Chapter 67
Chapter 67
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Customizing (3)
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“Hoo... Indeed, it's pepper of excellent quality just as the rumors say. The processing is neat too.”
“Those who've tried it themselves rave about it. Even the highborn ones are all thoroughly satisfied.”
“If we play this right, we'll make a tidy profit and build some solid connections to boot.”
Hubert's business was proceeding smoothly.
The pepper he'd brought, packed full in subspatial magic tools, sold out in a flash despite the steep price tag.
Sending samples to nearby major trading companies early on and forging those ties had paid off handsomely.
'Of course, I made use of Harley's services on the side to ensure they didn't get any funny ideas.'
The official letter of thanks delivered to the mercenary guild through the church had greatly boosted Harley's fame.
His rising notoriety had drawn more challengers than before, but that only served as free marketing.
'Those bold enough to pick a fight with a brute like Harley must've been big shots in the Tarlak mercenary scene themselves. And he folded them barehanded...'
Harley had become a famous figure in Tarlak's mercenary circles.
His associate's trading company, Hubert's firm, naturally garnered some attention as well.
'Add in quality goods, fair prices, limited stock hype, and the trust from a celebrity endorsement. Failure's the only weird outcome here.'
External interference was also kept at bay, thanks to Harley.
Major trading houses and the like inevitably had ties to the church.
Through their networks, they'd learned Harley truly had the church's upper echelons' backing, so they naturally shelved any thoughts of messing with Hubert's outfit.
To them, antagonizing the church over a pipsqueak operation wasn't worth the risk.
And as for the small-time thugs without that intel...
“Gurk... M-mercy...”
A dark back alley.
Rough-looking thugs lay scattered like trash here and there.
“Harley, this one's beggin' for forgiveness, yeah?”
A hulking man with tattoos etched across his face grabbed a hoodlum by the collar, shook him down, then turned to the side.
“Forgiveness? After all the shit they've pulled, treating us like jokes, now they want mercy?”
“Trash like this? You gotta crush 'em at the root so they never crawl back up. Lemme demonstrate.”
Before Harley could respond, two other burly tattooed men beat him to it.
Southern warriors who'd once clashed with him but were now thick as brothers.
Ruwang, the biggest of the bunch; Dao, with the scar across his eye; and Turaba, face full of hair—the trio.
They were currently helping Harley stomp out the hoodlums who'd tried shaking down Hubert's trading company.
'Not that I'm working 'em for free, mind you. We're raking in cash—no need to skimp here.'
Having reliable muscle you could boss around was profit enough in itself.
If a bit of coin bought their eager cooperation, even better.
“Y'know, Harley's look seems a tad different lately, don't it?”
“You think so too? Feels more approachable than before.”
“Nah, that's just 'cause we've gotten close, right?”
“Maybe?”
It was idle chatter as they wrapped up and headed for drinks, but Harley couldn't help feeling a guilty twinge.
'I've been tweaking it bit by bit so no one'd notice...'
His face shape had indeed shifted subtly from the start.
With three southern locals in tow, it was prime time to naturally absorb their features.
Harley's once-awkward face was gradually refining to match the southern ethnic look, day by day.
“Ahahaha! That just means we've gotten that close! Feels like we're real brothers now!”
Harley laughed it off boisterously, smoothly changing the subject.
Inside the tavern they entered, they bantered noisily over drinks and swapped stories.
The topics were mostly southern region lore, rich with vivid firsthand accounts—pure gold for intel.
“...So yeah, once you leave the south, getting tattoos gets tricky. Shamans mostly stick to their turf.”
“You run into 'em elsewhere sometimes. Prove your worth, pay up, and they'll ink you fresh.”
Among it all was talk of the 'tattoos' they kept bringing up.
“Idiots sometimes try for tattoos beyond their station. Shamans usually boot 'em, but...”
“Happens now and then. Some just gotta have it their way.”
There were cases of forced tattoos via threats, bribes, coercion, or tricks.
“Ain't called 'proving your worth' for nothin'.”
Tattoos weren't mere ink.
They wove one's life force, mana, and karma into a mystical brand upon the flesh.
'Like a biological magic circle for body enhancement?'
Incompatible tattoos ravaged lifespan, caused muscle atrophy, sapped virility, accelerated aging—even hair loss, with all sorts of nasty side effects.
“That's why no tattoo means no warrior cred in the south. Can't even qualify for the basic 'Warrior Tattoo.'”
That was why they'd picked fights with Harley, the self-proclaimed southern warrior.
His bare, naked frame bore only childish scribbles—no proper tattoos anywhere.
'Can't get one now anyway. Would be nice before heading south, though.'
Ever the manly type, he slammed back the booze from his hefty mug and smacked his lips.
While Hubert and Harley spent their days productively, the newly arrived Harris in Tarlak had been waging a solitary battle for days on end.
“Nngh... I feel something, but...”
Elven avatar Harris hunkered down in the base Hubert had secured, meditating daily to commune with spirits.
He'd hoped for high elf potential, but after the World Tree notice, nothing much had changed.
'This must be natural force, but how do spirit contracts work? Affinity still too low?'
Natural force—mana purified crystal-clear through nature like trees—was essential for spirit pacts.
His base stats, 'Child of the World Tree' trait, and bracelet should've covered affinity, yet becoming a spirit user eluded him.
“Maybe ditch this spot for a mana-rich forest instead...?”
He'd holed up to hide his elven nature, but it was time to venture out.
'Hood pulled low to hide the ears. Was gonna lay low till a contract, but...'
Elves, rare on Ion Continent, inevitably drew trouble.
Even high elf candidate Cecilie had been enslaved for it.
'Like Cecilie... Huh? Wait...'
High Elf Rapori, candidate Cecilie, and their twenty-elf delegation.
They were still at Roselia Cathedral.
Thalia Kingdom's inquisitors had found the Immortal King's lair in the monster forest, confirming he'd been there just before breaching the cathedral.
They still couldn't fathom how he'd pinpointed its weakest defenses, though...
'The church didn't suspect the elves from the start.'
They'd dispatched investigators purely to uncover the truth, maintaining polite deference to the elves.
'Heard they're wrapping up and prepping to leave soon...'
Wouldn't hurt to get tips from fellow elves over solo trial-and-error.
Advice before they departed would be ideal.
'Yeah. That's the play.'
Harris jumped up, threw on his robe.
And boldly headed for Tarlak's temple.
As he neared his goal, a massive figure lumbered from a side alley.
Unlike Harris's slender frame, this was a towering, brawny hulk.
The imposing man—Harley—naturally fell in step, heading temple-ward.
He'd slipped away from drinks with the southern warriors to back Harris.
Together, they soon reached the temple.
“Huh? Harley? What brings you here... Got business?”
The temple guard spotted the instantly recognizable Harley and approached.
“Hahaha! Got a favor to ask this time. Mind passing word inside?”
The meeting they arranged was straightforward.
But he's wandered solo so long, knows zilch about other elves or their powers.
Owe him big—wanna help out. Know some elves; wanna introduce him.
So reach out, and hook him up with a gate if possible.>
As proof, he'd boldly gifted the bracelet he had no personal use for.
Harley's request was pre-approved from on high, so it swiftly reached the elves at Roselia Cathedral.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Wooong—
Passing through the familiar gate once more, he entered a space he'd grown used to.
“Welcome, Harris. We bid you welcome to Roselia Cathedral.”
The gatekeeper high priest—who knew him only one-sidedly—greeted him warmly.
A priest then led him outside.
'Feels weird visiting a place I'm used to, but under totally different pretenses.'
Once elf aid was greenlit, church cooperation got him to Roselia via multi-day gate hops.
As an invited guest, he was shown to the elves' lodging from Elven Kingdom.
Several elves were already gathered, chatting.
“Pleased to meet you. I am Rapori Granwood, high elf of Elven Kingdom.”
Rapori greeted him cheerfully as he entered.
“Ah, I'm Harris. Thanks for making time.”
“Hahaha, no trouble at all. It's a request from Harley, and for a fellow elf besides. Least I could do.”
Rapori nodded at the bracelet on Harris's wrist.
“Looks like you're tight with Harley. Knew he was generous, but first request being to help his friend? Surprised me.”
“Ah... Yeah, we're pretty close. Closer than family, even...?”
No lie there.
“And I heard this bracelet was yours originally. Took it 'cause it seemed useful, but if it bothers you, my apologies.”
“Not at all. I gave it to Harley as thanks, and how he uses it is his business now.”
He shook his head nonchalantly.
“I'm grateful he used it to aid one of our kin.”
His starlit eyes sparkled as he gazed at Harris with a quiet smile.
The look felt oddly intense.
“So, you seek guidance on wielding natural force and contracting spirits?”
“Yes. Grew up alone, no one to teach me. Thought I'd seek advice.”
“Hmm...”
Rapori stroked his chin, eyed him thoughtfully, and nodded to himself.
'Why's he acting so overly familiar? Did he figure something out?'
Even as kin introduced by a benefactor, the vibe was too intimate for that.
As the thought crossed his mind, Rapori smiled meaningfully and spoke softly.
“If you're open to it, Harris—care to join us back to Elven Kingdom on Enamel Continent?”
“Pardon? To Enamel Continent?”
“Yes, we're heading home soon. Better than a quick chat, no?”
He subtly tempted with promises of detailed training in spirit arts, archery, and more.
'Elf...异種族... Another continent... New adventure!'
No reason to turn down such a golden opportunity.
As he moved to accept, Rapori added quietly:
“Above all, the World Tree seems to have taken a shine to you. Not qualified as high elf yet, but the aptitude's innate.”
That explained the subtle attitude.
Evidently, the World Tree held great interest in Harris.