Chapter 69
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: Alarm Bell (1)
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The feast continued until the next morning.
It wasn't just mindless revelry; it was time well spent with plenty of gains.
Arzan and Namun returned just as they were preparing to leave.
Bran raised an eyebrow.
"Arzan. Where've you been all night?"
"Had a chat with the queen. Stopped by a few other places too."
"What could you two have talked about for so long?"
"...I'll tell you later. Not the kind of thing to discuss here."
Arzan shook his head.
Considering his usual blunt demeanor, it was a rare reaction.
He must have debated passionately—his voice was hoarse.
'He looks in better spirits than usual, though. Whatever, doesn't matter.'
Good thing it wasn't anything serious.
With Arzan back, preparations to depart were complete.
"Ugh, my head..."
Ilrak, packing her gear, clutched her forehead and groaned.
"Save me, Bran... Feels like a tiny woodpecker drilling into my brain... Urk!"
"Knew it. You chugged it like water."
"Hoo... Been a while since I drank. Stuck to my throat like glue. That mare's milk liquor was tasty too."
"The booze here is top-notch, for sure."
Bran chuckled.
It was nice seeing her properly wasted for once.
Stress needs release in its time to keep performance sharp.
The horde of ghost warriors gathered to see her off.
"Take care, sis!"
"Yeah. Had a blast after so long."
Her straight ninety-degree bow looked straight out of a yakuza flick.
Even after the arm-wrestling, they'd brawled for ages, establishing a clear hierarchy.
One ghost man, eyeing Bran, Ilrak, and Arzan in turn, whispered softly.
"Sis. Tough competition ahead, but with your strength..."
"Sh-shut your trap?!"
Before he could finish, Ilrak snatched a rock and hurled it.
Splat!
The warrior's head exploded, his body crumbling to dust.
"Hic... Hic-hooo!"
"Haa... haa... That's what you get for saying stupid shit...!"
Ilrak panted.
No clue what they were on about, but her energy was infectious.
"Thanks for everything."
"Likewise. A night I'll never forget."
"Haha, brothers are always welcome—come anytime!"
Kael and Benden were exchanging farewells with the ghosts too.
Unlike Ilrak's side, the mood was warm and friendly.
The sun had just crested the horizon.
"Alright. Time to go."
Guard Captain Rebe spoke up.
Behind him, the cavalry had formed perfect ranks.
Cargai's people joined them.
Bran gave a wry smile.
"You're off, then."
"Gotta conserve strength for the final battle."
Fair enough.
Every meeting has its parting.
Even plateau-bound ghosts maintaining form indefinitely would strain them eventually.
"Thanks for saving us, brothers. We'll await the day you call us back."
"I'll call for sure, so don't worry. Can't be late, right?"
"Heh, of course. Brother Bran, you're a riot to the end."
The guard captain said.
"Until we meet on the battlefield again."
As he saluted helmetless—
Whoooosh—!
Wind blew from the rising sun.
All ghosts except Rahir and Namun began to scatter.
Like dandelion seeds on the breeze.
"......See you."
Kael waved, teary-eyed despite knowing it wasn't forever.
Regret tugs regardless.
When the wind died, the empty plateau lay bare.
"So quiet now."
Ilrak smacked her lips wistfully.
Gone were the chatter and wails; only wind whistled across the plain.
A serene vista no longer cursed.
"Well, time for us to part ways too."
Rahir said.
He and Namun, with physical bodies, didn't enter standby like the ghosts.
Seemed convenient at first—until realizing it meant covering their share of work.
"Take care. Where'll you stay now that the tent burned?"
"Staying at Arzan's old place for now. Learned it's tough managing big spaces."
"Sounds good."
Arzan had lived there with his father, so perfect size for two.
Like newlyweds.
"Lord Bran."
Namun approached suddenly.
Her expression was grim.
"Yeah? What's up?"
"I heard. You're going after Iolien... the monster I called master."
"Right. News travels fast."
Rahir must have told her.
Bran's other comrades, informed that morning, showed no surprise.
"Not revenge or anything—don't worry. Just clearing out someone who deserves it."
"It's not that. I'm worried. I served that one as master for nearly centuries... and never saw his face."
Namun shuddered.
No useful info she could share anyway.
Her master, Iolien, hid his identity obsessively.
Centuries of gaslighting without revealing a thing spoke volumes.
"He's no ordinary foe. Please be careful."
"Thanks. I'll manage."
"Gave Arzan some cherished items to help. I'll pray for you every night."
Bran nodded.
Unlike Namun, he knew plenty about Iolien.
That bastard had ruined his save files more than once.
Rahir laughed.
"Alright. No more sappy stuff—let's split here. Up we go!"
"Y-Your Majesty?"
Rahir scooped Namun up princess-style.
Kael covered his mouth at the rom-com scene.
Bran whistled.
"Cute."
"Thanks. Jealous? Rethink my offer from last night. Ha ha ha!"
"Pass."
The marriage proposal to Arzan.
Persistent old coot.
Boom! After final thanks, Rahir kicked off the ground.
"Good luck!"
That was it.
A cool exit, but plenty of bonding—no hard feelings.
Rahir and Namun vanished as dots in moments.
The Wind King indeed.
Only Bran and his crew remained on the plateau.
"......Felt like a dream."
Kael murmured.
Bran crossed his arms and nodded.
"Unforgettable for sure."
Like waking from a long dream.
Hard to believe only three days had passed.
Good thing—time well used.
"Let's move out. Anyone remember the destination I mentioned offhand?"
"Morken."
Arzan answered instantly.
Didn't expect a correct guess.
Bran snapped his fingers.
"Spot on. Smart as ever."
"Heh. Child's play."
Arzan shrugged.
Seemed more human since fulfilling his wish.
Morken.
Their next stop, as she said.
Northern port city.
Where to uproot the next seed of doom—and where Abyss exec Iolien lurked.
Benden's eyes widened.
"Ooh, the Northern Academy's there! Mind if I tag along?"
"Not at all. You're welcome."
"Heh heh, much obliged. But Morken's far—how're we traveling?"
"Hmm, take the train again? First-class was comfy, whatever that was."
Ilrak wagged her tail.
The train ride had been a hit even for her, impatient with most mounts.
Bran shook his head.
"No trains our way. Land route it is, tedious as that sounds."
"Ugh. Knew it'd come to this."
"Supplies are good—no starving midway. Plenty of villages en route."
Originally near three months; improved mobility meant one month tops.
Tedious, but unavoidable.
Make do without.
"Let's plan. Arzan, how many can this wolf buddy carry?"
"Two with Ilrak. Three otherwise. Call him Baihir from now on."
"Grrrng."
"Got it. Fine. Baihir carries you, Kael, Benden..."
As Bran outlined the travel plan—
Kaboom—!
A massive crash echoed nearby.
The group whipped around in alarm.
"Rahir?"
"Fancy meeting again! Picked up a weird find, stopped by."
The cool departer Rahir.
No Namun—left behind, probably.
A familiar man was tucked under his arm instead.
"Who's that...?"
"Found him crossing the plateau. Know him?"
Rahir laid the man down.
Unconscious, but breathing.
"Ugh... urk..."
Ilrak frowned at his face.
"What the—it's that Urddin prick?"
"Huh. He survived."
Bran marveled.
Retunir expedition leader Urddin.
Face swollen beyond recognition from ghost beatings.
Thought the whole team died—somehow he scraped by.
Rahir grinned.
"Knew it. Good I brought him."
"Wouldn't mind if he died, but... thanks anyway."
"No trouble. Off I go. Have fun!"
Business done, Rahir leaped away.
Rushed, probably—left his wife alone.
Best not ask about the lipstick on his cheek.
Bran scratched his head, eyeing Urddin.
"Hm. What to do with this guy."
"Just kill him clean? One stomp from me'd do it."
"Or feed him to Baihir."
Ilrak and Arzan offered grim suggestions.
Scary women.
Not bad, but worth pondering more.
Inventory check first.
As Bran rummaged his coat pocket—
Clunk.
A green d20-sized polyhedron tumbled out.
"Wait. No way..."
Bran's eyes widened.
He snatched it up, exclaiming like a miner striking gold.
"Holy shit, a Return Stone."
"Return Stone? What's that?"
"Ancient relic for teleporting up to seven people. Why's this bastard got one?"
Bran answered Arzan.
Return Stone.
Teleports to a preset spot.
Ridiculously scarce versus demand; single-use and pricey.
'Unbelievable. Jackpot here.'
Probably grabbed it post-royal tent heist for escape.
Elite squad survival plan.
Bran's face lit up.
"This could..."
Slash travel time big.
Urddin was Retunir expedition.
Likely returns nearby.
Perfect headcount match—ideal if it fit.
'Tough call.'
But risky if not Retunir.
Or farther north? Self-inflicted detour.
In-game, hover showed destination—no such luck here.
'C'mon, label your rides.'
Gamble for speed or sell for funds?
As he pondered—
"Ooh, a Return Stone—haven't seen one in ages!"
"Benden?"
"Mind if I take a look? Can check where it links."
Benden exclaimed.
Bran's eyes bulged at "check."
"What? You can do that?"
"Who do you think I am? 'Course!"
"Couldn't even see the text..."
"Heh, normal—it's not visible to the naked eye. Hold on."
Never knew he could.
Benden took the stone, pulled a microscope-monocle hybrid from his pack.
Click. Crick.
Equipped, he inspected and nodded.
"Poran Forest. That's what it says."
"Poran... Retunir border woods."
"Yep. Retunir's way north—huge time-saver if we use it."
Benden stroked his beard, smiling.
Bran agreed. Jackpot gamble paid off.
Retunir was a dictatorship, but avoid cities—no issues.
Dodge expeditioners or soldiers easy.
Morken route much smoother.
"Great. Let's roll. Anyone used one?"
"Heard tales, never tried. Exciting!"
"Me too."
"Same."
"Eek... no issues, right?"
"Heh heh."
No veterans unluckily.
Pity no preview, but better than two months walking—even with penalties.
A sly smile crept on Bran's face.
"Yeah... should be fine."
No more debate.
Bran raised the Return Stone.
Flash!
As he chanted, green light enveloped them.
Vision blacked out.
As green faded, only wind remained on Cargai Plateau.
Bran thought inwardly.
Today's a lucky day.
Until vision cleared and blood stench hit—that is.