Chapter 53
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: 12. To the West. (2)
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It was the wee hours of dawn, with a steady drizzle falling.
The carriage carrying the Allen Mercenary Corps pressed forward through the thick fog. Dense gray clouds blanketed the sky, showing no sign of letting any sunlight through for the rest of the day.
"They say setting out in the rain brings good luck."
Arnold, the tattooed brute covered head to toe in ink, muttered it like it was just to himself. Even a baseless superstition was enough to lift spirits for mercenaries forever teetering on the brink.
Allen pictured the mercenary city vanishing into the fog in the blink of an eye, letting out a light snort. ...At least half a year before they'd be back. Maybe longer.
Still, he didn't feel any real regret. Sure, he had the halo of one of the Ten Strong, Viola, shining on him—but she hadn't shoved him forward all that blatantly, so he hadn't reaped any huge benefits. Plenty of other mercenary corps basked in her protection anyway; it wasn't like he was anything special.
Being on handshake terms was plenty. Wagging his tail like some horny mutt in heat would've just made him look desperate.
"But seriously, why're we headed west?"
Bald, bug-eyed Billy—who only knew there was some business out that way—asked the question.
Allen, who'd been peering out at the misty view beyond the carriage, flashed a strange smile as he swept his gaze over the crew. ...The mood was just spooky enough for a good ghost story.
"You guys ever hear about corpses coming back to life and moving around?"
"...Corpses moving?"
"Then it ain't a corpse no more."
The sharp redheaded mage's eyes lit up as he piped up.
"Necromancy, huh."
"Bingo."
"...What's that? Necromancy?"
The dimwitted bald bug-eyes scratched at his hairless scalp with a finger. Captain Aiden snorted derisively.
"Kid, you don't even know necromancy? It's black magic. Black magic."
"Black magic? Oh, right? Hard words ain't my strong suit. Heh heh."
The devout zealot Christopher let out a deeply displeased groan. True believers despised black magic for defying divine providence—and necromancy was the absolute worst of the lot.
The moment black magic came up, the female warrior Znisya—arms crossed, chin raised—declared boldly,
"Any black mage who crosses me is dead meat."
The northern warrior riffraff spouting such nonsense earned a cackle from bald bug-eyes. Then, with a sudden faraway look in his eyes like he was lost in old memories, he muttered,
"Well, dunno about the rest, but yeah, those northern bitches' tight cunts sure kill ya when ya shove it in."
As the talk veered sharply from necromancy to pussy, Kallisman steered it back.
"So, what's this necromancer got to do with us heading west, Leader?"
"Word is, that necromancer's stirring up trouble out west right now. Even trashed a whole small town. ...Gonna be a ton of jobs popping up. Mercenary corps like us gotta chase the work—the money. Right?"
The continent wasn't in full-blown chaos yet, but give it a few months...
Allen could already smell the money wafting up from it. The west wasn't as flush as the central or southern regions, but it had enough coin that smart negotiating could line their pockets nicely. Then they'd load up on luxuries and head back to Vermandua—that was the best play Allen could make right now.
And this black mage frenzy was the first of the crises barreling down on the continent ahead. It'd cripple the Mage Tower for good, scattering homeless wizards across the land and planting the seeds of uproar everywhere.
...Fuck, just thinking about it gave him a headache...
Mentally unhinged freaks packed into the tower spilling out all at once? No way that wouldn't ache. The whole continent would mobilize in heavy force, and the mercenary trade would boom like never before—that was the kicker at the end of Guild Master Chapter 1.
"But ain't there a Mage Tower in the west? Black mage punks running wild, and the tower mages just sittin' there suckin' their thumbs?"
The truth was, the centuries-old tower's internal politics were rotten to the core from factional infighting, leaving no room for outside concerns. Hell, they even framed rival wizards as black mages to score points.
If you weren't tower-affiliated, they didn't even count you as a real mage. Someone like Elena? Total outsider. To them, a redheaded mage was no mage—just a cheap knockoff.
"How the hell would lowly merc trash like us know what those lofty mages are thinking."
The lowly merc trash fell silent for a beat. Then Kallisman again.
"So, which route we taking?"
Veteran Kallisman, who'd roamed the continent high and low, knew there were plenty of paths west. Sure, straight line across flat nothing was shortest—but the central region had its share of mountains, so routes branched off plenty.
"Through the Holy Kingdom."
"Circling south a bit, then."
"Yeah."
The name Holy Kingdom drew wheezy sighs from a few mercs. As the name implied, it crawled with hardcore zealots—making it the most boring spot on the continent for mercenaries. Only place without a single brothel, too.
Of course, zealot Christopher was thrilled at the chance to bask close to a holy saint.
And with that, the chatter died.
Allen turned his gaze back outside.
The drizzle had petered out unnoticed, but the sky stayed stubbornly overcast.
...Just like the continent's pitch-black future.
A middle-aged woman—clearly a looker back in her day—was diligently polishing the crystal ball in front of her with a cloth when someone pushed aside the tent flap and slipped inside.
It was a young woman with vivid pink hair tied back in a single ponytail dangling straight down her back. She wore an eyepatch. Her outfit resembled a nun's habit, except the wide skirt had a long vertical slit that flashed her pale right leg with every step.
Oh my~
The fortune teller recognized her instantly. ...Impossible not to, in this line of work.
"What brings a big celeb like you to my humble tent...?"
"Got a question."
"Prices are right here..."
"Got the coin. Don't worry."
The Blind Saintess Odd-Eye sat precisely in the chair before the fortune teller, as if she could see despite the patch.
The fortune teller auntie rubbed her hands briskly like a crafty merchant, flashing her sales smile. In a syrupy voice, she asked,
"What're you curious abooout~?"
Odd-Eye propped her chin on a hand atop the table with the crystal ball, drumming her fingers as she spoke.
"I've been having the same dream over and over. Wondered if you could interpret it."
The fortune teller learned something new: even the blind had dreams.
"Dream interpretation's my specialty. What'd you see?"
"The night sky. Stars everywhere. But one stood out—huge and bright gold."
"Ah, a golden star~. Go on?"
"It was so pretty and weird, I kept staring. Then it started growing. Turns out, it was coming right at me."
"The star?"
The Blind Saintess nodded and continued.
"This dazzling golden star plunged right into my body. That's when I wake up. Once or twice, no big deal—but it's happening a lot..."
Aha~ The fortune teller gave a sly little smile.
"How long you been dreaming this?"
"...About half a year?"
"That's a conception dream. You're gonna birth a great one."
"...Conception?!"
"Maybeee..."
The Blind Saintess thumped the table lightly with her fist in denial. Her ears flushed pink.
"No way. ...I've never been with a man. Not once!"
"Oh? ...It's definitely a conception dream."
"You sure you know what you're doing? Came here 'cause you're supposed to be the best."
"Pfft. Let anyone in the biz who reads better than me step up."
"I said, no man!"
"What about virgin conception or..."
"I'm out."
"Hey, just kidding. ...Lemme take a peek."
As Odd-Eye started to rise, the fortune teller snatched her hand and yanked her back down.
"Not conception... Means a noble benefactor's coming."
"...Benefactor?"
The fortune teller gazed off dreamily like she was acting, stretching out her arm dramatically.
"Your destined one~?"
Odd-Eye's face soured.
...Destined one, my ass.
"I'm leaving."
"Gotta pay for the reading first."
The Blind Saintess fished out a silver coin from her pouch and slapped it on the table with a clink.
"Make it two."
...So she added another.
Damn pricey, she grumbled inwardly.