Chapter 128
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 128
Two days later.
The monsters of the Leprechaun Merchant Guild, laden with provisions, entered the forest of Graphenia.
"Boss, you returned sooner than I expected."
He was three days earlier than Patrick had estimated—an estimate that had already factored in the boss causing some kind of trouble.
For a fleeting moment, Patrick looked genuinely touched.
Swallow, who seemed too exhausted to even speak, merely gave a weak nod in response.
Upon closer inspection, the dark circles under his eyes had deepened, and his pupils were dull. He looked as if he hadn't slept in twenty years, his fatigue-laden eyes easily mistaken for those of a corpse.
"You look no different than usual," Swallow said to Patrick, who actually looked relieved.
"...Why are you in such a good mood?"
"Ah, Boss. Is it that obvious? I was getting bored of practicing alone, so I'm a little fired up after getting to swing my sword around for the first time in a while."
As Swallow glared at him, Patrick continued in a cheerful voice.
"Miss Melju has been working very hard."
While Swallow and Rene were away, Patrick had taken Rene's place to do a quick patrol of the dungeon. He had found Melju training in Room 4. She was always enthusiastic, but she seemed far more passionate than usual. When Patrick approached and asked her about it, Melju had replied:
"Since Lord Swallow gifted me these magic tools, I have to completely master their power and make it my own!"
Whatever had gotten into her, her voice was full of life, even though she was drenched in sweat in her mature form. She seemed intoxicated by her new power.
"What do you mean by 'completely mastering' the power of the magic tools?"
"It means exactly what it sounds like. Drawing out the full potential of the magic tools to unleash the most destructive magic possible."
"Hmm..."
Melju proudly puffed out her chest, a habit she fell into whenever she took on her voluptuous form.
Patrick pondered her actions for a moment before replying.
"I don't think that's the right way to look at it."
If Melju were still just a guest, he would have simply cheered her on. But now, she was a member of the Primordial Core. He had to be honest, even if it came as a shock.
"Of course, wiping out humans in a single blow with high-output magic is ideal. However..."
Considering the caliber of the humans who challenged the Primordial Core...
"No matter how powerful your magic is, won't there always be a few humans who manage to break through it?"
Most subjugation squad members came wearing at least three layers of protective magic. On top of that, their defensive gear was covered in even more protective enchantments. Furthermore, since most mages who challenged the Primordial Core could use high-tier magic, one had to account for magical cancellation reducing a spell's destructive power.
"Don't you want to become strong? Being strong isn't just about high magical output. Ultimately, strength is what determines the winner. No matter how high your output is, if you get hit by an enemy's attack, it's all for nothing."
In fact, because Melju possessed so many magic tools, she had to be even more careful. The moment she was defeated, all those tools would fall into human hands. Her defeat could result in the enemy's strength multiplying several times over.
"Since you possess these magic tools, you must be even more cautious. From a dungeon's perspective, magic tools are a double-edged sword, Miss Melju."
"That... is certainly true."
"Well, for example..."
As he said that, Patrick suddenly thrust his finger toward Melju's chest.
Startled, Melju let out a short shriek. His finger stopped right in front of the chest she so habitually flaunted.
"No matter how powerful your magic is, Miss Melju, if my finger were a blade, you'd be dead right now."
"Wh-What? Sir Patrick! That's a foul! It was a surprise attack!"
"Is that so? Then let's try again. In three seconds, I will attack you anywhere on your body, Miss Melju. Three, two, one."
"W-Wait a moment!"
Whoosh! The attack struck Melju's chest once more. The necklace touched by Patrick's finger jingled.
"See? You can't block it even when you know it's coming."
"..."
"You shouldn't use the humans you've fought so far as your standard. This is a place where all sorts of powerful humans gather."
Bows and magic—those kinds of attacks were manageable. Barrier magic could handle most of them. The real problem was close-quarters combat. Barriers couldn't block it, and a single blow could be lethal.
"...Well, after that conversation, we engaged in some mock battles."
Explaining what had happened with Melju, Patrick observed Swallow's expression.
Melju had no talent for the sword. Since she had already reached a certain level in magic, there was no need to teach her how to swing one. However, just because Melju didn't use a sword didn't mean her enemies wouldn't. Since nearly every subjugation squad had a swordsman, she would be facing them in practically every battle.
"Even if Miss Melju doesn't hold a sword, she must learn about swords. While it's true that the best defense is a good offense, that's not an argument she can afford to make against the kind of subjugation squad members who invade the Primordial Core."
"..."
"In fact, now that she's fighting with all those magic tools, she needs to learn how to protect herself more than ever."
Melju must have searched her memories. Just before Swallow had crashed through the ceiling of the Demon King's castle, she had, in fact, been struggling against a swordsman with a shield. Her only strategy for defeating such an opponent had always been to deliver a single, overwhelming blow—a clear sign of her lack of confidence in close-quarters combat.
"So, you're saying she kept training," Swallow concluded.
"She did quite a lot of it while you were away, Boss. If you go to Room 4 right now, you'll probably find Miss Melju sprawled out on the floor."
"And the results?"
"In a real battle, she would have died about four hundred and sixty times."
"...So she's still severely lacking."
"That was the result even when practicing one-on-one with me mimicking the swordsmanship of an A-rank subjugation squad member. The longest she managed to dodge and hold out was five clashes."
That was a problem.
Swallow gave an awkward chuckle, and Patrick followed with a hollow laugh of his own. It was a relief they had realized this early. If they hadn't, she would have ended up handing all her magic tools over to the subjugation squads after just a few exchanges.
"More importantly, did everything go well on your end, Boss?"
As they walked and talked, their steps came to a halt before a three-way fork. Earlier, the members of the Leprechaun Merchant Guild had left a mountain of provisions at the dungeon entrance. Seeing that, Patrick assumed the friction with the Orcs had been resolved smoothly.
When Patrick asked the question casually, Swallow replied after a brief hesitation.
"Yeah, probably."
"What do you mean 'probably'? You went there yourself, Boss."
"Maybe nothing will come of it."
"You really pick the most unsettling answers possible."
Reassuring himself that nothing could have gone too wrong since Swallow had returned so early, Patrick re-evaluated his boss's words, and his expression stiffened.
"Huh? Wait... Boss? Are you saying you don't even know the outcome of what you did?"
As if to answer with actions rather than words, Swallow turned and headed down the Right Path. With every step they took, Patrick's anxiety deepened.
"What on earth did you do? Huh? Don't tell me you killed Kurak?"
"No, he's not dead yet."
"What kind of phrasing is that? It sounds like you're planning to kill him tomorrow!"
Completely ignoring Patrick's words, Swallow looked at the gatekeeper before him. The monster guarding the Right Path—the Black Tentacle—wriggled before him. Although their numbers had decreased significantly, from 116 to 68, the remaining tentacles had recovered to nearly their original size.
"I might have to put in some real effort," Swallow said, his tone dead serious.
Patrick, looking up at the massive tentacles just as his boss was, asked, "Do you mean you'll use it in its 'Mr. Tentacle' state? ...Or in its 'Waiting Darkness' state?"
"Obviously."
To keep his promise to Kurak, the tentacles alone wouldn't be enough. If he only sent them, dealing with Kurak himself would be difficult. If things went south and he had to eliminate them all...
"It will be the latter."
He chose his words carefully. This wasn't an idle threat. Swallow was dead serious. The dark energy radiating from him made it clear that he was prepared to kill Kurak at a moment's notice.
After all, even if they were both bosses of a Great Evil Cave, the two monsters were not on equal footing.
Between them lay a clear, insurmountable gap.
Kurak felt as if he were on trial for his life.
...
"First, I will compensate you by any means necessary for the provisions lost in this incident. If the same items cannot be procured, I will provide foodstuffs of even higher quality. I will also actively accommodate any requests from you and your merchant guild."
"What about the loss of time?"
"I will compensate for that as well. In whatever manner you desire."
"And North's death?"
"..."
"Surely you aren't going to ask who North is, too?"
"...I have received word that a capable member of the Leprechaun Merchant Guild—one who trades with the Primordial Core—has died. I will make no excuses. It is entirely my fault—Kurak's fault—for failing to properly control my subordinates."
"The situation is already a mess. If you couldn't even make excuses, you would already be dead."
The dark energy undulating from the ancient monster was thick with bloodlust, pricking Kurak's skin like a thousand needles. It was a truly alien power. He felt that if it pierced his skin, his body would disintegrate.
"I will... take responsibility."
"You say that so easily."
"If you want a capable merchant, I will hand over the entire merchant guild, including the great merchant of the Lizardman Merchant Guild who swore loyalty to us. If you desire compensation in another form, I will give you the Behemoth, a phantom beast."
"..."
"The Behemoth is the king of ferocious beasts. It recognizes the strong and harbors an extreme hatred for humans. Currently, the Primordial Core must be lacking in monsters."
"Oh. You've got sharp eyes. Then bring them both."
Kurak, pretending to hesitate for a moment, gave an order to the Orcs behind him. It was fortunate that he had kept both on standby nearby in preparation for the worst-case scenario.
Summoning the two entities with an improved teleportation magic, Kurak knelt once more.
No matter how capable, North was just one member of a dwarf merchant guild. What Kurak offered was a merchant of equal caliber and a legendary phantom beast. He believed this would be sufficient. He had even prepared to hand over both if Swallow insisted, as long as it settled the matter.
...At the very least, he had never imagined that Swallow would kill them both the moment they arrived.
This was the worst possible outcome.
"Your concern is actually a bit touching. To think you'd even worry about our dungeon lacking monsters... Wow. Our dungeon must really be looked down upon."
"..."
Pierced by Black Thorns, the massive Behemoth collapsed before Kurak's eyes with a heavy thud. The Lizardman merchant crashed to the ground without a single shriek. Blood splattered before him, raining down like heavy drops.
Kurak stared at the scene in a daze. Only after the sound of the bloody rain subsided did Swallow speak again.
"You don't know what I want."
And then, he whispered in a low voice.
If you have the energy to waste on things like this, you might as well bring North back to life.
It was an unreasonable demand.
Of course, it wasn't that magic to revive the dead didn't exist. Two methods came to mind immediately: resurrection based on the Necromancy used by Necromancers, and shamanic spells that forcibly bound a soul and shoved it into a healthy body.
However, looking at the results, those revived by such methods could hardly be called "alive." The former would not be in their right mind, and the latter would suffer severe side effects from possessing a different body.
A method to perfectly resurrect the dead did not exist.
As an ancient monster who had lived for thousands of years, Kurak naturally knew this. He raised his head and looked at Swallow. Though there was no smile on his face, Swallow's expression seemed strangely full of amusement.
It was the reaction of someone who had never wanted anything in the first place.
...Yes, he was different from the other bosses of the Great Evil Caves. Swallow did not weigh profits and losses. Nor did he seem to be doing this out of any sentimental attachment to North.
He was simply in a bad mood. He was annoyed at being crossed... That was how it looked in Kurak's eyes.
"I was curious. I wondered what you were thinking, coming all this way on your own two feet."
Kurak had come here of his own volition. If he had intended to avoid Swallow, he would have fled after receiving the communication from Daru, the Orc Shaman behind him. The fact that he had come despite knowing the situation meant he must have had a way to survive. Swallow had been interested in that.
However...
"I had high expectations for a supposedly smart Orc. I wondered what you had prepared, but you came relying on a mere offer of compensation."
"That is..."
"I'm a bit disappointed."
Once again, Kurak felt the threat of death.