Chapter 138: Practical Combat 7
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 138: Practical Combat 7
"That’s the price for the vegetables, obviously. Oh! Feel free to take the ones on the mat. If you leave them out too long, they might spoil, so get them in the fridge as soon as you get home."
"............."
Betzdo’s subordinates stood frozen, utterly dumbfounded by the man's words.
What kind of bullshit is he spewing?
Dozens of men stared at the masked figure in disbelief, but he simply flipped a gold coin nonchalantly and continued.
"Oh! For the record, I recommend throwing them all in a pot and boiling them. Or you could just wash them and eat them raw."
As the man turned to leave, acting as if he were finished, Tommy finally reached his breaking point. Was he really going to just walk away?
".....So you're saying the fifty gold coins we gave you were all for the vegetables?"
"Of course. I told you from the start it was the price for the produce. Is there a problem? It’s not like they’ve gone bad...."
The man spoke while casually rummaging through the greens.
Was there a problem?
Of course there was. A massive one.
First of all, if you spent fifty gold coins on vegetables, you could build a house out of the damn things. The reason they had handed over the gold wasn't to buy groceries; it was a bribe to stop him from interfering with their path to Lord Betzdo.
And that included dealing with the curse that made them walk in circles no matter how far they traveled.
And now what? You're leaving because you sold the vegetables? Don't give me that shit!
But no one dared to say it out loud.
Everyone’s gaze shifted to the ground. There lay two of their comrades, who had been alive just moments ago, now dead with daggers buried in their throats.
Gulp.
If I speak out of turn, I’m next.
The subordinates hesitated, the words dying in their throats. Standing out for the wrong reasons meant a one-way trip to the afterlife.
Stupid bastards.
If they stayed here and ended up late, Lord Betzdo would kill them anyway.
Tommy, the most senior among them, recalled what the man had said earlier—the response he gave when Tommy mentioned they couldn't find their way.
"That’s a separate purchase."
Did that mean he would fix it if they just gave him more money?
Having reached a conclusion, Tommy forced himself to speak. He didn't even realize his body was trembling.
"...How much... exactly how much do you want to lift the curse you put on us?"
"Pfft! A curse..... Pwahaha! Oh, sorry. That was just too funny."
"What’s so funny?"
"To simply judge something as a curse just because you don't understand it. Isn't it hilarious how dim-witted you are?"
It was a blatant insult, but neither Tommy nor the others could retaliate. They just let their anger simmer. The fate of those who couldn't control their temper lay cooling on the dirt beneath them.
"Anyway, I wonder what a fair price would be........ Hmm. Let’s keep it simple and go with fifty gold coins."
Grit.
Again! Again with the fifty gold coins!
Fifty gold coins for the first meeting. Fifty gold coins for the vegetables. And now, fifty gold coins again.
Sigh.... Still, I'm glad it's only fifty. I'll die if I'm late anyway. Let's just think of it as the price of my life.
Just as Tommy was rationalizing the cost and reaching for his purse...
"Oh! Just in case, I should mention—it’s fifty gold coins per person, obviously."
"What?! What kind of bullsh—"
One of the subordinates shouted in shock, but he quickly clamped his hand over his mouth as he remembered the corpses.
The men looked at the masked figure, fearing another dagger, but the man wasn't even armed. Instead, he was busy sniffing the gold coins he had received earlier.
"There are dozens of us here. We don't have that kind of mon—"
The man cut Tommy off as he tucked the gold into his pocket.
"Drugs. Baron Ashro."
Two words.
Upon hearing them, the subordinates felt as if their hearts had been struck by a sledgehammer.
How does he know about that?!
They had definitely delivered the drugs to Baron Ashro and received payment. Lord Betzdo had been pleased, claiming they could make a fortune while destabilizing the Empire.
However, Baron Ashro had been caught before he could even distribute the supply. Lord Betzdo had been furious. That day, about a third of the subordinates had died at his hands. Furthermore, the Emperor had confiscated the entire shipment. Even if they produced more, finding another noble buyer would be nearly impossible.
Tommy calculated the gold he had and the amount the others were carrying. They might just barely have enough........
"If you don't pay, I'm just going to leave, okay?"
"I-I understand. Just wait a moment."
Tommy pulled out every gold coin he had in his Pocket Dimension. It wasn't money earned through legitimate means, but the subordinates already considered it theirs and were seething with rage.
Of course, they kept that rage hidden.
Countless gold coins poured onto the ground—a floor of dirt, leaves, and two corpses with daggers in their throats.
"Whoa! This is quite a haul. Slurp! Just looking at it makes my mouth water. Man, oh man. I don't know if I can even carry all this."
Grit.
"...Can we go to Lord Betzdo now?"
"Of course."
Clap!
The man clapped his hands once.
"There, it's done."
It was done? Could they go now? They couldn't be sure.
"Is it really over? With just a simple gesture like that?"
"Pfft! Would you even know the difference if you saw it? If you don't know, just accept it and go. Or what, do you want to buy more vegetables?"
Grit!
* * *
Boom! Crash! Bang!
Betzdo’s subordinates ran blindly toward the source of the noise.
"You don't think that guy was playing tricks on us again, do you?"
"Tsk! Just run! There's nothing else we can do!"
They ran for what felt like an eternity.
"The sound is getting louder!"
Earlier, the volume had stayed the same no matter how far they walked. The fact that it was getting louder meant they were finally approaching Lord Betzdo.
"There! I see someone!"
"Run faster!!!"
The subordinates, sprinting as if they had forgotten how to stop, faltered at the sight before them.
Was this what they meant by a forest that had lost its life? The trees that once shimmered in the sunlight were gone, and the soil was contaminated. Upon that tainted earth, more skeletons than one could count were scattered about.
They couldn't even begin to imagine the scale of the battle that had taken place here.
So this is a necromancer's duel.....
In that desolate clearing, only one person remained standing: their master, Betzdo.
And at Betzdo’s feet lay Mordor, who had come looking for him earlier, collapsed and bleeding. That could only mean one thing. Their master had defeated Mordor!
""""Congratulations, My Lord!""""
They rushed to Betzdo and knelt in unison.
Betzdo spoke as he pressed his foot down on the head of one of the kneeling men.
"What? Congratulations? You're congratulating me when I'm in this state because you were late? If you had arrived sooner, I could have killed him much more easily."
Betzdo’s condition was far from normal. Blood trickled from his mouth, and his body was covered in jagged wounds.
"W-we are sorry. There was an interference on the way...."
"There are dozens of you, and you're this late because of a little 'interference'? Do you all want to die?"
""""We are sorry!!""""
The subordinates slammed their heads against the ground, begging for mercy. If they didn't, they would be slaughtered on the spot. Betzdo was the kind of man who killed dozens of subordinates just because he was in a bad mood—and dozens more just because he was in a good one.
Tommy was the most senior subordinate here, and even he hadn't been with Betzdo for three years. For a man as long-lived as Betzdo, having his longest-serving subordinate be someone with only three years of tenure spoke volumes about his temperament.
"Fuck! I told you to be ready just in case when that old man showed up! Did you bastards actually want me to die?"
""""We are sorry!!""""
"Aha! I guess I haven't done a personnel purge in a while, have I?"
At the mention of a "purge," the subordinates squeezed their eyes shut. So it had come to this.....
"Ten. Kill each other until only ten are left."
No matter how much they had messed up, killing his own men like this wasn't a wise move. But the people here weren't special. They were only powerful because they had received strength from Betzdo. In other words, if Betzdo gave power to a random beggar, that beggar would be no different from them.
They knew this, which was why they followed his orders. They had gained the power to kill knights without effort, and no one wanted to give that up and die.
"......................."
The subordinates, who were comrades a moment ago, began eyeing each other like predators.
"If you don't start fighting now, I'll kill every last one of you myself."
At Betzdo’s word, one of the subordinates lunged at the person next to him.
"Aaaargh!"
"Gwaaaah!"
"Ugh!"
The chaos began. In the midst of the slaughter, a fleeting thought crossed everyone's mind: Could that masked guy have transformed into Betzdo?
But no one dared to say it. He knew about the signal, he knew about the meeting with Mordor, and he knew the orders that followed. When Mordor and Betzdo met earlier, the only ones present were Betzdo, themselves, and Mordor.
And above all, no one in this situation had the guts to ask, "Are you the real Lord Betzdo?"
They knew exactly what the answer would be. Their only option was to be among the final ten.
* * *
Betzdo—no, Loki—watched them fight desperately and thought to himself:
They really are easy to fool.