Opportunity
Opportunity
Could he actually have a split personality?
As if the polite attitude he'd just shown was an illusion, the man approached while wiping his sword clean with a cultist's cut robe, his face brimming with discontent. Reacting to this, Merdela, who had reflexively jumped forward, slowly opened her mouth.
"...No excuse exists. What you are thinking is correct."
Merdela clenched her fists to hide her trembling hands as she spoke, but the man's response was indifferent.
"What do I think?"
"...That we tried to use you and your companions to survive. It was all my..."
"I was thinking this is fucking bullshit, not that you tried to use me. Why the hell did you decide on your own what I thought was correct? It's completely different."
It was the kind of remark that would have made the usual Merdela snap, screaming about why he kept latching onto things that weren't even there, but naturally, the current her couldn't offer any rebuttal.
"...I'm sorry."
"Sorry? You'd have been fine if we died after getting tangled up with those bastards, right? 'Sorry, it couldn't be helped.' You'd have spouted that shit, rationalized it away, and moved on. No, actually, is that even a level worthy of leniency? 'That's just how adventurers are. Think of it as bad luck.' You'd have more likely spewed some bullshit like that to protect your worn-out consciences. Isn't that right?"
Merdela couldn't answer. Partly because there was nothing to refute, but also because the man, who had taken off one gauntlet and approached right up to her face, had slapped her across the cheek with his bare palm without any warning.
Smack! With that sound, the eyes of her party members filled with shock, then returned to normal with a sigh of relief.
The reason was simple. Because Merdela was still standing on two legs.
Judging from what he'd shown before, if the man had slapped her with full force, she'd certainly be dead. Rather, the fact that he'd deliberately removed his gauntlet to slap her meant there might still be hope.
Of course, for Merdela herself, it just hurt so damn much that she couldn't even think about that, tears streaming down her face. That her trembling legs didn't give out was purely due to fear.
In the midst of this, the man continued speaking.
"What I'm trying to hear isn't that obvious shit, you selfish bitch. I'm trying to hear something else that would make me think I should keep all of you alive, not just the Pulling who's an acquaintance of Shadow Foot. Didn't you even consider that to me, you lot might look like even more hostile entities than those warriors I can't tell are cultists or masquerade ball attendees?"
Glaring coldly at Merdela, who had reflexively been about to retort while feeling the rapidly swelling pain in her cheek and the taste of blood from her torn mouth, the man continued. That alone made Merdela's mouth clamp shut, her trembling only worsening.
"What, you want to say just kill you since it was all your judgment? Don't even harbor the vain hope that your pathetic self-sacrifice will save your comrades. As a party, you're all accomplices anyway, and every single one of you is a son of a bitch who threatened our lives. From my perspective, you're all just in cahoots, so why would I spare the rest just because you volunteered to die? Even if you resisted desperately, dying would've been the same result, so what meaning is there in that?"
The man's manner as he put his gauntlet back on was relaxed despite his menacing expression and tone. What he was saying, however, was every bit as brutal as his manner was casual.
"I never overlook bastards who dare to put my life on their scales on a whim. And if things go as they are, that will remain the biggest reason you meet your deaths."
And inversely, what little composure Merdela and her party had was rapidly dwindling.
"So, when I give you one last chance, it'd be best to rack that high-and-mighty mage brain of yours and squeeze out something to survive. Or, since your numbers just dropped from ten to two, wanna all jump me at once?"
Merdela couldn't retort. Even as she watched the man place his hand on his sword hilt after finishing his last words, she couldn't move a single step.
The excuse that it couldn't be helped couldn't leave her lips. Because even if it truly couldn't be helped, instead of trying to forcibly drag the man into it, she should have begged for his help.
"I'm sorry."
He'll just ignore their threat and run away anyway. She had judged that, and because she did, she had tried to use him.
"I will repay this kindness without fail. Please... please spare us..."
Knowing that, even while weeping profusely, Merdela couldn't offer any excuse. Losing hope under the man's cold gaze fixed on her, nothing came to mind but the words 'I'm sorry.'
But the man, seemingly not interested in any of that, pulled his body back and properly grasped his sword.
"Pretty cliché for last words."
There was no killing intent or hostility, but the action that would follow was all too easily pictured in the party's minds.
Just as Kals and the heavy-armored adventurer, already sick of the man's movements, flinched to rush forward in complete resignation...
"Excuse me, esteemed sir? May I have a moment?"
Sen stepped forward, drawing everyone's gaze. That included the man's gaze as well, and though she felt a chill run down her spine just from meeting his eyes, Sen smiled as best she could.
"Of course not."
"Ah, don't be like that. As you said, esteemed sir, we're all accomplices, so must you only hear excuses from Merdela's mouth?"
Merdela, already too terrified to even think of resisting and having collapsed, couldn't even turn her head, but Kals and the heavy-armored adventurer could only stare at Sen with bewildered faces. They couldn't understand how she could possibly be so brazen even in this situation, but Sen hadn't stepped forward without thought.
From her perspective, she was the only one who could intervene now. As the man himself had said, it was she whose life was guaranteed because of her acquaintance with Shadow Foot.
"So, to concretely prove our will to repay the price of carelessly entangling you, esteemed sir, and the price of saving our lives, with hearts full of sincere remorse... may I speak in Merdela's stead?"
Even if this remark offended the man and got them all killed, she had no intention of stopping her attempt to save her comrades.
They would have all died anyway if the man hadn't helped. The horses would have quickly tired from the backlash of physical enhancement, and in that situation, there was no way to repel the cultists while protecting the figures still trembling inside the carriage.
This was merely a few more minutes of life extended beyond their original deaths. Thinking like that, it was actually a much better situation than before. At least they were conversing, weren't they? If so, right now, in a situation where she could at least try to find a way for everyone to survive, there was absolutely no reason to tremble in fear and not utter a single word.
After such a train of thought, Sen boldly threw it out there with the mindset of doing her best.
The man didn't answer. He just sheathed his sword and silently crossed his arms. In the illusion that the taut air had very slightly thawed with that insignificant action, Sen quickly continued speaking.
"First, we are Red-rank adventurers primarily operating in the southern gate city, Englem. Our performance isn't just "not bad"—it's near-universally praised. We've worked in sync for nearly ten years, are highly proficient at coordinating, and pride ourselves on our extensive information and geographical knowledge, at least around Englem."
Monetary compensation? With skills like his, he could earn more money in a shorter period than they had saved their whole lives.
Their own skills? As if that would satisfy him. Even if they all attacked right now, the man could split all four of their skulls with just his fists, not even drawing a blade.
But information and experience were different. They were the most valuable things they had accumulated. At least they would be helpful in some form if one worked as an adventurer. Sen tried to pique the man's interest by offering the most valuable things she possessed.
"From this very moment onward, all of that experience and information is yours, esteemed sir, whenever and however much you need it. If you also demand money, we will prepare and give as much as we possibly can. Frankly, I doubt you have any need for our abilities, but if you ever require manpower for legwork, just say the word and we will set aside all else to assist, to the best of our ability. And we will ask for no compensation in return, nor hold any complaints."
The man drew a clear line between those who threatened him and those who didn't. This was proven by his attitude toward the cultists versus them.
The reason he had attempted polite conversation to avoid conflict despite having the skill to unilaterally slaughter them was because, whatever the cultists' intentions, they had initially approached politely. If they hadn't drawn their swords, or if someone had laid down their weapons midway as the man had suggested, he would surely have let them live.
But because they attacked, he killed them without mercy. Even if he gave a warning, he didn't attempt persuasion, he just annihilated them.
"Merdela is also a mage with a promising future. If you just spare her, she can surely be of great help in some form. If you can't trust us, we will persuade her to form a contract through a magic imprint. Actually, it probably won't even need persuasion."
In contrast, he was giving them a reprieve now, telling them to say something. He wasn't deliberately using a coercive attitude to haggle because he wanted something. It was closer to 'if there's a better use, I'll spare them and use them.'
If that was the case, there was no other way but to appeal that they could meet those expectations. A contract through a magic imprint would be no light matter for Merdela either, but right now, they had no other options.
She had tried to use magic. It was just unknown whether it was a protection spell or an attack spell. If the man dug into that point, no matter what they did, Merdela couldn't be saved. Rather than dying like that, it was better to live even under restrictions comparable to a slave contract.
"What about the rest of them?"
Unlike the confident assertions she'd made before, this time, even Sen had to tremble with anxiety.
So as not to be misunderstood, she drew the dagger she wore on her lower back with extremely slow movements. It was a dagger that had always been with her since she received it when she left home dreaming of becoming an adventurer. And among the Pulling, the meaning a dagger bearing a family crest held was never light.
Respectfully holding the dagger out to the man, Sen prayed he would grasp the sincerity of the words she was about to speak.
"I will vouch for them. My name is Kikuidel Sen. In order not to disgrace the name of the god who protects us and my family, I will keep my oath on my life, and if my comrades refuse this and flee, I will pay the price along with my family."
A twitch for some unknown reason ran through the corner of the man's eye. Was he thinking it was pathetic? Or because he knew the meaning behind her words?
Whatever it was, having offered everything she could present, there was nothing Sen could do.
'How paradoxical, that after pushing forward with conviction and presenting the final wedge, the thing I offer is the one I'm least confident in.'
She had the idle thought to somehow lighten the mood, but it didn't help much. Sen just decided to look the man straight in the eye.
After a suffocating silence, the man's hand slowly moved.