Chapter 99
Chapter 99
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 99
Chapter Title: Manpower Expansion (2)
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The central square bustled with crowds of people.
So many thronged the market alleys that the midwinter chill seemed a joke.
"Hot honey tea here, one cup each!"
"Sparrow skewers! Warm sake for sale too!"
"Ironclad sturgeon I smashed from the ice last night!"
"Frost wolf blood sausage! Liver sliced thick just for you!"
The merchants' lively calls echoed through the air.
Passersby snacked on sizzling offal from hot griddles, washing it down with sake warmed over charcoal braziers.
Then.
Boom!
A deafening crash erupted from one alley.
"Who gave you permission to peddle here, you old hag?!"
A hulking brute, head and shoulders taller than most grown men, bellowed like a beast.
Before him lay shattered pots and bowls.
A white-haired old woman frantically gathered the broken pieces.
The thug kicked the shards away.
"If you're selling booze here, you gotta pay protection! I'm the one keeping this place safe, Uits!"
Uits.
He was infamous around these parts as a vicious bully.
Not just big and strong, but cruel to the bone—once he had you in his sights, you were done for.
So market folk usually tossed him some pocket change to get through the day unscathed.
But today, he'd clearly had one too many. Uits wasn't settling for his usual cut; he was rampaging.
"Pay up! Or I'll rip out every post in this booze shack!"
"Please, sir, don't do this! I'll pay, I'll pay—just leave the posts alone!"
The old woman begged through tears.
Only then did Uits snort and lower the fence post.
"Bring every coin you made today. I'll use it to cover what you owe me."
He thrust out a hand the size of the lid he'd smashed.
As the trembling woman pulled out a few coins, Uits grinned.
"Think of it as protection money. From now on, Lord Uits here guards your shop."
"……."
The old woman said nothing.
Right then.
"Protection money?"
A boy emerged from the crowd.
His black robe hooded deep over his face; by his build, he looked early to mid-teens.
The boy addressed Uits.
"What makes you think you can protect this shop?"
"?"
Uits snorted in disbelief.
"Beat it, kid, before I snap your neck and roast you."
"Answer me. What gives you the right to collect protection here? This is Meursault direct territory."
Mention of Meursault made Uits's face twitch.
But he quickly sneered and jabbed a finger into the boy's chest.
"Law's far, fist is close, kid. Meursault troops don't patrol backwater alleys like this, so I step in for 'em."
"……."
"I'm feeling generous today. Just one arm broken—be grateful."
Uits raised his fist high.
Then his boulder of a knuckles plunged toward the boy.
Onlookers turned away, unable to watch the carnage.
……But.
Crack! Snap!
A grotesque sound burst from Uits's fist as it met the boy's face.
"Huh?"
Uits's expression went blank.
His wrist dangled limp at a ninety-degree angle—hardly surprising.
Then the boy spoke.
"No one but Meursault collects taxes here. Remember that."
With that, he kicked Uits's shin.
Snap!
Uits's thick leg bone buckled like a reed.
"Gah?!"
Uits tumbled across the snow-mud ground with a guttural cry.
His hood fell back, revealing the boy's face.
Snow-white hair, ruby-red eyes.
"……Huh?!"
Uits paled.
Even a market thug knew the myth shaking the North: the Blood Lily.
'I'm screwed!'
Uits knew it instinctively.
This boy was the real deal.
Not some small-time punk shaking down the weak like him.
Shiver shiver shiver...
A chill pierced his marrow, freezing his brain.
The boy before him suddenly loomed like a mountain.
In that moment, the Blood Lily, Federback, spoke.
"I'll use today as an example and restore order to the territory outskirts. Will you cooperate?"
"Y-Yes? C-C-Cooperate? Yes, sir! I'll cooperate! W-What do you need from me?"
Uits nodded frantically, limbs broken.
One wrong word, and death.
This Meursault scion was a demon who carved flesh from criminals and bathed in their blood.
They said his garden still used their corpses as fertilizer.
Uits vowed total compliance, whatever he asked.
"Your body's too bulky to be useful..."
Until Federback continued.
"Just hand over your head for now."
Hours later, Uits's head hung in the market center.
The placard listed crimes: business obstruction, extortion, aggravated assault, threats.
Passersby didn't bother reading.
They just spat and muttered, "Good riddance."
Meanwhile.
"They say Meursault's young master came in person."
"He fixed the broken stall himself. So considerate."
"I saw it! Unreal. That giant oaf couldn't do a thing."
"One thing didn't match the rumors, though. His face... not scary at all. Mesmerizingly beautiful... sigh..."
Federback's name buzzed through the market.
But he'd vanished into the crowd under his hood right after, leaving no room for chit-chat.
Just rumors snowballing on guesses.
At the same time, far from the market.
"Maybe I should train too."
Deep-hooded Rorschach turned to Federback beside her.
They'd been patrolling the territory outskirts' new roads since last night.
Occasional undercover inspections like this.
Rorschach shadowboxed the air.
"I wanna smack bad guys like that—pow pow! Just like you did, Federback."
"There are no bad guys. Just strong and weak."
"Then why help the weak?"
"It helps grow the human population."
"......Sometimes I can't figure out what you're thinking, Federback. You see the world too macroscopically."
"We're here."
Federback looked away from Rorschach.
A rundown shack at the market fringe.
Looks like it couldn't even stable horses, but important folks worked inside.
Creeeak—
They entered. A one-eyed man at a table stood.
Federback spoke flatly.
"The crow brought the silver coin."
"!"
The man's wariness eased.
"This way."
Federback and Rorschach opened the floor's hidden door and descended the stairs.
Through dim candlelight, a familiar face appeared.
"Long time no see."
Portia.
Mustache shaved, she smiled brightly at Federback.
"I heard. The New Moon remnants are wiped out. Thank you for keeping your promise."
"No thanks needed for the obvious."
Federback sat and continued.
"The task?"
"Complete. Convincing Capital allies took effort."
Portia slid a document to Federback.
Rorschach beside her asked.
"What's this?"
"New recruits."
"All unfamiliar houses and names. What were the criteria?"
"My discretion."
"……."
Rorschach gaped at the answer.
Portia felt the same.
"I wondered the same contacting these houses and people. You've only been in the North—how'd you pinpoint Capital talents?"
Federback had tasked Portia with one secret order early on.
Send letters to houses in the Capital or other cities.
Contents varied, but the core was identical.
—The Meursault House wants you—
He targeted mostly fallen knights, soldiers, officials, heirs.
Even Portia executing it couldn't grasp why.
Obscure, talentless scraps from minor houses, to anyone else.
But Federback wanted them.
From memories before regression.
'Beings who'll one day reveal extraordinary talents.'
Federback closed his eyes, lost in thought.
Before regression, geniuses of the human alliance who fought the Demon King's army to the end.
They led near-extinct humanity with raw power or brilliant minds.
Some shone not in strength or smarts, but unyielding grit, loyalty, unbreakable fidelity.
'Comrades who survived the final scraps with me—I know their faces, names, pasts by heart.'
Federback was certain.
Regression changed nothing; their exceptional buds remained. Only when they'd bloom mattered.
So he'd recruited Portia and tasked her with scouting and securing them all.
"Results?"
Federback asked.
Portia had, as expected, nailed it perfectly.
"Who'd refuse such pay? All en route North."
Now, nobodies.
But later, they'd lead humanity's last stand.
Heroes who'd survived, proving talent and love for mankind.
This life, Federback would gather them under him, bloom their gifts.
At least ten years early.