Chapter 31

But the gaunt man only lifted the sword he had drawn, running his eyes over the blade before slipping a hand into his coat.

To me, horse-face was a greenhorn. When the mercenary called Sharn unsheathed his sword, there hadn’t been the slightest killing intent—but horse-face hadn’t noticed. The way he jumped to his feet proved it. For a B-rank at least, he should’ve been able to gauge his opponent’s intent. It seemed he lacked real combat experience.

“A-rank.”

The words came from Sharn as casually as if horse-face’s outburst had nothing to do with him. He pulled out a scrap of cloth and began cleaning the blade again in silence.

Sharn, with his skeletal frame, gave off the impression that whenever he worked on something, he did so without distraction. He ignored everyone else and poured himself wholly into the task at hand.

“You’re saying you’re A-rank too?”

Horse-face’s voice carried an edge as he sat back down. It wasn’t unreasonable—running into an A-rank mercenary in a backwater town like this wasn’t common. But as I expected, Sharn didn’t care in the slightest, just kept polishing his sword.

There was something solemn about him. The way he moved felt like someone who had devoted his life to the blade.

“This—”

“Yes, I’m A-rank. Don’t speak to me when I’m working.”

Horse-face was about to blurt something else when the gaunt mercenary halted his polishing long enough to snap those words. Then he resumed as if nothing had happened.

I glanced at horse-face. He only twisted his features into a snarl, glaring at Sharn as if he wanted to devour him, but he didn’t move. After all, a B-rank picking a fight with an A-rank had virtually no chance of winning.

Still, Sharn didn’t strike me as someone suited to mercenary life. His disciplined manner and measured words felt out of place. There had to be some story behind him.

“Are you A-rank as well?”

After tucking away the cloth and once again running his eyes over his sword, Sharn directed the question at me. Likely because of what horse-face had said earlier. He didn’t even look at me when he asked. Arrogance, perhaps?

“Yes.”

I opened my mouth and answered quietly. Sharn still didn’t so much as glance my way, only kept inspecting his sword.

“Hey! Do you not believe me?”

Horse-face’s shout echoed through the waiting room from near the window. At first he’d spoken cheerfully, but after being ignored by Sharn, his expression had twisted, his voice rising. When Sharn had drawn his blade earlier, horse-face had leapt up in agitation. Now even his tone had shifted.

Horse-face—no, the mercenary Sunwar—was a man of wild mood swings. At least that’s how it seemed to me.

“I only wanted to confirm.”

Sharn slid his sword back into its scabbard, his voice sharp enough to match his gaunt, cold features.

“……”

At those words, horse-face said nothing more and lowered himself back into his chair. But he kept glaring at Sharn without a hint of shame.

Well, strength was all that mattered here. The strong lived; the weak either withered or died.

“I still can’t believe it.”

Sharn’s gaunt face turned toward me, his eyes filled with doubt.

Right now, I had sealed away every trace of my strength so no one could sense it. Unless someone was at my level—or beyond—they couldn’t possibly perceive my true state. That must have been why he looked at me with suspicion. Once this request was over, I’d loosen the seal just enough to pass for A-rank… a Sword Expert at most. Disguising a higher realm as a lower one was no trouble at all.

‘They’re here.’

“Everyone, come down to the first floor.”

I didn’t answer Sharn’s remark. Instead, a voice called from outside the door. I picked up my sword from beside the chair and stood. I would need a scabbard for mercenary life from here on. Once this request was finished, buying one would be my first priority.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Medsav, acting leader of this caravan for the time being.”

A man whose bulk looked nearly twice that of an ordinary adult introduced himself. His mouth was oddly small for his oversized face, moving as he spoke. His height was close to mine, but the sheer thickness of his frame made him appear massive.

“Hahaha, glad to meet you. I’m Sunwar.”

“Sharn.”

“Kain.”

Normally, when there were many mercenaries, only the representatives exchanged greetings. But since there were only three of us this time, we simply gave our names.

Medsav, the one leading the merchants, looked to be in his mid-forties. His fingers fidgeted constantly, lending him a sly air. Coupled with the smile plastered on his face, he looked even shiftier.

“As you know, we’ll be passing through Pralet and heading to our destination, the city of Mel. The request fee is three gold each. If monsters appear, we’ll add one gold as a bonus.”

Medsav explained the details while his fingers kept twitching. Horse-face nodded along, Sharn listened in silence, and I kept my attention fixed. Then a question struck me.

“If monsters appear twice, that means two gold?”

Medsav’s smiling face twisted slightly in irritation. With his expression twisted, he looked downright unpleasant. My casual tone must have bothered him.

“Yes, if monsters appear twice, then it will be two gold.”

His voice quickly smoothed over as if nothing had happened, his smile snapping back into place. Clearly, years of merchant life had trained him to mask annoyance in an instant.

Horse-face nodded again. Sharn stayed silent in his seat. Medsav glanced at me, waiting to see if I had more questions, but I ignored him and observed the rest of the caravan instead.

Counting those outside, including Medsav, there were twenty-five merchants in total. They had four wagons and one carriage, five vehicles not counting the horses. Probing the energy inside the carriage, I sensed two people within.

Each wagon and carriage was drawn by a pair of horses, with two drivers seated at the front—clearly taking turns handling the reins.

“Then, let’s depart.”

As I felt the cool spring breeze wash over me, Medsav’s voice rang out. At his words, horse-face climbed into the carriage at the center of the line, while the gaunt Sharn took position at the first wagon. Following the instructions I’d heard, I went to the very last one—the fifth wagon—after coming down from the second floor. A few merchants glanced at me, but I ignored them and sat at the back edge of the wagon.

Soon, I heard the crack of a whip and a sharp “Hyah!” from the front.

Crack—

Moments later, the wagon I sat on jolted forward with a rattle, and my backward-facing view caught sight of the mercenary guild slowly receding into the distance.

Children stood along the roadside, watching the caravan roll by. A pair of men staggered arm in arm, shouting and swaying—they had clearly been drinking since midday. Others haggled noisily with vendors, and a child cowered under a parent’s scolding.

Everyone must have had their reasons for living that way. I too had my reasons for becoming a mercenary. And this job, small as it seemed, was undeniably a stepping stone toward my goal.

Smack.

Dumaine’s left hand struck the right cheek of the boy lying on the ground. The boy’s head whipped to the side with the force of the blow, yet he didn’t flinch. Only the spreading red mark on his cheek showed that his body was fine, but his nerves weren’t transmitting pain to him.

“Keuk… Weak. Pathetically weak. Kukuku!”

Dumaine’s lips curled into a cruel grin. He raised his hand again, focusing the aura of ruin swirling inside his body. Then he pressed his palm against the boy’s chest.

Wooong.

Gray energy seeped from Dumaine’s hand into the boy’s chest, spreading slowly throughout his body in faint waves.

“Ugh…”

Before long, the boy’s lips parted with a feeble groan as the gray aura circled through his limbs.

[Are you planning to make him your subordinate?]

A flat, emotionless voice echoed inside Dumaine’s head.

“Subordinate? Kukuk! He’s nothing but a toy.”

Smack.

Dumaine answered the voice aloud and slapped the boy’s cheek again. The flesh turned not just red, but a sickly blue-purple.

“Kuku! Enough. Stand up.”

“Ugh…”

But the boy reacted the same as before—only weak moans proved he was still alive.

Dumaine shifted his hand from the boy’s chest to his forehead. Once again he gathered ruinous energy into his palm and pushed it in. He clearly intended to shock the boy’s head directly this time.

Wooong.

The gray aura spread once more from the boy’s head, flowing down his body. The moment it reached his fingertips—and then finally his toes—an earsplitting scream tore from his mouth.

It was a scream filled with pure agony.

“GUUUUUAAAAAHHHHH!!”