171 - A Mercenary’s Cry (1)

As always, he was a monster that made one sick of the sight.

Watching Argos continue fighting for hours while surrounded by the extermination force, that thought slipped from my mouth.

It was obvious he was acting tactically—one only had to compare our exhaustion with Argos, who was not even short of breath and showed no sign of slowing down.

“Isn’t he smarter than the captain?”

Loyd came up beside me, panting, and made a joke.

“Good, looks like you still have energy. Go on then.”

I ordered him with a jerk of my chin, but Loyd showed me his warhammer, which had clearly warped.

Even without a name, the weapon once said to rival my own Giant-Killer had been worn down this badly.

Right then, one of the former members arrived carrying spare weapons.

“Perfect timing.”

Taking the spare warhammer, Loyd gripped the carefully selected weapon two or three times, as if testing the feel for this very moment.

After hearing him say, “I’m ready,” I simply said, “Follow me,” and stepped forward.

Behind me, Annie, drenched in sweat, followed as well.

Her clinging undergarment clearly outlined the shape of her chest, but she was not the sort of woman who cared about that.

(Still… when are those elves going to show up?)

The mages had already run out of magical power. Though they continued to support us after recovering, it was no longer effective.

“We have been granted permission to use the anti-Argos weapon. We will go retrieve it. Hold out here for a while.”

Had it been a mistake to trust those words when they vanished just before the battle began?

As unease churned in my chest, the battle situation grew harsher.

There were only three dropouts so far.

Two mages from Golden Spark and one from Steel Axe, who had been holding the frontline.

We had even dragged out the ones assigned to rear support, but they were scattered before they could even buy time, reducing our numbers further—that had been a mistake.

We could not afford to lose any more strength.

Everyone supporting the frontline surely understood that.

The problem was that Argos understood it as well and relentlessly targeted the weakened points.

Moreover, he avoided risks thoroughly, always positioning himself so he could perfectly handle our attacks.

(Because he’s so focused on defense, there have hardly been any deaths. For such a massive creature, just how cautious is he going to be!?)

Once again our offensive ended in failure.

Everyone was exhausted, and seeing that, it was understandable to want to end things quickly.

That impatience finally opened a gap in the seemingly stagnant battle.

Argos headed for the mage unit whose magical power had run dry.

If they were wiped out, we would lose the one move needed to turn the battle around.

But this time it was not a probing strike like before. Argos had shifted into a full offensive and could not be stopped.

I was sent flying along with Giant-Killer, and Alberto was blown back together with the sacred sword.

(Run, old man!)

Even if I tried to shout, no voice came out, and my body would not move.

If he became serious, it took only a single blow to do this—how pathetic.

Even though we had abandoned defense against slashes and thrusts and focused solely on blunt-force defense, equipping armor specialized for it along with physical-protection amulets, this was still the result.

“Damn it,” I cursed inwardly as a rear-support mercenary rushed over with a potion.

But it was already too late.

Argos raised his saber toward Marcus, who was clinging to his staff.

Then came a thrust so sharp it was hard to believe it came from an old man.

The light extending from the tip of the staff shot forward like a spear.

But the attack did not land.

As if he had already known, Argos dodged the old mage’s trump card.

As the saber descended, I was certain Marcus would die—

—and a single streak of light shattered that certainty.

The massive saber fell to the ground.

“So you finally made it…”

From the back of Argos’s hand, pierced by the shot, a small but unmistakable trickle of red blood flowed.

The elves had finally entered the battle.

And when Argos began speaking in the elven language, everyone was unable to hide their shock.

Apparently he could speak multiple languages, though I could not imagine why he had hidden that fact.

“He’s smarter than you, isn’t he?”

I joked to Loyd beside me.

“You seem relaxed. Go on then.”

“Still recovering,” I said, hoisting my partner and walking forward.

Ahead of us, the elf and Argos had begun fighting, and shouts demanded we hurry up and provide support.

Compared to the first time we met, the elf sounded far more arrogant now—but he had the skill to back it up.

(As if I could face that thing alone head-on!)

Seeing it with our own eyes, everyone believed the situation would change.

And it did improve.

In fact, I finally managed to land a blow on Argos.

My own attack was neatly deflected, but the follow-up shot from the forest struck directly.

Then Annie, using my collapsing body as a stepping stone, tried to follow up—but narrowly evaded a swift counterattack.

However, Argos’s finger caught on her clothing, lifting her up.

Without hesitation, Annie sliced the cloth and escaped.

I told her to “go fix that,” hoping she would fall back for a moment, but she ignored me.

She seemed determined to stay on the front line, and I could only pray no idiot got distracted and made a mistake.

“Aren’t you starting to miss the sharpness of this blade? Why not try getting cut already, Argos?”

“I refuse.”

Alberto attacked immediately to seize the opportunity, and Argos replied in the language of the Kingdom of Canaan.

“So he really does understand our language,” I muttered, lifting Giant-Killer and running forward.

After countless exchanges, the chance finally arrived.

And as expected, it began with the elf mage.

Just as I had suspected from the start, magic was crucial in this battle.

Alberto stepped forward in sync with the elf’s magic.

The mercenaries swarmed in after him.

And finally, the moment came.

The water chains bound the hand holding Argos’s saber, and with the mercenaries’ fierce attacks combined with Marcus’s support timed with Alberto’s strike, Argos failed to respond in time.

The sacred sword descended toward his neck.

A blow that should have been fatal cut only empty air.

Everyone present clearly saw it.

The instant Argos disappeared—

—and when Alberto was suddenly blown away by something unseen and the water chains hung suspended in midair, we understood.

“I shall praise you with a ‘well done.’ And I apologize. I underestimated you. From here on, I fight at full power.”

Argos appeared, said that, and vanished again.

“He can… disappear?”

My voice trembled.

No one had moved from their positions yet.

But the fear of not knowing whether that monster was still somewhere within this distance weighed far heavier than expected.

More than that, I was shocked that the expectation I had held toward him had been shattered.

I knew it was something I had assumed myself after hearing he “enjoyed fighting,” but it still felt like betrayal.

“Indeed. Let me say this in advance: it would be insulting to think I had been holding back. Concealing one’s hand is the most basic of fundamentals. But take pride—you forced me to reveal this card.”

Yes—after all, humans and monsters were different.

There was no way we could ever understand each other’s values.

Still, I shouted at him.

“Don’t screw with us! We came here risking our lives to kill you! And you—”

The warning “Jump back!” came a moment too late.

I took the blow head-on and lost consciousness.

When I awoke, Annie was looking down at me.

Since she still had not fixed her clothes, not much time must have passed.

I sat up, shook my head, and wiped my face with my hand.

The chemical smell was still there—but perhaps because it was so strong, it helped wake me up.

At the same time, I realized what had been used on me.

A defective item that completely ignored the burden on the body and possible aftereffects—

We had not brought even the discarded stock of it because Alberto was stingy with money; rather, few people made it since it hardly sold due to lack of demand.

The first time it was used, it restored the body completely as long as you were not dead.

The second time, abnormalities would appear somewhere in the body.

And the third time, the body would mutate.

A famous example was the mercenary “Great-Arm Zenk,” who, despite using it three times, only experienced enlargement of his right arm—and in his case it turned out beneficial.

But miracles were not something one should expect.

This was my second use of the Complete-Recovery Potion.

I immediately noticed something wrong with myself.

(My vision… no, my hearing is strange too. My weapon… it’s here. I’m holding it properly, so why does it feel so strange?)

It was the pain in my body that made it clear my senses were distorted.

Even if wounds healed, the pain should linger for a while.

Yet despite having suffered near-fatal injuries, the pain felt strangely dull.

Still, in a way that worked to my advantage.

If all I needed to do was swing my sword, then…

I began walking.

The battle had already resumed.

Alberto, who had stood up before me, was closing in on the invisible Argos, while Cain knocked away Argos’s saber with his broken great axe, and someone ran up carrying a spare weapon.

“I made it,” I thought— but although Argos was surrounded, his figure still indistinct, things did not go as planned.

The moment he broke out of the encirclement without attacking anyone, and I realized he was not looking at us—that his goal was eliminating the mage—it was already too late.

A heavy landing sound echoed, sand scattering into the air.

Everyone turned, and Argos appeared, stopping his feet and dodging the arrows from the forest, then throwing a stone that blasted through the elf’s right arm.

The forest’s supporting fire intensified, but Argos ignored it and advanced to finish him off.

Alberto arrived in time to intercept.

But that attack was far too reckless.

(You stepped too far in, you idiot!)

Everyone understood that if the elf mage fell now, the situation could not be reversed.

But that did not mean Alberto, the sacred-sword wielder, should step into certain death.

My fears were confirmed.

Argos disappeared, leaving his tail visible to lure Alberto in.

The moment Alberto reacted, the outcome was decided.

The descending fist crushed him without missing.

At that moment the wielder of the sacred sword was lost, and it should have passed to us— but the one who picked it up was Argos.

Then, in the next instant, the sacred sword flew from his hand as if repelled, accompanied by a shout of astonishment.

“Don’t let him take the sacred sword!”

Cain shouted as he ran, and I followed— but suddenly Argos’s knees buckled and struck the ground, and he stopped moving as if asleep.

My gaze shifted to the wounded elf mage.

“If you had a trick like that, you should have used it from the start,” I wanted to say— but I quickly realized that was wrong.

The expression on his face was confusion.

In other words, he had nothing to do with Argos’s current state.

Still, we could not let this opportunity slip, so I kept running.

Perhaps thinking the same thing, the elf mage shouted something toward the forest.

I did not understand the elven language, but they clearly had no intention of letting this chance pass.

“O-boy, guard the sacred sword! The elves’ target is—”

But the voice I heard next did not match the situation.

My hearing must have been failing, because I could not make it out clearly.

Yet seeing Marcus collapse, cut down by a blade of water after shouting, I understood.

“What the hell are you idiots doing!”

My shout was so hoarse I barely recognized it as my own voice.

It took no time to grasp the situation.

It was even possible the elves’ real objective had been the sacred sword, not Argos.

I did not know what was right.

But one thing was certain: the priority now was securing the sacred sword.

Even with my senses distorted and my footing uncertain, I kept running.

Someone passed me.

The only woman on this battlefield full of men.

Annie, who always fought in light gear and prioritized speed, was the optimal choice in this situation.

Then all I had to do was clear the path before her.

Thinking that, I shifted my gaze from the sacred sword to the elves.

But Annie suddenly stopped running ahead of me.

My confusion lasted only a moment.

There was only one thing ahead of her that would make her stop.

In my line of sight was Argos, still kneeling on the ground without moving— yet one thing was clearly different.

“Argos… is black?”

His gray body had somehow turned completely black.