Chapter 18
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Isn't It Natural for a Noble Lady to Admire Muscles?
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A strange silence fell for a moment.
'...Wait, isn't this line way too clichéd for some third-rate bandit?'
Back in my days rolling around the back alleys of the Empire, the thing I despised most was punks with lame lines.
Now that I've become a tribal chief of barbarians, have I unwittingly assimilated?
No, honestly, I can't even tell what the difference is between banditry and barbarian plundering.
Is it bandits if you do it in the mountains and barbarians if you do it in the desert? The line is so blurry.
Embarrassment washed over me, but the words were already out. The only way to salvage this was with force.
The mercenary captain snorted in mockery.
"Ha! Where does this crazy bastard barbarian get off? We're the 'Black Serpent Mercenary Corps'! Toll? You lot can just die here!"
Why do all these guys' lines sound so predictably corny?
Eh, they must have their reasons.
As the captain drew his sword, the twenty mounted mercenaries behind him raised their weapons in unison.
The killing intent was sharp enough. They must be a fairly well-known outfit.
But the captains at my back seemed unimpressed.
"Kel Bark! Look at that! Shiny metal armor! Krahaha!"
Karack was already eyeing them like walking armor racks.
His eyes gleamed with pure greed.
I flicked my spent cigar to the ground and crooked a finger.
"Take it all!"
That was the signal.
"Waaaaaa!! Plunder time!!"
Karack kicked off first, charging ahead.
His twin axes spun like windmills, slicing through the air with deadly whooshes.
"Guh! Block him!"
The mercenaries raised their shields, forming ranks with response times rivaling a proper army.
A few even knew how to channel mana into their weapons or shields—decent skill levels.
'Ho... not bad?'
But they were up against the talent-stuffed crew I'd handpicked and trained myself—guys who aced the "Talent Assessment" course back in my ducal probation as squire.
Bam—!
Karack's axe smashed down on a mercenary's shield.
The shield crumpled like paper, and the mercenary's arm snapped with a sickening crack.
"Gaaak!"
"Wh-what the hell! What kind of insane strength is this?!"
As the mercenaries panicked, a black shadow struck from the flank.
It was Spear Division Captain Delker.
"Kekeke—! Wonder if piercing central humans feels any different!"
Whoosh! Swish!
His spearwork had reached a masterful realm.
The tip targeted only the gaps in armor joints and helmet visors.
"Kek—!"
Three mercenaries clutched their throats and collapsed simultaneously.
Before they even hit the ground, Delker's spear was thrusting at the next target.
"Mage! Protect the mage! Covering fire!"
The rear mage raised his staff, beginning his incantation.
A menacing fireball was forming—
Thwish—!
An arrow from somewhere nailed right into the mage's open mouth mid-chant, not his forehead.
"Mmph...! Gack!"
It was Batu.
Even while engaging the mercenaries, he'd instinctively sensed the mage's threat and loosed the shot.
A natural-born hunter with exceptional threat detection.
"Th-this is impossible!"
The tide turned in an instant.
The mercenary captain ground his teeth and charged at me.
"You're the boss, huh! Die!"
Blue mana surged along his blade. Beginner-level swordsman.
'Oh?'
Just handling mana like that would earn him good treatment in any army unit, yet he's slumming it as a merc.
What a waste of talent.
But I didn't budge.
A massive shadow blocked my front.
"You shall not pass."
Urkan slammed his tower shield into the ground, barring the way.
Boom!
The aura-infused sword strike hit the shield, but Urkan didn't flinch.
Instead, the captain's sword-hand jolted back with a ting.
"Impossible...! Blocked a mana blade... with a bare shield?!"
"Is that all you've got?"
Watching him, I felt certain.
'As expected!'
The power of the earth was a counter to mana.
Urkan's shield, etched with stage-two tattoos, naturally brimmed with earthen energy.
Urkan gave a casual shove with his shield, and the off-balance captain tumbled ingloriously.
I strolled forward and leveled my Kel Kar at his throat.
"Tch... boring bunch. I didn't even have to step in."
The fight ended in a flash.
It took just five minutes to wipe out twenty elite mercenaries.
And this without even completing stage-three imprints yet.
'Once we hit stages three and four, finish tactical training...'
My chest swelled with excitement. This legion was just getting started.
The moment battle ended, "barbarian time" began.
"Hey! Strip that armor! No blood on it! This stuff's expensive!"
"Shoes too! If they fit the kids, give 'em to 'em! The swamp-goers are barefoot!"
The men swarmed the fallen mercenaries, looting meticulously.
They looked just like a pack of starving hyenas.
"P-please, spare me! I beg you!"
"Shut up! Hold still or we'll rip it off!"
"N-not the panties, please...!"
One mercenary clutched his pants, sniffling, but Karack showed no mercy.
"Hand 'em over! Your life or your undies—which'll it be?"
I pinched my forehead.
"Damn it... Karack... leave the panties out. Who wants to wear some other guy's dirty drawers?"
"...A shame, but if Kel Bark says so!"
Wasn't stripping everything but panties the golden rule of looting?
Honestly, hygiene-wise, yeah...
Doing some serious plundering for once, and damn, it's more lucrative than I thought.
Banditry's just squeezing weak villagers for pocket change, but barbarian raids target armed warriors or caravans—whole different scale of haul.
I don't know the exact criteria, but it's profitable.
But I'm different. My kingdom doesn't need indiscriminate pillaging.
It's profitable short-term, but long-term, it kills trade routes.
That's when it happened.
"...Must we kill them?"
A heavy voice. Urkan.
He was blocking the five surviving prisoners on their knees.
As Karack and Delker approached to execute them, he'd interposed his shield.
Delker said coldly.
"Step aside, Urkan. Kel Bark's orders."
But Urkan's gaze was earnest.
"They've already surrendered. Dropped their weapons, lost the will to fight. Do we have to kill defenseless men?"
'Ho? Check this out?'
Urkan wasn't the type to enjoy killing.
He wielded his shield not to slay, but to protect the tribe.
That's why meaningless slaughter grated on him.
Barbarians have their individual quirks, after all.
"Urkan."
As I approached, he bowed his head.
"Kel Bark. They're weak. Even if we let them go, they pose no threat to us."
I eyed him for a moment, then exhaled a long plume of cigarette smoke.
"Urkan. What does your shield exist for?"
"...To protect the tribe."
"Then step aside."
I spoke coldly.
"If we let these scum go, they'll bring reinforcements. We'll get our position exposed, ambushed. The ones who die then will be the tribe's elders and children you want to protect so badly."
Urkan's eyes wavered.
"Weak, you say? Weaker than the elders and kids in our tribe?"
"......"
"Half-assed mercy on the battlefield turns into a blade that kills your own. Your shield isn't for sparing enemies—it's for protecting our tribe, like you said. Don't get it twisted."
"...Yes. Kel Bark."
Urkan bit his lip.
His beliefs clashed with reality.
But he understood my point.
To protect the tribe, sometimes you had to bloody your hands.
Slowly, swallowing his anguish, he stepped aside.
"...Forgive me. I was foolish."
"No. Keep that heart. Just not now."
I nodded to Karack.
"Finish them. They're dangerous."
"Got it!!"
Slash—!
"We'll never forgive you barbarians—!"
That was the mercenary captain's last words.
Am I the ruthless one here, even more than the barbarians?
But no choice.
I've seen countless lives ruined by showing mercy in the back alleys.
Hand a starving kid some bread out of pity, and the next day that same kid's got a knife to your throat, wallet gone. That's slum life.
Anyone who might become an enemy gets culled.
Though sparing fellow barbarians shows the local rules are a bit quirky.
Urkan's that stubborn morality.
It's a conflict now, but it'll be key to balancing this legion someday.
"Alright, time to crack open the main dish."
I headed to the now-ownerless carriage standing there.
The mercenaries had risked their lives for it. Must be some big-shot noble inside or a chest of insane treasure.
If it's a noble, a little "protection fee" threat—er, polite request—could cover our tribe's yearly budget. Heh heh heh.
Grinning, I approached the carriage and bellowed.
"Everyone inside, come out! If you're not out by the count of three, the whole cart's going up in flames."
I kicked the door hard.
"One."
"......"
"Two."
Creeeak—
The carriage door opened cautiously.
I expected a mustachioed noble screaming in terror or a fat merchant begging for his life.
But...
"...Huh?"
What emerged didn't belong in this blood-soaked desert at all.
Hair like a piercingly blue sky.
Pale, translucent skin without a hint of color.
A frail figure wrapped in the finest silk dress.
Like a glass figurine that'd shatter at a touch, a delicate beauty staggered out.
Her eyes shone mysteriously violet.
'What the...? Didn't see this coming. Why's a girl like this in the middle of the desert?'
The captains stared blankly at the unexpected sight.
Would she burst into terrified tears? Or faint?
She scanned her surroundings with trembling eyes.
Blood-drenched corpses, musclebound giants, and me standing there with my gore-smeared greatsword.
A hellscape straight out of a nightmare.
Yet...
"...Wow... so beautiful."
Her first words weren't a scream.
"Huh?"
I thought I'd misheard and asked again.
With a dazed look, she alternated between my blood-glistening, pumped-up forearm muscles and Urkan's massive bulk, her face enraptured.
"This overflowing vitality... veins ready to burst... the pounding heartbeat..."
She tottered toward me.
"Um... can I touch?"
"...Ha?"
What was this fearless creature?
"Just once. These muscles... they look like they're overflowing with life force. Must feel so warm."
Ignoring my answer, she grabbed my forearm.
Her touch was ice-cold. But her eyes burned with near-maniacal fervor.
"Haa... incredible. I struggle just to walk... how do you all possess such powerful life force? So... amazing."
She's nuts... Who picks up a stray like this...
And normally, bandits—or barbarians—should terrify her, right?
Why's she drooling over muscles?
"Hey. Who are you?"
I scowled and yanked my arm free. She smacked her lips regretfully.
"Ah, sorry. I'm Lilian. From the Lubein Marquis House of the Ayula Kingdom... well, runaway status now."
"Runaway?"
"Yeah. Those dead bastards were the dogs sent to drag me back. Thanks to you, I'm alive. Thanks, muscle bro."
'Bro...?'
She glanced at the corpses without batting an eye and flashed a bright smile.
Despite her frail looks, her mentality was mithril-grade.
"So? Think 'thanks' covers it?"
Pay up. Why else would I leave this carriage intact?
"Hmm... no money."
Lilian pondered, then tugged my clothes and looked up pleadingly.
"Um... can you take me with you?"
"What?"
"No home, nowhere to go. Sell me."
"Sell what?"
"I eat light. Know some magic too. Deal? Oh, and I love muscles. Hehe."
"You love muscles?"
"Why? Weird? Isn't it natural for a noble lady to admire muscles?"
News to me. When did that become a trend?
What nonsense is this girl spouting?
I let out an incredulous laugh.
'A marquis's daughter, huh?'
But the mana waves from her were no joke—even to a magic illiterate like me.
And if she's legit, ransom value's high, plus she'll know juicy info.
Nobles pick up fun intel whether they want to or not. And info's useful depending on how you wield it.
"Ha... what a riot."
If I weren't the type to idolize nobles, this girl would've been dead here.
Felt kinda fateful.
I slung Kel Kar over my shoulder and asked.
"Fine. I'll take you along for now. But you'll earn your keep, right?"
Lilian's violet eyes sparkled as she shouted energetically.
"Yes!! I'll do anything you ask!"