Chapter 244
Chapter 244
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 244
Chapter Title: Alvheim's Elves #4
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The place where Kallidur was supposed to meet the elven envoys from Alvheim was a tavern near the east gate called Serphian.
After asking around under the blazing sun with Luna, we finally found the place. The moment I pushed open the door and stepped inside, a chill ran down my neck, and I instinctively thrust out my hand.
Crash!
At the same time, something came flying toward me—or more precisely, lunged at Luna, who was standing defenselessly beside me.
My hand shot up on reflex, palm open, blocking it. When I gathered my wits, I saw it was a person.
A person had flown through the air and hit the floor.
"What the hell."
Taverns in this world were notorious for brawls and shady deals. I knew that, but encountering something this sudden still left me flustered, like anyone would be.
While Luna and I stood there stunned by the unexpected welcome, a massive man in the center of the tavern spoke up boldly.
"This is a Bronze Tier adventurer? The average warrior on this continent? Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. Not even worth breaking a sweat over."
The man's build was about my size.
His head was shaved bald, grayish scalp gleaming. Pointed ears poked out from under a ratty gray robe, with light leather armor underneath and strange talismans dangling from his waist and chest.
His monk-like appearance was familiar enough to me by now. These must be the Alvheim envoys I was supposed to meet.
I'd come in light spirits, but who'd have thought they'd stir up trouble right away.
"Dermod, you can't just go hurling people like that."
"Ah, right. We follow the rules here. But I didn't expect them to be this weak."
Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, the giant was flanked by a woman lounging crookedly in a chair, watching the scene.
She had short-cropped gray hair—not as cropped as Kallidur or this brute, but short for a woman. Her ears were pointed too.
"...."
Beside her, an elf man a head shorter than me sipped his drink quietly. True to Kallidur's word, there were three of them.
The giant was probably Dermod of Ruin.
The short-haired woman was Mimir of Cycles.
And the quiet drinker was Daltor of Lightning, no doubt.
Recalling what Kallidur had told me, I sized up the elves and asked them directly.
"Are you the envoys from Alvheim?"
The one who answered was the giant elf Dermod, grinning cockily at the crowd as if still shaking off the scuffle.
"That's right. And who might you be? Care to test my Dark Chain Fist with your own body?"
"No, I'm just here in Kallidur's place at his request."
"Kallidur, huh. Sending a proxy means he's rejecting our proposal. We have nothing to discuss with you. We'll proceed as planned and execute the witch."
What the hell.
The whole thing ended before I could even speak. The request failed just like that? That would be a huge stain on my adventurer record, right on the cusp of Silver Tier promotion.
"You should at least hear me out."
"Lesser Dermod doesn't listen to the weak. If you want to make me hear you out, try subduing me by force."
Murmurs rippled through the tavern.
"Fighting again?"
"How many has it been? Damn it, are we really losing to these outsiders like this?"
From the reactions, Dermod had already taken down several adventurers and brawlers. Arrogant as hell.
Elves were mostly like this anyway, so it didn't faze me. Elfriede was the standard fairy type, and Kallidur the outlier.
Then someone piped up.
"Wait, black hair, club—Bronze Tier from Mars Guild. Isn't that Samaria's Hassan?"
"Looks like it. Samaria's Hassan—the guy who rescued adventurers from the abyss."
"This could be our chance to put those pricks in their place."
A few recognized me, and whispers spread. The fearful eyes and mood from moments ago heated up a bit.
Maybe it was the atmosphere, or the thick booze smell filling the tavern, but even without a sip, I felt a little buzzed.
"Hassan! Show 'em Gaia Continent's strength!"
"Technically, he's an outsider too—"
"Still better than these smug, cowardly Samaritans."
"True that."
The drunks cheering me on drew a faint smirk from Dermod, who eyed them with hollow gazes.
"Savage of the Black Wastes. Better than these feeble continentals. Mind if I ask for a lesson?"
Swish.
Dermod placed one hand on his waist, then turned his palm toward me, fingers wiggling tauntingly. It reminded me of last night's spar with Kallidur.
Whoosh.
An eerie aura emanated from him.
My skin prickled. Normally, I'd chalk it up to tension, but this felt different.
His energy? Aura? Mana? Whatever it was.
Compared to Kallidur's razor-sharp presence, this seemed manageable.
Just my guess, but his level was below Kallidur's.
Still, his build matched mine, so no slacking.
Looks like I'd have to show force to get these guys to the negotiating table.
"Hassan, you okay? Want me to help?"
"Nah, picky elves won't respect it if you do. I'll handle it solo. Hold this for me."
I handed Luna my club from my belt. Dermod frowned slightly, narrowing his slender eyes.
"Discarding your weapon? How do you expect to fight? I wanted a full-power savage."
"Weapon? Right here."
I clenched and unclenched my gauntleted fist, then mimicked Hippolyte's line as best I could.
"A warrior's body is a weapon anywhere."
"Impressive. Come at me then—or should I go first?"
"No need to—"
I scanned the room quickly. On the table beside me, a fork dangled precariously. I snatched it and hurled it at him.
Whether from my boosted agility or my training paying off, it flew fast.
Swoosh.
Cutting the air like an arrow or bullet, straight for his broad forehead.
"A projectile? Predictable trick. It's bait, and the real attack is—"
I'd kicked off the moment I threw the fork. One leap closed the distance, landing me right in his face.
Crunch.
I swung my screaming gauntlet fist at his face.
"This punch, right."
His voice rang clear as something slammed down on my fist from above.
Pop.
My body lurched, head and torso pitching forward. Seizing the moment, a massive presence rushed at my face.
Dermod's knee. He'd unbalanced me forward to knee my face and end it.
"Hassan!"
Someone shouted my name—Luna, probably. Just before his knee connected.
"Been there, done that, punk."
I leaned into the forward pitch, powering my legs.
Bang.
My body launched forward like a sprinter from a crouch start.
"Wh-what!?"
My shoulder slammed his gut, toppling the giant elf to the floor.
He thrashed in panic, trying to escape, but once grappled like this, even his speed was useless.
Mounted on him, I hammered down at his head.
Boom!
"Gah!"
Dermod's death-rattle scream. My fist grazed his ear, punching a hole in the tavern floor.
"There. You're dead once. Fix the floor on your tab."
"This... how..."
Dermod blinked, unable to accept defeat.
That's when it happened. My nape tingled; I ducked, and something whistled over my head, thunking into the opposite wall.
Twang.
A fork. Someone had thrown it at me too.
"Eyes in the back of your head? Dodged that? Not bad."
The woman's voice—Mimir, the short-haired one—had chucked it at my head.
Damn, how'd I dodge that? Dodging Hippolyte's punches for a month must've worked. Gotta pay up next month too.
"Anyway, I win."
No wonder Kallidur practiced Dermod's Dark Chain Fist. That bald bastard might've foreseen this whole mess.
"Let's sit and talk now."
"This can't be... I, Dermod of Mother's Spear Tip... beaten by a mere Bronze Tier adventurer..."
The giant elf couldn't believe his loss.
The crowd felt the same—those watching half-dubious moments ago now cheered wildly, downing drinks.
"Serves you right, pointy-ears!"
"Elves strut around with size and strength, and boom—that's what happens."
"Man, what a explosive fight. I couldn't even follow."
The noise was deafening, but the praise made it bearable.
I'd beaten a higher-level guy with my own strength—no necromancy, no weird blessings. Felt damn good.
Rustle.
I helped up the dazed giant elf. Grabbing his wrist triggered the usual ding and text.
『Name: Dermod lv. 31
Status: Broad Forehead > Thin Hair > Seborrheic Scalp』
Level 31. Fresh Silver Tier adventurer level. Beating him—was it luck and circumstances?
More than that, what the hell? Balding trifecta?
Suddenly, he looked pitiful.
I felt like the bad guy.
*
*
*
"Dermod, you idiot. You lost like a fool, and now everything's messed up."
Mimir, the short-haired elf woman, grumbled as she stuffed sausage in her mouth. Dermod rubbed his solar plexus, frowning.
"I gave my all. Just a bit careless. When he mentioned Kallidur, I should've expected knowledge of Alvheim martial arts."
"That's on your shortcomings. In a real fight, you'd be dead. No second chances."
"Point taken. Anyway, Samaria's Hassan? Impressive valor. Never thought Gaia Continent had warriors like you."
Truth was, I wasn't a Gaia Continent warrior. Samaritans were savages from the Black Continent across the sea.
Not that I was one either, but no need to clarify.
"More importantly, what's with her?"
Mimir scowled deeply.
Beside her, Luna was braiding her hair, smiling.
"Elf hair's all so shiny! So pretty!"
"Thanks, but my ears and hair are erogenous zones. Don't touch carelessly. Gets me all hot. Halfway there already."
"O-oh. Sorry."
Luna pulled away, flustered.
I'd spent plenty of time with her, but I'd never seen her back off so quick. Eye-opening.
Mimir smoothed her hair and spoke.
"So, Samaritan. We're at the table to honor the promise, but our policy hasn't changed. Now that we know that damn—er, Elfriede's location, we can't delay a day."
"Not even a day?"
"No. Tonight, we capture and transport her. That's the deal."
"Deal?"
"What, Kallidur didn't mention that? Elfriede's not free. This kingdom's laws stripped her status. She's facing execution or enslavement."
"Elfriede..."
I couldn't continue.
Execution or enslavement.
The harshest punishments for the gravest crimes in this world.
Like me, Hassan, who firebombed Deathros Arena and ended up Elfriede's slave.
But her, of all people, executed?
It hit how grave her crime of burning the World Tree was. No simple arson.
"Ha, execution? Enslavement? You think that soft stuff punishes her? Kingdom humans are too lenient."
Mimir dismissed even those verdicts lightly. Fair enough—enslavement allowed freedom like mine sometimes.
"So, savage. Tell Kallidur: operation's tonight. And tell him to quit flying around and do his duty. Mother's watching with fiery eyes."