Chapter 26: I’ve Become Stronger (2)
Chapter 26: I’ve Become Stronger (2)
“Hyaaaaah!”
Roar!
Sanson’s powerful horizontal slash carved a long gash into the troll’s flank.
Of course, trolls possessed incredible regenerative powers, so a wound of this magnitude would normally heal in no time. However…
What if I slash that same spot again?
No matter how fast a troll could regenerate, that ability was mostly limited to bone and muscle. If its head was lopped off or its entrails spilled out, even a troll would suffer a fatal blow.
Just one more hit right there!
Aiming for the finishing blow, Sanson lunged forward, targeting the existing wound.
He just needed to cut it one more time. If he could slice deep enough to let its guts spill out before the wound closed…
Grab!
“Urgh!”
Blinded by greed and focused solely on his target, Sanson failed to see the troll’s hand reaching out for him.
As a result, the troll snatched Sanson with one hand and hoisted him high into the air.
Roar!
“You monster… Let go!”
Sanson let out a roar of his own. He flipped his longsword into a reverse grip and drove it hard into the base of the troll’s thumb.
The blade sank deep, and the troll let out a pained shriek. And yet…
Grrrr…
It refused to loosen its grip on Sanson.
The troll’s bloodshot eyes, set in yellowed whites, locked onto Sanson’s.
Grrrr…
“You…”
Though they didn't speak the same language, Sanson knew instinctively that the battle was decided.
The troll had exploited his greed and overextension to catch him, and it had endured his desperate counterattack. Now, Sanson had no way to defend himself.
It was over.
“Dammit…”
In the wild, combat was a struggle for survival. The winner ate the loser, and the loser became the winner’s flesh and blood. There was no good or evil, only pure survival.
The troll unhinged its jaw to exercise its right as the victor. Sanson gnashed his teeth as he watched the massive maw approach to crush his skull.
Is this how it ends?
“Big broooo!”
He could see Oliver running toward him from a distance, shouting, but it was no use. His head would be crushed inside the troll’s mouth long before Oliver could reach him.
Damn it. I was… I was just getting started.
He was getting stronger. He had become stronger. He was supposed to get even stronger from here on out.
He had only just begun to realize how precious this opportunity in his life was, and yet it was ending here before he could see it bear fruit. It was so incredibly unfair.
“Dammit, dammit, dammiiiiit!”
“Shut up!”
Someone answered Sanson’s grief-stricken cry.
It was a familiar, youthful voice. Before Sanson could even register who it belonged to, a massive shockwave erupted.
BOOM!
A thunderous roar echoed, sounding like a boulder the size of a house being shattered.
The next thing Sanson saw was the troll’s head—the one that had been about to eat him—vanishing into a bloody mist. And then…
“Woooooonderful job. Just faaaaantastic, isn't it? Hmm?”
He saw Patrick’s scowling face looking down at him.
“Yo… Young Master?”
How strange. He hadn't realized that relief and terror could coexist so perfectly in one's heart.
*
Sanson.
He had been an extraordinary child since he was young. He possessed a physique and strength that far surpassed his peers, yet he was so upright and kind that he was never short of friends.
Leveraging those qualities, he had applied to be a soldier for the territory and immediately stood out. To distinguish oneself among the soldiers of the Schneider estate—famed for their prowess—meant his talent was truly exceptional.
If it hadn't been for that piece of trash Brian, Sanson would have likely completed his knight training and been knighted by now. Recently, after Brian’s downfall, he had been appointed as the Guard Captain of the territory and was back on the fast track to success.
And yet, that very same Sanson…
“Is it hard?”
“No, sir.”
“Why? It should be hard. It’s only natural for it to be hard when you’re doing a headstand, right?”
“……”
“Or what? Do you sleep like that too?”
“No, sir.”
“Be honest. It’s hard, isn't it?”
“…Yes, sir.”
“Then why’d you do it, you idiot!”
Patrick delivered a sharp kick to the ribs of the upside-down Sanson. Then he continued…
“It’s hard? This is hard? Getting chewed up in a troll’s mouth is easy, but this is hard? Huh?”
“……”
You told me to be honest, you brat.
Sanson couldn't bring himself to say those words aloud.
It was truly a mystery. His savior, the man who had rescued him just thirty minutes ago, was standing right there. And yet…
“Good grief, my heart is practically breaking! I taught you better than that, and you almost get yourself killed by a lowly troll the moment I look away?”
All his gratitude had vanished.
How was this possible? Patrick possessed the miraculous talent of making even the most decent person feel ungrateful.
“What’s the point of doing well at the start? You got greedy and ended up like that anyway!”
Sanson grumbled inwardly.
If you were watching from the start, you could’ve helped a little sooner.
“What was that?”
“…Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes. Very clearly.”
“……”
Sanson began to wonder if being eaten by the troll might have been the better option.
“Anyway, I have things to do, so let’s stop here for now. We’ll finish this later.”
Patrick said, dusting off his hands.
Sanson lay there, looking like a heap of mush, while Patrick grumbled and stood up. Then…
“Hey, Soldier A.”
“My name is Oliver, sir.”
“And?”
Oliver decided it was probably better to just be "Soldier A."
Patrick turned to him.
“Take this guy and get him treated. Tsk, tsk. Getting injured like this just from fighting a troll.”
“……”
Sanson didn't actually have any injuries from the troll.
“I have some things to report to my father, so tell the soldiers to gather at the training ground this evening.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
“Right. See you then.”
To Oliver, Patrick’s words sounded less like an appointment and more like a promise of execution.
*
Baron Schneider was utterly shocked.
“Is this… Is all of this really the money you earned?”
“Yes. Well, it’s not much, but I managed to make a modest profit.”
“Hahaha. Hahahaha…”
The Baron let out a hollow laugh.
He knew his son had left the territory with a load of monster materials. However, he never imagined he would bring back this much.
Seventy gold.
It was a fortune, a sum the Baron had never even held at once in his entire life. And that wasn't even all of it.
“I spent about thirty gold. Since I was already there, I figured I should buy some things the territory needs.”
Patrick had left with five freight carts. He had returned with ten, filled to the brim with food, clothing, and equipment for the soldiers.
Even after buying all that, he had brought back a profit of seventy gold.
“Then… your original profit was a hundred gold?”
“That’s right.”
“How could you make such a profit? How on earth…”
The Baron had expected maybe twenty gold. He had been looking forward to that much, thinking it would be enough for the people of the territory to have a warm winter.
But his son had shattered his expectations and brought back results far beyond his wildest dreams.
“Hahaha. This is incredible. I am so proud of you, Patrick.”
“Oh, it was nothing.”
Patrick waved it off with a smirk.
In truth, the amount he gave the Baron was purely from the trade. He had earned even more from his "nighttime side job," but he kept that a secret from his father.
“Oh, and Father, I brought something else back too.”
“Oh? What else did you find?”
Full of anticipation, the Baron watched as Patrick pulled back the tarp of the very last wagon.
When the makeshift cover was removed, what lay beneath was…
“Wh-what is the meaning of this?”
The Baron gasped.
The wagon was filled with young children. They were gaunt and thin, clearly having suffered from long-term hunger. Their eyes were filled with fear as they scanned their surroundings, and they immediately lowered their heads if they made eye contact.
The servility and terror etched into their bodies… Baron Schneider was not so foolish as to not know what that meant.
“Pa… Patrick, you scoundreeeeel!”
“Ah… stop shouting. I did a good thing, why are you acting like this?”
“A good thing? You call this a good thing?”
“Of course. I—”
“Bringing in children as slaves! You monster! You heartless brat!”
“……”
“I may have raised you with a long leash, but this time you’ve crossed the line! Guards! Seize this boy and throw him in the dungeon immediately! Do not release him until he has repented for his sins!”
“My Lord, that’s not it.”
“My Lord, please listen to the Young Master first.”
The workers who had accompanied Patrick tried to intervene, but the Baron, his temper flaring to the ceiling, only raged harder.
“What are you waiting for? Throw the criminal in jail! In my territory, those who commit crimes must face justice. Even my own son is no exception. Lock him up this instant!”
*
About an hour later.
“Hahaha. I see. So that’s what happened.”
The Baron, who had been exploding with rage like a mad dog from hell, was now as docile as a puppy waiting for a treat.
“Hahaha. Yes, you took in these poor children. Hahaha. Truly my son. Simply marvelous.”
“……”
“I am truly proud of you, Patrick.”
“……”
“Won’t you… say something?”
“……”
“Son? My boy?”
Baron Schneider spoke to Patrick awkwardly and cautiously.
However, Patrick had his cheeks puffed out like a blowfish and was pointedly ignoring his father. His entire posture screamed, “I am extremely sulky right now. Therefore, I refuse to speak to you.”
“Well, honestly, if you were in my shoes, wouldn't you have made the same mistake?”
“Mistakeeeee?”
“Huh?”
“Shooooooes?”
What now? What is it this time? What did I say to offend you now?
As the Baron flinched, Patrick spoke up.
“What you’re saying, Father, is that I’m the kind of person who would actually kidnap poor children. And therefore, from your ‘perspective,’ such a ‘mistake’ was perfectly reasonable. Is that it?”
“Wow…”
Can someone really nitpick two words to this extent? Is this what they call ‘political skill’ in the outside world?
As the Baron stood speechless, Patrick sat down on the floor and began to wail, pounding the ground.
“Oh, the sorrow! The miseryyyyy! I can’t live in this cruel world anymore!”
“No, son, why so sudden…”
“My own father—the only one I have in this world—doesn't trust his own son! He treats me like a slave trader! Like a criminal!”
“I told you, it was a misunderstanding!”
“I scoured the territory to hunt monsters! I went all the way to Parmas and worked myself to the bone to earn money! I worked so hard, and my own father calls me a slave trader! Oh, the bitter sorrow!”
Baron Schneider was known as a man who could proudly tell the world, “I may lack money, but I do not lack character.” He was famous for being a good man.
But in Patrick’s hands, he became a villain in an instant.
What made it worse for the Baron was that everything Patrick said was true. His son really had accomplished a great deal. He was a son to be proud of and grateful for. And yet…
He is so incredibly annoying.
How could someone be so helpful and so irritating at the same time? The Baron’s lifelong philosophy that a rod should never be used in education was beginning to crack for the first time.
“The injustice! The cruelty! Everyone, look at me! My father thinks his son is a slave—”
“Wait… Wait a minute, you brat!”
The Baron panicked as Patrick opened the window and began to shout at the top of his lungs.
“Mmph! Mmm-mmph!”
“Let’s talk this out! Let’s talk, you little rascal!”
He scrambled to cover his son’s mouth, while Patrick desperately tried to shout something as if the world needed to know the truth.
Watching the scene, Lawrence smiled warmly and thought to himself:
It’s a circus.
Such was the assessment of the old butler who had devoted his entire life to the House of Schneider.