Chapter 22
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Caravan Escort
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As I always thought, night watch was the shittiest thing in the world. To put it mildly, it was on the level of "your mom's dead"—simple and clear enough to define just how shitty it was.
If that doesn't sound mild at all, you're not wrong.
"Night watch is fucking bullshit."
Look closely. Today was a scheduled night watch day. So you lie down trying to sleep, but then you think, "Oh shit, night watch," and you can't sleep properly. Finally, you drift off, and that's exactly when it's time to stand watch.
You fight off unbelievable drowsiness, force your body up, whip your half-asleep mind, and endure for hours under the guise of night watch. By then, you're wide awake again, but when your shift ends and you lie down to sleep, sleep won't come.
Time just drags on. But you're too awake now, so even lying down does nothing. The pressure to sleep overwhelms you. It makes you even less sleepy. It's purgatory itself. And even if you somehow manage to fall asleep, morning comes in a flash.
Doesn't it sound shitty just hearing about it?
I was half out of my mind right now.
"Be quiet."
"Ah, yes."
Crackle, crackle. The campfire burned. The night wind was cold. But sitting close to the fire, I didn't feel the chill at all—just a pleasant warmth. With nothing much to do, I gathered dry twigs and tossed them into the fire like feeding it.
Every time I added wood, the flames whooshed up, which was pretty fun.
The guy sharing night watch with me was Turk, a bald man employed by the caravan. He was freakishly quiet.
The occasional "be quiet" was the only proof he hadn't forgotten how to talk. In other words, he was as wordless as he was hairless.
I had to kill at least two hours, but with a silent watch partner, it was pure torture. Sitting still doing nothing makes time freeze.
To break the silence, I patrolled around, gathered more twigs, but... had 30 minutes passed? No idea.
"Mister."
Bored out of my skull, I called out to Turk.
"Mister."
But he didn't react at all, like he was a damn rock.
There's a limit to ignoring people. I felt like grabbing a twig and poking his bald head. Of course, I didn't. Anyone who actually did that would be insane.
"Mister. Time's not moving. Wanna play pun duel with me?"
Pun duel was like a drip battle. You take turns dropping your best lines like a duel, and the first to run out loses. Perfect for killing boredom. No penalties, so zero pressure.
"Didn't I tell you to be quiet? Can't you see everyone's sleeping? You think they'd love the noise?"
"Know anything about Isvant?"
"..."
Turk scowled at my words but responded anyway. I ignored it lightly and kept probing. You can't spit on a smiling face—once the conversation starts, it'll flow.
"A bit bigger than Krasheim. First time?"
Turk, unable to resist my persistence, finally answered. Now I could communicate with the bald mister. Time to fish for useful info.
"Yeah, sorta. Any good spots for adventurers to make a living there?"
"Well... the best place for adventurers to eat is still Krasheim. Right next to untamed lands, isn't it? Step out the gates, and monsters everywhere. Probably better than Isvant."
"Really? No adventurers in Isvant?"
"There are, but Krasheim's scene is bigger."
Krasheim was where I started, Isvant my destination. Basically, better monster-hunting and money in Krasheim.
"But if you're confident in your skills, Isvant might be better."
"Something there?"
"A few unconquered dungeons near Isvant."
"What? Dungeons? There?"
"Never been myself, so not sure, but I've heard local adventurers, mages, and the lord's soldiers flock there."
And like that, night watch time passed.
Turk was a total chatterbox once you got him talking.
I scored some sweet tips from him. Dungeons, huh... intriguing. My only dungeon memory was getting wrecked by kobolds as a noob, tears and snot everywhere. But now I was way stronger than back then.
If time allows, worth checking out.
"Sleep well."
"You too, mister."
I woke the next watch adventurer and lay down. Thought sleep wouldn't come, but the fire's warmth did the trick—
"—Fuck, the sun's already up."
Hadn't even been three seconds?
Morning hit in a blink.
"We're moving out!"
I dragged my exhausted body up. Pure sleep time: under four hours. Was I really doing this for 10 coppers? No more long-haul jobs. Common sense says sleep before work, right?
Leaving those regrets behind, the caravan pressed on.
No bullshit—existential dread was crashing over me like waves. Sleepy as hell.
What's the point of scraping by here? No clue why I was even alive.
No idea when I'd get back to Earth. The "sudden arrival, sudden return" hope had died ages ago.
I walked on, layering hatred for the world. Sleep deprivation dragged up every negative emotion.
Felt like smashing something or I'd explode. Poor folks get violent—yep, that's me now.
Rest break came, but dozing off flew by. I wanted more sleep and was pissed. Rage mode incoming.
Yeah, that's when it happened.
Just past noon.
Rumble!
It was instant.
"Huh? What? Fuck?"
Someone yelled blankly. Rookie vibes—no combat experience, poor snap judgment. I sensed we were utterly fucked and palmed a good stone, hiding it in my sleeve.
Old habit. Humans are fragile; one rock to the head and done.
"What the fuck are these guys?!"
Another adventurer drew his sword, shouting.
Ferocious armed thugs surrounded the wagons in seconds. Armed mountain men? Bandits, obviously. Unreal. I yelled in shock at the clichéd scene.
"Fuck!! Mom-fucking bandits!!!!! We're screwed!!"
Exaggerated for the clueless idiots. Even morons know "bandits" means fucked.
"Shut the fuck up!!!"
As panicked murmurs rose, a bandit in decent iron breastplate snapped. The area went dead silent.
Bandit leader?
"Why are you blocking our path?"
The green-hatted middle-aged man stepped off the wagon, hiding behind caravan guards. What why, fucker? To rob you blind.
"Don't move!"
Bandit leader—calling him that for convenience—freaked when caravan folk shifted. They all looked to green hat; he signaled "stay put."
Liking the silence, leader grinned creepily.
"Heh heh heh, nice to meet you folks."
Sounded like casual "hey friends," but his voice dripped rotten greed—a true bandit's rasp.
Just hearing it boiled my blood.
Already irritable from sleepiness, now these assholes block the road? Impossible not to rage.
Sudden bullshit pisses everyone off. I was livid.
But amid fury, I scanned coolly.
Unexpected twist: armed bandits out of nowhere. No calm logic, and swords end you. Body screamed danger.
"Name's... none of your business. Listen up."
Bandit numbers matched ours, gear unremarkable. Only leader had armor. Looked like broke adventurers turned man-hunters.
Shabby, poor. And shorter than me. Modern Earth nutrition put me near 180cm.
Locals? Hobbit-sized. Combat key? Weight class.
Conclusion: these fuckers might be pushovers.
Back-alley brawler like me.
Bandits no different.
"Hey. Got a sweet deal. Or is it a demand? Know 'toll'? Pay it. Our turf."
"Toll? What bullshit? You own this road?"
Green hat asked curiously, sarcastic. Leader didn't call it out, just grinned.
"You the boss? Good. We'll explain. Yeah, our road. 'Force occupation'—know it? Choose."
"Choose what? Options?"
Green hat narrowed eyes, assessing forces.
Numbers even, maybe slightly against us. Ambush? Loss. My take: frontal fight = heavy casualties.
"Fight us, get wrecked, lose everything. Or pay toll quietly and fuck off happy."
Leader's grin twisted; pro extortionist, seasoned killer.
"Not taking all, though. Rob merchants bare, how they eat? I'm merciful. Half your goods. Exactly half, we let you pass. We rush, you all die. Deal? No needless blood."
He crossed arms, smug as if reasonable saint. Muttered "damn right" in agreement.
Too fucking infuriating. Listening built rage till reason snapped. Stealing free and so brazen? I slaved all day for 10 coppers, now half my shit or die?
"Choose quick... one minute. Don't wanna die, right?"
"Kekekeke."
"Pay the toll already."
Bandits hooted, spitting through yellow teeth, greedy maws flapping. Disgusting. Time for heroic resolve. No, couldn't hold back. Pulled sleeve stone. Always thought: my rock throw rivals 1-circle Magic Bolt.
Brain canon, whatever.
Get ready.
"Irresistible!"
Throw it!
"Impulsiveness STRIKE!!!"
In under 2 seconds, I twisted like a major leaguer, hurling with max power. Target: leader.
Whistle!
Stone flew straight, slicing air.
"Huh? What the fu—"
Splat!
Watermelon burst.
Thud.
That was it.
Casual leader ate it full-face. Skull caved? Instant death. No scream, just crumpled. Colloquially: gone.
"Kiyaaaaah!"
Weird thrill surged.
Explosive joy seized my soul.
"STRIKE!!!"
Victory yell. All eyes on me: bandits disbelieving, adventurers confused.
Nothing to say, I drew sword.
"Not your first corpse—why gawk, you retarded fucks? Fight already!!!!"