now, huh? You should’ve been," the skinny man said smugly.

War Axe slowly flipped open the notebook, stared at a page for a few moments, scratched his head, and then held the book out to Hakan. "What’s this word?"

Hakan glanced at the word War Axe was pointing to. "Craig."

"Craig. What’s that mean?"

"It’s a surname."

"Oh, I see," War Axe read out loud. "Does your Viscount belong to the Craig Clan?"

"Huh? No. What does that have to do with anything?" the skinny man asked, confused.

"I have to show some respect to Young Master Craig. I’d feel bad beating up on people from the Craig family too hard," War Axe answered.

"Then are you from the Church?"

"His Lordship the Viscount reveres the Magic Goddess."

"Meaning, no," Hakan clarified from the side, worried the Beastman wouldn’t understand the nuance.

"That’s good. The Church has more backing than I do. Not a good idea to mess with them." War Axe put his little notebook away.

He then swung a backhanded slap across the burly man’s face.

SLAP!

A sharp crack echoed.

The burly man was treated to an impromptu ballet lesson, spinning several times on the spot before collapsing to the ground.

War Axe then approached the skinny man, whose legs were trembling. Beastmen are a race that keeps their word; if they say they’re going to do something, they do it.

He grabbed the skinny man with one hand and hoisted the unconscious burly man with the other.

He then took a moment to aim, looking quite serious.

In the blink of an eye, War Axe pushed with his left hand and shoved with his right.

Mortise and tenon!

Hakan stared at the shocking scene, his expression a complex mixture of horror and disbelief.

’After living for nearly fifty years, only now was he discovering the true potential of the human body.’

Once the dust had settled, War Axe asked casually, "So, why’d you get on these two’s bad side?"

"They were trying to steal the card game I designed," Ben answered.

"What kind of card game? Is it fun?"

"Uh..." Ben didn’t know how to answer. Hardly anyone had played it yet.

"It’s a very interesting game," Hakan chimed in.

Karaman nodded in agreement.

"In that case, you should come with me to see my boss," War Axe said. "I’ll give your game an internal recommendation. If it gets picked, there’s a cash prize."