Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: The Eve of the Storm (2)
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"Wahahaha! This is great! I love it!"
Harley stroked his new helmet with a satisfied laugh.
⚔ ITEM ⚔ <Gray Bear Head Helmet>
A helmet crafted by a skilled artisan from the head of a Gray Bear beast. Filled with absorbent material in the extra space, it excels at mitigating external impacts. Made as a one-piece design so the tough leather covers the shoulders and back. It was a custom piece made from a beast head he'd set aside just before rescuing Cecily and returning to the city, replacing his damaged Black Panther helmet.
In Tar拉克, where the mercenary industry was booming, the artisans were generally skilled, and this turned out to be an excellent product.
This was the result of Hubert scouting around and commissioning a talented craftsman.
As a bonus, he'd gotten new beast-tooth accessories too, restoring his perfect barbarian warrior look.
"That said, insisting the buyer has to come in person to try the weapons? Craftsmen can be so picky."
The only thing left to acquire was a weapon for Harley.
Hubert had found a really good one while checking out the smithy district, but the smith who made it flat-out refused to sell unless the user came themselves.
'It's not a big deal to go myself. I really like the look of it anyway.'
So today, Harley strode proudly through Tar拉克's streets.
Everyone whispered but didn't dare speak up, just averted their eyes.
But that didn't last long.
"Ugh, what's with that hick getup? He's dragging the whole South's reputation down by himself."
The complaint was loud and clear, meant to be heard.
Harley's steps halted abruptly.
His gaze slowly turned toward the source.
'Now this is a new situation.'
To spout off like that even after seeing his intimidating figure.
Just who was this brave soul?
By the roadside where his eyes landed, three men stood together, scowling at him.
Each had an above-average build, broad shoulders packed with solid muscle—they screamed seasoned warriors.
The common thread: tattoos etched all over their bodies.
They met Harley's eyes without flinching and raised their voices even more.
"Parading around like a warrior when he doesn't even qualify."
"What's with those amateurish scribbles? Trying to fake engravings?"
"You really from the South? Those mismatched eyes scream half-breed."
...From the way they talked, they seemed like genuine Southern warriors.
In mercenary hub Tar拉克, running into folks from other regions wasn't odd.
He'd adjusted his face to look as Southern as possible based on intel, but locals would spot the off vibe.
'What this calls for is shamelessness.'
He threw his shoulders back and marched right up to them with bold steps.
A real man's man like Harley didn't dodge provocations.
"You mocking this body right now? As a warrior, I've got nothing to be ashamed of! You're Southern warriors too—why pick on this fine outfit?"
He glossed over the fake Southerner suspicion, pivoting to their gripe with his clothes, then loomed over them as he planted himself in front.
They weren't small, but standing before Harley, their eye level was at least half a head lower.
"Hah! Guys like you make all Southerners a laughingstock!"
"Save that getup for festivals. Don't strut around here like you own the place!"
"No way you can fight properly in that inefficient crap. Untouched skin says gym-built clown to me."
Their gear was standard leather armor reinforced with metal plates—your typical mercenary look.
What a sad reality.
'I knew it, but disappointing. The romance of the barbarian warrior is gone from this era.'
More back-and-forth ensued, but their views didn't budge.
"Words aren't getting through! Guess there's only one way to settle this? Hahaha!"
One bit of Southern lore that had stuck with him: when warriors clashed, they settled it with bare-fisted brawls to prove their point.
No weapons, no auras—just raw physical might. Tough stuff.
"If you've got gripes, quit yapping and prove it with skill!"
"An unmarked punk like you...!"
One bit back hard at the taunt, grinding his teeth.
He handed his weapon to a buddy and stepped up. In an instant, a fight circle formed around him and Harley.
"I don't mind all three at once."
"What do you take a warrior's honor for? I can handle you alone!"
"Oh? Can you now?"
A feral grin crept across Harley's lips as his muscles slowly swelled.
His outfit left them bare, every fiber twitching fiercely like living things.
Flinch!
The Southern warrior opposite him twitched involuntarily but held his ground, confident in his skills.
Of course, that confidence didn't last.
Thwack!
"Guh."
"Next!"
One.
"Urk!"
"Nexxxt!"
Two.
Crack!
"Kuh... You're no Southerner! No way a warrior with that skill has no engravings!"
And the last.
Humans couldn't beat this body with pure strength to begin with.
Their fists barely dented Harley's rock-hard muscles, and the strength gap was beyond measure...
'Not exactly a fair fight from the start.'
His already monstrous body was constantly reinforced by naturally flowing vital energy, even without auras.
'But this might actually be a good opportunity.'
He looked down at the sprawled Southerners.
He'd stumbled upon real Southern warriors right on the street.
A fake Southern man's encounter with locals.
'If I play this right, I can use these guys...'
He relaxed his expression and burst into hearty laughter.
"Hahaha! Not bad, brothers!"
"B-bro... brothers?"
"Sure, we clashed over opinions, but meeting fellow blood from the homeland in this far-off land? That's fate! Makes us brothers, right? Haha!"
"What kinda bull... "
"Hey!"
He shot a glare at the interrupter, who quickly looked away.
"Ahem! You probably guessed, but I'm not a pureblood Southerner."
"Then why dress like..."
"Tsk!"
He had a brief, invigorating "body talk" with the rude ones who kept nitpicking.
Soon, the humbled trio followed him into an alley for a serious chat.
"There's a deep reason for all this. Where do I even start..."
As prep work to justify his origins and win them over, he started laying the groundwork with a tale.
"I heard my father was a famed warrior even in the South. Oh, don't ask who—I only heard that much myself, no details. Anyway..."
The sudden backstory dump.
The warriors looked uneasy but, hierarchy freshly set, could only listen quietly.
And so the long, melodramatic love story unfolded.
It began with fateful encounter for a Southern warrior.
An outlander woman who gave him the worst first impression, yet destiny kept binding them...
Misunderstandings and conflicts from clashing values, then reconciliation.
Through events and across status gaps, they fell in love.
But trials didn't end...
The chieftain's daughter, smitten with the warrior, started meddling.
He rejected her advances and eloped with his fated love.
Pride wounded, she sent pursuers after them...
After countless hardships, they found refuge in a western slash-and-burn village.
By then, love's fruit had already bloomed between them...
"And that's how this body came to be."
Harley finished, glancing around.
Gulp.
"...S-so what happened next?"
"Hey man, don't interrupt—spill it quick."
The Southern men, who'd started with scowls and reluctant ears, were now hooked.
'Just clichéd tropes mashed together, but it works better than expected.'
Common fare on Earth, but fresh and thrilling here.
The South being a patchwork of tribal alliances made such plots plausible too.
"Ahem... But tragedy wasn't over. The persistent villainess, the chieftain's daughter's curse reached even there. The happy family of three dreaming of bliss..."
No K-drama sob story skips the 'K-melodrama' spice.
Harley closed his eyes, infusing emotion into the tale.
Pursuers closing in, a father's tearful desperate fight to save wife and child.
After endless flight and battles, he felled all trackers but collapsed from grievous wounds.
The innocent child beaming innocently in mother's arms.
The warrior... father, with trembling hand, hung his beast-tooth necklace around the boy's neck.
'When I'm gone, you'll protect Mom. That necklace and I... will be with you... to the end.'
Father collapsed mid-sentence, mother wailing.
And... the inherited warrior's will passed to the child.
No more pursuers came, but raising the boy alone was no easy task.
Yet she persevered proudly.
Every night, missing her lost husband, sharing memories with the boy as life's joy.
'Mom! What was Dad like?'
'A truly splendid man. The epitome of a warrior. Once, there was this time...'
Eyes sparkling, clutching father's heirloom, the boy dreamed of becoming a great warrior.
And... tragedy returned.
"...I buried that necklace with Mother. I thought she needed it more—someone who loved Father her whole life, missing him to her last breath. For me, inheriting his will was enough."
That's why even I, who's never been to the South, dress like this...
With grave tone and brimming emotion, Harley shut his eyes tight again.
Silence fell, the long tale reaching its close.
And...
"Sniff... Hic!"
"Brother... brother! You're a proud son of the South!"
"Indeed! As long as that will endures, you're already a true Southerner. We'll teach you what you lack, in Father's stead... Sniff!"
The warriors, overwhelmed by ancient K-melodrama's potent kick, shed tears uncontrollably.
They'd calm, see Harley's face, then bawl again.
'Too strong a dose? Can't have this dragging on.'
"Hahaha! No need to fret! This body's now a fine warrior!"
He laughed heartily to lighten the mood, but...
"You've... grown so well. Truly grown."
"Who cares about engravings? You're already a great warrior!"
They gazed at him with oddly proud smiles.
True to macho form, they'd already forgotten getting beat.
'These guys are way too immersed.'
They looked at him like a son.
Young warriors, barely into their thirties...
"Ahem, anyway. That's why I've got romantic notions about the South but know little. Not ready yet, staying here, but someday I'll head to my heart's homeland."
The Southern warriors nodded gravely in unison.
"Makes sense—no one to teach you."
"Worry not, brother! We met by fate; we'll school you proper Southern spirit!"
"Aye, make Father proud if he saw you."
'Perfect. Local instructors for pinpoint lessons.'
He'd planned loose talk, force conviction if doubted, but they were simpler than thought.
Harley grinned proudly and nodded.
"Ahahaha! I'd be grateful! Oh, we skipped intros. Name's Harley!"
Thus, he gained new underlings... er, friends.
He could rope in Hubert's "best bud" Harley for chores in spare time.
Friend of a friend is a friend!
'Gotta plan the "Hubert arc" in Young Harley's Journey too.'
Meanwhile, busy Hubert prepping business with Tar拉克's Harley.
Earth's Heinz tied up managing Heterosis.
With time synced across all.
The other two avatars' situations were reaching fever pitch.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Hans tidied his lab, grown fond over months of stay.
The High Elves' search of the area would start soon.
He could clear nearby trees or time his summoning release to evade, but he made no such prep.
[Kekeke, no need anymore.]
Yet past the deadline, no signs appeared.
Something should've shown by now...
'Schedule slipped? Checking elsewhere first?'
Maybe the barrier hid him.
Tense for naught, tension deflated.
But.
Too early for such thoughts.
Same time.
Roselia Cathedral.
High Elf Rapori summoned the operation's key figures.
"Found it."
The Church reps' eyes widened.
Heinrich, present too, shared their shock.
'I was on high alert and felt nothing. When?'
No omens detected, yet the scan was already done.
'More impressive than I thought.'
Rapori scanned the excited faces and continued gravely.
"Western continent, Forest of Beasts. Immortal King's energy detected there."
Hans's location was finally exposed.