Chapter 222
Chapter 222
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 222
Chapter Title: Dragon Slayer 2 (7)
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Huff— huff—.
Moochi gasped for breath.
*Just how many days has it been...*
His head felt foggy, his thoughts sluggish and scattered.
All he knew was that this had been going on for a long time, that he was starving, and that an overwhelming urge to sleep consumed him.
But if he let his mind wander, he might actually drift off, so Moochi forced himself to think.
*How the hell did it come to this...?*
Vague memories surfaced from about a month ago.
[Moochi Schnell, huh... What an unusual name.]
[Wait, hold on? Schnell?]
[No way, you mean Schnell from the Ralph Schnell we know?]
A simple round of introductions inside the Black Ship heading to the Cradle.
With it came a barrage of stares directed his way.
Some envious.
Some fearful.
Others laced with outright hostility.
No, truth be told, most were filled with wariness.
He had no intention of making enemies, but they already saw him as a rival or the biggest obstacle in their path.
*If it were the old me, before I met Yuri...*
He definitely would have shrunk under those gazes.
But not anymore.
*They're just... scared of falling behind.*
Just like he had been.
They just wanted to beat their competition.
Having met Yuri and learned what it meant to compete, Moochi could now accept rivalry.
That's why he understood their hostility—and why he was ready to fight them.
The one thing he overlooked, however.
He had underestimated the ferocity of these elite kids handpicked from across the world.
And not every competition played out fair and square.
[Sorry, but you're gonna have to drop out here.]
Two days after receiving the strange silver coin riddled with holes from some unknown source.
Nearly twenty of them ambushed him.
They were relentless, vicious.
[Our individual skills might be way below yours... but we'll crush you in the end.]
Nearly twenty rotated in groups of about ten, taking turns hounding him.
Day and night, without respite, Moochi endured their assaults.
[Let's see... how long can you hold out?]
One day, two, three, four.
Over twenty days like that.
His attackers looked exhausted too, but they could at least rest in shifts, so they weren't in too bad shape.
Moochi, on the other hand...
He hadn't eaten properly or slept, enduring torment for so long that he grew more haggard by the day.
At the center of those tormenting him was a girl with lemon-yellow hair.
[...Impressive. I never thought you'd last this long.]
For some reason, she commanded a dozen reserve riders like her personal soldiers.
She flashed Moochi a smile of admiration for enduring the lonely fight so long.
But it didn't last.
[The test ends tomorrow. Just one more day to hold out. I... I'll be rooting for you. Hope you make it through today.]
Malice?
Purity?
Or mere curiosity?
Whatever it was, her smile carried a mix as she directed her dozen reserve riders to attack with everything they had.
How much time passed after that?
[Just a bit more! Let's become real riders together!]
Chasing a voice from somewhere, Moochi swung his spear.
All that grueling training hadn't been for nothing— even on instinct, he held off the onslaught from every direction.
But he sensed it.
He was almost out of strength.
Sure enough, at some point, his legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees.
Thud.
Moochi leaned on his spear, panting raggedly, when—
"Is it over?"
A smile that seemed to carry the scent of lemons hovered before his eyes, as if pitying his ordeal.
"Too bad. If you'd held out just a little longer..."
The voice worming into his ear rang like a lullaby against his eardrum.
Moochi, down on one knee, forced his drooping eyelids open.
His gaze met the turquoise eyes of the lemon-haired girl.
"Looks like our paths end here. Still... you left quite an impression."
Her fingertips gently brushed his cheek.
"I'm Lisa. Lisa Berfort. If fate allows... let's meet again."
Lisa's pure white, beautiful smile filled Moochi's blurring vision.
It somehow resembled... someone he knew.
The moment that thought hit him, a clear voice rang out.
[Hey, fuzzball.]
A taunting, mocking hallucination—it cleared Moochi's fading sight just a bit.
He gritted his teeth.
*I can't... go down here!*
He had made a promise.
To enter the Cradle.
And to fight that person again.
He couldn't collapse in a place like this.
"Grk!"
Clenching his teeth, Moochi gripped his spear tighter and hauled himself up.
Lisa's eyes widened in surprise as she hopped back.
At the same time, the boys and girls behind her tensed to rush him.
But she raised a hand to stop them.
Shh.
Her eyes gleamed with ecstasy as she watched Moochi trembling to his feet.
"Beautiful..."
Cruelty spread through those ecstatic eyes.
"I want to see more..."
Shing.
Lisa, who hadn't stepped in once until now, drew a pair of short daggers.
The blades about 15 cm long, shaped like a predator's curved fangs.
Holding them in reverse grip, she smiled at Moochi.
"Won't you show me that face a little longer?"
With that, she took a step toward him.
Step.
His mind was hazy, but Moochi sensed it instinctively.
This small, fragile-looking girl approaching him was dozens of times more dangerous than the seventeen boys and girls he'd faced so far.
But Moochi couldn't back down.
He had to reach the Cradle somehow, no matter what, to meet Yuri.
Thrust.
He leveled his spear forward and shouted.
"I'm... going to become a Cradle rider, no matter what!"
Joy lit up the girl's eyes.
"Yeah! I'll cheer you on with all my heart!"
But contrary to her words, an indescribable, horrific killing intent poured from her entire body.
Whoooosh—
The full-force aura Moochi summoned, squeezing out his last dregs of strength.
Swoooo—
Clashed in the air with the yellow killing intent from the lemon-haired girl.
Just as a bloody clash seemed imminent—
"No! Stop!"
"Don't mess with the furry-headed baby, you punks!"
A man and a woman suddenly burst in from behind the encirclement.
Boom!
Crunch!
An unexpected ambush.
But what was truly shocking was their skill.
"W-What?!"
"Urk!"
"Ugh! Who the hell are you?!"
The woman swung a longsword, the man gauntlets, mowing down Moochi's besiegers in seconds.
Crunch crunch.
In the blink of an eye, four of the seventeen were down.
Moochi realized these two were far beyond him.
Lisa clocked it too.
"Don't clash—scatter!"
At her command, the boys and girls dispersed.
But Nelly and Clarice weren't about to let them escape.
"Where do you think you're running?! What the hell were you trying to pull?!"
"You vermin! You need thirteen nights and fourteen days getting beat by that crazy-eyed Yuri pup to straighten out! You dare threaten us?!"
Furious beyond reason, like fillies with tails on fire, the two rampaged wildly.
Lisa and her group, who'd tormented Moochi until now, scrambled to flee.
Moochi, meanwhile...
*Yuri...?*
A strange relief washed over him at the familiar name from the red-epauleted man.
Thud.
And he blacked out.
* * *
Yuri moved surrounded by a squad of Black Sword soldiers.
It was meant to contain him in case he bolted, but...
"Ahem!"
Yuri strode ahead with hands clasped behind his back, so imperiously it looked more like an escort.
His vice captain even trailed a step behind on his left, like a secretary.
An extravagantly lavish "containment," if you could call it that.
After walking some distance, Yuri glanced back.
"This the way?"
"...You've been finding your way fine without asking. Why ask now?"
"If you're testing whether I know the vice captain's tent moved without telling me, just spill it—don't waste my time."
"...Shameless? Fearless? Can't tell."
"Both. So, has it moved or not?"
"No. Same place."
"Got it."
Yuri shrugged casually and headed for the vice captain's tent from his old memories—the one he'd once ransacked.
Finally arriving at one tent, Yuri said—
"Here?"
"Yeah."
He scanned the surroundings carefully, then parted the sagging flap and stepped inside.
Rustle.
The interior came into view at a glance.
Spacious room.
Narrow cot with rumpled bedding tossed aside.
Wide desk piled high with documents.
Sundry daily necessities scattered about.
After a quick sweep, Yuri scowled and turned to Duran, who'd followed him in.
"...I said don't waste my time, right?"
"What're you on about?"
At Duran's blank look, Yuri snapped.
"This isn't the vice captain's tent."
"What're you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb. Anyone can tell it's not."
"What makes you say that?"
"The smell."
"That's it?"
"Men, women, kids to old folks—everyone's scent is different. This? No bachelor stink, just something else."
"Hoh? What scent?"
"Woman. Late thirties, early forties, living here."
"Hah, nose like a damn bloodhound."
Duran chuckled and flicked his hand dismissively.
"That's it. Stand down. He's not the one."
At the order, the presences lurking outside the flap vanished in an instant.
Duran waved Yuri off too.
"You too. Get lost. Good work."
"Huh?"
Yuri blinked.
"Y-You're letting me go?"
"Were you planning to stick around?"
"You're really just... releasing me?"
"And?"
"...Why?"
"Were you the culprit?"
"No?"
"Then why bitch about it?"
"Come on, it's too sudden! Wouldn't let me go when I begged, and now?"
"That was then. This is now."
"Looked guilty then, innocent now?"
"You got it."
"Goddammit!"
Yuri's brow furrowed.
*Playing games with people!*
Grumbling inwardly, a question hit him about the whole situation.
*If you're letting me go this easy... why hold me so long?*
Why agree so readily to my offer to catch the real perp?
Why bring me here?
And now suddenly release me?
Yuri pieced it together.
*This was a test. And whatever it was, I passed—so the suspicion's cleared.*
But just like that? No lingering doubts?
After rapid analysis, Yuri reached a conclusion.
Eyes widening slightly, he asked—
"Don't tell me... you've already caught the real culprit?"
Duran smirked at the confident question.
"Sharp one."
Verified, Yuri muttered in disbelief.
"...Fuck. Not just the perp—they were hunting accomplices."
* * *
With Clarice and Nelly's ambush dropping seven in seconds, Moochi's tormentors gave up and fled.
Normally, they'd have chased, but Clarice and Nelly couldn't.
They faced a problem.
"Uh..."
"Um..."
They stared awkwardly at Moochi sprawled on the ground.
"...What do we do?"
"...Beats me?"
No matter how much they poked his cheeks, the furry-headed baby showed no sign of waking.
The issue: leave him like this, and who knew what trouble might befall him next.
After much deliberation, they decided.
Better not to agonize over this headache—hand him off to someone who wanted him.
"Way better to dump this bomb quick and focus on dragon slaying than worry!"
"Yeah, let's do it!"
Nodding in agreement, they looked at each other.
Problem: the passed-out guy's body was huge, fitting his "furry-headed baby" nickname.
Too bulky to carry easily.
But Clarice's ingenuity solved it.
Rip— creak—
She dashed into the woods, gathered vines, and bound Moochi's wrists, ankles, and calves tight.
Then wedged his axe-spear between.
"Alright, lift."
"Yeah."
Clarice took the front, Nelly the back, slinging the spear over their shoulders—Moochi dangled like a spit-roast hog.
"Heave!"
"Ugh, heavy."
They bolted off.
To hurl the "furry-headed baby" time bomb out of the Forest of Beginnings.
Thus were born two great heroes who saved the entire 50th Cohort from crisis.