Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Swamp Native Hassan
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Early in the morning, quite a crowd had gathered at Sodomora's west gate, buzzing with excitement.
Most of them were people who had received the same wooden plaque from the guild—members of the expedition heading to the Kalan Swamp. There were at least a dozen, maybe twenty in total.
Excluding me, Luna, and the inexplicably present bard Malco, everyone else was a Bronze Tier adventurer or higher. Their faces showed grim determination and palpable resolve.
The lineup really gave off that vibe of proper adventurer work, and facing the chilly dawn breeze, my own heart started pounding.
I had tagged along behind Elfriede on a large-scale expedition once before, dipping my toes in.
But that had just been as a porter-slash-odd-jobs slave. This time, though, my name was proudly on the roster too.
It felt like the day when I'd become a high-tier adventurer and live a proper human life with my blessings wasn't far off. Today could be called the glorious first step.
"Oh my god, it's Buser. Lord Buser's joining this expedition? Oh my god."
Luna, who had been glancing around at the notable adventurers, kept exclaiming "Oh my god" and poking my arm.
Wondering what was up, I turned to look and saw a pervert wearing suspenders over a massively muscled upper body.
"Who's that?"
"Lord Buser. The owner of the epic relic, Dalos's Hammer! A famous Silver Tier adventurer in Sodomora!"
At the mention of Silver Tier, I stared at the man's neck, where a thick forest of chest hair sprouted. Sure enough, a small silver tag gleamed between his slab-like pecs.
"Lord Buser's thought to reach Hero territory soon. Gold Tier, that is."
"Gold Tier?"
"His total stats are nearly 40!"
Total stats—did that mean level? Mine was barely 9. How insanely strong would someone near 40 be?
Hm, so that uncle was a big deal, huh.
He just looks like a pervert, though.
Shit, more importantly, eye contact.
For some reason, my butt started tingling, so I turned away and pretended not to notice. That's when a woman in a fluttering red cloak pushed through the crowd and took the stage.
"This Kalan Swamp cultist extermination mission will be led by me, Hippolyte, a Silver Tier adventurer of the Mars Guild."
The noisy crowd went dead silent at Hippolyte's appearance, like rabbits caught by the scruff.
"If you follow orders, things will go smoothly, just like always."
The way she tamed these eccentric adventurers with mere presence showed just how imposing the woman on stage was.
"H-Hippolyte too? Hassan, this mission's no joke. We hunting Cerberus or something...?"
Two Silver Tier adventurers on the expedition—even I, with little knowledge of this world, knew what that meant.
It signaled there might be stuff too tough for newbies like me. In a world where capital and resources were precious, they didn't waste manpower lightly.
Shit, more than that—Hippolyte.
To think I'd end up in the same space as the woman who'd been watching me yesterday. Honestly, it made me deeply uneasy and uncomfortable. I'm weak to intense women like that.
Whatever my inner turmoil, Hippolyte continued from the stage.
"Our mission has two parts: find and kill. Slaughter those vile cult bastards without leaving a scrap of flesh!"
She let out a bizarre, enthusiastic cry—Arararight! or something—and her Sword Maidens echoed it, making the gate echo deafeningly.
It felt like watching cultists chanting fanatical glossolalia. My head was a total mess.
Anyway, after that speech wrapped up, the twenty or so were split into groups of ten under Hippolyte and Lord Buser.
"Samaritan Hassan, shame we're not in the same group."
A bandit-looking guy approached me.
"Eek!"
I felt my fur stand on end like a cat startled mid-meal. No way—this giant moved without a sound.
"Y-You're... Lord Buser, right? Do you know me?"
"You'll get to know me soon enough. Heh heh. And you'll learn all about me too, Hassan. Let's get acquainted."
Fuck, know what? Anyway, I was thrilled to be in a different group from this creep. To me, he was that thing—the one too scary to even describe.
"See you later, then. Group 2, board the wagons behind me! My little cutie Malco sits next to me!"
"P-Please spare me!"
As Buser and his group moved off, Luna yanked desperately at my sleeve.
"Th-there, Hippolyte's coming!"
Sure enough, Luna was warning me of the approaching danger.
But it was too late. No time for a bathroom excuse—the fearsome warrior woman was right in front of me.
"Hassan of Samaria. We're in the same group. We'll be seeing a lot of each other the next few days. Nice to work with you."
"H-Hippolyte... ma'am! P-please take care of me!"
"I expect you to live up to the rumors of Samaritan prowess."
Shit, I wanna go home.
*
Rattle, rattle.
Rattle.
With no paved roads or cushy tires in this world, the wagons were pure torture devices. The speed bumps everywhere made my butt bounce, bruise, and chafe nonstop.
Calling it a wagon was generous—it was basically an oxcart with zero comfort. Even a hay bale or soft blanket would help.
How do the others even endure this?
Glancing around, the wagon bed was like a subway car, benches facing each other. I could closely observe Hippolyte sitting across from me.
"..."
She sat with arms crossed, eyes closed, utterly still.
Asleep? Sleeping in this shaking chaos—truly a Silver Tier veteran. It even sparked a tiny bit of respect.
"How much longer, Hassan? My butt hurts so much."
Beside me, Luna writhed in similar agony, squirming for a comfy position.
Realizing it was futile, she soon just sprawled out haphazardly.
"We'll arrive sometime tomorrow morning."
Shit, startled me. Not asleep?
Luna and I clamped our mouths shut in shock as Hippolyte suddenly spoke. She cracked one eye narrowly, glancing at us.
"So endure the sore butt. If it's too much, walk. Though the trip'll take at least three times longer."
With that, she closed her eyes again. Terrified she might speak again, Luna and I opted for silence.
Buser's lead wagon was rowdy for some reason, but ours felt like a funeral hearse, wrapped in sticky silence.
Shing. Shiiiing.
The only sounds were the ominous sharpening of blades.
"Heh heh. Gonna ram this into those heretic bastards' guts—squish."
The Sword Maidens muttered scary, vicious asides while honing their blades. They seemed like outright psychopaths; my face scrunched up.
The most normal person in our wagon...
Swish.
My eyes turned to the woman beside Luna.
She wore a long, flowing black dress that hid every inch of skin, with a long veil on her head and an eyepatch over her face.
Not hot in that? Covering her eyes—self-bondage play? Or maybe blind.
Anyway, she was the only one who'd stayed silent from start to finish, just sitting quietly, swaying with the road. The sole normal one.
Of course, who knows what quirks she'd spew if she spoke, so judgment pending.
Rattle-rattle.
Nausea rising, I turned to the scenery.
Passing sun-baked golden fields, we entered barren wasteland with skeletal dry branches.
Vultures circling, rotting animal corpses everywhere.
Red eyes glinting from behind gaunt trees—jackals or hyenas, panting beasts. It creeped me out, so I looked away.
"So, Hassan of Samaria. How many people have you killed?"
Wait, what kind of question is that after staying quiet so long?
Unable to answer instantly, Hippolyte parted her lips slightly and asked again.
"Exiled from the wilderness for killing too many, huh? Even from savage Samaria. Fifty? About that many?"
"N-No, not at all."
"More than that? Impressive for a young guy. Getting more interesting."
She didn't consider fewer. Zero, actually.
Anyway, she'd asked and answered herself, seemingly revising her opinion of me upward.
I hemmed and hawed, wondering how or if to explain everything, when—
Rattle.
The lead wagon halted abruptly, and ours followed suit.
"The wheel's sunk deep in the muck. The swamp's reached here. Can't even call this a road anymore."
The driver of Buser's wagon tsked at the half-submerged wheel. Ours was stuck too.
"Folks, hop out for now!"
Squelch-squelch.
Stepping down, feet sank into sticky mud, gross beyond words.
"Was there rain? Why's the ground so slimy?"
Luna frowned at the mud oozing between her sandals and toes, muttering.
The eyepatch woman I'd been watching picked up.
"It's the curse of Ceres, goddess of seasons. Kalan was devoted to Lady Ceres, so the effect's stronger here."
"Oh, gotcha. Who're you, anyway?"
"I'm a priestess from Delphi. Cassandra."
"Delphi—priestess of the light and sun god?"
"More or less."
"I'm Luna, voodoo priestess of Ideophe. I serve Nox, mother of superstition and night. Does that make me a priestess too?"
"..."
Cassandra fell silent again. Priestess—probably into silent vows or something.
Ignored on her intro, Luna just tilted her head at the squishy ground and sinking wagons.
As everyone grimaced in dismay, I sidled up to Luna and whispered.
"Luna, what's Ceres's curse?"
"Oh, thirty years ago—before I was born—a brutal winter hit the world. Lasted like two years? That's it. The thawed frozen ground turned into slimy swamps like this."
A two-year winter? Just hearing it chilled me to the bone.
Lucky I didn't arrive then. Camping would've been hell.
Imagining a two-year deep freeze, our driver spoke up.
"Gonna need some muscle here. Or we'll have to ditch the wagon. How 'bout pushing from behind?"
"That's not a warrior of Mars's job."
"Hippolyte sis, we'll handle it. You rest. Girls, gather up."
So the strong ones clustered behind, heaving to free the sinking wheel.
But the ground gave way too, knees sinking deep into mud. No easy task.
"Hey, Amazon ladies. Put your backs into it. Aren't you warriors rivaling Spartans in strength?"
"We're already maxing out! Tell that Samaritan bastard to push harder—he's slacking!"
"Hey now, what're you saying? Don't slander me."
Shit, how'd she know I was slacking? Demon senses. Do you need Observation Haki for Bronze Tier?
Resigned, I poured effort into arms and legs again.
Neigh!
"O-Oh, it's moving! Coming loose! More power!"
With the ox's vigorous snort, the deep-sunk wheel slowly emerged.
"Almost, almost there! Just a bit—gack!"
The driver's urging voice cut off like food stuck in his throat.
Gack, hack—panicked gasps, then a wet splat into the mud.
"Th-the driver's hit by an arrow!"
Luna screamed, face pale. Sure enough, an arrow pierced his chest from behind, blood gushing fatally.
Kishishishi.
Kishishi!
At the same instant, heads popped up from what we'd thought was just swamp all around.
"G-Goblins!"
"Swamp goblins, fuck!"
Screams and weapon draws erupted everywhere. Somehow, I clearly heard Hippolyte's quiet mutter.
"Now it's warrior work."