Chapter 74
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Reason
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Judgment withheld.
For now, I'd decided to leave this near-feral knight be.
Collecting the spoils and heading back took priority.
I checked the loot Baekrin had neatly piled up in one corner.
"...Not bad at all."
There wasn't some hidden safe behind the walls or anything jackpot-level,
but the haul this squirrel of a girl had scraped together from every nook and cranny was pretty solid.
The standout items were the potions first off.
Two sparkling mid-grade red potions, and five lower-grade ones that looked a bit watered down.
These alone surpassed the value of all the hides and magic stones we'd busted our asses collecting so far.
[Even here, one mid-grade potion sets you back at least 90 gold.]
The old man's words. At local prices, one mid-grade like this was a big deal.
Then the miscellaneous stuff. A few chunks of preserved food like jerky and dried fruit.
Ten magic stones of varying sizes and colors.
That was the extent of Baekrin's finds. Good girl.
I went to pat her head in approval, but,
"...Know your place."
She grabbed my wrist and shoved it away, blushing. What a prickly bitch.
Obviously, there was nothing to gain from those livestock sprawled behind the inner bars of the prison cells.
Guys with nothing but rotting bodies and drug-addled brains.
No point frisking them. Pass.
Except,
"Well... smack, smack."
Those kids in the corner, still gnawing on the leg meat of a dead child.
I strode over and snatched the rotten flesh chunks from their grubby hands.
"Kieeeek!!"
"Aaack! Waaah!"
The kids let out beastly shrieks and lunged at me.
I nudged them away with my foot and chucked the seized meat globs far into the darkness.
Splat.
"Aaah...!"
Over their dazed faces,
I tossed down some of the jerky and dried fruit I'd just grabbed.
"Eat this instead."
"...?"
"We made a good haul, so consider it a tip."
A sort of charity.
Not that I gave a damn; seeing them chew rotten human flesh just turned my stomach.
The kids stared at the dropped jerky, then scarfed it down like their rage had never happened.
Next up: corpse looting.
We rummaged through the pockets of the guys we'd sliced up at the entrance.
"Heave-ho."
I rolled a limp body with my foot and groped inside.
Bloody, sticky, and wet, but the feel of coins under my fingers was always a thrill.
Clink. Clink.
A decent spill of silver and gold coins tumbled out.
Maybe because they were skilled swordsmen, their pockets were fat.
Skill's always relative bullshit anyway.
Just because Baekrin diced them all while I wrestled one didn't mean they were weak.
Take that guy whose throat my dagger pierced, for example.
'On a whole different level from slum thugs.'
No pushovers.
One slip, and the one with a hole in his neck could've been me.
Compared to the Viper gang's warehouse goons or the scorpion crew's lackeys, these were the real deal.
So why were they all dead, beds of dirt?
Simple...
"...Monster of a girl."
This bitch casually rifling through corpse pockets beside me. Baekrin aside.
She was strong to begin with, but with aura on top? Like a max-level vet farming noobs in full gear.
Conclusion: They weren't weak. My master was just insanely strong.
"...What're you staring at?"
"Nothing. Just pretty."
"..."
I smirked and got back to work.
"Let's see..."
Pooling everything we'd scraped up, it came to roughly 20 gold, give or take.
"Not bad."
And,
"Gotta nab the boss mob's gear."
I headed to the bald guy's corpse I'd wrecked earlier.
His physical stats were trash,
but amid these musclebound sword-swingers,
his flashy outfit and magic-like shit screamed leader.
Fantasy worlds always respect mages.
Gut feeling: his stuff would fetch a nice price.
The rest's gear? Baekrin half-sliced it all into scrap. Pass.
I stripped off the blood-soaked black robe he wore.
"Ugly as fuck. Face and body."
I kicked his pale, scrawny naked ass aside and spread the clothes to inspect.
High-quality, tough fabric. Wash and dry it right, it'd look sharp.
Then, the staff in his hand.
Gnarled like twisted old tree root, topped with some weird bone chunk—animal skull maybe.
The more I looked, the creepier and more ominous it got.
"...Who the hell buys this?"
Dunno. Still, magic staff—demand exists.
I wrapped it in the robe and pocketed it.
Now, real return time. Homecoming with spoils.
"Let's go. Old man's waiting."
"...Explain. Why're you late?"
Back at base, the old man stood arms crossed, face pissed.
Noy crouched beside, watching ants.
I gave a quick rundown.
And now.
Our whole crew was back in this dank underground tunnel.
Baekrin was out front by the massive stone door, babysitting Noy and keeping watch.
Me and the old man? Playing tour guide in the cave.
Round one: living quarters tour.
Piles of Paradise Dust, tales of the old Viper and Scorpion crews included.
Round two: heart-pounding prison safari.
Gawking at caged beast-kids, plus eyewitness to monster-human 2:1 threesome, charity to the kid cannibals.
Now round three: the lab-like room with the dying knight.
Full sync on events and loot done,
awaiting old man's orders.
"..."
Since entering this shithole, while my yap never shut up,
the old man just watched silently, listened mute.
"...First, save the sane ones."
Finally, heavy words. He popped a potion lid without hesitation.
"Ack...?"
I yelped in shock.
"Hold up! Old timer, that's mid-grade! You're using that?"
Our top-tier loot right now,
wasted on this near-dead bastard?
"Shut it. Lives on the line, money's no issue."
Ignoring my bitching,
he pried open the chained knight's slack jaw and poured.
Gulp, glug.
Adam's apple bobbed weakly. Most down the gullet,
leftover puddle scooped by hand.
Sizzle.
Smeared on the knight's black-rotted ankle stump.
White smoke, rotting flesh melted, stench replaced by new skin forming, bleeding stopped.
"...Urk."
Instant effect.
Corpse-pale face gained faint color.
"...Thank... you..."
Knight squeezed it out, eyes on Kain, then head lolled.
"...What? Dead?"
"Nah. Passed out."
Kain checked pulse, sighed relief.
"Good sleep, he'll improve."
"Fuck, better. You dumped a whole pricey bottle."
I pouted, kicking the empty vial.
Old man tsked, pity-eyeing me.
"Tsk tsk... Forgot the six mid-grades down your gullet on the ship already?"
"...Tch."
True... But still,
"I'm your lackey, 15 years together. This guy's a stranger."
"Simpleton. This waste?"
Shaking head, he pointed to the epaulet on the knight's shoulder.
"We'll know for sure when he wakes, but if he's Roengrin house knight...
One mid-grade potion's nothing compared to his value."
"...What, hand him to imperials for bounty?"
"Likely. Bounty unsure, but reward in some form."
Kain said firmly.
"Skilled, important folks? Bigger rewards."
"Skill? Fuck that."
Skill? Important? I snorted.
"Caught by these retards, ankle hacked? How skilled?"
Mostly Baekrin's kills, but whatever.
Owner and slave one body.
Shitty owner, shitty slave.
Fuck it.
Anyway, Kain said,
"Even low or mid knight beats one potion."
Ah... Makes sense?
"Empire won't cheap out on their knights' ransom."
"...Fine."
Investment value, expected returns. Fair enough.
But...
"So, what about those inside? Saving them too?"
I jerked chin at cells, gruff.
"...Hmm."
Kain stroked beard, pondered,
"Yeah. For now."
Sucker declaration.
"...Ha, really."
Deep sigh.
Knight had ROI, fine,
but these were hopeless burdens. Old man finally senile?
"Out first. Talk to Baekrin."
"Talk? That bitch approve?"
We stepped out.
Baekrin still held Noy, staring blankly at entrance.
"Quick chat."
"...Huh?"
"Used mid-grade on the knight inside. And..."
Kain explained all.
Why save knight,
and plan to use remaining low-grades on cell trash.
I stood arms crossed, smirking, waiting her rage.
Obvious.
Money-obsessed bitch, sharing her loot? She'd flip.
'Screech! Crazy? Why waste it!'
But,
"...Do what you want."
"...Huh?"
She nodded casually.
"Picked it up anyway. Uncle, use as you like."
"You eat something bad?"
I gawked.
"Sick? Fever?"
"...Shut up."
She turned away, annoyed.
"Hear that? Your master's cool. Follow without bitching."
"Agh..."
Kain dragged me by ear. I grumbled, pulled along.
"Both nuts."
Inside cells.
We pulled out low-grade potions from pockets.
"Dead kids unavoidable...
"..."
"Minds broken, but not dying today. No oral feeding...
Handed me two vials.
"Apply. Wounds mainly."
"...Got it. Boss says jump."
Full volunteer mode, Doctors Without Borders.
Kain took males.
Fingers shredded from clawing walls in drug frenzy, bleeding.
Dabbed potion carefully.
Deformed joints untreatable, but prevented infection.
I took females.
"...Sigh, what a mess."
Up close, worse.
Torn mouths, nipples sliced, genitals burst and oozing. No intact spots.
"Stings, endure. Pricey stuff."
Fingered potion on wounds.
They twitched, moaned on contact, then faces eased.
Hours later, potions nearly gone.
Fuck, should've rationed drops like rat piss.
Got carried away, slathering generously.
Now all three crazy.
"...Whew."
Set empty vials down, stretched.
Waste. Huge waste. Sell price...
"So, did your sucker play per judgment."
Wiped sweat, eyed Kain.
"Now what?"
"Treated 'em. Leaving here pointless."
"True. Starve or new thugs come."
Back to punchbag cycle.
"Can't drag all to red rock. Knight's enough burden, these loons?"
Assume they walk. Minds gone issue.
No chains like mules, desertions or collapses inevitable.
Forest entrance 12-hour march. They'd fold.
Impossible.
Kain nodded.
"Right. Can't go, make 'em come."
"...Come? Who?"
"Carriage. Here."
I gawked.
"Here? Forest? Red rock's meetup."
"Convince. Words or gold."
Firm.
"...Serious?"
"Dead serious."
Not just sucker, full rescue op?
"Why go that far? Charity?"
Deep sigh, pressed.
"Old man, listen. Knight? Expected reward, fine."
Within reason.
"But these? Waste potions, call carriage? Costs explode with numbers."
Pointed at beast-worse humans in bars.
"Not skull-cracked like my ballsack. Just dying meat.
Serious senile? Why?"
Kain bitterly eyed cells.
"...Reason."
Soft mutter.
"None."
"...What?"
"None, kid. Senile maybe."
Then hearty laugh.
"Force one? Accumulating merit."
"Merit... Bullshit."
"Kid, anyone here chose this?"
Wrinkle-framed eyes deepened.
"Spoils from luck.
Fellow slumfolk, don't be too harsh."
"How sure all slum?"
Gruff retort.
"No slave tats like mine.
Knight's Roengrin fancy."
"Not sure. Likely."
Kain arms crossed, elaborated.
"From what we saw, your tales... They grab weaklings, drug 'em, sex relief, breed with monsters. Experiments."
Paused, thoughtful,
"Probably slash-and-burn folk fleeing kingdom. No status, no protection... Like us back then."
Slashers. West continent escapers hating slavery.
Unmissed, un-mourned.
Perfect lab rat bait.
"...Yeah, plausible."
I smacked lips.
Nobles/plebs? Backlash too much.
Easy targets: slums, slashers, slaves.
"Wait... Slaves?"
Flashes: Nahark port arrival.
Statusless herded like cattle. My shithole camp.
Not just tattooed like me, escaped slave-candidates too.
"Last question."
Straight at Kain.
"Drag to Nahark, then what? Your guess... All no ID."
Guards grab, become butcher boys' and crazy healer's toys.
"Slashers fled slavery.
Parade through slave-mad kingdom gates?"
True rescue? Or express to hell.
He might not know academy crap...
But saved, then re-hellbound.
Kain snorted,
"What else."
Casual.
"Bundle with knight, hand to imperials wholesale."
"Imperials take these?"
"Sigh, dummy Leon."
Slow explain.
"Think. Empire frantic for?"
"...Princess?"
"Yeah. Third Princess on Roengrin ship."
Right.
"Now, Roengrin knight found in remote forest dungeon.
Him, all captives, this place."
Pointed cell humans.
"All 'clues' to third princess for imperials?"
"...Oh ho."
Lightbulb.
Empire bloodshot for princess.
Straw-grasping desperate, we deliver living witnesses wholesale.
No way hand to Ruben intact.
Shit kingdom eyes empire, won't touch.
"...Fuck, wow."
Admiration slipped.
"Smart old fucker."
Always steps ahead.
Why we report to him first, follow plans blindly.
"Wise guy sees ahead."
Smirk, grumble.
"Why no reason for saving? 'Sell high to imperials' fine. No need merit cringe."
Kain grinned, ruffled my hair rough.
"Wise my ass."
Callused hand tousled.
"Just lived longer. Only know fists, blades.
Can't solve world's riddles."
Paused, eyed dark ceiling.
"Don't overseek reasons in life. Tiresome."
Plain words.
"..."
No comeback.
"...Damn old man."
Averted, grumbled, but chest heavy.
True. Never demanded reasons.
Raised me from sewer, trained—Sharl's orders, fine.
But fled with me, Baekrin, Noy to perilous west.
Retirement talk, mooching bullshit.
Could sip booze with ladies on 150 gold retirement.
All poured down my throat.
Past, future life to blood-unrelated me.
Yeah. Can't question reason.
Just,
"...Fine. Whatever."
Not my style, but his call.
Lackey's gotta follow.