Chapter 168
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 168
Hierarchy exists everywhere in the world.
Nations have classes, classes have the rich and the poor, and the slums are no exception. Even in a place like this, you’ll find those who flaunt their wealth, draped in expensive jewelry. And then there are the untouchables, those who can never escape the scrap heap no matter how hard they fight, even if they fight until their bodies are broken.
“Is this your house?” I asked, staring at a hill of industrial waste and garbage. Next to it stood a hovel cobbled together from scrap metal and iron plates.
“Grrrk.”
The Crawler couldn’t speak my language, but he seemed to understand me.
Squeak.
He guided me inside. The door, a rusted sheet of iron, creaked open. I couldn’t help but feel puzzled.
A man with his combat ability lives in a place like this?
This was the Bellato Federation, a place where all manner of alien species coexisted. Unlike the Empire, it didn’t strip non-humans of their rights. Yet this Crawler lived in conditions far below what his skills should have afforded him. Even the local gangs clearly didn’t treat him well.
A rustle came from inside the house. The door swung open, and someone stepped out.
“Father, did you get into another fight? Oh, wh-who are you?”
The child spoke fluent human speech, but the one who uttered those words was no human.
A young Crawler.
The young Crawler spotted me and immediately hid behind a wall. His movements, at least, were incredibly swift.
Thud.
The Crawler laid Gabriel down on the bed before sinking onto a tattered sofa.
He jerked his chin toward the refrigerator. The kid sighed, pulled out a beer, and brought it over.
“You’re looking for a drink even with those injuries?” the kid grumbled.
The Crawler snatched the bottle and chugged it down.
“Burrrrrp!”
He let out a massive belch.
“Kaha, ke, dodo…”
The Crawler said something to his child in what I assumed was the Crawler language, pointing at me.
“Translate, kid,” I said, taking a seat on a nearby chair.
“…Are you rich?” the kid asked.
“I’m not, but I work for someone who is.”
The kid’s face brightened slightly. Seeing him react like that while his own father was half-dead felt unsettling.
A conversation began between the Crawler and his son. Curiously, the kid only spoke in the human tongue.
“Father is asking if you can take me in,” the kid translated. “He wants you to get me out of the slums.”
“I don’t get it. With his skills, he could easily work as a mercenary or a bodyguard.”
“Or he could just do honest labor,” the kid spat, his voice laced with contempt for his own kind. “But most Crawlers are trash. They don’t do proper work. They’d rather fight and steal. They’re foolish, lazy, and narrow-minded.”
Interesting.
Despite the urgency of the situation, my curiosity about this father and son was piqued.
The conversation continued, with the Crawler speaking and the kid translating.
“Father has judged that you are a man of means. And he thinks you are an honorable person who knows how to respect a warrior.”
That was partly true and partly false.
“And?”
The Crawler hurled the empty beer bottle against the wall, where it shattered with a pathetic crash.
“Krrt!”
He pressed down on the kid’s head, forcing him into a bow as he lowered his own.
A plea made at the cost of all his pride.
Our encounter had been brief, but I had a grasp of his character. If this were about his own safety, he would have died before bowing his head to anyone. But for his child, he was willing to swallow his pride.
Whatever his story, the Crawler before me must have been an outstanding warrior. He would have possessed immense pride and, as a capable fighter, a sense of honor. There had to be a reason a man like him had fallen to the level of a slum scavenger.
Damn it.
I frowned. The sight of the bowing Crawler reminded me of Heilas, poking at a raw, vulnerable part of me.
I was a busy man. Once this was settled, I had to get Gabriel to a decent hospital and find out what happened. I couldn’t afford to waste time on sympathy.
“You provided a safe house, so I’ll at least hear you out.”
Only then did the Crawler manage a smile. The kid opened the door to his room, gesturing for me to follow.
“My father’s name is Regor. He was exiled, so we have no tribe. My name is Boyan.”
I peered into his room.
Though shabby and messy, it was the room of a scholar. Books of unknown origin were packed tightly onto shelves. Next to a junk computer, data chips were neatly organized by category. He was clearly meticulous by nature. On the desk, notebooks lay scattered, as if he had been studying just moments ago.
“Do you understand what this room means?” Boyan asked with a bitter smile.
I didn’t know much about the Crawler race, but I knew they were fierce warriors, a species far removed from academic pursuits.
A species’ baseline traits don’t apply to every single individual; sentient beings have vast personal differences. However, it was rare for someone’s temperament to run completely contrary to their race’s nature. Even if they were born with such inclinations, their environment usually softened or erased them over time. Society tends to crush individuality to force conformity.
Yet, among those rare exceptions, the truly outstanding ones are never fully crushed. They either clash with their environment, despair, and die…
…or they reshape the environment and society itself to fit them.
They are an alien presence, an uncomfortable outlier that others find difficult to accept. We call them “Irregulars.” They are the seeds of chaos, the catalysts of change.
I considered Boyan’s words and actions. He refused to speak the Crawler language. He despised his own race. His feelings toward his father were a complex storm of love and hate.
It was glaringly obvious why Regor and Boyan were here.
“…Your own kind turned on you, didn’t they? They tried to kill you, so your father took you and hid in Border City.”
Boyan looked up, startled. “How did you…?”
“Nothing to be surprised about. You’ll get used to it in the fu—no, never mind. Keep talking.”
I bit my lip mid-sentence. What am I doing, already deciding to take him in? What an idiot.
“…Our race is being left behind on Planet Novas,” Boyan began, his voice trembling with resentment. “We have to compete with other species that possess highly advanced social systems, yet we still choose our leaders based on who fights best. Just because someone wins a fight, they get to decide the fate of the entire group! It’s not just barbaric; it’s primitive! We fight and fight and fight, and then we die! We’re just being used like fools! They don’t know what politics or diplomacy are, and they have no intention of learning!”
Tears welled in his eyes as he poured out his frustration. Even his own father, Regor, probably couldn’t understand him. Regor was the quintessential Crawler that Boyan so despised.
“I told them that a leader shouldn’t be someone who’s good at hunting and fighting, but someone who can look to the future and make wise decisions. When I did, they all tried to kill me for insulting a warrior’s honor. Idiots who don’t even know right from wrong!”
“You were young,” I said coolly. “It was a statement lacking wisdom and insight. You disregarded a long-standing tradition, so it’s only natural they tried to kill you.”
I spoke indifferently, but deep down, something stirred. I understood Boyan better than anyone.
Heilas came to mind. During our first meeting, he had given me some advice.
‘It’s fine to be better than others. But you must not be different. Not if you want to live a long life.’
The young, in their childishness, look down on the wisdom of their elders. Only with time do they come to understand the meaning behind those words.
“What do you want to do after you leave this place?”
“…I’m going to study and become a bureaucrat in the Federation.”
Hearing that, a dry chuckle escaped my lips, followed by a smile.
“How amusing.”
Boyan bristled. A low growl, characteristic of Crawlers, rumbled in his throat. Once this kid grew up, he too would be a monster capable of tearing a man in two.
“If you’re going to do it, aim higher. A politician, or even the head of… what was it? Ah, right, the President. You should at least aim for President. It’s probably impossible, but give it your best shot,” I chuckled.
At the end of the day, the Bellato Federation was still a human nation. They might champion freedom and diversity on the surface, but they would never hand over true state power to a non-human. A non-human, especially an uncomfortable one like a Crawler, could never become a high-ranking official, let alone a leader.
Boyan would undoubtedly be crushed by reality. He would clash against it countless times and break. He would live a life far removed from happiness.
And yet, I wanted to help him. That is, if he had the courage to choose such a life of hardship.
Damn it, so it’s turning out like this after all.
Honestly, the moment I saw Boyan’s room, I knew this would happen. I have a few psychological weaknesses, and this is one of them.
I have a soft spot for those who try to fight the world alone.
“Pack your bags,” I said, stepping out of the room.
“Kahat!”
Regor laughed heartily, chugging another beer. He must have overheard everything.
“I’ll take your son. I can hire you as well—”
Before I could finish, Regor shook his head and tapped his own chest.
“Once he gets rid of a burden like me, Father will leave Border City immediately. He was never suited for civilization in the first place,” Boyan said from inside the room.
While I waited, checking on Gabriel’s condition, Regor suddenly slammed his fist into the wall.
Thud!
The scrap-metal-reinforced wall dented and broke, revealing a small box hidden inside.
Click.
He opened it, revealing the glitter of jewels and gold coins. I didn’t refuse them. To do so would be to insult Regor’s honor.
“I accept your sincerity.”
Boyan emerged from the room shortly after. His luggage was so meager it made his collection of books seem like an illusion.
“…I’ve read the books in there so many times I’ve practically memorized them,” Boyan said, noticing my gaze. He was quick-witted.
“Kat, toha, rwi…” Regor grunted, hoisting Gabriel onto his back.
“He says he’ll guide us out of the slums,” Boyan translated. “No one will dare pick a fight with him around.”
“He’s incredibly tough. Surely a few of his bones are broken…”
At my words, Regor just laughed even louder.
“Father is exceptionally strong, even among Crawlers. If it weren’t for me, he could have aimed to be chieftain. My existence was an obstacle…” Boyan trailed off as Regor shot him a glare. The kid clamped his mouth shut.
Complicated.
Theirs was a relationship fraught with love and hate. I couldn’t possibly know what kind of conflicts they had endured.
Regor is a typical Crawler. If Boyan hadn’t been his son, he would have torn him to shreds long ago.
He probably hit him often, too.
In the end, Regor couldn’t change his son’s nature, so he gave up and accepted him for who he was.
I couldn’t even begin to fathom how arduous that process must have been.
Just as Regor had promised, no one bothered us as we walked through the slums. Even after we left the district, he kept carrying Gabriel on his back. People actively avoided the Crawler, giving us a wide berth. They hated getting involved with them, and for good reason.
Though Equesians were also a warrior race, people viewed them differently. Most Crawlers were hot-tempered and impulsive, resorting to violence over the most trivial matters. Their violence was chaotic, unlike the honor-bound principles of the Equesians.
Regor carried Gabriel all the way to a high-end hospital. As soon as I paid the fees, medical staff in pristine gowns rushed out with a gurney and wheeled Gabriel inside.
“Aren’t you going to get treated before you go?” I asked, looking at Regor’s back. He was already turning to leave, refusing even a moment of care for himself.
“Keda.”
Regor turned back and spoke. I didn’t know the language, but I could tell he had just said “thank you.”
“You might never see your father again,” I said, nudging Boyan forward. Regor stopped, his breathing heavy as he stared at his son.
The two didn’t speak, neither in human tongue nor Crawler. They just stared at each other awkwardly.
Boyan was the first to break the silence.
“Now that you’ve finally dumped me on someone else, you must feel so relieved—Ow!”
I swiftly smacked him on the back of the head.
“I’m an orphan. I grew up without a family,” I said sternly. “So listen well, Boyan. Family doesn’t owe you a thing by default. Don’t thank him as a father; thank Regor as a person. The only reason you’re still alive is undoubtedly because of his efforts.”
Boyan thought for a moment, then spoke in the Crawler language for the very first time. I didn’t know what he said, but I recognized one word.
“…Keda,” he said, bowing his head. It seemed “Keda” really did mean thank you.
Regor waved a hand and disappeared into the crowd. Despite his severe injuries, his steps seemed light. He really did look relieved. He must have struggled constantly until now, his entire life derailed because of his son.
“He wasn’t a good father,” Boyan muttered. “He beat me a lot. I got hit so much I can barely see out of my left eye.”
…But he didn’t abandon you.
I kept those words to myself. It would have been presumptuous. Their emotions were a realm I couldn’t possibly understand.
“But I think I’ll still miss him sometimes.”
Thick tears began to roll down Boyan’s cheeks.