Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Chapter 2: Crisis is Opportunity is Crisis (2)
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***
“Silver Roar.... Silver Roar..... Ah, found it!”
Having entered the castle, I first looked for the inn that the guard captain had recommended. As he’d said, it wasn’t hard to find the place. All I had to do was follow the neatly paved stone road from the gate to the lord’s castle and locate the noisiest building.
“Wahahaha!”
Thud! Crunch!
“Woooah!”
“Oooooh!”
“Jess fell down!”
“You shithead with a face like a horse that ate shit! I bet everything on you!”
Bang!
“I don’t even need to go in to know. It’s an inn run by the mercenary guild.”
The voices of drunken men drifting out from the swing doors since early evening. Sounds of something being smashed, and bizarre song lyrics sung in slurred speech.
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[Silver Roar]
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These were the usual sounds in a place where mercenaries gathered. The mercenary guild was, in simple terms, an interest group for mercenaries. On the small scale, they handled request referrals, mercenary badges, and rank assignments. On the larger scale, they mediated conflicts between major mercenary bands and lords, or managed large-scale subjugation requests, working in various ways to serve the convenience and interests of mercenaries. Large mercenary bands often took requests directly without going through the guild, but most still used the guild for its convenience and safety, even with the fees.
Creak—
Professor cautiously, yet boldly enough not to draw undue attention, pushed open the swing door and stepped inside.
“Krgh-! That bastard talked like that, and I—”
“Hey, Tolnar.”
“Ah, what! I was in the middle of feeling great!”
Tap tap.
“Over there. That guy.”
“....Krhm.”
With Professor’s entrance, the heated tavern atmosphere cooled even further.
Step. Step. Step. Step.
Scrape, clunk!
As Professor crossed the floor and sat on a stool at the bar, the earlier rowdiness vanished, leaving only occasional whispers from the tables.
‘What’s going on? Even if I’m a stranger, is it worth this much attention? These are mercenaries, famous for their thick skins.’
- Take a Look: Seems plenty justified to me.
- Professor: What do you mean?
- Take a Look: Look at yourself.
‘.....Oh shit!’
Only then did Professor take stock of his own condition.
A height a head taller than most, a build so broad it cramped the space between tables, and on top of that, a doublet and pants torn to rags, caked in blood and dirt. The scrapes and breaks from the trip to Turan had already scabbed over into white scars, and fresh blood still seeped through the bandages crossing them. Add in the grim, furrowed face from Mental Fragility’s irritability—
And you had a perfect crazy serial killer.
- Jokasss: Guess the gate guards weren’t overreacting. If a guy looking like that came for inspection, I’d toss him in a cell first and ask questions later.
- Speed Wagon: How the hell did you drag yourself to the guild building in that state?
- Heung An Mandu: Hey, hey, they’re drawing swords? Isn’t that guy a bounty hunter?
‘Damn it! I had no choice! If I worried about every little thing, my head would explode!’
In reality, Professor was the meticulous type.
Makes sense—wander blankly in the wasteland leaving even a small trace, and somehow psycho gangs would come swarming to raid your shelter.
Anticipate every worst-case scenario and prepare the best counters. That was Wasteland Survivor Rule #1.
But in GG, trying to think about everything at once triggered Mental Fragility attacks, so he had no choice but to focus on one goal at a time.
Even coming to Silver Roar, he’d had to mutter “Silver Roar, Silver Roar” like a lunatic.
The result: strutting into a mercenary-packed tavern looking like a criminal.
Ssshh—
“Looks like you’ve eaten your fair share of steel too. What brings you to our Silver Roar?”
Breaking the icy silence was the chubby man behind the bar, who’d been slicing a thick steak.
‘Don’t panic. Non-threatening. But not weak.’
Professor pitched his voice low.
“I’m thinking of.... doing some mercenary work.”
Shing!
Thud!
“Aha! Mercenary work! Of course! I’m the idiot. Who comes to a guild-run inn for anything else? New face.... Been working out of another city?”
“A bit from Gideon....”
Slice!
“Gideon? Oh, the old name for Molludic Castle! Brings back memories! It’s been 20 years since that mess and the name change. Hardly anyone mixes them up now. Unless it’s someone ‘trapped for years in a place cut off from outside news,’ I suppose.”
“......”
Screwed up.
‘Wrong answer! Made him even more suspicious!’
Gulp.
The tavern’s mood wasn’t just quiet—it was chilling like a blue steel blade.
“So.... You’re here for a request since you’ve got time, right? Mind showing your mercenary badge? Need to know your level.”
He’d come to register fresh—no way he had a badge.
“....Lost it.”
“Lost it.... I see....”
Shhh! Shing!
“Amy!”
“Y-Yes, Master!”
The chubby innkeeper sharpened his meat cleaver on a whetstone while flashing a warm smile at the waitress huddled frozen in the corner.
“Take this steak across the street to Shirley at Rajeris Traders.”
“H-Huh? Deliver food?”
“Yeah. Tell her it’s thanks for the good deal on those wolf fangs last time. Take Cindy too.”
“B-Both of us?”
“Yeah. Both of you. If you’ve got time left, play around outside. It’ll take about 30 minutes.... to wrap up.”
“Y-Yes!”
Tadak!
The waitress caught the hint in her boss’s words, grabbed another waitress’s hand, and bolted out of the tavern.
With the last two waitresses gone, the innkeeper grinned wider.
“So, you.... What’s your name again?”
“Professor.”
“Hmm. Professor. Strange. I thought I remembered most names.”
“What.... Names?”
Professor sat pretending to be calm, but cold sweat poured inside.
‘What do I do? He’s obviously suspicious! Even an idiot could tell he evacuated the girls! He’s gearing up for a beatdown! Here! Right now!’
Thud!
The innkeeper slammed the sharpened butcher knife into the table.
“Of course, the kind who eat steel like mercenaries but have no badge, no decent clothes, no treatment—and have to sneak in among similar-looking folks.
Society agreed to call those people crimi.nals.
I’m the guild master here—gotta memorize the names of escaped criminals around the city, right?”
Drag!
Clank!
As the innkeeper finished, chairs scraped and metal clinked from the back tables.
‘Damn! ID! Something like ID?’
“Not your average crook, so even if we all jump him, no complaints, right? Not that justice matters for criminals.”
‘Fallen noble, my ass! No family crest? Anything, anything....! Status window! Inventory!’
Professor desperately opened his status window, knowing it was empty.
Ding-!
[Item : / ㅁ / - / - / - /]
‘Huh? Something’s there!’
He’d used all four bandages on the way—inventory should be empty, but one slot was occupied.
[Item - Guard Captain's Introduction Letter: A handwritten letter from Turan Gate Captain Enoch. The front guarantees the bearer under Captain Enoch’s name; the back has a hurried scrawl: ‘Hang in there, young man!’]
‘!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’
- Heung An Mandu: Whoa, this thing?
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Brooooooo!!!!
- Deer Drug Please: Behold! This is ‘The Power of Love’! Witness the ass-burning romance of two manly men!
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: You’re pathetic for not knowing love’s coolness!
‘No way..... Right before I left?’
[Tap tap, safe travels!]
The busy shoulder pat had seemed off, but Mental Fragility made him ignore it as nothing! What a surprise! Thanks, Brother Enoch! I’ll succeed and pay you back!
Professor yanked the letter from inventory without hesitation and held it up before the master, who was raising his knife to carve him up.
“No badge, but.... I’ve got this.”
“Ha, some worthless trick—Huh? Enoch?”
The innkeeper froze mid-vault over the bar and snatched the letter.
“....The above person is guaranteed by Guard Captain Enoch. Seal matches. Handwriting too....”
“That enough....?”
“What the hell? What’s going on?”
“Not a criminal?”
“I saw this huge guy, bare-handed, covered in blood—thought he was that serial killer making waves lately....”
“Me too. Ghibli or something? That his name?”
“So this guy’s not him?”
Murmur murmur.
The mercenaries prepping to charge started whispering among themselves, sensing something off.
The innkeeper scowled at the letter for a long time, then suddenly turned to Professor.
“Th-Then, what about those wounds! No way you get those falling down somewhere!”
“On the way from Gideon to Turan.... Met a troll.”
“The killer troll in the northern forest?”
“Heard the lord sent knights last month.... Still alive?”
“So this guy met that troll and came back alive?”
Murmur, whisper whisper.
Not a lie. He did meet Notum on the way. Turns out Notum had quite the rep. Good call not bringing her along.
“A-Alright! Fine, wounds explained! Then why skip the temple or tailor and come straight here? Unless you’re a wanted criminal....”
“That’s....”
‘What excuse? Something nearby.... Ah.’
Professor glanced around, stood, reached over the bar, grabbed a full wooden mug of beer, and downed it in one go.
Gulp, gulp, gulp.
“Khaaa-. Tough day. Thirsty as hell for booze. More than wounds or rags. That’s it.”
.
.
.
.
.
Clatter.
In the dead-silent tavern, an empty mug hit the floor,
“Pfft,”
“Khk!”
Someone couldn’t hold back a laugh—
“Puhahaha!!!”
“Khuhuhu! Thirsty! For booze!”
“Wahahaha! Now that’s a proper mercenary!”
“Of course! Booze after a hard day is serious business!”
Soon, laughter exploded without anyone starting it. The only one not laughing: the innkeeper called Master.
“Khrm! S-Sorry about that!”
“Khaha! Damn right you are!”
“We moved on your signal! Nearly killed an innocent guy!”
‘Sent a signal? No wonder they moved in sync....’
Master had apparently signaled covertly after mistaking him.
‘Death events popping non-stop, no breather.’
Troll at start. Nearly dragged off by guards at gate. Now this. One slip and blade at throat.
‘Miracle I’m alive this long.’
Professor sighed in relief and looked around. The tavern was rowdy again like nothing happened, while Master fidgeted before him.
Master was clearly at fault this time. Big fault—life-or-death stakes.
No wonder the charismatic guy from moments ago now cringed like a puppy needing to shit. Guild rules were strict; compensation for wrongful life debts was hefty.
‘Stir them up right, could squeeze big compensation.... But that’s a last resort.’
Needed to hole up in Turan and build strength—no burning bridges with the local guild master. Long-term mattered more.
“Master. Two of your priciest booze.”
“Huh? Uh, sure.”
Glug glug glug—
‘Red-transparent hue, golden fire in the light. Intense aroma rising immediately. Dragon’s Blood. Good vintage.’
Pouring that pricey vintage Dragon’s Blood—not in shot glasses, but heaping beer mugs. Master must be desperate.
Staring at the two mugfuls—like two bottles—before him, Professor grinned villainously and slid one to Master.
“This is....”
“Bad drunk. Black out and forget the night. Dragon’s Blood’ll do it, but can’t drink solo—need a buddy.”
Professor’s words roughly meant: ‘One drink and forget. I’ll pretend it never happened too.’
“....Ha!”
“....Cheers?”
“Huhahaha! Cheers? Hell yeah! Perfect! Waldorf Topric here met his match today! Uhahaha!!!”
Master’s mad laugh had the drinking mercenaries chuckling too.
“You bastards!! Raise your mugs! New merc wants a toast!”
“Hey, Master! I got no drink?”
“Pass one around to every bastard sitting here!”
“Oooooh!!”
“What’s up with you! Cheapskate Topric buying rounds!”
“Even if we empty a keg per man, it’s less than guild comp—shut up and drink!”
“Keehee! No need to hold back!”
“Hey! Amy! Pale ale here—”
“Amy’s gone—go get it yourself, punk!”
After the brief chaos, innkeeper Waldorf raised the mug Professor gave him high.
“Sorry for my screw-up today! One round on me for ruining the vibe—drink and forget clean!”
“Whoaaa!”
“Big bro up front! Professor, right? Uh.... Sorry about that!”
“Whoaaa!”
“Uhahaha!”
“Topric of the world got scared!”
“So.... When do we drink?”
“Puhaha! Yeah! Drink up! Come on, friends! To our new real-deal buddy Professor!
“Cheers!”
“Cheeeers!”
Clink!
‘Ended pretty well. Crisis turned into favor from the guild master handling local requests. Not bad.’
Seemed like he’d survived unscathed again today.
***
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