Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 04
Chapter Title: Hasty Escape (2)
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The two arrived at the rendezvous point before long.
Kael cautiously greeted them.
"H-Hey, guys. I'm here..."
Near the wall with the dog hole.
In a dark corner where not even moonlight reached, three figures stood waiting.
Two were boys about Bran's age, and one appeared to be a young man in his twenties.
"The idiot showed up. Who's that with you?"
"Never seen that face before."
The boys who spotted Bran began whispering suspiciously.
Judging by the nickname "idiot," Kael's relationships weren't great.
Only the young man stood silently.
Bran met his gaze and pursed his lips in admiration.
"Wow."
He looked like a seasoned fighter.
His prominent brow bones and broad shoulders were striking.
If the Supervisor was a power type, this guy was speed type material.
His long limbs and lean build reminded Bran of a modern boxer.
'That face is intimidating as hell. This must be Mog.'
It had to be the Mog that Kael described on the way here.
A man who became a slave after beating up too many people.
Word was he was a renowned brawler back in his neighborhood.
Mog asked,
"Kael. Who's the one next to you?"
"Th-That's Bran. He works at the farm. He's my friend."
Kael answered in a shrinking voice.
One of the boys next to Mog frowned.
"What? Friend?"
He had a long face whose midsection evoked a grasshopper.
The grasshopper strode forward and grabbed Kael by the collar.
"You bastard. Is escape a joke to you? What if that punk snitches?"
"S-Sorry... I know, but I couldn't just ignore it."
"Sorry fixes everything? What if we all die? You fucking useless piece of shit..."
"Enough."
Bran was nodding along, thinking it wasn't entirely wrong.
That's when Mog suddenly cut in.
"You're in on it because Kael brought you too. Ease up."
"...Tch."
The grasshopper released Kael's collar.
Despite his expression, he obeyed promptly—Mog's authority was clear.
"Kael. You can't keep bringing new people. We had a deal."
"S-Sorry. This is totally my fault."
"Sigh... What's done is done. Everyone's here, so let's do one final check."
Mog said that and gathered the boys.
Bran was surprised. Far more rational than expected.
He'd figured the brute would try to kill Kael first.
Kael said,
"Uh... by the way, where are Pitt and Jenda?"
"Right, fuck. Was gonna mention it. Looks like those two bailed early."
"Wh-What?!"
"Not in the dorm or the kitchen. They ditched us to save their own skins. Crazy bastards."
The grasshopper spat curses.
Apparently, two had slipped out ahead.
Per Kael, the full escape crew was six.
All but Bran were kitchen slaves.
"Two of them... Too bad."
Bran smacked his lips at the news.
He'd hoped to save everyone if possible, but oh well.
Once they're out of reach, nothing to be done.
Mog spoke.
"If those two get spotted first, security will tighten. I say we move fast. Any objections?"
"Me."
Bran raised his hand.
Mog cocked a brow.
"Alright, newbie. What's up?"
"Scrap the escape. This plan's braindead."
"...Huh?"
Silence fell.
The other four eyes locked on him.
"Black Stone Fortress isn't a kids' playground. You might breach the wall, but outer sentries will nab you for sure. Unless you want a spear up your ass, go home and sleep."
Everyone's eyes went wide.
Kael's especially.
"Br-Bran? What're you saying...?"
"Brought an interesting one, Kael."
Mog's stoic face cracked into a smirk for the first time.
The boys growled.
"Knew it. Should've killed him on sight."
"D-Don't!"
"Don't worry, Kael. I'll bury you with him..."
The grasshopper was mid-sentence.
Bran, who'd been smirking back, spun like lightning and unleashed an uppercut to Mog's jaw.
Crack! A sharp impact echoed.
"Guh!"
"M-Mog?!"
Spit flew. Mog's head snapped back.
Thud.
The hulking body toppled onto its ass.
Sudden attack, sorry—but necessary.
When facing multiples, take out the strongest first.
The remaining three faces twisted in shock.
"Fuck! What the hell?!"
"Kill him!"
The grasshopper charged. The plain-looking boy grabbed a stone.
Turning his back to the fallen Mog, Bran calmly engaged one by one.
Grasshopper first.
Classic telegraphed punch—easy to read.
Splat!
Twisting his shoulder to dodge, Bran headbutted the guy's nose.
"Keurk!"
Grasshopper clutched his nose and crumpled.
Blood gushed between his fingers.
Twitching like he'd been shocked, he rolled his eyes back and passed out.
Truth be told, the fight ended when Mog went down.
First strikes are unbeatable.
The stone boy yelled desperately.
"W-Wait!"
Bran ignored and swung.
A light hook grazed the boy's jaw.
That alone sent his consciousness flying. He pitched forward.
Wondering if he should've let him land one due to his trait.
"Br-Bran! Behind you!"
Kael's voice rang from behind.
Wham!
Bran sensed killing intent and turned—just as a heavy blow slammed his gut.
"Urp."
His body reeled back.
Strongest hit since possessing the Nameless Hero.
Twisting innards and nausea surged.
Barely steadying, translucent windows popped up.
Despite receiving a very strong impact, you did not faint. 'Tenacity of the Weed' activates!
Mental Strength growth rate slightly increases.
The system seemed to share his thoughts.
Without consistent training to boost his specs, he'd have blacked out for sure.
Trained fighters are different, huh?
'Unexpected gain. Mental Strength.'
But the message before him was joyful enough to numb the pain.
Boost to a key stat: Mental Strength.
Worth the scrap for this alone.
Lifting his head, he saw Mog panting.
"How..."
Mog's face contorted.
Perfect mid-kick, dead center on the solar plexus.
His technique dropped bigger guys in one hit—how'd this runt endure?
"You little shit!"
Impossible.
Mog roared and charged—this time with fists.
Aimed at the face: overhead smash.
"Not bad."
Bran grinned.
Far more power than before.
Could cripple on hit, but easier to read.
Whoosh! Twisting aside, the fist grazed his cheek harmlessly.
Simultaneously, Mog's legs buckled.
"What..."
Mog's eyes widened.
No strength in his calves—aftereffect of the initial jaw hit.
As he scrambled for a fall break, Bran grabbed his forward-tilting head with both hands and leaped.
Crunch!!!
Full-weight knee smashed into Mog's face center.
"Ex..."
A sound no face should make rang out.
White teeth scattered. Blood gushed from the crumpled, cucumber-like nose.
Mog collapsed unconscious.
Crack!
Bran toed his falling forehead and caught his breath.
"Whew, close call."
A sharp rock jutted where the forehead would've hit.
He liked this guy—didn't want brain damage.
Kael covered his mouth.
"Ah... Aaaah...!"
It all happened in a flash.
Less than a minute to drop three.
Peers aside, turning Mog into that? Unbelievable.
"Wh-What the hell, Bran!"
But now wasn't for admiring skills.
Bran was blocking the dog hole with a nearby wooden crate.
"If you do this, then...!"
"No escape now. Head back before roll call."
"N-No... I'm leaving... Haah, I don't wanna live like this anymore!"
Kael cried out.
Breathing ragged, tears streamed down pale cheeks.
Like a baby otter wailing for its lost mother.
Understandable.
Ignored even by fellow slaves—that hole was his ray of hope.
I smashed it, so sympathy aplenty.
But timing's off.
"Hey. I wanna get out too. Who doesn't?"
"Then why?!"
"Wrong approach. You'd all be dead."
Not just Nameless Hero memories—player experience too.
Sounded tempting at first, but nonsensical on reflection.
Beyond the wall: not freedom, but patrol dogs, guards, and tower archers.
Bran approached.
"We'll escape for sure. Just not today."
"D-Don't come closer...!"
"When dawn breaks, you'll thank me."
Empathy aside, no other way.
Too lazy for talk. Might kill him if he swings—knock out instead.
As he slowly neared and raised a hand.
"Kyaaak! No!"
A shrill scream cut short. Kael's eyes rolled back.
Thump. He dropped to his knees, head lolling.
"Kael?"
"......"
No reply to Bran's call.
Just frail shoulders twitching.
Realizing he'd fainted, Bran scratched his head.
"......Saved some effort."
Hard to believe this coward bore great bloodline.
Well, no pointless beating—win-win.
"C'mon, kids."
Bran hoisted all four unconscious bodies and headed to the barn.
Heavy load, but steady Strength gains made it doable.
"...Ah."
Kael awoke at dawn, as always.
The Supervisor's bellows echoed outside the barn.
"Up! Get up, you vermin! Everyone to the wall!"
Morning sun stabbed his eyes.
Rubbing them cleared his vision to the usual scene.
Dying slaves, stinking bedding. Barn roof hole unfixed after three years of complaints.
"It's... over."
Kael muttered.
Last night's not a nightmare—easy to confirm.
The two peers and Mog were folding sleeping bags nearby.
Faces swollen from Bran's fists.
Newbie Bran must've dragged them all back.
"I'm dead... Gonna die..."
Future crystal clear.
Post-roll call, those three murder him.
Shouldn't have warned Bran of Mog's ambush.
No—then Bran dies. Can't have that.
Shouldn't have told Bran the plan at all.
"I'm such a worthless idiot..."
Reason he had no friends.
Kael trudged like a condemned prisoner.
Couldn't lift his head.
The dirt before the barn looked extra dark today.
Maybe why—head down, he bumped something.
"Ah, sorry... Huh?!"
Kael gasped.
Broad back, massive shoulders—familiar.
Mog.
"M-Mog! Last night I...!"
"Kael. Look at that."
Kael was about to beg forgiveness.
Mog pointed at the wall.
His expression grave. Slave mood off too—missed last night.
Kael looked up and froze.
"Hic..."
"This is the fate of vermin harboring vain hopes! Open your eyes wide!"
Supervisor roared again.
Behind him: twenty-four corpses impaled on spears.
Two more than yesterday. New ones familiar.
Pitt and Jenda.
The early escapees.
Mog grinned, teeth gaps obvious.
"Looks like we owe your friend."
Kael scanned around.
Bran stood impassive in his usual spot.
As if nothing happened.
Meeting eyes, Bran quietly flashed a V-sign.
"Bran."
When dawn breaks, you'll thank me.
Last night's words echoed.
Bran beckoned.
"Wimp. C'mere a sec."