Companions (3)
Valerius clambered up the rubble of the collapsed building with great effort.
"Look at how thick these walls and floors are."
His face was grim. A quick scan of the underground revealed a true hellhole.
I knew it.
A north without slaves? No such thing. Humans were always like that—sit down and you want to lie down, lie down and you want to sleep. Even if the north didn't favor slaves much, there were always those who craved them. Especially the nobles.
Fillerbinker's black market seemed to specialize in procuring slaves. The underground facilities and their setup screamed serious investment, not some half-assed operation. The filth, the tools—it was all too easy to guess what went down here.
Medieval savages.
Buying and selling people. For a modern guy, witnessing this was pure agony. He'd barely adapted to killing, but this? No chance.
"Ha."
Funny, though. Slaves existed even in 16th-century Europe, and black slaves lasted until the 19th. Feeling uneasy about it just two centuries later? And if you nitpick, aren't maids and servants basically slaves doing housework? Office workers too.
"Hey. You alive?"
"P-please, spare me!"
Valerius plopped down in front of a guy who looked like an employee.
"Got a smoke?"
"H-here."
He snatched a cigarette, lit up, and exhaled deeply while scanning the area.
"Looks like a specialist slave operation. Who're these 'products' for? Nobles?"
"……."
Cold sweat beaded on the employee's face. Plenty bought slaves for labor—no shock there. But the ones buying special ones? Mostly nobles. And this facility wasn't for run-of-the-mill slaves; it was for ones with particular purposes.
"Hm? Cat got your tongue?"
"Mmph! Mm!"
He'd mistaken the guy's stiff posture for guts. Nope. The employee pointed frantically at his sealed lips, eyes bulging with terror. Punching out guards in seconds, crumbling buildings with a stomp—this monster was right in front of him. Who wouldn't fear that?
"Ah, a seal? Cute."
Valerius nodded knowingly and flicked his hand. His index and middle fingers blurred, and suddenly the employee's windpipe was in his grasp. The man gurgled, clutched his throat, and collapsed. Valerius stood.
A seal on a mere employee.
Only a proper mage could cast seals. Who the hell, what organization was reaching this far? He'd meant to interrogate but ran out of time. Pity.
"Good smoke. Trash."
He flicked the butt into the dickless bastard's crotch. No one mourned the guy mid-slave fun.
"Sigh. What to do with these."
Valerius eyed the slaves huddled in cages, shivering. Decent looks ruined by neglect. Leaving them wouldn't endear him to Fillerbinker's lord, Baron Binradi.
"Anyone wanna live? I'll rescue, heal, and guarantee your safety after. Speak up."
Few hands rose.
"M-merciful one."
A woman crawled toward him, legs useless, collapsing at his feet.
"A merciful... merciful death, please."
Murky tears streamed from her eyes. Naked women around her wept too.
Fucking bastards.
"Can't be helped."
Valerius killed her painlessly in an instant, gently closing her staring eyes. He mercy-killed half the slaves and led the rest out. On the way, he dismembered the scarred employee for good measure.
"……This is insane."
Yanes Valbasor glanced at the sky. The moon hung full in the deep night—normal folk wouldn't stir outside. Yet here she was, in a carriage.
"Had to be done. I paid up, didn't I?"
"That doesn't erase how I feel."
At Valerius's flippant remark, Yanes glared daggers. He flinched and looked away; she sighed.
"You said you'd handle it, then let the target slip."
"Ahem."
"Then drag back a bunch of baggage."
"Ahem. Ahem."
"Now you're making us bolt in the night?"
"Hey now. What? You my wife? Nag, nag."
"Wh-what! Wife?! Watch your mouth!"
Valerius scratched his ear as Yanes shrieked. Listening alone, yeah, he was at fault. He was at fault, but he'd compensated. The spirit would join for the dungeon later; extra pay came from handing her prime Rozanica land. Plus, Topsol Kill Gang base access for her business. Monetized? Terrifying sum.
"……But you might've pissed off the Bloodthorn Noble Council."
"I'll handle it. And tangled with me? Tough for them."
"True enough."
She grumbled, but her complexion was fine. Meticulous and efficient, she'd liquidated Fillerbinker ops fast, minimizing losses. Impressive talent. Sad she'd squander it in retirement.
"Dungeon when?"
"You think it's that simple?"
"Kinda. I know the spot; time's flexible."
"……Three weeks, then. Gotta relocate to Rozanica proper."
"Three? That enough?"
"Ha! I'm Yanes Valbasor. Think I can't?"
Two months normally? She crammed it to three. Not bad.
Made him hesitate. Too useful to dump on Isolde. Arrogant and sharp-tongued, sure, but personality-wise... not terrible?
"Hm."
"Wh-why stare like that! Seriously!"
His gaze mimicked a prof eyeing a grad student candidate. Neither noticed. Yanes hid behind Sophia at the prickling stare. Futile.
"Anyway, godfather. How'd you learn about the dungeon?"
Sophia, too small a shield, redirected attention.
"Just found out. Whatever."
Original story knowledge. Romance-fantasy, so sparse details: heroine gets OP thing here~ Easy to remember.
If the heroine got that artifact, she'd skip romance for a coup.
This dungeon? Easy for the rewards.
"Precisely the info's reliability. Dungeons are risky."
Sophia added hastily, misunderstanding. Valerius nodded. Good knight—thorough.
"With me? No issue."
Cocky, but unchallenged. Original Valerius was a musclehead beast. Still was. Villain who rebelled and died, but his prowess? Legit. Modern education + challenger top-laner mind in that body? Double original skill. Instinct over brain, but war hero rep earned.
"……Fair point."
"Hmph. Dungeons are trap hell. Not just brawling. Sophia, research dungeon info and traps."
"Understood, miss."
Yanes perked up, scheming. Strength alone didn't conquer dungeons. Even Valerius admitted. He'd tapped her partly for semi-mage skills. Solo doable, but with her and Sophia? Golden.
"But godfather. See anything underground?"
"Special-purpose slaves, that's it. Funds seemed off, so something's brewing?"
"Intuition, yeah."
Top merchant, woman's gut. Fallen noble, lady's right-hand—sharp instincts. Hard to dismiss.
Hm. Original had no plot here. North falls on siblings' fuckups, nothing major.
"Nah."
"Pardon?"
"Barbarians don't dive for nothing. Top low-HP, bot jungle visible."
"D-dive? Bot? What's that?"
Barbarians pushing north? Must've seen ripe conditions. No spy intel otherwise.
"Ah, fuck. Forgot the tanky bastard."
"T-tanky? Sophia, what's that word?"
"……First time hearing it."
Traitor in north ranks.
"Hey, porky."
"……Me? No way, right?"
"To buy off rural north nobles, first step?"
Yanes flushed with rage but focused on his dead-serious face.
"Bribes, obviously."
"Besides?"
"Hm... Swap lords for cronies? North's boring; nobles crave capital luxuries."
Feed slaves, promise better in center? Loyal-less north hicks bite.
"W-wait! You suspect a Serpia traitor in the north?"
Smart—Yanes pieced it from banter.
"Just suspicion."
"B-but... possible! Then..."
"Bloodthorn Noble Council involved."
"……I'll look into it."
Her info net better; easy handoff.
"Good. You're my ward now."
"W-ward? What? Good thing?"
"Duh. Game doesn't run without 'em."
~10% odds. Not urgent, but north's safety mattered. Better confirm, cost be damned.
"Yeah. I'll dig too."
Back to Rozanica, think. Hypothesis sans proof. Her prep time perfect for probing. Then dungeon, snag artifact.