Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Malicious Beings (2)
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"You've arrived right on time, Terti."
Saker said with a smirk. The man called Terti tilted his head.
"Did some new rule pop up while I was away? Like, 'keep your mouth shut when drinking'?"
"Man, how are you supposed to drink with your mouth shut?"
"I've never seen the place this quiet except right before opening time."
"Those guys you saw getting beat up earlier were causing a ruckus."
"And?"
Terti looked even more puzzled. Mercenaries, who made up most of the customers, were the type to cheer when a fight broke out, not turn a blind eye in silence.
"You staying the night?"
"That's why I came."
"Come on, then."
Saker grabbed a key to an empty room and led Terti upstairs. Along the way, he nodded toward Galen and whispered something. Terti's eyes lit up slightly.
While the two were briefly out of sight upstairs, Galen and Freeman chatted about Terti as well.
"That guy seems pretty close to Saker."
"He got a lot of help from us back in the day. Perfect timing."
"Perfect how?"
"The stuff you were asking about. He's more in the know than I am."
"Is he trustworthy?"
"By my standards, yeah. Objectively, in the mercenary guild's eyes, he's Silver rank. They're expecting him to hit Gold within a few years."
That was trustworthy enough. Galen nodded in understanding.
Mercenaries in this world were divided into five ranks.
Scrap, Bronze, Silver, Gold, Gem.
Scrap were just useless riffraff. Unproven in skill or reliability, their uses were limited.
Bronze were standard fare. Hiring "a few mercenaries" was measured by Bronze heads. They pulled their weight anywhere.
Most mercenaries were Scrap or Bronze. The upper three were rare.
Even Silver ranks were instant assets to any decent family. Pick one up, and you could live stably as a powerhouse. Few stuck with mercenary life.
"How old is he?"
"Thirty this year? Or thirty-one? Around there."
"...Must've had it rough."
"...Mercenary work is brutal by nature."
So what if his face looked weathered? Hitting pre-Gold at thirty was impressive. For a backstabbing-prone mercenary without backing, it was lightning-fast growth—and proof of guild-trusted reliability.
'Getting on good terms with him could be useful.'
Galen thought as he watched Terti come back down after dropping his gear.
Terti was thinking the same. Saker had given him the rundown on Galen.
He approached Galen's table with polite restraint.
"We've heard about each other, it seems. Mind if I join you?"
"Please do."
"Have a seat here. Saker! More beer!"
"That's your last round. You think I do all the work around here?"
Saker brought three mugs while ribbing Freeman. Freeman, of course, ignored him.
They sat across from each other but spent the time silently sizing one another up, nursing their drinks bit by bit.
As time passed, the room's tension eased. The mercenaries, stiff from witnessing magic, started talking again.
Not as rowdy as usual, but far from the oppressive silence where every word carried.
"Heard you're a mage."
Terti finally spoke. Galen nodded.
"Yes. Just stepped into the world. I was asking Freeman for advice on mercenary work."
"I see. But do you really need advice? Mages get snapped up without trying."
"I don't even know how they go about it."
"...Self-awakened?"
"Yes."
"Impressive."
Self-awakened mages were those who spontaneously unlocked magic without lineage teachings.
Some dismissed them as improper mages lacking accumulated knowledge. Others praised their lone genius.
Elites leaned toward the former; commoners, the latter. Luckily, Terti was in the latter camp—genuinely awed, not mocking.
"It's nothing special. I'm not the only self-awakened mage out there."
Though a leveling mage probably was one of a kind.
"Anyway, Freeman sang your praises. Mind giving me one good tip?"
"No trouble at all. What's on your mind?"
"As I said, I'm brand new to this. I want some combat experience at a safe level. Suggestions?"
"Hmm."
Terti pondered Galen's question before countering.
"How strong do you think you are?"
"Hard to say. No benchmarks. Real fights might differ."
"Using those punks who picked a fight with you earlier?"
"They're not worth comparing to."
"So you're confident you'd crush them?"
"I'd have to try losing."
"Good. Want to head to the guild with me tomorrow?"
"Pardon?"
Galen blinked at the sudden pitch. Freeman got it instantly.
"Planning to take Galen on this subjugation?"
"Win-win, right?"
"Wait, subjugation?"
"Didn't know, huh? Nijerte hires mercenaries regularly to cull nearby malicious beings. This party's mustering in three days."
"Ah."
All the monsters from Earth games were called malicious beings here.
The term fit—"evil seeds." Just looking at them bred disgust. They slaughtered humans on sight. Physiologically incompatible.
Yet untamed lands abounded worldwide, leaving malicious beings everywhere. Disgust aside, humans couldn't avoid them.
"Malicious beings near a big city like this?"
"Not by the walls, of course. But the city's turf includes the Partlas Mountains' foothills. They wander down sometimes."
"Got it."
"We cull periodically to prevent damage, but they're mostly small fry—no real heavies. Perfect for greenhorns."
"Even so, you can't go solo. Camping alone in the mountains? No way."
Freeman added.
Even Silver ranks die sleeping. Can't stay up the whole subjugation.
"Usually, we temp-party with a few mercs. This time, with you, Galen. Right, Terti?"
"Spot on."
"I'd be grateful, but are you sure you're okay pairing with me, Terti?"
"Swapping common merc grub for a mage? I should be begging."
"Looking forward to it, then."
They shook hands.
*
Joining Nijerte's mercenary guild was dead simple.
Pay the fee, sign your name, get a cheap scrap token. Scrap rank proof.
That was it. Anyone with coin could join—why Scraps got no respect.
"Doesn't mean much for you, though. Scrap's main issue is zero trust, but mages are too rare for that."
"So I need proven skill to match?"
"Rack up decent kills this subjugation, and word spreads. Guild'll handle the rest."
Galen just wanted combat reps anyway. Any merc qualified for the party—no rank worries yet.
Still, accepting randos—would the subjugation even work?
"Terti, isn't today the muster day?"
"Yep."
"You seem awfully relaxed..."
"Plenty of time for lunch and a leisurely ride."
"Huh?"
"Guild provides wagons. Three hours tops."
"Muster day" meant the deadline to reach the rally point—a village at Partlas foothills.
Walk if broke, ride if loaded. Transport was DIY.
The "subjugation party" felt half-assed to Galen.
A guild rep rode with them. At the village, he gathered the mercs and announced:
"I'll be here from tomorrow for a week. Hand in trophies by then. Final payout back in the city."
No elaboration—everyone knew. Mercs dispersed without questions.
Lodging? Fend for yourself. No inns in this off-path spot for fifty-plus mercs anyway.
Galen lucked out bunking with top-dog Terti at the village head's place. Heaven compared to camping the green.
Next morning, after breakfast, Galen climbed the mountain. Just him and Terti.
"Is subjugation always like this?"
Galen wondered if he'd misunderstood.
They'd agreed to team up, sure—but solo duo? Unexpected.
Yet no one batted an eye. Other mercs hiked in small groups too.
Terti chuckled understandingly.
"Proper subjugations mean big forces sweeping organized."
"Good, my common sense holds."
"But this area's regularly cleared, so numbers stay low. No need for masses."
"Feels more like hunting than subjugation."
"Exactly. That's why we split up. Even blood-mad malicious beings hesitate against groups."
Track traces like hunters, bait and kill. Made sense.
Personal merit-based—pros loved it.
For newbie Galen? Risky. But with expert Terti, no sweat.
"Hold up."
Terti, spotting tracks and scat effortlessly, halted. Hand to his belt.
Galen soon sensed it too. Black shadows flickering between trees reeked of malice.
"Noils."
Noils. Hyena-like, with overdeveloped upper bodies, hunched on hind legs.
"Don't get cocky. Weak singly, but seven..."
Terti's warning cut short.
Splat!
The nearest noil's skull exploded under a sudden waterfall from above.
"Ah, sorry. Reflex. Could you repeat that?"
"...Six now."