Chapter 137: Practical Combat 6
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 137: Practical Combat 6
"Care to buy some of these...?"
Tattered clothes, a frail frame, wrinkles etching his face and hands, and a meager pile of vegetables spread across a mat.
To any passerby, he looked like nothing more than a destitute old man hawking produce.
Betzdo’s subordinates would have thought the same—had it not been for what had transpired just moments ago.
"What do you think you're doing? Are you playing games with us?"
Betzdo’s men glared with murderous intent at the old man—or rather, the masked man disguised as one.
The vegetable seller addressed them again. It was the exact same setup as before, but this time, he didn't even seem to be trying to hide his identity; the voice emerging from the elderly facade was clearly that of a young man.
It was a scene so suspicious that even a neighborhood child would have done a double-take: an old man’s body paired with a young man’s voice. The fact that he was repeating the same lines from their first encounter made it clear he was mocking them.
And this was happening while they were in a desperate rush to answer Betzdo’s signal!
It was a signal used only once before—an emergency summons for every nearby subordinate to mobilize immediately.
"I was going to just leave, but then I realized I still had some vegetables left."
Dozens of men growled, radiating killing intent, but the man behind the mask—who had shed his elderly persona in an instant—spoke with an easy nonchalance, as if he weren't the least bit intimidated.
Who on earth was this man?
Who was he, and why was he blocking their path?
None of Betzdo’s subordinates had the answer.
"I think another fifty gold coins should be enough to cover the cost of the vegetables..."
‘Just fifty gold coins for the vegetables. If you don't like that, you're welcome to play with me a bit longer. For the record, I'm quite confident in my ability to run away.’
The same reason as before. The same price as before.
"What do you all think?"
At the words of the man whose identity remained a total mystery, Tommy—the de facto leader of the group—furrowed his brow.
Boom! Crash! Thud! Bang!
Even as he deliberated, the sounds of a violent battle echoed in his ears. It felt as if the noise itself was screaming at him to make a choice, and fast.
‘If we’re late, Betzdo might get killed by Mordor. And even if he wins, he’ll never forgive us for taking this long.’
The priority was reaching Betzdo as quickly as possible. However, he couldn't just hand over fifty gold coins and walk away.
It wasn't a matter of pride. If they were late, they might all die at Betzdo’s hands anyway, so pride was the least of their concerns. The problem was that this suspicious man was interfering again, even after receiving gold earlier. There was no guarantee he wouldn't block them a third time if they paid him now.
‘Besides, for some reason, no matter how much we walk toward the sounds of the fight, we aren't getting any closer to Lord Betzdo.’
Tommy decided that even if it took a bit of time, they had to kill the man in front of them. Just as he was about to give the order—
"Shouldn't you be going? Even in the morning, it's easy to get lost in the woods. I'm only telling you this because it looks like you'll be wandering in circles until tomorrow morning at this rate."
"Is this your doing too?"
"I wonder. I'm not sure what you're referring to. If you're that vague, even a genius like me would have trouble understanding."
The man gave an exaggerated shrug and continued.
"Surely you aren't planning to blame me for your own inability to find your way? If you have time to point fingers, why not use that energy to move your feet and look for the path yourself?"
At the masked man's words, the subordinates realized the truth.
The reason the volume of the fighting remained constant no matter how far they walked, and the reason Betzdo was nowhere to be found despite the time passing... it was all the work of the man standing before them.
‘But why?’
What reason could he possibly have to interfere with them?
The subordinates quickly processed the situation. Betzdo had gone out because Mordor called him. That meant the person Betzdo was currently fighting was Mordor.
‘We are Betzdo’s subordinates. If we arrive, Mordor will be at a disadvantage.’
Reaching that conclusion, one of the subordinates spoke up.
"Are you one of Mordor's men—"
Those were his final words.
Squelch!
A brief shower of red rain fell upon the verdant forest. The man who had spoken collapsed with a dull thud, unable to even let out a scream. His companions only realized he was dead when they saw the blood spraying into the air.
"""...!!!"""
Everyone stared in shock at their fallen comrade. A dagger was buried deep in his throat.
"Mouths weren't made just to spew filth."
The voice that pierced their ears made them flinch. It was the same playful tone as before, but now it carried a chilling edge.
‘I didn't take my eyes off him for a second!’
None of them had seen him draw the dagger, throw it, or even seen the blade in flight. Yet, there it was, lodged in the man's neck. The process had been erased; only the result stood before their eyes.
Tommy ground his teeth.
‘I miscalculated.’
He had thought the man just possessed a peculiar knack for disguise. He had assumed that if they all attacked at once, they could easily overwhelm him.
He was wrong. It wasn't them who dictated the terms; it was this man.
‘If that dagger had been aimed at me...’
Faced with a future that hadn't happened yet but was entirely possible, the subordinates instinctively backed away.
"Puhahaha! Where are you all going in such a hurry? Did you leave your wallets at home?"
Despite the man's mockery, the subordinates didn't lose their tempers. Instead, they watched his hands intently. They didn't know when another dagger might fly.
"Ah! Is it because of this?"
In the man's hand, a dagger identical to the one in their comrade's throat suddenly appeared, radiating a sharp, lethal presence.
"""...!!!"""
As soon as the dagger appeared, the subordinates drew their weapons and shrouded them in Black Mana. They lowered their stances, ready to move at a moment's notice.
Seeing this, the man slapped his thigh and burst into laughter. It was indeed a ridiculous sight—dozens of men cowering and reacting in unison every time a single person made the slightest movement.
"Pfft! My apologies. I know it's rude to laugh... pfft... but I can't help it. Every time I move an inch, you all flinch like flies stuck to a wall. It's just too much..."
"You bastard!"
Finally, one of the subordinates, unable to endure the provocation, lunged forward. In his hand was a sword wrapped in an ominous black aura.
‘If I just graze him, it’s over.’
No matter how strong this masked freak was, one hit from this sword would rot his flesh and kill him instantly. With that thought, the subordinate swung his blade, but a dagger found his throat before he could complete the motion.
"You startled me, charging in while screaming like that."
The man's voice didn't sound startled at all. He grabbed the face of the man collapsing to the ground. The man's skin began to rot away instantly.
The subordinates gasped at the familiar sight. They looked at the masked man. His hand was shrouded in a black aura.
"Who the hell are you?!"
"Isn't it obvious?"
The man spoke as he pulled the dagger from the fallen man's throat. The blade was instantly enveloped in black energy.
It was the same power they used. A power that could only be granted by a Necromancer. The power that allowed mere back-alley thugs like them to defeat even knights. The very reason they swore loyalty to Betzdo.
For this man to be using that power meant...
‘Is he also a servant of the Necromancer?’
Then why was he stopping them? Based on his earlier reaction, he didn't seem to be one of Mordor's men either.
Tommy, still wary of the mysterious man, asked, "...Why are you interfering with us?"
He meant: If we both serve the same master, why are you doing this?
"Pardon? Hahahaha!"
The man laughed as if he had heard something absurd. After laughing for a good while, he made a gesture as if wiping tears from behind his mask. Whether it was because of the mask, the man's exaggerated movements, or the sheer absurdity of the situation, the whole scene felt less like reality and more like a fever dream.
"Anyone would think I started this. I was just peacefully selling my vegetables, and you were the ones who attacked first, weren't you?"
"......That's."
The subordinates were left speechless by the man's blatant logic. They had plenty of grievances, but nothing he said was technically wrong.
"I'm supposed to have tea with a lovely lady soon, so I don't have much time either. Please, make your choice."
"......Choice?"
"Will you pay the fifty gold coins and let me go, or will you stay and play with me some more?"
Tommy deliberated on behalf of the group. But no matter how he looked at it, there was only one choice. Even if everyone here attacked at once, they couldn't beat this man. But if they stayed here, they would be killed by Betzdo later.
Tommy pulled a pouch of gold coins from his pocket and tossed it to the man.
"My, my. Thank you very much."
"Sigh... Now we can finally get to Lord Betzdo without getting lost."
Until now, no matter how much they walked toward the noise, they couldn't find him, and the sound never got louder. But now, they could finally reach him.
The man, who was busy counting the coins one by one, looked up as if he’d heard something impossible.
"Huh? What are you talking about? You have to buy that separately."
"Then what was the money we just gave you for?!"
"That was for the vegetables, obviously. Oh! You can take the vegetables on the mat. They might spoil if left out too long, so make sure to put them in the fridge as soon as you get home."