Chapter 38
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Auction and Festival (1)
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Shrieeeeek!
Three wyverns that had been circling high in the sky plummeted straight down toward the ground in unison, without a moment's hesitation.
"Take cover!"
A scream like a one-shot horse rang out from an unnamed knight, and the knights scattered in all directions. They had realized the wyverns' target.
Kieeeek!
The centipede, freed from its shell and agile once more, tried to hide among the dense primitive forest, but the wyverns' sturdy talons ensured it failed.
The battle between the four massive monsters, each tens of meters long, was so awe-inspiring that even the valiant knights stood slack-jawed, watching in stunned silence.
The centipede twisted its segmented body to strangle a wyvern's neck.
Another wyvern snatched the centipede and hurled it through the air toward a boulder.
As the centipede tried to shake off its daze, the three wyverns immediately tore into its head, belly, and tail.
The wyverns' bodies were melting from the centipede's venom, and one had its wing membranes shredded and torn.
But would any creature shy away from prey just because it thrashed about?
The wyverns pressed their attack even harder, wielding powerful wingbeats and talons as weapons.
Kieeeek!
Crack!
After twenty minutes of brutal combat.
The end was anticlimactic.
The wyverns seized the exhausted centipede once more, ascended into the sky, and in their squabble over the meal, tore the massive creature into three pieces mid-air.
Splaaaat!
The centipede's thick, greenish blood rained down onto the ground.
It splattered heavily onto the knights' and Dominic's hair and faces, but unlike saliva, it seemed to lack venom.
"...Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That wyverns prey on giant centipedes."
"Eh, about half and half?"
Ian asked Dominic, but the answer wasn't definitive.
"Betting everything on a fifty-fifty chance. Should I call that good luck?"
"Sure, wyverns might eat centipedes half the time. But once they spot one, they'll never let it go—I was pretty damn sure of that. So it's not luck. It's skill. Wisdom. That kind of thing."
"Pretty damn sure? How?"
The other knights had gathered around by now.
Even the one who had held a sword to Dominic's throat while he was casting fire magic.
"Wyverns are in the mountains now because it's mating season, right? One of you knights told me that."
"Can't you explain it simpler?"
These knights seemed utterly clueless about animal habits.
"Gathering in specific spots for mating season basically means they'll lay eggs and raise young in the area afterward."
"I-Is that so?"
"You married with kids?"
"I've got a daughter. She's just turned two."
"Perfect age—adorable. Alright, knight. Imagine a strong, violent thug with a shady reputation lurking around your little girl. What do you do?"
"Hmph."
"Of course, our knight here is a man of virtue, so you'd try to reform him first. Right? But wyverns?"
"...They'd kill it."
"Exactly."
Dominic had been certain: even if wyverns didn't eat the centipede, in mating season, they'd attack it without fail.
"By the way, you'll reimburse me for all the magic tools I used in the fight, right? Double or triple, yeah?"
Looks like he was already thinking about recouping costs after the big win.
* * *
As the knights and Dominic returned from their mission, applause and cheers surged toward them from all sides like crashing waves.
"Can't we rest first?"
But having pushed themselves to the brink of mental exhaustion and depleted every ounce of stamina, they spent the next full day sleeping and recovering.
Once the knights' fatigue had eased, the lords summoned them back to the command tent. They needed more specific details.
"...And so, everyone witnessed the final moments of the Sentinel Centipede with their own eyes."
"If not for you, countless people would have suffered—there's no doubt about it!"
"Exactly! Did you see that exoskeleton? If a beast that huge rampaged through the mountains, small monsters spilling out to attack humans would've been inevitable."
"Knights may take pride in your valor!"
The lords shuddered repeatedly at the centipede remains the knights had brought back and placed on the table.
They were chilled imagining what might have happened without the knights' prowess.
"The village chief put in a lot of effort."
"You're too kind."
All eyes in the command tent turned to Dominic at Count Sinclair's quiet remark.
'Enough with the praise—time to hand over the real rewards, big ones.'
This lord had slashed three years' worth of taxes by eighty percent just for feeding his soldiers well and boosting morale among the neighboring lords.
'Sure, our village is tiny, but that's some generous tax relief. He's the emotional type, so he won't just brush us off. Come on, something good—please, something great!'
Money was good. Land was good.
Life was cash or real estate, after all.
"We had one knight seriously injured and several lightly wounded, but thanks to the village chief's wisdom and magic tools, no deaths or permanent disabilities."
A glow of positivity lit the faces of the knights who had fought. Thankfully, no one was greedy enough to hog the glory.
Not that anyone could've complained—looking back, the only one who'd dealt meaningful damage to the centipede was Ian anyway. For the others, even sharing the credit was a win.
"Village Chief Dominic, we'll reimburse your used magic tools at triple value. Sadly, as you're not military, promotion's off the table, but we'll award you a centurion's bonus and the Silver Medal!"
"I humbly accept!"
"And for Knight Ian..."
Count Sinclair continued, but question marks—about thirty of them—floated over Dominic's head.
'What the hell? That's it? No way. ...For real? Is this seriously the end?'
Magic tools only held limited casts of 1st-class spells, nothing too pricey.
A centurion's bonus was decent at best, and medals were honorary fluff for nobles and knights—useless to Dominic, who had zero loyalty or thirst for glory.
"Congratulations, Village Chief!"
"A Silver Medal! Yes, you've more than earned it!"
The knights who'd shared life and death with him offered cheers, but Dominic's expression stayed glum.
'Ah! He didn't want to give big rewards in front of everyone to avoid jealousy? Yeah, that makes sense. So thoughtful!'
Back in his tent with his pouch of modest reward money, bonus, and medal—still in full gear—Dominic waited for the lord to summon him.
"Chef!"
Just then, a soldier called from outside.
"Finally!"
"H-He asked if we could prepare simple meals for tomorrow's lunch on the return trip. What should I say?"
"...That's it?"
"Pardon?"
But the count never called for Dominic.
'Not the old man's son for nothing.'
That night, Dominic downed two bottles of wine before finally drifting off.
* * *
"Same everywhere—soldiers spinning their wheels. Ugh!"
"What's got you so grumpy now?"
"Oh, you're here? Knight, are you staying on as commander?"
"Command returned to the lord yesterday. Back to my original duties."
"Original duties?"
"Protecting you, by order of the Old Lord."
Dominic patted Ian's shoulder at his reply.
"...?"
"Hang in there."
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"In the army, merits get stolen like breathing. Don't take it too hard. I've got pennies to show for it too. That centipede? Might as well have been my kill. Right?"
"What are you talking about? Why'd you get peanuts?"
"Knight, I know you're modest, but calling this 'a lot' is a stretch, don't you think?"
Dominic kept tossing and catching a small pouch up and down.
"I forgot."
"Forgot what?"
"You're not with the domain army."
"Texting me now?"
"No. That medal you're holding."
"The medal? What's with it? Want it? Need it?"
"......"
For a moment, Dominic thought Ian had more honor or ambition than he'd figured.
"The Silver Medal is awarded for major achievements."
"Yeah, yeah. Super honorable."
Dominic shrugged indifferently.
But Ian ignored it and pressed on.
"The Silver Medal for the greatest feat means you'll claim the most valuable battlefield spoils as your prize."
Thud.
Dominic dropped the gold-coin pouch on the floor.
"Getting it now, are we?"
"Th-Then..."
"The centipede's exoskeleton. That's yours now."
"L-Lord! Long life to you!"
"Tch."
A dramatic historical drama line popped out after a long hiatus.
* * *
Troops remained to hunt lingering monsters, but with his extra mission complete, Dominic returned to Evergreen with the lord's permission.
A few utterly peaceful days slipped by.
Just the everyday routine he'd longed for.
Whoosh!
Dominic, cooking a Fishing Cooperative meal for the first time in ages, cranked up the fire under the wok.
The counter overflowed with prepped ingredients: squid, clams, abalone, shrimp, plus heaps of fresh veggies like cabbage, greens, mushrooms, and bamboo shoots.
"Gotta stir-fry some pork too."
A rain-like sizzle filled the air as spicy peppers and pork erupted in the massive wok. Then came the seafood and veggies.
"Ahh—classic lard! The aroma alone sets it apart!"
The lard turned clear in seconds, generously coating every morsel, filling the kitchen with temptation.
"Fire!"
Dominic struck a pose like chanting a spell.
Just high-proof booze for a big flame and to kill odors, but the onlookers clapped instinctively.
"Ooh! Impressive!"
"Dominic's got presence—real power!"
Two burly middle-aged men in perfect sync.
Uncle Kallon and Old Lord Theodore Sinclair, the resort's long-term guest.
Jjampong neared completion.
With chili powder for color, he added the seafood-stock broth simmering since morning.
"Taste test first?"
"Obviously!"
Dominic pulled four bowls, neatly portioned noodles, and ladled on the fiery red broth and toppings generously.
For the two middle-aged men, Ian, and himself.
"Done! Special seafood-and-meat jjampong!"
"Ooh!"
"But seriously, you sure? Jjampong's terrible for gout."
"What do you take a swordmaster's body for?!"
"...I did warn you."
Dominic sighed lightly and handed a bowl to Old Lord too.
"No, but why does a resort guest keep coming here to eat? Our resort food's pretty good."
"Sick of it before you got back. Ahh—this hits! Man's food! Packs a punch, heh heh!"
"You get it, Old Lord! Those who don't know life's bitterness can't handle this spice, haha!"
Sweat beading on foreheads, lips quivering—they were clearly burning up, yet Old Lord and Uncle Kallon bluffed to the end.
"When are you heading back? Can't stay forever."
"Who knows. Gotta see that exoskeleton auction at least. Supposed to be a huge festival, right?"
"That's still a ways off."
"Heh, I've got strength and time to burn."
The resort's perpetual loafer, Old Lord, roamed the village in a floral-embroidered shirt from who-knows-where.