Chapter 41
Chapter 41
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Swamp Native Hassan #8
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Gahaaack!”
Screams echoed from all directions. Wet mud squelching underfoot mixed with the roars of beasts spreading everywhere.
“S-Save meeeaaack—!”
Grraaawr!
Crocodile with mouths agape tore into a Bronze-tier adventurer’s body from both sides, spraying blood like a fountain.
The Crocodile, driven mad by the spreading stench of blood, swarmed the corpse, gulping down every scrap of flesh and shredding the remains.
Fuck, Crocodile!
The gruesome sight made the hairs on the back of my neck settle coldly. Fuck, was a person supposed to die that easily?
It had been ages since I’d last seen someone die right in front of me, so my heart pounded uncontrollably.
“Fuck, r-run away!”
“Don’t run! If you’re warriors of Mars, face them head-on!”
Shing, shing—they drew their swords: Hippolyte and the Sword Maidens. They charged at the Crocodile half-submerged in the muddy swamp, swinging their blades with all their might.
“Aim for the eyes and throat! Eyes and throat—!”
Slash—.
Hippolyte showed none of the frailty from last night. She cleaved a swamp alligator’s thick hide clean in two. Fucking strong—totally reliable. As expected of Silver-tier!
The other Sword Maidens followed her lead, slashing away diligently.
“Eek, eeeek!”
Grraaawr!
But the Crocodile’ hides were no joke. Blades got stuck, couldn’t be pulled free, or they’d trip and injure themselves on their own swords, only adding to the chaos.
Of course, I got it. The swamp floor made movement awkward to begin with, and this was the Crocodile’ home turf.
These alligator bastards were true savage beasts. Ruthless killing machines of nature, incomparable to swamp goblins.
Shrrrk!
A massive alligator lunged at me too, turning my mind blank. As I stumbled back and fell, the damn thing leaped to pin me down.
Crunch—.
It clamped onto the bracer on my wrist, shaking its head wildly. Fuck, if it weren’t for this expensive gear I’d shelled out for, my arm would’ve been a tasty meal by now.
“You fucker! Let go, you shit!”
I dropped my longsword but whipped out a dagger from my belt, stabbing down with all my strength right into the center of the alligator’s forehead.
Crack!
A sharp sound pierced the hide, and the beast’s body went limp. Lucky me—I’d cracked its skull and hit the brain.
Fuck!? I killed a ruthless reptile! Am I Hassan the Dragon Slayer!?
My chest swelled with emotion, but fuck, there were too many Crocodile around—no time to bask.
As I writhed in agony, I worried sick about the others, especially Luna, and turned my head just then.
Swish-, swish-.
Luna raised both arms sky-high like a scarecrow toward the Crocodile surrounding her. Then she zigzagged wildly in some bizarre gait.
“Kiyoooooot, hiyaaaaah!”
Mouth wide open, screaming weirdly—it looked like she’d lost her mind from terror. I was seriously worried.
Of course, I felt like I was going insane too, so I couldn’t blame her.
Fuck anyway, Luna’s broken. Can a massage fix a shattered mind? Gotta press the brain directly or something—.
But then something amazing happened.
Gr-, grraaawr!
Brrrrawr!
The Crocodile encircling Luna spun around and fled like lizards skittering across water!
“F-Fuck, what!?”
My brain short-circuited at the incomprehensible scene.
“Hassan, what’re you doing! Copy me! Swamp Crocodile fear zigzagging creatures that make loud noises!”
“Fuck, what!?”
“Hurry!”
Luna’s words didn’t filter through my reason at all. Fuck it, nothing to lose. She actually chased them off with that ridiculous move, right?
“Hassan, your size’ll scare them more! Hurry and copy!”
“Shiiit!”
Grraaawr—.
Shrrrk—.
With Crocodile closing in on me, no time to hesitate. I raised both arms high, sucked in a deep breath.
Splash, splash—!
Then zigzagged! My zigzag evasion, honed from countless FPS games and dodging Elfriede’s whip, was flashy enough to boast about—three times better than anyone else’s.
On top of zigzagging, I twisted my body every which way like a balloon at a festival.
“HoooooeEEEEEE—!!!!!!”
Gr-, grrawr!
Shibarrr!
The lowly beasts quailed at my majesty, tails and backs visible as they fled in all directions.
Fuck, the Crocodile are scared of me!
“Hehe, you’re not getting away! You’re not passshingaaack!!”
Gek!
I plunged my longsword into the backs and heads of the fleeing ones, claiming their lives. Who knew hunting Crocodile could be this easy!
“Fuck, what’s that! The Crocodile are running! Is that Samaritan hunting style!?”
“I-I think I’ve heard swamp natives hunt Crocodile like that!”
“What’re you waiting for! Let’s join in!”
And so the foggy swamp filled with Piddlestick-lookalikes screaming weirdly and shambling about.
Gr-, grrawr….
In there, the frail jungle monsters—mere Crocodile—stood no chance.
* * *
“Whoa, look at this. Prime hides. Never knew Crocodile were this easy to catch.”
“Poor dead bastards.”
After the jungle frenzy, we rounded up the scattered survivors and corpses.
I neatly skinned my two Crocodile with a dagger, drawing gasps and admiration from watching adventurers.
“Peeling that thick hide with just a short knife like it’s nothing.”
“As expected of someone from the harsh wilds—impressive handiwork.”
Truth be told, skinning beasts or stripping hides was one of my few specialties.
My dad ran a clinic, brewing weird meds from odd ingredients, so I’d picked up animal handling from him piecemeal.
Plus, two years as Elfriede’s slave had made it second nature.
Now I could eyeball it and know how to handle it.
Squeeeal—.
The hides coming off easier than expected probably owed to my new sloppy handiwork grace and boosted strength stat.
As I’d guessed, this new grace boosted efficiency in manual tasks overall.
More useful than I thought. Still, fuck, don’t let it make me bald.
“Whoa, skinned two in minutes. Amazing. Sir Samaritan, mind skinning mine too? I’ll give you ten percent of the sale price.”
“Mine too. If you do it clean, five silvers per hide easy. Alligator skin’s in high demand….”
“Fuck!”
“W-Why? No good?”
“Line up!”
Just like that, I skinned four more for two silvers profit.
Quick tally!
My two hides: estimated ten silvers total.
Mission completion: ten silvers.
Swamp goblin teeth and hides: two silvers forty-four coppers.
Cash on hand: five silvers thirty coppers.
Once this job wrapped, I’d have nearly thirty silvers—matching two years of my savings—in one go.
Shiiit, money-making’s so varied!?
Now I got why Elfriede and adventurers dropped big coin on gear. Slaves were just livestock.
Backpack heavier from hides, but my mood was so light I could fly.
“Where’d you learn this? Perfectly done.”
A middle-aged Bronze-tier adventurer nodded at his hide, satisfied. As I opened my mouth to reply,
“Samaritans wear the hides of slain foes, they say. This foreigner brother’s been crafting clothes from hides since ancient times—explains the skill.”
“Agh, fuck, you startled me.”
Malco answered for me. Covered head to toe in mud, he looked just like a swamp alligator—I nearly swung my dagger.
More than that, this bastard’s alive. Tough fucker. Life tougher than alligator hide. How’d he survive those armed adventurers dropping like flies?
“Whoa, brother. Saw your prowess. Hassan the swamp Samaritan. Fine ballad material.”
“Fuck, exaggerate again and you’re dead.”
“When did I exaggerate? I just add artistic flair.”
“Malco! Where are you! Come carry my hides!”
“Whew—. Lately, I’m doubting my artistic path. Maybe head home.”
Malco slouched off to the Commander Buser, pack stuffed with four heavy hides and even heavier affection from the deputy.
Anyway, cleanup wrapped up roughly.
I shouldered my bag and looked around. There was Luna, scattering coins on the ground?
Holy shit, even a land-rich girl doesn’t just toss money! I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Luna, you saved my ass back there. How’d you know how to handle Crocodile?”
“Oh—. Ideophe’s full of swamps. Crocodile pop up all the time. Bigger the guy, better it works. Crocodile have low eyes near the ground, so they see tall jumping things as huge, I hear.”
Sounded like cultist snake oil, but with her proven results, I just nodded. Anyway, that wasn’t my real question.
“More importantly, why’re you throwing coins? Gimme if you’re tossing.”
“Oh, not throwing. Not my money. Just putting one copper each in these folks’ pockets. Charon’s toll.”
Luna stuffed one copper into the gaping mouths of the dead, eyes slitted cruelly. This world’s funeral rite?
Come to think of it, back with Elfriede, we’d leave coins on bodies sometimes.
Folks here firmly believed in afterlife—no doubt. To me, whatever. Nothing more to say.
* * *
“Five dead before cultists, two deserters. Heavy losses. Thirteen left total?”
“Yeah. Hippolyte, keep going? Sword Maidens took hits too.”
“Deputy, appreciate the concern, but as you know—no retreat. Worst case, you and I suffice.”
“Fine by me. But you don’t look great, Hippolyte. Hurt anywhere?”
“…No. Let’s move.”
No eulogies for the dead—we packed up and slogged on through the muck.
Some buzzed from alligator hides, others shell-shocked from the ambush—moods varied.
Hoooowl—.
Meeeowl—.
“F-Fuck.”
“Pussy, it’s just birds.”
Tension and fatigue ramped up for sure. Every little noise had us fearing Crocodile or worse.
“Shiiit, if only this fog lifted.”
“Was this place always so foggy? Don’t recall from before.”
“Dunno, asshole. Watch your side.”
Eavesdropping on adventurers, this fog seemed no natural swamp feature—suspicious anomaly.
Human senses rely heavy on sight; this fog blocking it drove folks mad.
Air growing stuffy too—like trudging a giant steamer.
“Hassan, you got two Crocodile!”
Only Luna seemed oddly chipper, buoyant.
Ideophe weather like this, she’d said. Her cheer next to me lifted my spirits a bit.
Luna peeked into my pack at the hides, giggling.
“Make clothes from hides!”
“Clothes?”
“Goblins shredded mine last time. At the shrine cleaning.”
“Oh, right.”
Ten-copper rain cape covered it, but underneath was rags, not clothes.
No cash for proper garb after armor. Time to splurge post-job.
Luna’s idea—swamp gator outfit—not bad. Discount for supplying hides?
Gator-skin clothes. Never dreamed of such luxury!
Imagining my lavish look, up front, Hippolyte halted.
Fuck, what now? Tensing up, the Silver-tier adventurer spoke firmly, resolved.
“No good. Must handle this fog somehow—travel’s impossible otherwise. Reports say cultist camp nearby.”
“Hippolyte, got a way?”
Deputy’s question drew eyes to her. Silver-tier’d fix the fog, right? Expectations high.
My head spun fantasies of wind blasts clearing it.
Hippolyte spoke.
“I can’t, but one of us can. Priestess of Delphi. Borrow grace from your god. Light’s perfect for banishing fog.”
Called out, Cassandra stepped forward smoothly. She glanced around lightly, spoke calmly.
“This place heavy with yin energy—my weak prayers may not reach heavens. Better ask that one over there….”
Her slender finger pointed through the adventurers. Gazes followed, converging on one spot.
Fuck, it was me.
“Who, me?”