Chapter 27
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Peddler (1)
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【Deep waters will come.】
【The day all stars sink.】
【The sky will become the sea and pour down.】
Still vividly remembered, the prayer of the Abyss.
Abyss.
The evil organization confronting the player right up until the ending credits rolled.
Their goal: destroy the world to let their worshipped outer god descend.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say most playable characters from Return Road died battling these horror bastards.
'In the end, even the Nameless Hero bit the dust because of these fuckers.'
He'd fallen in battle blocking the outer god's forces—so pretty much the same thing.
Had the Abyss not existed, the outer god never would've descended to begin with.
Silien asked,
"But how do you know me? I've been so busy lately, I haven't even stepped outside the tower."
The otherworldly presence blooming over her shoulder had vanished without a trace sometime ago.
Unlike gold beasts like the Dementia Serpent, this was proof she could control her own power.
A true black-hearted monster.
Instead of answering, Bran raised a hand and pointed behind her.
"You're famous to begin with. And then there's that."
"Pardon?"
Silien turned her head.
A city public service poster was plastered to the weathered wooden wall.
Silien stood in the center, staff in hand, flanked by steel sentries and worker magi golems striking bodybuilder poses behind her.
Beneath it, in massive letters:
"Ah."
Silien's face stiffened.
An awkward silence settled between them.
She averted her gaze with a discreet cough.
"Ahem, hmm. How embarrassing... I had no idea they were still putting that up."
"What brings the chief magi-scholar here?"
"I came to see you two."
"Pardon?"
What the hell was this?
"Word's spreading that the fresh guild mercenaries have cleared one tough request after another. You only pick the ones everyone else shies away from. Any reason why?"
"Just 'cause they pay more."
"Hehe, that's the perfect mercenary mindset. Anyway, I'm glad we met. Like I said earlier, let me buy you a light drink..."
"Afraid that's not happening. We were just heading out."
Bran shook his head firmly.
Silien's eyes widened, as if slapped by the wind. Awkward silence descended once more.
"It's been an insanely grueling day. If I don't head back and crash right now, I'll foam at the mouth and pass out. Can't show that kind of spectacle to the chief magi-scholar."
Bran rose to his feet.
His demeanor was calm, but his heart pounded like mad.
By all rights, he shouldn't be crossing paths with Silien right now.
'Why the fuck is this witch here of all places?'
She was strong.
Strong enough to wipe out the current Bran and Kael with a single incantation.
He'd figured on meeting her at the tail end of this leg of the journey—this was seriously throwing him off.
"......I see? What a shame."
"I'm disappointed too. But there should be better opportunities ahead."
Best to bail from the scene, and quick.
This wasn't running. It was a tactical withdrawal.
Bran staggered like he was drunk and slung an arm around Kael's shoulder.
"Oof, so damn tired—feels like my legs turned to lead ingots!"
"Y-You okay, Bran?"
"If I was okay, I wouldn't be doing this, you dimwit. Hurry up and let's blow this joint."
"Eek."
Bran whispered low.
Kael nodded rapidly.
The two turned their backs on Silien and hustled for the exit.
Good. Looked natural enough.
He was vowing to put off their next encounter as long as humanly possible when...
"Soon, we'll be inviting you to the Steel Tower."
Silien's voice snagged his ankle.
Bran turned slowly.
"...Pardon?"
"It's not just me who's interested. The lord's heard about your exploits and wants to meet you both."
"Don't think we've racked up accomplishments on that level yet."
"Hehe, I dropped him a hint. All talents deserve proper treatment, but the younger ones are worth even more. They say you spot great trees from their sprouts, right?"
Silien still stood with hands clasped behind her back, beaming.
It was a smile alluring enough to make every mercenary in the place glance back—but to Bran, it looked like an anglerfish dangling a glowing lure for prey.
Creepy pedo vibes.
She continued,
"So, let's chat leisurely then."
"......Sure."
Bran nodded.
Silien watched their retreating backs until they vanished from view.
Even muttering to herself in excitement.
"Might be getting some new recruits soon."
Talent needed more vetting, but the first impression was stellar.
At most a month from now.
She'd unearthed a gem worth snagging before torching this idiot city.
"Kael. We're fucked."
Those were Bran's first words upon returning to the inn.
Kael jumped in alarm.
"S-Suddenly? What happened?"
"Didn't see it coming at all. For the Abyss to make contact this damn early."
Bran slumped onto the bed and raked his hair roughly.
His younger self would've chain-smoked three packs sitting right there.
"Abyss...? What's that?"
"Guess I haven't told you yet. Short version: they're just bad guys. A fanatic cult waving some bullshit doctrine, hell-bent on dooming the world."
Kael was about due to learn.
Bran laid out everything he knew about the Abyss as clearly as possible.
Anything on a massive, shitty scale? Abyss was behind it nine times out of ten.
"That Silien we just met? She's one of them."
"What? Lady Silien?!"
"Probably here to recruit us. Abyss is always parched for talent. Like she said, bonus points if you're young—easier to bend to their tastes."
Fame wasn't all upside.
If they'd just laid low sightseeing, they never would've crossed paths with her.
Still, she shouldn't be scouting at their level. Made him wonder.
'Way too soon.'
The game did have Abyss recruitment events.
Trigger when a playable character's specs or fame hit the threshold—assuming you weren't already mortal enemies. Pure random encounter.
But the bar was sky-high.
Even pumping stats to Ilrak's current level wouldn't draw their eye.
Fame was trickier. Normally, you'd need three or four Black Stone Fortress-tier feats to earn a 'hmm, usable' nod.
'Something else is up. Can't be just age and recent gigs.'
Even factoring in the tough requests they'd cleared, same deal.
Bran was convinced there was another secret at play.
Just couldn't put his finger on it yet.
Kael stomped anxiously.
"Th-Then what do we do? Flee to another city?"
"Can't retreat. Only option's getting stronger and smashing through head-on."
Bran shook his head.
With the verbal commitment already made, dodging Silien was off the table.
Best move now: prep thoroughly for whatever went down at the Steel Tower reunion.
"Alright. Made up my mind."
Bran snapped his fingers after mulling it over.
Time for a bold stroke.
Like diving into the Underground Farm for the Heart of Harmeno.
"Kael. Before the Steel Tower invite, let's clear a big one."
"B-Big one...? Super dangerous?"
"Pretty much. Two weeks ago? We'd be dead meat, no question."
"Eek."
Kael went pale.
Pitiful how he trembled, but no alternatives.
Like with Black Stone Fortress, this city had its hidden pieces.
Just sky-high difficulty—that's why he'd held off.
'Don't think I've ever tackled one this early in the game.'
Still, factoring in the past fortnight's power-ups, doable.
Tomorrow, he'd have Valkeros' top blacksmith's custom weapon in hand!
Ilrak's support too, now that Leodorn's escort was wrapped.
"Anyway, crash for now. Gotta rest to build strength."
"Yeah. Night, Bran."
Bran flopped onto the bed.
Everything could wait till sunrise.
Kael was digging pajamas from his pack when...
Knock knock knock.
Someone rapped on the door.
"Who the hell at this hour?"
"Uh... innkeeper maybe?"
Bran scowled.
Not quite midnight, but way too late for visitors.
An urgent voice echoed from beyond the door.
"Mr. Bran? Valkeros post office—mind opening up?"
"Post office? What's the deal?"
"Midnight express delivery. Sent from the Iron Song workshop."
Their eyes bulged.
Bran hopped up and cracked the door.
A young man in the postal service's iconic flat cap stood there.
"Phew, glad you're still up. Here you go."
His face was flushed, like he'd sprinted over.
The instant he reached into his messenger bag for the letter...
Crunch!
Bran seized his collar and smashed his head into the floor.
"Gack!"
The young man's hand yanked free from the bag.
Not a letter—a dagger gripped tight.
Bran jammed a knee into his temple. A scream erupted.
"Arrrrgh!"
"Real mailman would've had the letter ready."
Bran scoffed.
How long had it taken to reach the door? Was he twiddling his thumbs the whole time?
Kael—who'd bought the act—froze like a statue.
"Who sent you?"
"Heh. Hehehe. You think I'll spill...?"
The "mailman" snickered.
Peeking from the bag: not just the dagger, but some cloth too.
That telltale acrid sting of paralysis poison. Not here to kill—abduct.
"Fine. Keep your mouth shut."
"...Huh?"
Before he could question it...
Bran bore down with his knee.
Crack!
Skull caving in. Limbs went slack.
Stepping over the corpse with its sunken head, Bran clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Killed the real mailman and jacked his kit."
Everything was legit postal gear—just the wrong guy.
He upended the bag. Mail spilled out in a heap.
One express piece.
The singed envelope bore a single succinct line:
Had to be the weapon.
Recipient below: Bran's name.
Calligraphy so fluid, you'd never guess a blind man wrote it—and fresh, not even an hour old.
Bran's face hardened.
Amid the chaos, one thing was crystal clear.
"To Iron Song. Villmorris is in danger."
"W-What?!"
Reason he skipped the interrogation and killed on sight. Priorities were obvious.
If they'd offed a random mailman for a snatch-and-grab, nothing guaranteed the sender—Villmorris—was safe.
Crash!
Bran hurled a chair through the window. Night air rushed in.
As he leaped down, the prime suspect's name slipped from his lips.
"These White Silver Pine peddler bastards finally crossed the line."
White Silver Pine. The massive merchant guild lording over Valkeros.
Apparently targeting Leodorn alone wasn't cutting it anymore.