Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Scout (4)
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The woman who had learned about the world through books poured out everything to the drunkard that night.
From how she had come here to win her family's power struggle, to how she had practically been abandoned by her family since childhood and had no one around her.
When she said she had come to gather evidence because her brother was deeply involved with devil worshippers, the man raised his eyebrows as if intrigued.
It was truly the first time she had shared such a secret with anyone.
Especially when revealing that she had no one around her, a dizzying sensation washed over her.
Aster knew exactly what kind of beasts men could be.
Even when living alone, knights eager to pin her down had swarmed around her. That was why Aster didn't like men much.
She simply hoped the drunkard before her eyes wasn't one of them.
After hearing her entire story, he locked eyes with Aster for a long while.
"Hmm."
For whatever reason, he pulled a small bottle of liquor from beneath his wide-brimmed hat and dumped it all down his throat.
Aster watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, feeling a strange sensation.
The man, who had been silent for ages, finally replied with his bleary eyes.
"I understand."
That was all he said.
And then he added—
"My daily rate is worth five bottles of liquor. Wonder if you've got the coin."
She was dumbfounded by his casual leisure.
It was as good as him declaring he'd help her out of goodwill, so she inwardly cheered.
When the drunkard next hiccuped "Impressive" and patted her head, she felt an inexplicable sense of accomplishment.
For fighting the power struggle all on her own, devil worshippers and Black Rose be damned.
The man highly praised how she had come to the back alleys alone, unafraid of such scum. Said her iron will was damn cool.
'His hands are huge.'
His palm engulfed her head entirely.
She was just about to ask him to move it when...
'.......'
Up close, he had stubble and dark circles, but he was such a handsome man right up her alley.
Aster simply bowed her head deeply and savored the warmth on her scalp for a good while.
'The plan is simple. I hold them off, and Aster sneaks into the cave.'
There's something she wants inside that cave.
All I have to do is tank here until she grabs it.
I promised to make her wish come true. Just for a day, hanging out with her.
I'm a man easily swayed by emotions, and there were a few more reasons I was helping her.
She reminded me of my old self from way back, stirring up some pity.
If not for that, I wouldn't have stepped up or bothered helping.
I'm not the type of steadfast master who sticks to his principles through thick and thin.
About eight years ago, during a brief sober stint, I might've been a bit different—but that's my black history, so I quietly chugged my booze to drown out the memories.
This fight holds deep meaning in several ways.
Probably the first time I'm fighting purely to do someone a solid.
And likely the only battle in my life with a non-killing vibe.
"What the fuck is this dump, letting some bum wander in?"
"You idiot, did you scream like a bitch just 'cause that guy sliced your wrist? Tsk tsk..."
"He's no bum. Call him a ronin."
"What...?"
The cave was by the riverbank. A mountain loomed beside it, with the cave in its side. The bald guy whose wrist I'd severed had made such a racket that everyone inside had piled out.
Unlike my expectations, most of the guys who emerged looked like nothing more than street thugs—nothing higher, nothing lower.
Their bulldog-ugly mugs fixed greasy stares on me, raking me over.
Devil worshippers were mixed in among them.
I could spot them instantly: the ones with unfocused eyes.
Those were the necromancer types, from what I'd heard.
- Devil worshippers bring back the dead and chant twisted spells with blood.
That was what I'd overheard while messing up Aster's hair.
Rumors even said they cursed you weirdly upon death. Walking piles of shit, basically.
Touch 'em and you get filthy. Vulgar, but "shit clump" fit best.
Win without killing, though.
Tricky, especially the no-kill part.
But I'm such an expert at beating people that I know ways to dominate without killing.
That's why I brought this.
A weapon that won't easily kill but can overwhelm groups.
Shing.
I sheathed my sword and drew the weapon from my back. Everyone burst out laughing at me.
"What the hell's that twig for, asshole?"
"Hah, must be shitfaced blind."
"Silver for ya! Whoever cuts off his junk gets it."
"Sounds fun, kahahat."
What I'd drawn was a staff. Plain wood, so it looked kinda shabby, I guess.
Seemed I'd unintentionally eased their tension.
"Saying that after seeing the weapon I brought just for you lot."
I told them freely, sighing like a drunk lament.
They stopped laughing, staring daggers as if baffled by my bullshit.
"Know how merciful I am?"
If I slaughtered them carelessly and the devil worshippers revived their corpses?
They'd die twice over. So I chose the merciful route: shatter every joint.
"Guess short-sighted thugs can't be helped."
"...That guy's a real nutjob. Hey! Leave three guys to handle him and report back!"
The tallest one valued me at three men.
Too bad—I know my worth better than he does.
Just three?
"Yawwwn..."
I tucked my liquor bottle into my belt for a sec and loosened my neck, assuming position.
Sure enough, three headed my way, grins plastered on, not a care.
Thud thud thud!
Without a signal, they charged me in unison.
Even weaker than those Black Rose goons—pathetic leaps.
I figured I'd bought time for a nice stretch.
Better to think they underestimated me and sent only three than assume the worst. More positive that way.
Whirr whirr whirr...
Whoosh—!
I spun the staff, kicking up some dust,
then swung with power as they barreled straight in.
The arc didn't miss a beat, and the staff proved sturdier than expected.
My back muscles bulged wildly as I channeled full ground force into the smash.
Bam—!
The three thugs took it to the gut and flew skyward.
Incredulity all over their faces.
"Good enough."
Three more tumbled out as some tried retreating into the cave.
They all raised their arms defensively, freezing stiff,
then slowly turned to me, faces screaming "That drunk did that?!"
I'd rather look like a bandit than a drunk, but oh well.
"Hic. Come on, you can't all be that weak. Show me some thug power."
I grinned and taunted.
I'm a guy notorious for getting under skins wherever I go.
"Kill him!"
"You dog!"
They all grimaced and charged full tilt.
I set my perimeter.
A long line from my staff tip drew a circle around me.
Drunken wobble made it crooked and messy, but no biggie.
"Been a while since I used a staff."
This crude line on the ground? Now it's a wall.
I said so.
And the onrushing thugs never crossed it.
"What's going on outside?"
"Some psycho cut off the wrist of the guy greeting customers up front... Everyone rushed out, so he'll be stripped bare soon."
"Idiot, you not hearing that racket?"
"...Pardon?"
The giant rose to his feet.
Black Rose executive, a man with a rose tattoo on his neck.
His arms were as thick as a skinny woman's waist, inspiring awe in any onlooker.
Dull Knife, known as the "Iron Wall."
Dull Knife trudged out of the cave, greeting the sun for the first time in ages.
Stuck rotting here so long, he couldn't recall the last time he'd seen daylight.
Black Rose brass or not, wasn't he just a lowly grunt stuck in this dank hole? he grumbled inwardly.
'Hm?!'
The sunlight felt... jumbled somehow.
Shadows kept flickering across his face, passing over and over.
Human shapes casting shade, lifting, repeating.
He let out a disbelieving chuckle at the distant commotion.
"Goddamn! What are the front-liners doing?!"
"Just one drunk—still fighting?!"
"Tell 'em to swarm the bastard!"
His underlings behind him fidgeted with weapons, yelling that.
But the chaos up front had them cursing up a storm.
"Fuck! Can't you backline idiots see?!"
"He launched the crazy fucker!"
"Even all at once, he bats us away—shit!"
"Iron net! Someone grab an iron net!!"
Dull Knife's massive frame towered two heads over the rest, so he saw everything clearly.
A mix of shock and admiration twisted his face into a weird grin.
"What the hell is that guy?"
The giant, who'd chased strength his whole life, spotted the masked man.
That... was art.
The masked staff-wielder crushed every fool entering his range without a single gap.
Not even a spear—yet the staff tore clothes and shredded flesh.
Fierce winds reached Dull Knife's skin.
Amazement peaked: the guy was doing it to a rhythm.
Dull Knife's sharp eyes caught the man mumbling a tune, lips twitching.
"Kahahahaha! Where'd this monster come from?"
"Dull Knife, sir...! When'd you get here...! We'll handle him!"
"Nah! Outta the way!! He's not for you."
Dull Knife shoved minions aside with huge paws, advancing amid rare awe.
Thump, thump... His heart pounded like it hadn't in years.
The closer he got, the more the man's pressure hit.
Up close, his technique shone through. Dull Knife lamented his weapon ignorance more than ever.
That depth, that finesse... Probably needed Rose Knight level to grasp.
Of course, as a fistfighter, Dull Knife figured he'd learn it with his body soon enough.
"Here I come."
He bared fangs, eager to savor this skill flesh-to-flesh and make the guy his plaything.
"Don't disappoint...!"
Ignoring the wooden stick's power, he barreled in with terrifying momentum.
No armor, arms barely covering vitals—he charged headlong, drunk on his durability.
And sure enough, the man unleashed swift, indifferent strikes.
Bam bam bam bam bam!!
The guy had this eerie talent for shrinking foes with sheer wind pressure.
Amid the storm of blows, Dull Knife felt sharp pains crystallize.
'I can tank this. Wooden scrap hurts like hell, but no biggie!'
Naive wood packing such punch amazed him, fueling his urge to crush the man.
Slowly, he pushed into the staff's range through repeated strikes.
Durability was his pride.
The "Iron Wall" who blocked nothing—and he wore it like a badge.
True to his moniker, one step. Two steps.
Closing in on the masked man.
Almost inside that grand line.
Planning to rip off the mask, Dull Knife grinned fangs again.
'...?'
Then the man started hiccuping.
He wobbled, pausing his barrage on Dull Knife.
Instead, he spun the staff long and sticky.
Whooo, whooo...
Grabbed his booze bottle and blew a bottle flute,
then abruptly raised the staff diagonally high.
The masked man eyed Dull Knife's neck with bleary gaze.
'Wait, danger...!'
The next strike flew.
Dull Knife instinctively raised both arms to block.
The Iron Wall forsaking pride.
Crack!
"How the...?"
His arm snapped.
The moment the Iron Wall crumbled.