S&M Reboot Chapter 2 (Patreon)

AN: Congrats, I found time to write! This chapter will reset my 2 week timer though. Next update is 2 weeks from today, or if I find more time to write more. I still need to think of a new name for this version of the story. Love interest stays the same and all, but I'm keeping it more for memory than function at this point.

Chapter 2: First Steps.

"The tequila in that place is top quality, I tell ya. Oh, and over there, they make the most legit cocktails around; they make one that smells like roasted oak, and it's divine. The one with the weird chimney has a connection to a rocking winery, tell 'em I sent ya, and they'll break out the good shit."

Bacchus waltzed down the road with a wide smile as he went on a tangent, introducing various places around Malba City to Dante on the way to the dormitory, except that for some reason, he was only introducing places to drink.

“Not that I’m not grateful.” Dante drawled his words as he kept examining the oddly clean architecture around. “But do you only focus on liquor?”

"What?" Bacchus paused to give him an odd look before his eyes lit up. "Oh, you're more of an ale kinda guy. I know good breweries; there’s one down that street.” He pointed like a bloodhound with a scent trail.

Dante stared for a moment before shaking his head with a laugh. ‘And I thought I had a problem.’

It’s not that Dante didn’t make mental notes of everywhere Bacchus pointed out, but he also wasn’t in the best headspace to focus on it.

He took a deep breath and smiled at the various scents of fresh bread, foreign cuisines, and nature that filled his nose without a single pollutant he could identify.

No vehicles. No sounds of machinery. No advertisements. No bright flashing lights.

It was like a return to medieval times, if medieval times had better architectural technology, stellar hygiene, and semi-modern people.

There were smiles and laughter all around, mixed with the chatter of things both familiar and foreign. From the style of clothing, it almost seemed like a modern world, if not for the horse-drawn carriages, open-walled blacksmith shops, and various other crafts.

The main differences were the odd flashes of light as magic was used to perform one task over another, and Dante couldn’t help but feel his eyes drawn to every example of real-life magic.

No building was over three stories, with pointed cone or rounded dome roofs, and in the distance, Dante could see a towering city wall with a big arched gate.

The streets were flat as if carved from a single slab of stone, trees lining the roads offering a connection to nature, and the distant mountains around the city gave the feeling of being at a higher elevation. Each fresh breeze was a gift, carrying off the lingering stenches of civilization like a clean wipe.

“Ya look happy.” Bacchus casually commented from his side, hands behind his head as they walked along.

“It’s a beautiful city.” Dante freely complimented with a content expression.

“It is, ain’t it?” Bacchus grinned and looked around. “I’ve been to a couple other cities on jobs, but this always feels like home, ya know?”

“Home, is it?” Dante mused, various buried thoughts flashing behind his eyes. “You grew up here?”

“Nah, I moved here from Minstrel when I was eleven.” Bacchus barely paused as he waved to a group of passing kids trying to get his attention. "Just a few days' ship ride from the Hargeon port in the east."

“Minstrel.” Dante tasted the word. “That’s another country?”

“Yup.” Bacchus swerved around a group of men carrying lumber. "Second biggest nation in Ishgar, things work differently there, though."

“How so?” Dante leaned in curiously.

“Status.” Bacchus grimaced at the word. “There’s a massive divide between nobles, peasants, and serfs over there.”

"And it's different here?"

“It’s way better here.” Bacchus raised a brow at Dante. “Ya really haven’t traveled around much, have ya?”

"This is my first city." Dante pointed around them, as technically he wasn't lying.

“Ha, must be weird then.” Bacchus chuckled.

“You have no idea.” Dante passed a store’s glass display and caught sight of his younger face.

“Nah, I got it.” Bacchus dropped his playful smirk. “It was the same for me when I moved over here soon after I awakened my magic.”

“Why’d you move?” Dante recalled Bacchus’s earlier words. “We’re you a noble or something?”

“Hell nah.” Bacchus spat. "I'm a village boy, same as ya. Goldmine's my uncle; he took me in when my village got wiped."

The guy said it so casually that it took Dante a moment to process it. “Wiped?”

“Yeup.” Bacchus popped the P as he mulled over the topic. “Happens more often than people think. Life ain’t easy, ya know?”

Dante’s mind flashed to what they talked about back at the bar. “Was it magical beasts?”

“Nah, out in villages, people typically have more sense than to poke something they don’t understand. In my case, it was bandits.” The guy lowered his tone and muttered. “Or at least that's how they called 'em."

If Dante wasn’t paying attention, he would have missed the way Bacchus’s fists tightened. Dante was genuinely concerned about the world he woke up in, but he still didn’t want to poke at his new friend's wounds.

“So how’s living in Fiore better than Minstrel?” Dante steered the topic back to a more general stance.

"Status for one." Bacchus loosened his grip, and his easy smirk returned. “They got nobles here too, but it's way more controlled. The king of this place actually gives a shit about people, and ya only got nobles and civilians, no serfs or nothing.” He waved a hand around them at the bustling city. “No weird restrictions like how one class can’t buy alcohol or shit.” Bacchus shivered at the concept. “I’m damn grateful I moved over here.”

“Is that normal?” Dante wondered. “Back at the bar, you said people don't travel much around here."

“Generally, yeah.” Bacchus nodded. "Most people keep to their places just fine, but there're still a decent number of travelers, mostly mages. Fiore’s got a pretty kickass train system, though, so civilians can get around easier; Minstrel still uses horses and ships to get around.”

“How does that work?” Dante didn’t understand how neighboring countries could be so different in technology.

“It’s complicated.” Bacchus waved lazily. “Between bandits, cultists, dark guilds, borders, and noble shit, things get messy.”

“Huh.” A pit dropped in Dante’s stomach as he suddenly realized his situation might not be as safe as he assumed. “Are we in danger here?”

"Nah, man." Bacchus grinned proudly. “Malba city’s got Quatro Cerberus, we ain’t no random village.”

“So village life is dangerous because of humans?” Dante mused that it wasn’t all that different from back home, just in a different sort of way.

Bacchus side-eyed him incredulously and scoffed. “Man, your village must have been way out there if ya only had to worry about wildlife. Then again, I guess ya face your own challenges like that.”

“Maybe, but having to deal with all the issues you mentioned seems rough.” At least back on Earth, Dante didn't have to worry about a magical cult sacrificing him. A non-magical cult was a possibility, but Maine was a weird state as it was. “You said it like it happens pretty often.”

The far too mature teen paused for a moment before answering. “I wouldn't say it's normal for that stuff to happen often. I hear other countries have it worse, but Fiore’s got more mages and pretty tight laws, yet that also means we get more outlaws of the magical kind.” He paused to shrug. “Minstrel has more non-magical issues, but plenty of issues still. Similar shit, different levels and all that."

Dante silently listened, taking in whatever he could. “Seems rough.”

“Meh, it ain’t my problem.” Bacchus chuckled. “I’m a fighter, not a thinker. If I see a job that interests me, I'll take it and enjoy a wild ride. That’s all.”

“Even if it kills you?” Dante questioned.

"If it kills me, it means I was weaker." Bacchus shrugged uncaringly.

“Morbid.” Dante idly whispered, easily seeing how simple, yet harsh, reality could be in this world.

Bacchus seemed to hear the whisper and questioned. “What, ya disagree?”

“I don’t think I know enough to disagree.” Dante admitted as they passed over a bridge, taking a look at the clear blue waters gently flowing beneath. “In the wild, it’s just you against the world. A predator or a storm won’t care for currency, morality, or your connections. The game is simple: survival of the fittest. It's direct, it's deadly, and it's honest.”

Back then, when he lost his parents and was empty inside, struggling to make sense of the world, in his elder's shadow, Dante fell in love with nature and learned how to coexist with it. Its simplicity called to him far more than human society ever did.

"Survival of the fittest I can get behind." Bacchus smirked and held up a closed fist. "Not everyone thinks like that though."

“Society makes it weird.” Dante agreed. “The lines aren’t straight; there’s no proper cycle.” The abrupt shattering of his childhood taught Dante that. “People bend the rules, hide behind false words, and desire far past necessity.”

"But people make booze." Bacchus grinned like his life was boiled down to that one simple fact.

“They do make booze." Dante matched his grin with a laugh. “There are upsides and downsides, I guess.” The two crossed past an oddly placed Church, making Dante wonder about what kind of religion existed in such a world. “People make and do amazing things, but they also get complacent and ungrateful. Nature doesn’t forgive such mistakes.” Dante took a breath and let it go. “Ultimately, it's not my place to judge; I just know what I don't like being around."

It had been far too long since he lived true to himself, yet he’d spent the last two years learning what he didn’t want to be around. Only now, in this weird scenario, did his accumulating thoughts finally seem to fall into place.

“World's a big place. No need to force something that doesn’t fit.” Bacchus agreed and sniggered. “And we’re mages. Worst case scenario, if ya get in a tough spot, ya can always run.”

Dante snorted in humor. “Is that how you deal with it?”

“Hey, if they can’t prove ya did something, they can’t lock ya up.” Bacchus laughed. “Just look at those Fairy Tail lot, they live wild and still live free.”

Hearing that name sent a jolt through Dante’s mind as he was reminded of the anime’s name. “Fairy Tail, that’s another guild, right?”

“Yeah, they’re over in Magnolia, eastern side of Fiore.” Bacchus pointed at a food stall with a silent question and got a nod from Dante. “They’re good people, got some real strong mages, but they get a bit wild and tend to destroy buildings and stuff while doing jobs.”

“And they get away with it?” Dante asked as Bacchus placed his order.

“Meh, they run pretty fast.” Bacchus had a hint of admiration on his face at that. “It’s a running joke in Fiore. Everyone knows they do it, but people are grateful they solved the real problem and wave it off since they're good-natured and pay for damages.”

“And the nation just accepts that?” Dante thought about what public destruction would mean back on Earth and shuddered at the thought of all that legal stuff.

“Hell if I know.” Bacchus thanked the stall owner and took two breakfast sandwiches, passing one to Dante. “They’re still standing tall, so it seems to work out.”

"Huh." Dante looked down at the sandwich, seeing that it looked just like a bacon, egg, and cheese. “You didn’t have to…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bacchus waved it off without another word and took a bite as he gestured to keep walking.

Dante felt that warmth of gratitude again and sighed softly. “Thanks, man.”

“That’s what bro’s are for.”

‘Bro’s, huh?’ Dante silently mused and bit into his sandwich.

Bacchus led the way as the two walked, simply eating and appreciating the city's feel.

“How big is this city?” Dante broke the silence when they were tossing out their trash.

“Um…” Bacchus wracked his brain. “I think the old man said it has around a 30k pop now? Don’t quote me on that.”

“Is that big in Fiore?” Dante played up the village boy card.

“I think so.” Bacchus shrugged. “Not like I’ve been to all of em. Since we were talking about Fairy Tail, I know their city, Magnolia, has around 60k. If ya don’t count the capital, that’s one of the biggest cities.”

“Huh.” Dante pondered that. ‘So, Magnolia is around the size of Portland in population, and that’s the largest city in Maine. I know New York City had over eight million, but those people live like rats in walls and charge a premium for it.’

“A pretty overwhelming number, right?” Bacchus laughed, mistaking Dante’s silence. “It blew my mind first time I got here. Man, there were only a couple hundred people back in my village.”

“Yeah, definitely overwhelming.” Dante nodded, not pointing to what was overwhelming.

“Ya get used to it.” Bacchus waved it off and grinned as they seemed to finally arrive. “And there it is.”

“There?” Dante followed Bacchus’s gaze to the end of the street not far from the walls of the city. In its own separated plot of land from its surroundings sat a surprisingly normal-looking two-story grey building, with around a dozen windows on each floor, in the same style as the surrounding buildings, made of stone and brick with a smooth finish, as if carved from a couple of pieces molded together.

It wouldn’t have looked any different from its surroundings if not for the reinforced walls and the countless dog heads carved into the stone seemingly barking at outsiders.

“This is a dorm house?” Dante questioned.

“Yeup.” Bacchus grinned wide. “Home sweet home.”

Dante’s eyes followed the smooth lifelike carvings, and he couldn’t help but speak his thoughts out loud. “How do you build like this?”

“Earth magic.” Bacchus grinned and nudged him to keep up. “None of that typical village hut lifestyle. Malba city has got a good few construction guilds. City trades raw stone with them for quality work.”

“Convenient.” Dante followed Bacchus inside and saw that the interior was at least made of wood. “Looks sturdy.”

“Yup, we get strong winds from the mountains, so everything’s gotta be heavy.” Bacchus led him through the entrance. “First floors mainly the kitchen, lounge, laundry room, and stuff. Just walk on down, and ya can't miss them.” He pointed to the stairs. “Rooms are on the second floor, most of us double up.”

Just then, a familiar face came down the stairs in a fresh set of clothes.

“Yo, Rocker.” Bacchus waved to the V-hair-shaped guy Dante saw back at the guild with the drill arms.

“Sup, Bacchus.” The big guy nodded and spotted Dante. “Hey, Dante. Did you join the guild?”

“Not sure yet.” Dante responded honestly.

“He’s new around here, ya know how Master is.” Bacchus answered.

“Ah, gotcha.” Rocker smiled and gave Dante a reassuring nod. “Take your time getting used to things, man. Shit’s always weird at the start.”

“You’re telling me.” Dante chuckled.

“Ya heading out?” Bacchus asked, noticing the bag on the guy's shoulder.

“Yup, took a job out near Boxwatt town. There’s some cocky punks messing with the farms down there.” Rocker cracked his knuckles in annoyance.

“I hear ya.” Bacchus punched his shoulder. “Go wild, man.”

Dante nearly flinched at the word being used within hearing range of the guild members, but thankfully, there was no response as the two shot him amused looks.

“You know it.” Rocker grunted and hit him back before patting Dante on the shoulder. “Welcome to the area, Dante. I’ll be back in a couple of days to challenge you to another drinking match. I won’t lose next time.”

Finally realizing what the challenge everyone kept mentioning was, Dante grinned back confidently. “You wish, man.”

If there was one thing Dante didn’t fear, it was his alcohol tolerance.

“Ha.” Rocker barked a laugh and waved as he stepped out.

“Nice guy.” Dante commented.

“Yeah, he’s a sucker for a good drinking song, though.” Bacchus chuckled and led the way upstairs. “I know ya blacked out last night, so ya probably don’t remember everything. I’ll introduce ya to the guys at the guild later.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Up the stairs came a hall of simple doors and an oddly placed bulletin board with a framed poster right at the front.

“House Rules?” Dante raised a brow.

“Read it.” Bacchus answered with a restrained grin. “We don’t mess around with them.”

Dante took the advice to heart.

[Quatro Cerberus House Rules:

Don’t you dare use the Wild chant in here; keep it to the guild for guests.

If anything comes out or from you, you clean it up. There’s mops in every main room.

If I see another speaker in here, it’s getting tossed. Three fines for noise pollution was the limit.

Wash your clothes at least once a week, you filthy animals.

Wash your body once a day. That means you, Warcry. You might not smell it, but I damn sure do.

You break it, you buy it. No, I’m not letting you little shits fix it again after the kitchen incident.

If you somehow manage to cause a bug infestation in a stone city, I’ll make you eat them.

No food or alcohol outside the kitchen and lounge.

Do not grow your own ‘medicinal plants’ in your room. I’m looking at you, Jager.

If you get a girl, nice. Take her to a hotel. Bring her here, and everyone has the right to punch you.

No more pet hamsters. Never again.

Rent is collected on the 1st of every month.

If you pass out in the shower, you’re getting tossed in the street naked. Water isn’t free.

Stop making me add things to this list – Goldmine.]

“…”

“Ya got it?” Bacchus leaned against the wall and asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Dante’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “I suddenly feel bad for Goldmine.”

“Heh, he loves it.” Bacchus sniggered and led the way to a room with a clear number nine on it. “Bathrooms down the hall at the end.”

Beyond the door labeled nine was a decent-sized room with a line of white paint down the center leading to a big window letting in natural light. Each side of the line had a simple bed, dresser, and nightstand.

"I'm assuming the left side's yours." Dante commented, seeing the assortment of training weights, shoulder armor sets, and spread of swimsuit pin-up model posters on the wall.

“What gave it away?” Bacchus smirked and tossed off his shoes before plopping down on his bed. “Right sides yours, do whatever ya want with it, but don’t destroy anything.”

“This is already more than enough.” Dante sat at the edge of his bed and realized it was surprisingly soft. He leaned forward on his elbows. “Honestly, I’m thankful enough to have a place to stay.”

“I feel ya.” Bacchus nodded and tossed off his shoulder armor pieces. “Ah, that feels better.”

"What's the armor for anyway?" Dante checked out the purple armor pieces scattered around and saw they were all copies.

“It’s my medium.” Bacchus casually answered and rolled his shoulders. “Helps guide my Holder magic and supports my joints for strikes.”

“Magic." Dante looked down at the book Goldmine had handed him, still trying to process that part as real. “I never did ask what your magic was.” Dante paused. “Wait, is that rude to ask?”

“Nah, not at all.” Bacchus chuckled and lay back with his arms behind his head. "I'm a martial artist, Chop Hanging Palm style. I support it with Palm magic, which is just a fancy way of saying I concentrate mana on my palms and arms for reinforcement and penetration.” He flicked his chin at the armor. “My medium helps channel and convert my mana to my hands; it’s more of a training crutch, really. The Old Man says I could learn to do it without the armor, but I like how it supports my joints. Plus, it looks cool.”

“Can’t deny the last point.” Dante chuckled and thought about what was said. "So that qualifies as a Holder magic? What's the other kind again?"

“Casters, the lucky ones.” Bacchus playfully scoffed and stared over challengingly. “Don’t think that just cuz ya got lucky ya can outdo my effort without breaking a sweat.”

“Wrong target, man.” Dante held up his hands helplessly. “I don’t even know why that’s an argument.”

Bacchus snorted and eyed the book Dante was still holding. “Read that. It looks stupid, but Goldmine really made it himself. It simplifies shit.” He kicked his feet and shut his eyes. “For now, I’m getting some real sleep. Some asshole newbie drank me under the table last night.”

“Guilty as charged.” Dante answered with zero shame and leaned back against the wall. “And Bacchus?”

“Yeah?” Bacchus kept his eyes closed.

“You’re a pretty cool bro.” Dante looked out the window to admire the city, ignoring the way Bacchus cracked open an eye and twitched his lip.

“Damn straight.” Bacchus smirked and then seemingly passed out on the spot.

Dante laughed and got comfortable. ‘How many people have I ever actually had a solid friendship with?’

Anyone from before he was twelve was a faint memory, and he lived and home schooled with his grandfather till he was nearly eighteen in a small town in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. After that…

Dante sighed as his mood turned sour. ‘Who knew it would take all this shit to make me introspective?’

He stared at his hands, seeing all the small nicks and healed-over lines from endless hours in the woods that seemed so fresh compared to how he remembered them a few days before. 'And now I'm back here, when things were simple.'

In his entire life, aside from his family, Dante loved only three things.

The first was his ranger experience learned and distilled from his loving grandfather, a war vet with a full life of firsthand knowledge, over almost six years.

The second was simply being in nature, free in spirit, and part of the greater cycle. Not so much hunting as simply being part of it.

Two things he loved at his core, yet locked away out of guilt for his pride tripping him up. So, his eighteen-year-old self turned to the final thing he loved and drowned in it.

Alcohol, or rather, brewing. It was the only other activity Dante did with his grandfather, and every drink was a reminder of those better times. 'How long has it been since I've even thought about brewing something?'

The hours spent in a root cellar, just listening to his gramps expound on endless brewing trivia as they made ale and moonshine, were a memory he'd never forget.

Sitting there, Dante reminisced about his family more clearly than he had in a long time.

The sunlight warmed the room, lighting up the floating dust particles as Dante leaned back against the wall and drowned in his thoughts for an unknown amount of time until he finally sighed and came out of his recollection. ‘None of this makes any fucking sense.’

His current situation was like a shock of chilly water in the most eerie way. Being de-aged and transported to a world he only vaguely knew as fictional was one hell of a wakeup call if there ever was one. 'Hell, I'm still in the clothes I wore when I was fifteen.'

Dante rubbed a hand over his cargo pants. ‘Grandpa always said a man couldn’t have enough pockets.’ A chuckle bubbled in his throat before his hand caught on something hard.

Dante’s eyes widened as he pulled the Velcro cover and reached in to pull out something he never thought he’d see again.

'Grandpa's Leatherman.' Dante had to blink back tears that threatened to fall as he gazed at the aged multitool. 'I left this in my room when I stormed out back then.'

It was old even when it was handed to him by over a decade, and yet Dante treasured it like a divine tool for the years he spent learning in his grandfather’s shadow. When the man was gone, and the result of Dante’s actions hit him in the face, he couldn't ever gather the courage to pick it up again, and lost it when the property was sold.

Holding it now generated a burst of gratitude in his chest. ‘Even if it’s just for this, I’m thankful.’

Blinking back the emotions, Dante wiped his eyes and searched the rest of his pockets, finding only a handful of items.

An old Zippo his father used religiously in a time Dante could barely remember, an Altoid tin with self-made fire starters, two small carabiners, a round thumb-sized compass floating in water he got as a good-luck charm from his mother when he was ten, and half a pack of tissues.

The tin and carabiners were likely forgotten in his pockets, but the lighter and compass were dear items he used to carry with him at all times back then. Dante took a silent moment to rub his thumb over them in fond remembrance. 'Grandpa always wanted me to put them away and use better gear, said I was being sentimentally stupid, but I just wouldn't listen.'

A tight knot of emotions burned in his gut, and Dante had to fight to push it down. 'I guess a little piece of everyone is staying with me, even now.' 

An abrupt snore broke his thoughts, and Dante looked over to see the sleeping back of his new friend.

Shaking his head, Dante refocused and looked over the items he had with a more analytical gaze. 'When I was wearing this, I must have been about to set out on a camping trip.' His grandfather called them camping trips, but Dante felt wilderness boot camp was a far more appropriate term. 'Shame I don't have my old pack. Most of my good stuff was probably in there.' A snort of old humor worked its way through him as he thought of somehow preparing for this situation.

His clothes were thin, designed for breathability and quick drying, and his boots were perfect for trekking in warm weather.

‘I’d be screwed if I got dropped in like this during winter.’ Dante slowly put all the items back and turned to the one new object he gained since he woke up.

Brushing his hand over the book Goldmine gave him, Dante thought for a third time about the new word added to his reality. ‘Magic.’

There were far too many things he had to think about, especially about what being in this world meant. Still, for the moment, Dante didn't mind making things weirder than they already were.

Cracking open the book, Dante fell into the pages.

Chapter End.

AN: Any thoughts on how this new Dante feels so far compared to the old version? Or if you are a new reader, how does the story feel so far?