Chapter 98
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: 23. Spirit Realm. (2)
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"Big ones or small ones—which do you prefer?"
The hairy Kis, sitting a good distance away with his arm slung around the youngest priest's neck, pointed first at the Red Robe Mage and then at the Flat-Chested Swordswoman as he asked.
Ugh...!
Cory, who was big but innocently naive, couldn't decide right away and just stammered incoherently.
The Flat-Chested Swordswoman, quick to catch on to their scheme, shot a sharp glare at that damn Kis. The Red Robe Mage, ever indifferent to such mercenary pastimes, didn't care whether they ogled her chest or not. ...After all, she'd been leered at hundreds, thousands of times already—she was completely immune by now.
Of course, Cory was a man with the usual equipment and naturally thought bigger was better, but he couldn't just ignore those menacing eyes—!
"I-I... um...!"
Ideal or reality—!
"It has to do with a warrior's dignity...!"
Aah.
In the end, Priest Cory chose reality.
Only then did Natasha's razor-sharp glare soften a bit. She was still annoyed at those two idiots for daring to judge a warrior's dignity... but they'd made the right call, so she'd let it slide this once.
...Right, a chest isn't everything. This new kid at least has his head on straight...!
The Flat-Chested Swordswoman proudly thrust out her flat breasts, boldly displaying her warrior's pride. ...Not that she had none at all, so even if she had to nurse a baby someday, there'd be no issue. Breasts existed for feeding babies anyway—what else did anyone need them for—!
Natasha glanced stealthily at Mercenary Leader Allen, who was sitting beside old hound Kallisman, chatting with him. There was no way the esteemed leader wouldn't know about the dignity even the rookie grasped.
Haaahm.
The Red Robe Mage, who devoured magic tomes even during short breaks before bed, let out a small yawn, snapped her book shut, and smoothly lay down on her mat. Even under the blanket draped over her, those monstrous breasts stood out clearly. ......The Flat-Chested Swordswoman couldn't help thinking that the rumor about female mages pooling their mana in their chests might really be true, judging by Elena.
Natasha lay down too. With her gear bag tucked between her legs, she slept on her side at an angle—her chest had never once made her sleeping posture uncomfortable.
No matter how she thought about it, small breasts only had advantages—!
......The Flat-Chested Swordswoman dreamed of her hefty breasts dangling heavily. In deep friendship, Mercenary Leader Allen clung to them like a baby, suckling blissfully. Pure ecstasy—!
- Take it slow. There's still plenty more♡
Natasha lovingly stroked Allen's head, then jolted awake at the sensation of someone gently shaking her shoulder.
"Senior, time to get up."
".........Shit."
Natasha, next in line after Priest Cory for night watch, groaned as she rose.
...The massive breasts that Leader Allen had passionately suckled in deep friendship were gone, now attached to the mage beside her.
···
The pre-dawn sky, before the sun had risen.
Fortunately, the bandit packs that had been popping up lately didn't show last night. The caravan quickly wolfed down breakfast and packed up camp in a hurry.
Just half a day more, and they'd reach the small city of Amper. After over a week with only one village stop, everyone looked half like beggars—they were eager to hit the city.
The wagons carrying the people soon set off. The mercenaries aboard yawned hugely and promptly dozed off against whatever was nearby. Leader Allen snored away enthusiastically, just like the rest.
The sky gradually lightened in the east. But heavy clouds made it overcast.
The wagons pushed on vigorously, taking only a few short breaks here and there.
The Blind Saintess, who had been sprawled out with her mouth and legs gaping grotesquely in sleep, finally sensed something off and quietly sat up.
"......Leader, does this road lead to the city?"
"Should be soon."
But the energy felt far too sinister. The weather was not just cloudy—thick mist shrouded everything. They could barely make out the tail of the lead wagon.
"Something feels... a bit... off."
Allen asked what was wrong as the Blind Saintess tilted her head puzzledly.
"The energy is too sinister. Like being trapped in a nightmare."
Only then did it hit Allen like a smack to the head. He hurriedly opened the driver's window and yelled for the coachman to stop the wagons. To halt them all at once, the old coachman frantically rang his handbell, ding-a-ling.
As the wagons slowed to a stop, Allen leaped out, crouched immediately, and touched the ground. The soil was dry and crumbly, without a single blade of grass—barren. Topped with the thick fog... it was unmistakably the Spirit Realm.
......What the fuck...!
No wonder they hadn't passed a single group coming the other way—he'd thought maybe bandits got them, but it was the Spirit Realm... Apparently, some damn mage in the city had opened a gate to it without closing it. To open a Spirit Realm gate took top-tier magic, so why botch it like this? Unbelievable.
Fuck..., even in Chapter 2, starting with such a massive clusterfuck...?
First the siren's song kicked things off big, now a Spirit Realm gate on top. And right on the way to happily deliver goods for that contract...!
But once inside the Spirit Realm, turning back wouldn't get them out.
The only way to restore the blend of reality and Spirit Realm was to close the open gate.
Allen headed to the caravan leader's wagon to inform him. Kallisman, hopping down with him, stuck close behind, ready for any threats.
The clueless caravan leader seemed to think they needed a break.
"What is it?"
"...We've got a problem."
"A problem?!"
Problems meant losses, and this loss-sensitive merchant reacted instantly.
"Looks like we've entered the Spirit Realm. The world of spirits."
The middle-aged caravan leader looked like he'd been clubbed in the back of the head. ...Spirit Realm out of nowhere?
"R-Really? ...I didn't sense a thing."
"Something happened in the city. The Spirit Realm's bleeding into reality. ...We got caught up unluckily."
...Ah... .
The caravan leader had worked with his father since before peach fuzz, but this was a first. Spirit Realm, really?
"So, what do we do?"
"We head to the city first. Once you're in the Spirit Realm, backtracking won't return you to reality."
"......How dangerous is it? Worse than bandits? ...We can survive, right?"
Comparing it to bandits was laughable, but that was all a lifelong merchant knew.
"Unless it's blown up huge..., we won't die."
Though it'd be rough.
"Then, I'll trust you, Leader. Whatever you say...!"
"Got it. I'll do my best."
With the talk wrapped, Allen returned to his wagon. The mercenaries had caught the serious vibe and asked what was up.
".........We're kinda fucked. We've entered the Spirit Realm. ...Some crazy-ass mage opened a gate in the city."
"Sp-Sp-Spirit Realm gate—?!"
Priest Cory jumped at the words.
"The city should still have people. If we pool our strength, we can handle it. Don't worry too much. Panicking won't help. Stay sharp."
Of course, who wouldn't worry in the world of spirits? Everyone's sleep vanished as they gulped dryly.
"...Fuck, is this a preview of the next world...?"
Further along, wrecked wagons and debris littered the road, one by one. ...But no living beings. Not even the draft horses. Probably taken by the Spirit Realm's undead.
...Not everyone got wiped, right?
It was a key route between mercenary city Verher and mid-city Maljir—surely not all those people gone already. Some must be surviving in the city. They wouldn't know it was the Spirit Realm without experience—probably thought demons or black magic curses.
Closer to the city, wagon wreckage piled thicker, blocking the road—they had to go around.
Soon, the small city of Amper emerged from the gloomy fog. The wagons came to a halt.
"What the fuck..."
The hazy walls through the fog gave the mercenaries a nightmarish chill. The vibe was spot on.
The group grabbed their gear, formed up, and advanced slowly into the city, weapons ready, eyes scanning everywhere. Poor visibility meant extra vigilance or disaster.
The main gate, which should have been barred, gaped open like a cathedral's. Shattered debris scattered around.
Entering the city, Allen beheld it—the perfect metaphor for a place devoured by the Spirit Realm.
Ghost town.
The lifeless city felt like a tomb, utterly eerie.