Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Reconnaissance Mission with Karin (2)
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Karin glanced at me and gave her permission, essentially saying to give it a try if I wanted.
"Martin, why don't you give it a shot."
Unlike before, these words showed her trust in me, and I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement.
I grabbed one of the mercenaries right in front of me and spoke up.
"Fuck, honestly, we're not grabbing you assholes because we enjoy this shit. So if you just keep your mouths a little more respectful when answering my questions, we'll all be better off. How great is that?"
"You're fucking insane, you little shit. From the looks of it... you're just excited to stick it in that blonde elf bitch, huh? Even so, this old man ain't interested."
...I could tolerate insults aimed at me, but mocking the woman I'd decided to make mine? Fuck, no way I could stomach that.
Part of me wanted to shove a knife right into that mouth and rip it all to shreds right then and there.
Whew, fuck, but there's info to extract, so I can't kill him just yet?
"Not talking? Then what choice do you leave me? Gotta die."
With that, I smashed my fist into his mouth, then jammed a dagger between his fingers.
"Gaaah! You crazy fuck! You think this makes Charles, senior mercenary of the Tristan Mercenary Corps, spill his guts?"
While the knife was still stabbed in, I twisted and tore at the wound wildly.
Blood started spraying everywhere in the process, and groans kept pouring from his mouth.
"If you wanna die easy, just spit it out quick."
"Your whore mom's the one. Filthy-born piece of shit talks like trash. Fuck, you a eunuch or something, you pussy-ass bitch."
I'd never planned to let them live anyway, but these bastards? I had to kill them for sure.
With my mind made up, I gagged their mouths again and continued the torture.
Karin saw the torture dragging on with no results and told me to leave it to her from here.
"Martin, you got this?"
Hearing that fired me up even more—I had to show her my best side in front of her.
A man doesn't just brag in front of a woman he's fallen for at first sight and then fail to deliver. Otherwise, I'd look like a total loser, and all my manly charm would go down the drain, right?
"I can handle it. And I haven't even really started yet."
She looked a bit taken aback by my words and replied.
"Alright? Then do what you can."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll show you what I can really do."
With that, over the next thirty minutes, I tortured them to the max without crippling them for life.
When I finally stopped and removed the gags, the bastards started flapping their tongues at me like fish out of water.
"Fuck, your dad's dead, huh? Or is he a dog?"
"Bullshit, that knife stab was so weak it tickled, you brainless fuck."
"Cute little chickie. Hey, let me loose. I'll sell your gay ass to a den of pervs."
Instead of hitting or threatening the trash-talkers, I let out a sigh like I was fed up.
"Hah, fuck. Fine, you win, you tough Tristan Mercenary Corps scouts. You're the best, shit."
"Thought you were a worthless cripple head to toe, but damn, you've got eyes for people. Still, no balls here swinging for compliments like that."
"Here's the deal. I'll let you all go. In exchange, cough up some info."
The one who'd called himself a senior mercenary laughed like a maniac.
"Crazy fuck, how do I trust that? Might as well claim your mom's some foreign princess. That I'd buy."
I wanted to discipline this habitual trash-talker who slung dead-parent insults like a Korean troll, but getting the info came first.
"No, really, I'll let you live. Let's talk straight, man to man. What do I gain killing you fucks? Jack shit. And honestly, for you guys, what's the point of dying loyal? Your head rolls, and poof—nothing left."
"..."
"Head gone means game over, right? And fuck, dying means no more sex or booze. Better to toss some info, save your skins, wash your IDs, and start fresh as mercs far away. Tristan ain't chasing to Bern Duchy or Zaltzheim, right?"
If they led a 500-man merc band, maybe, but a senior merc selling info? No one beyond three counties, let alone borders, would know or care.
No reason to care, no rumors spreading that far.
The mercs seemed to get it, murmuring among themselves, debating countermeasures.
"Fuck, better to all head to Bern together? War's plenty there."
"Stupid talk... wait, from his side, if we hand info... no need to kill us."
"Worth a shot? Beats rotting here—off to Bern for one more whore tit grab."
After chattering, the senior merc representative spoke cautiously.
"...You really letting us live?"
"Yeah, I am. There's a merc rule: don't kill captured mercs, right?"
I planned to kill them all, but his survival instinct blinded him to my intent. He spilled every scrap he had.
I jotted it all down meticulously, finished organizing, and he sighed.
"That's everything. Now let us go. A promise is a promise."
As he said it, I stabbed his gut and sliced horizontally.
Not instantly fatal, but left like that? Hours of agony before death.
A kind mercy for mocking my future woman Karin—suffer as much as possible.
I stabbed the other two through the heart for clean kills and gagged the surviving senior merc.
"Let's head out like this. Remote spot—no one's finding the bodies."
Karin tilted her head at my words.
"Makes sense, but why not finish that senior merc clean? Why leave him like that?"
"He straight-up mocked you, Senior Karin. Gotta pay for that. Let's hurry back—this needs reporting to Captain Dalton ASAP."
**
Normally, a senior merc and rookie wouldn't meet Mercenary Captain Dalton directly, but fresh off a key recon mission, we got called in right away.
Dalton eyed Karin and me, smirked, and spoke.
"Rookie, first outing and you're stabbing like a fiend. Handled that recon Jackson tossed like trash flawlessly. Even pulled their ops? You slippery bastard."
He'd called me a dimwit rich kid at first sight, but now praise? My shoulders squared up, energy surging.
Here, to score points with Karin, I played humble.
"Squad Leader Pior and Senior Mercenary Karin taught me well."
"Cut the bullshit, kid. I've known 'em years. Karin's solid, but Pior? Not that great. Thirteen years mercing, still stuck as squad leader—figure it out?"
Mercs die off mid-rank, so six years gets squad leader, ten for platoon. Thirteen as squad leader? Basically half-retired on tenure.
"Hurry up, I'm busy. Spill what they're plotting."
"Baron Tilen, who hired Tristan Mercenary Corps, also took on Antonio Mercenary Corps. Around 200 strong, arriving in a week."
Dalton cursed up a storm.
"That fucker Tilen even human? Barons should settle with initial hires. Breaking that? Vermin shit."
"Is that bad?"
"Don't explain to grunts—only platoon leaders up. This is territory grab, like a duel. Agreed: one merc band each, winner takes Malkfork Plains and 14 villages. Otherwise, baron's standing army and knights pull fancy sword tricks."
In-game, reputation system: break pacts, honor drops, penalties hit hard—especially nobles. Wonder how it works here in reality.
"Can't stop Tilen wanting to eat dirt in defeat, but this fucks us bad. Gotta end the war quick—reinforcements mean we're outnumbered."
Game protagonists slaughter hordes with skill, but that's game. Reality? Avoid outnumbered fights.
Dalton pulled paper and pen from his desk, prepping to write, muttering.
"...Fuck, pisses me off more thinking it. Nobles I saw young obsessed over face like mercs chase whores. Almost got properly beat, no pay, pointless losses? Tilen, that heretical fuck."
He vented, tossed me a coin pouch.
"Twenty silvers, two gold inside. Split with Karin. Your deeds reported to Baron Trintz too. Expect fat rewards from baron and corps later. Hah, almost chased chickens. No battles today—nap it off."
"Yes, Captain."
Dalton waved us out hastily. Outside the tent, Karin eyed me curiously.
"Norm is rookies as luggage, but you fight well, wield knife sharp, think quick... Martin, you really a rookie?"