Chapter 9
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Mercenary Corps Formation (1)
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Jinwoo wrinkled his nose for a moment.
The fishy stench of blood from Gerion's corpse mingled with the acrid smoke of gunpowder, hitting him hard.
He took a moment to steady his breathing and stared at the system window floating before his eyes.
Head to Trinity and rescue the kidnapped villagers.
"Trinity, huh..."
A mental map unfurled in Jinwoo's head.
Trinity was the Trade Federation's largest military port on the eastern coast.
Its towering walls crawled with elite guards.
And out at sea, Federation warships stood constant watch—an ironclad fortress!
Gerion was nothing compared to even the gatekeepers there.
"No way I can do this solo."
Jinwoo recalled memories from his Rising West days.
This quest was brutal for a frontal assault.
The standard strategy went like this:
Track down skilled NPCs scattered across the city, earn their trust, recruit them as allies, then infiltrate, assassinate, and sow chaos to pull off the rescue.
The process was infuriatingly tedious.
You had to fetch rare booze to appease prickly mercenaries or scour entire forests for some fickle mage's lost cat.
It took days just to snag one ally—a classic time-sink quest.
"Damn you, Providencia Softworks!"
The game dev infamous for buggy messes, loving bugs, and shitty female models.
Jinwoo's irritation flared anew at their sins.
"Just make it fun, for crying out loud."
He pondered his options.
The thought of repeating that grind in real life drew a heavy sigh.
Then his gaze drifted to the hefty coin pouch at his belt.
Vast spoils ripped from the Red Death Squad and Stonebelly's market.
Plus the massive rewards shoveled out by the quest system.
In that instant, a new idea sparked in Jinwoo's mind.
"Hold up. This world's got game systems, but they're not absolute!"
There were more relaxed ways to tackle situations like this.
In the game, you had to follow scripted quests to recruit allies.
But reality was different.
No need to kiss up to finicky NPCs.
There was a faster, surer path.
"Money."
A cynical smile curled his lips.
"Yeah. Why rely on shaky stuff like trust or friendship?"
Loyalty could be bought.
And money was the ultimate cheat code.
Jinwoo's goal crystallized.
He headed for Skyfall, the nearest small city.
Skyfall's guild hall reeked of mercenaries' shouts and stale booze, as always. Jinwoo cut through the rowdy crowd and beelined for the guild master's office on the second floor.
"Who are you? The master's busy right—"
"Out of my way."
Jinwoo shoved the obstructing clerk aside and threw open the door.
The middle-aged guild master, buried in paperwork, scowled as he looked up.
"What rude bastard—"
"I want to hire mercenaries."
Jinwoo cut straight to it.
Then he dumped an entire sack of gold coins onto the desk.
Clinkclinkclink!
The pile gleamed greedily under the candlelight, towering like a mountain.
The guild master's eyes widened in shock.
"I've got the cash."
Rising West had a mercenary system.
"In theory, with enough money, you could hire underlings easy. If you had the dough..."
But early-game players scraping by couldn't afford a horde.
Plus, there were hiring limits.
Now that the game was real, things worked differently.
Jinwoo was swimming in gold!
All those quests so far had flung money at him like a shovel.
"I'll pick based on skill. Bring me the priciest, meanest, bloodiest bastards around!"
Jinwoo slammed his hand atop the glittering hoard and boomed his declaration, shaking the whole office.
"From today, I'm their boss."
A bizarre rumor swept through Skyfall.
News of some eastern stranger piling gold in the guild office spread faster than blood scent.
By next morning, the guild hall was packed to the rafters.
Yesterday's racket was just the opener.
Back-alley thugs, bounty-hungry hunters.
Even deserters fleeing battlefields!
Every scumbag in the city who'd sell their soul for coin crammed the hall.
Jinwoo stood at the second-floor railing, gazing stone-faced at hundreds of greedy eyes.
The guild master gulped and sidled up.
"As you see, every decent shot in Skyfall's here. What's next?"
"Set the stage."
Jinwoo said curtly.
Moments later, he stepped before the murmuring mob.
Atop the central platform, eyes of every stripe rained down—suspicion, mockery.
His deep hood hid his face, stirring more chaos in the hall.
"Quiet."
Jinwoo's voice swallowed the din with eerie magnetism.
"One reason I called you: war."
He pressed on.
"Our target's the Trade Federation."
The hall's air froze solid.
Murmurs rippled like waves.
"Trade Federation?"
"He's nuts! Fighting them's suicide!"
"Exactly."
Jinwoo met their fear head-on.
"Odds of surviving this job? Less than fifty percent. Might not even leave a corpse. But survivors get riches beyond dreams."
He signaled.
Guild staff rolled heavy chests onto the platform.
Jinwoo kicked the lid off one.
Clinkclinkclink!
Golden coins cascaded like a waterfall.
Gasps escaped the mercenaries' lips.
"Upfront: 100 gold per head. Job done, survivors get another hundred. All loot's yours."
The air thickened with greedy heat.
That pay matched months for common folk. Death's chill buckled under gold's weight.
"Choose. If life's too precious, door's open—no one's stopping you. But once it shuts, you're mine. Got it?"
Silence hung after his words.
A few hesitated, backing away, but most couldn't tear eyes from the pile.
Finally, a burly merc stepped up, bellowing.
"Hell yeah! Screw the Federation—bring it! I'm in!"
His roar ignited the rest.
Shouts erupted everywhere.
Jinwoo watched wordlessly.
Thus, a 30-man mercenary corps bought with gold formed on the spot.
"So, what's the name, boss?"
A cocky gunslinger quipped. Jinwoo replied casually.
"From now on, we're Gold Hound."
The rabble's mercenary band, Gold Hound, was born.
On the road to Trinity's coastal city.
Dozens of mounted mercenaries made an imposing sight.
But Jinwoo, at the fore, clearly read the stares aimed his way.
Awe, doubt, greed.
"Hey, what's that guy's deal?"
At the rear, a few mercs whispered.
Their sly leader, Sailas, spoke up.
"Who cares who he is? He's a walking gold mine—that's all that matters."
"But the Federation's too risky. If we get tangled—"
"That's why we use our heads, idiot."
Sailas grinned sleazily.
"Think: truss him up, hand him to the Federation. They'd love us for purging a foe. Bigger rewards than this gold, plus safe status."
"And that eastern punk's loaded. Rough him up, take the rest!"
His whisper shook their eyes.
Risk death against the Federation, or off one kid for greater riches?
The scales tipped.
Jinwoo rode on silently, feigning ignorance of their foul vibes.
He'd already calculated every scenario.
"Bought loyalty crumbles before bigger bucks."
He'd spotted the rats testing him ages ago.
"Sailas, right? The backstabber type."
When that name hit the roster, Jinwoo let it slide.
They had one use.
As examples to forge this rabble into his true blades.
That night, camp hung thick with cold tension.
Mercs huddled by fires, but eyes fixed one spot.
A bit apart from the column.
Their employer, Jinwoo, sat alone by his blaze, idly sharpening his blade.
"...Now."
Sailas whispered from the dark.
Four mercs exchanged glances, drew weapons silently.
They crept like beasts, encircling Jinwoo's back flawlessly.
"That's far enough, boss."
Sailas smirked.
Jinwoo paused his honing but didn't turn.
"Your gold was sweet, but Federation rewards'll top it. Come quiet, and you live."
Another gunslinger sneered from behind.
"Hand over the rest too! Call it severance!"
They were dead certain of victory.
Subduing one isolated mark? Easier than pie.
But Jinwoo's response shattered expectations.
He turned slowly, eyed them in the shadows.
"So, how much you selling me to the Federation for?"
"...What?"
"Spit it out. How much? I'll double it. Last chance to back off."
His tone was eerily calm.
Sailas's face twisted in confusion.
He knows. Everything.
"Shut your trap! Kill him!"
Sailas screamed, losing it. As five drew guns, Jinwoo's eyes flashed red.
Legendary Gunslinger Skill
World tints red. Enhanced perception and precision.
Ting!
In the crimson world, the fools sneered dumbly.
Jinwoo pulled his trigger with bored indifference.
Whish whish whish!
No gunshot rang.
Just ten sinister whistles slicing night air.
"Gahhh!"
"My leg—my leg!"
The charging five screamed, tumbling down.
Perfect holes pierced their gun hands and both knees.
In a blink, Jinwoo neutralized all five.
One-sided violence—no contest!
The commotion roused every merc, who gaped in horror.
Jinwoo rose slowly.
Aimed at the writhing traitors.
One shot per limb, starting there.
Pop!
"Aaaargh!"
Jinwoo blasted their limbs deliberately, for all to see.
"Urghhh... just kill me!"
Gruesome agony and screams beaded cold sweat on brows.
Growing bored of the barrage, Jinwoo put a bullet in each traitor's skull.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
"Guhk..."
He approached Sailas, thrashing in blood, and pressed cold muzzle to his temple.
"Gave you a choice. You kicked it away. Gotta die now, right?"
"S-spare—"
Whish.
Final flash silenced Sailas forever.
Jinwoo turned from the cooling corpse.
Forty-five mercs frozen in terror.
"Good. It sank in."
His silver pistol glinted in firelight.
"Watch close."
His voice chilled the camp like ice.
"Gold Hound's rule from today: follow me, claim promised riches. Betray me, get what you just saw. Questions?"
Silence.
They got it: this man wasn't some soft rich kid or loaded foreigner.
He was a ruthless demon who'd bought their lives and souls with coin!
In eyes mixed fear and awe, heads bowed unwittingly.
"Clean it up. We ride at dawn."
At his order, mercs silently dragged the traitors' bodies.
After that bloody night.
The ragtag band slowly morphed into Jinwoo's personal guard.