Chapter 91
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: 21. Minion of the Devil. (3)
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Allen's Mercenary Corps patched up the holes pierced by the heal tentacles on their wounded using potions. There were six deaths in total. Three of them hailed from a single mercenary group. Fortunately, Allen's Mercenary Corps hadn't lost a single soul.
They scoured the filthy water mixed with corpses, beast carcasses, and excrement in search of any possible survivors. But it seemed everyone perished the instant the tentacles lodged in their bodies were ripped free—no survivors in sight. Honestly, survival in that state was downright impossible.
Having finished their business, the mercenaries wasted no time getting out of there—they had zero desire to linger. Luckily, the torrential downpour that had raged all day had finally stopped.
Allen tossed the holy relic contaminated by dark mana into the demon realm as well. It was useless junk anyway, and carrying it around would only bring bad vibes.
After enduring another grueling forced march, the mercenaries finally escaped the demon realm. They crossed back over the ditch they'd come from, let out a collective sigh of relief, and only then took stock of their sorry state.
"Pffft."
Drenched to the bone in rainwater, shivering in their ragged clothes—it was the kind of sight that forced a laugh out of you whether you wanted to or not. Only then did Allen crack a grin, finally having the leisure to praise his crew for a job well done.
Vice-Leader Palmer clapped his hands and declared they should rest here for a bit. The shameless bastards stripped down buck naked, dicks flopping freely as they wrung out their clothes. Most of the female mercenaries didn't hesitate to bare their tits either.
Of course, lighting a campfire was out of the question. The mercenaries had no choice but to sleep in their damp clothes. Not like they could sleep totally naked... though some legendary studs apparently could.
"At least chug a solid potion. It'll warm you up from the inside."
The crew downed about half a bottle of their stocked potions each. With their bellies warming up, the chill eased off a bit.
But even that brutal cold couldn't fend off the crashing wave of sleepiness.
Allen let out a jaw-cracking yawn, blinked a few times, and passed out on the spot.
The group rose at dawn, filling their stomachs amid the crisp morning chill. Fortunately, after yesterday's deluge, the skies were clear and sunny today.
As they prepped to depart, Vice-Leader Palmer sidled over to Allen's Mercenary Corps. Allen figured he had business with the leader, but surprisingly, his target was the Gum-Tit Inspector.
"Thanks for yesterday."
"No biggie. I got help too."
"...Um, here. For when your mouth gets lonely on the road."
The vice-leader offered a small leather pouch. Natasha took it on reflex.
"Ah, th-thanks..."
Haha. Palmer flashed a boyish grin that didn't suit his burly frame and wandered off. The hairy brute nearby, who had been smirking mischievously at them, burst into snickers and approached the Gum-Tit Inspector the moment Palmer left.
"Whoa, snagged yourself a guy already, huh? He's totally smitten."
"Shut your trap, you idiot. It was just a nice gesture. Say one more word and I'll—"
As the Gum-Tit Inspector raised a fist in threat, the hairy guy bolted for Allen, yelling,
"Leader!"
"What the hell, seriously. Fine, fine, you prick."
She eyed the smugly grinning bastard, seriously pondering how to put him in his place.
Anyway.
With preparations complete, the group set off once more toward Verher.
They'd completed the mission flawlessly, yet an uneasy feeling lingered, impossible to shake. A lukewarm, nagging emotion simmered in their chests...
The Gum-Tit Inspector, in particular, couldn't tear her eyes off Leader Allen's back the whole march.
...No way. Struggling against mere tentacles like that, now's the time to think about guys? ...Training. Keep training even while walking...!
But the image of Leader Allen's naked lower half from yesterday kept flashing in her mind.
...Even if it was an illusion, no one could believe a monster like that was real.
With even the wagons gone, the mercenaries took a full week to reach Verher—on a sleep-deprived forced march, no less.
The moment Allen arrived at the hideout, he wanted to shower his past self with praise for investing here. Otherwise, he'd have been scrambling around checking for vacancies again.
"Good work, everyone... Get some real rest. I'm dead on my feet, so don't bother me today."
Coming from their stoic leader, who never complained, it drew quiet chuckles from the crew.
Allen hit the baths first, sinking into the steaming water. He let out an involuntary "Ahhh," like some middle-aged uncle.
After scrubbing head to toe, the leader crashed into bed and slept like the dead... only waking the next morning.
Allen ordered breakfast from the young clerk at the counter: hearty soup packed with meat, plus bread. He ate his fill and waited for any crew member to come down. Whoever it was, they'd head to Viola House together. He had to pick up the massive reward fee, and honestly, going alone felt sketchy.
After a few rushed guests came and went, the most diligent crew member thudded down the stairs.
As expected, the training maniac Gum-Tit Inspector.
Natasha spotted Leader Allen in the corner of the hall with a sharp "Oh."
"Not sleeping more?"
"Shook off the fatigue."
"...Eat up."
A plate piled high with food was set before her.
"Got a quick errand... Nothing urgent, right?"
"Nope."
"Need a companion. Mind?"
"Not a request—it's a given."
Natasha polished off her bowl in no time. The pair left the building and strolled the morning streets.
She stole glances at him now and then. ...Walking side by side like this felt nice, made her chest flutter for no reason.
- Stealing peeks at Elena's tits, huh...?
- No need to envy. ...I like yours more.
Even if it happened in an illusion, it felt like something wise Leader Allen would say.
Femininity comes not from breasts, but from noble bearing and heart—!
She basked in that warm thought for a moment before snapping back—oh crap, her own shamelessness. Overcoming breasts with sheer willpower was fine, but she'd gone too far... It was just an illusion, after all.
They admired the beautiful river landscape bathed in morning sun, strolling along the banks. Browsing the street vendors' wares was pretty fun too.
Meandering like that, they arrived at Viola House. True to the industrious leader's style, the place was already buzzing inside.
Leader Allen was now on the VIP list, cleared to enter through the main gate without permission. Thus, he and Natasha breezed past security and into the mansion.
Allen left Natasha in the entrance hall and headed to the drawing room alone. It'd just be grabbing the fee—shouldn't take long.
As he waited, Viola's leader entered promptly, a leather pouch dangling from her hand. Looked like negotiations with the marquess's house had gone smoothly.
"Great work, Leader Allen."
"Haha, work? Vice-Leader Palmer did the heavy lifting."
"He couldn't stop singing your corps' praises. Especially Natasha's standout performance..."
"Aw, no need."
Allen's gaze drifted to Viola's leader's neckline and cleavage. ...Spotting the necklace he'd gifted her last time.
Honestly, he hadn't expected her—a woman of her status—to keep wearing what was basically cheap trinkets to her.
...As expected of Viola's ambition for talent. What dedication.
...She's really going all out to hook me.
Allen was well aware she coveted him fiercely. Why else would a 10-Strong leader lavish such attention on a small fry like him?
Sure, enjoying her 10-Strong backing sounded great, but he wasn't about to hand over his guts on a platter. Nice as the protection was, he couldn't just let himself get swallowed whole. No matter her fondness, she wouldn't want him growing bigger than her someday.
...Still, as her underling, a little flattery wouldn't hurt.
"Necklace... looks like you like it."
"...Pardon? ...Ah, yes..."
Viola's eyes flickered ever so slightly. A subtle joy at being noticed tugged at her lips.
"Here."
"Thank you."
"800 gold coins."
A hefty sum. Allen had figured around 700.
Truly a rich city—spending like no tomorrow.
"Vice-Leader pushed hard in negotiations. Tied to demons, so that fee's fair."
"Spot on."
The pouch's heavy weight in his palm sent a shiver of mental ecstasy through Allen. All that backbreaking toil washed away in an instant.
"Well, I'll be off then."
"...Could I... visit sometime?"
"Of course. Anytime. Viola Leader gets the red-carpet treatment."
His flattery, buoyed by good spirits, drew a faint smile on the haughty Viola Leader's face.
The two exchanged farewells and parted. As Allen reached the entrance hall, he saw Natasha chatting with Vice-Leader Palmer. ...Or rather, the big lug yapping one-sidedly at the Gum-Tit Inspector. Reading between the lines, he seemed smitten.
Allen greeted the vice-leader before leaving Viola House with Natasha.
"Vice-Leader's got a thing for you, y'know?"
"...Huh?! No way. Couldn't be. Just camaraderie between martial artists, yeah, camaraderie."
The straight-laced Gum-Tit Inspector was convinced.
"Don't you dare think that. Got it? All I care about is swordsmanship—!"
She looked every bit the sword-obsessed fanatic.
(Recalling the illusion. Thinking of your cock. Doubting it could really be that huge. Wants to verify your cock...)
...Unfortunately, it held zero sway with Allen.