Chapter 86
Chapter 86
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Swordmaster Rodan (2)
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Asking a personal favor from the person you'd just tried to kill.
It took a fair amount of nerve.
Rishir was impressed by Rodan's sheer audacity.
Of course, he didn't show it.
The cult leader might be dead, but that didn't erase Rodan's brute strength.
Pointing out his impudence would just provoke a madman with power beyond reckoning.
Rodan's power was pure, unlike his mindset.
In terms of mana purity alone, it surpassed not just Sir Meltas but every powerhouse Rishir had ever met.
In short, he was one of the strongest foes(?) Rishir had encountered to date.
And unlike with black mages, there was no elemental advantage here?
The wise move was to yield a step.
'If you're gonna leech off a cultist anyway, why not go out, meet some demons, dive into black magic, something like that. What an antisocial guy.'
Rishir pushed aside his complaints and thought it over.
What was the best choice here?
He'd probably kick people, throw gravel, and throw a tantrum if refused, so agreeing to the request was a given.
But agreeing came with caveats.
Rishir checked his companions' conditions.
Balrod was in the best shape.
He'd been caught in his own flame magic, but ignition damage was negligible.
Instead, the clash with Shakan's charge had hunched his once ramrod-straight posture.
Next, Shakan.
Lacking flame resistance as a non-mage, scorch marks dotted her body. Her skin was red and swollen, fur tips on ears and tail singed.
The handprints on her throat and bruises made her clutch her stomach gingerly.
Last, Maldad.
He looked the worst outwardly.
Directly hit by a swordmaster's gravel barrage, he was a total ragdoll.
None were life-threatening or permanently disabling, though.
Given their power and vitality, rest and care would heal them fully.
A swordmaster using only feet and gravel counted as going easy.
The issue? They shouldn't have been injured at all.
And without the reversal, he'd have drawn his sword and drawn blood soon enough.
Too many grudges for cheerful compliance.
Rishir would grant the favor but squeeze every ounce of compensation.
Negotiations require equal footing, though.
A deer can't bargain with a wolf.
Rodan could end them anytime.
No room for haggling there.
Rishir should beg for mercy first.
But—
"Damn. Never dealt with this before, so I dunno how to phrase it. Rishir. You said just now you wanna help in place of that cultist, right?"
Rishir caught a hint of hesitation in Rodan's brazen demeanor.
Slightly different from his overbearing attitude toward the others.
'He's wary of me. Anxious about not getting help? No, not that.'
What Rishir sensed clearly in that brief moment.
Rodan wasn't the type to fret over rejection.
He'd opt for gravel shotgun over talk.
Yet now, no fiddling with stones or hand on sword hilt.
Gestures.
His overwhelming body fidgeted only to vent frustration.
Rishir deduced one fact from it.
'He's wary of my power.'
Humans fear the unknown.
For Rishir, it was Rodan's brute force.
For Rodan, likely Rishir's purifying power.
"Does this idiot human not even know how to beg? If you're clueless, this lowly servant of Zuini, Dangaleon, shall enlighten you. Bow your head before Zuini's name and show respect!"
Rodan scoffed at Dangaleon's words.
He could've taken offense, but mere amusement was his reaction.
That confirmed Rishir's hunch.
'This guy's definitely wary of my power. Sees me as... an equal, maybe.'
Rishir knew how to handle this.
Ferocious beasts respect the strong, not the polite.
Grovelling for survival would backfire.
Rishir smiled leisurely.
"You probably sense it already, but don't mind Dangaleon too much. Anyway, what should I call you? Rodan, was it? That fine?"
Courteous on surface, but basically 'calling you casually?'
Rodan's brow twitched faintly, but that was it.
"Yeah, call me whatever. I'll do the same."
"Gladly, then. Rodan. Back to business. I did offer to help in the cultist's stead. But first, one question?"
Getting cocky.
Rodan showed open irritation, shifting the mood.
Rishir felt shoulders heavy, hairs standing on end.
The 8th-circle superhuman's presence crushed him.
'Whoa, already popping the lid?'
Blue Breath, honed through near-death ordeals, shone.
He felt the pressure inwardly, but controlled breathing suppressed emotion.
To Rodan, he seemed calmly smiling amid the anger.
His companions flinched behind, contrasting sharply.
Rodan eyed Rishir and crew, nodding.
This Rishir guy's different, alright.
Grin.
Rodan withdrew his ire, chuckling lightly.
"What's on your mind? Ask away."
"Your alliance with Dranof. Not judging, just curious."
Not that it'd work on this unhinged guy.
"Dranof promised to help your friend. What'd you promise him? Someone like Dranof wouldn't just ask for an escort."
His companions gaped, realizing.
He was probing Rodan's promise to Dranof.
Indirectly asking what Rodan would pay him.
Bargaining equally with this maniac swordmaster.
They were awed by his guts.
And shocked again by Rodan's response.
"Hahaha!"
Rodan burst into hearty laughter.
"What, thought you were some airhead with all that 'salvation from the devil's grasp' crap. But you're sharp as hell."
What clicked so much?
Rodan's gaze now held goodwill.
Mixed with strong curiosity and fighting spirit.
Rishir felt like a wolf circling him.
"Yeah, I like this better. Tit for tat. Cleaner that way, no loose ends."
Rodan pulled a pouch from his pocket, tossing it to Rishir.
"That's it. What Dranof demanded as payment."
"Huh?"
An odd sensation.
Like something inside resisted opening.
"Won't open?"
"What's this?"
"Was gonna ask once things settled—"
Rodan glanced at Dranof's cold corpse.
"Either way, it's rare. Stolen from some high noble's vault."
"..."
Something huge just flew by?
Rishir tucked the pouch away safely.
Return to owners later.
"Satisfied?"
Rodan pressed with his eyes.
Rishir nodded.
"Good. Let's go."
Rodan led Rishir to his friend in need.
Rishir replayed Rodan's words.
About his friend needing a devil worshiper's help.
-She's in a deep slumber for some reason.
-Experts say only a superior devil can wake her.
-Something about her birth tying to devils?
Thus, Rishir brought Dangaleon along with Rodan.
Dangaleon ranked high, if not Maltel-level.
His help should reclaim her name easily.
Soon, they arrived.
"Here."
"This is—"
Rodan had brought him to a high-end weapon shop in Bondales commercial district.
"Hey, I'm here."
Rodan announced entering.
A small girl emerged to greet them.
"...Huh?"
No, not a child.
She looked like a shrunken adult woman—
'Dwarf...?'
First time seeing the race. Rishir stared blankly.
She grinned innocently, oddly fitting her looks.
"What, bro? First dwarf ya see?"
"Ah, sorry."
"Heh. Fine. You're cute, so forgiven. Plus, Outsider's guest. Sword guy—...nah. Shame. Wanted to hand my sword to Outsider's pal."
She nodded at Rodan's glance, heading inside.
Returning, she climbed a stool by the counter.
Placed something on the desk.
A sword in its scabbard.
Rishir couldn't grasp it.
"Your 'friend' is...?"
"Bro. This ain't just a sword. It's an Ego Sword."
The dwarf girl answered instead.
"Ego Sword?"
"Yup. Sword with a soul. Super, super, super rare! Most famed blades can't even compete."
"Ah..."
Now Rishir nodded vigorously.
'Duran but sword version.'
This maniac's precious friend was—
"Any progress?"
Rodan gently stroked the sword, asking the dwarf.
She shook her head.
"Nope. Still won't unsheathe. That one method I mentioned seems the only way."
"..."
Rodan gravely picked it up.
Left on scabbard, right on hilt.
Added force.
The sword didn't budge.
He murmured wistfully.
"Master..."
"..."
Rishir's face twitched.
Friend, master, beloved sword.
Too condensed human relations.
No wonder he turns into a brute solver.
"Hey."
Rodan showed the resolute sword, then set it down.
Desperate expression.
The kind portending disaster if unmet.
"..."
Rishir's mouth dried. He placed the gray crystal orb beside it.
"Dangaleon, please."
'Dude, it's his master, not "pitiful creature"—'
Rishir panicked.
Luckily, Rodan focused on the sword, missing it.
His face lit with expectation.
But it hardened slowly.
No reaction despite repeated calls.
"Rodan, restrain yourself in the shop."
The dwarf said.
Rodan's killing intent crawled over Rishir's skin.
Then Dangaleon spoke.
"That lord?"
"..."
Desert stray devil, hill rascal Berbandes?
Rishir hesitated but summoned her.
"Sorry, nap's important. Need your help."
Berbandes pumped her arms.
Rishir patted her head.
"Then, wake this sleeping sword?"
Berbandes grabbed and yelled at it.
Still nothing.
Rodan's killing intent intensified.
Frustrated, Rishir picked up the sword.
That moment.
"...?"
Rishir felt odd dissonance.
A woman's excited voice echoed in his head.