Chapter 113
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: The Soul's Promotion Battle
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That fucking bitch. Clearly out of shape.
The mage bitch, who only spouted shit like "barbarian this" and "barbarian that," had managed to walk for maybe an hour or two before completely collapsing and plopping down right there.
Watching the scene from afar, all I could do was swallow my rage.
"Fuck. That asshole."
"F-First... let's... g-go closer..."
"If I go, it'll just end in trouble... Whatever, let's head over."
Letting out a deep sigh, I stood behind Custo and approached the women who were leading the way.
The closer we got, the more I could hear the mage bitch whining in her shrill voice. In my life, I'd never heard a voice more grating than prime Winia's—and that was saying something.
Why do all mages have such fucked-up personalities? Back in the day, that mage from the Krasheim gremlin cave who pulled that bullshit and broke up the party gave off the same vibe. Arrogant as hell, thinking they're always right.
"That's why I said we should take a carriage!"
"Roel. Taking a carriage would cost more than the quest reward."
"Ugh, whatever! I'm tired! Let's rest!"
Roel shrieked and flopped down flat on her back.
Her green hair blended with the surrounding grass, making her look like a weed. Could we really gather the confetto by the end of the day like this? She looked like she'd collapse again after a short walk even after resting.
As I glared at the two bitches, the mage noticed and flipped out.
"What're you staring at? Enjoying the show? Can't you fuck off? You reek of savage."
I nearly launched myself at her and smashed my iron chain into her gut, but I held back for now. Thinking about it, back when I was F-rank, this was the usual treatment. She reminded me of my past in more ways than one.
Haa.
Lately, shit like this hadn't happened, so it felt annoyingly fresh. The improvement was that I didn't get beaten anymore. No one robbed me either. Things had gotten better overall, but my hair color was still the problem.
"...Custo. She says she's tired, so let's rest a bit. Forcing her to move would just make things worse anyway."
Answering her would just get me a barrage of insults, so I ignored her and spoke to Custo. He gave a kind smile, sweat pouring down, and scolded the sprawled-out Roel.
"Y-You knew... there was no... c-carriage... And it's a... M-Magic Tower quest... Y-You insisted... on doing it... so if... y-you do... this... it's a problem..."
"But it's tiring! Can't we just take it slow? I didn't even want to do it, but I'm forcing myself here."
"Then... t-time... will be... l-late... If we're late... we can't... g-get back to... the city... even at night..."
"Ugh, whatever! I'm resting! We'll go after!"
The mage shrieked again.
...It's fine. Still fine. She's just a bit tired and needs a break.
People get tired and rest, right?
I was grateful she hadn't ditched the quest yet.
She'd get up after resting.
"Roel. So we rest a bit and then go?"
The brawler girl looked a bit troubled too. Seemed like even she was giving in to the mage a little.
"Yeah! I can't walk anymore in this state."
"Then we'll rest for a bit."
And so, less than half a day into the trip, we hit a rest stop. Ten minutes would be ideal, but the vibe said it'd eat up at least thirty.
Fuck. I just want to promote and get back.
I pulled some hardtack from my pouch and chewed. My stomach acid was rising to my throat; I needed to shove something in to calm it. Where the fuck is Gebiscone? Damn it. Help me, white uncles.
As rest time began, the three who knew each other gathered and started chatting.
Mostly trying to soothe Roel's whining. No need for me to butt in, and I didn't want to anyway, so I sat a bit away from them.
"Can't you go eat farther away? Your chomping is fucking disgusting."
Suddenly, the mage glared at me and snapped sharply. I was so dumbfounded I nearly drew my sword.
I sat away on purpose anticipating this shit, and it's still not enough?
"I'm already far."
"I said fuck off. As expected of a savage—your brain doesn't turn, huh? And shut your mouth. It stinks like shit. Close it, please."
This fucking bitch.
"Ah, fuck, seriously."
Her flawless provocation made curses spill out reflexively. My resolve to hold back was crumbling.
"What? Fuck? Serca, this uncivilized fuck swearing at me? Fucking ridiculous? Do I deserve this? Am I the weird one?"
"...Swordsman. How about gaining some manners? Though expecting too much from a coward who just swings a sword is unfair."
Something.
Something was happening.
I felt a massive, transcendent malice. My mind started to haze.
Even if you bashed their heads with a hammer and forced them, they couldn't sound that genuine.
They were true discriminators.
Like those old American vile white supremacist brutal violent armed group KKK, who massacred innocent, kind, hardworking black neighbors with guns and blades in psychotic frenzy. Ignoring the blacks' pleas for mercy, they tore limbs from women and children alive, ate brains from the corpses, and threw parties. They even recorded dying black girls' pitiful cries on records to listen before bed.
The fuming mage stood with her staff.
Just add a mustache, and she'd look like Hitler.
"You picked the wrong fight, savage. I've always hated you barbarians making spectacles in the city. Time to clean house."
My brows felt like they'd split from rage. My hands trembled. Crunch—the tough hardtack turned to dust and scattered.
Usually, in conflicts like this, my specialty of striking first with the sword was useless now.
Beating or killing the mage would mean my death.
Even if she shot magic first and I killed her in self-defense, no mage would listen fairly. They'd just deem me guilty and turn me to dust.
"Oh, our fucking old man. You whined like hell about being tired, but now you're full of energy? Why stand? Just sit and rest."
All I could do was talk shit.
Go back and tell the guild? That the mage tried to kill me? They'd say, 'Oh, really? So what?' That's what an E-rank adventurer's word means. No matter how shitty someone acts on a quest, nothing gets done.
Whatever I do, I lose.
Isn't this too unfair?
As I stretched and stood, the mage pointed her staff at me.
At this point, no choice. Give up the promotion, take the penalty, and go back alone—or fight to the death. I'd be a saint for enduring this much insult. Even Buddha's face gets spat on three times. Their provocation had gone beyond brain-melting levels.
Even if I tried not to swing, I couldn't just sit and die. Even if chased by mages, if they act like this, I have to swing.
"Roel, I'll take the front."
"Thanks, Serca."
Even the brawler joined in.
"No, this is fucking hilarious. Shit."
Why's this bitch so confident?
Mage aside, the brawler had jack shit.
No, not gender—the low-level brawler has jack shit. High-level might have something, but low-level brawlers get wrecked by back-alley thugs with daggers.
No matter how skilled in martial arts, at E-rank, it's nothing special. Facing a sword-wielding thug barehanded is near suicide.
How'd I beat thugs? They had daggers; I had a bastard sword.
"Feels like hunting a monster."
"It is a monster. Barbarian savage is a monster, right?"
"True. Hey, swordsman. Come at me."
Her sword-hating zeal was irrational.
Are these bitches a two-man barbarian hunting duo?
Never heard of it, but I knew they existed.
"...Stop!!!"
"Hm, Custo."
Into our standoff stepped harem king Custo.
He shouted, and the mage lowered her staff, the brawler her arms.
"I-I said no fighting!!! Why do you keep... f-fighting!"
"Custo. Didn't you hear? The barbarian savage started it. Not our fault this time."
"He's right, Custo. Can't let this slide."
I was dying to know where that amazing thought process came from.
How do you grow up to think like that?
So pissed my heart might burst.
"D-Don't say... ridiculous... things...! If you keep... this up... I won't... p-party with... y-you again...!"
Seemed he had no talent for long speeches. Watching his frustration oddly redirected my rage toward his stutter.
He continued haltingly. Focusing made my anger oddly subside. Was this stuttering the secret to mediating fights? Just redirected fury.
"Custo. I wanted to do my best, but now I'm pissed. Partying with a savage? Makes me sick. Cursed fucks. Just being near gives me chills."
Still, the mage kept ranting.
"Hey, swordsman. Custo's doing this much—won't you fuck off? We only added you as porter/guard, but this won't work."
The brawler smirked.
Yeah, that's it then.
I'll explain hard to Cloudie, grind other quests, promote again.
"Fine, I'll fuck off. But this is your issue, not mine, right? If I just go back, guild penalizes me. So."
"What're you getting at?"
"Give me money. To cover my losses."
I proposed a deal.
"Just 2 silvers. I'll leave quietly. Got it?"
Most rational way to end it.
Told them, then Custo again. They wouldn't pay, but he'd listen.
"What bullshit? Crazy? Why give you shit?"
Like this.
"Told you. Leaving 'cause of your crap, so compensate."
"As expected of a savage—different wiring. We could kill him scot-free, right?"
"Nah, think you can beat me?"
These rookies.
Obviously underage, less combat experience than me. Brawler down in 10 seconds on rush; mage no memorization, stab before chant.
But I won't.
"Ha?"
"Honestly, killing you bitches takes 1 minute tops, you retards. Custo. Pay or not? This ain't worth it. Pay and settle? Or I kill them, then you."
"T-That's..."
"Custo! Don't listen! Just roast him!"
Against their wishes, Custo tried rationally explaining to me.
"U-Um... K-Katt... c-calm down... N-No that much... m-money... I'll t-try to... c-calm the g-girls..."
"Won't pay! Custo! Ignore him!"
Listening, no mention of paying.
Then only one thing left.
"What? Can't pay? Then fuck, I'll follow to the end, 'til you drop! Got it? Kiiiiieeeeeek!!!! I'll follow no matter what!!!"
Too pissed, I roared mid-sentence.
"W-What the?!"
"He's crazy?!"