Chapter 14
Episode 14
"I'm even willing to send you back to the mountains."
Those words implied that he would allow Hamar to follow his kin—the dwarves who had vanished beyond the colossal mountain range spanning the southern continent.
And for a half-elf dwarf, who typically lived for 300 years, twenty years of servitude in exchange for freedom wasn't such a long time.
"......Humans are good at lying. Do you really expect me to believe that?"
But the dwarf's distrust of humans ran deep, and the despair in his eyes remained unchanged.
In response, Logan slowly drew out a sheet of paper shimmering with a faint blue glow from his pocket.
"You know what this is, don't you?"
The dwarf's eyes trembled again as he recognized it.
"......A magical contract?"
When Logan had purchased the magical contract to bind Philip, he had prepared an extra copy with this very day in mind.
"Y-You... You'd really use that for me?!"
"You know your stuff. If you still can't trust me, I can draft this contract for you."
"D-Do it! Absolutely! I'll make anything you want!"
At Hamar's sudden change in attitude, a faint smile tugged at Logan's lips.
Without delay, Logan wrote out the contract for the now-eager dwarf.
From Logan's perspective, it was merely bait to stoke Hamar's motivation.
Yet, as the glow of the magical contract enveloped both Logan and Hamar, the stubborn-faced dwarf unexpectedly burst into tears.
"Y-You really meant it... Thank you, human. No—thank you, Master!"
A strange sight—someone bound to twenty years of forced labor was now expressing gratitude. And on top of that, Logan even received the rare honor of being addressed formally by a dwarf.
The absurdity of it all made Logan smirk wryly.
'If a single contract can ignite this much motivation, it's a bargain.'
The weapon Logan wanted crafted could technically be made by a dwarf who had lost all drive—someone only slightly more skilled than a human blacksmith.
Still, the reason he had guaranteed Hamar his freedom was undoubtedly tied to his memories of his past life.
A thousand years ago, during the Great Migration, most dwarves had disappeared beyond the southern mountain range.
Naturally, master-class dwarves—already rare even in the grand dwarven cities—became even scarcer. And even those master-class dwarves, once enslaved, never displayed the skills befitting their reputation.
But in his past life, Logan had witnessed the true craftsmanship of a master-class dwarf—once.
A work forged with pure joy after being freed from slavery.
'The skill of a master-class dwarf who poured his very soul into his craft—that was truly something else.'
If he could draw out that level of skill, this investment was nothing.
Twenty years was more than enough time to achieve his goals.
'Though we might all be ruined before then.'
Logan shook his head, dispelling the ominous thought, and glanced at Hamar—now brimming with enthusiasm—and Kai, standing guard behind him with his usual stoic expression.
'At any rate, I've accomplished my purpose in coming to Halun.'
A faint, satisfied smile crossed Logan's lips.
Relieved that his plans were progressing smoothly, he walked away with a lighter heart.
But that lightness didn't last long.
As Logan's group exited the slave market, they stumbled upon a chaotic scene.
"Catch them!"
"Slaves are escaping!"
"Grab them! Grab those bastards!"
A hook-nosed middle-aged man, blood dripping from his forearm, bellowed furiously while pointing toward a commotion deeper in the market.
There, a blue-haired boy was sprinting through the crowd, carrying a girl who bore a striking resemblance to him.
Half a dozen mercenary-looking men were hot on his heels.
Despite his frail frame, the boy moved with surprising agility, narrowly dodging the mercenaries' grasping hands again and again.
But his luck didn't hold for long.
Thwack! Thwack!
"You damn mutt!"
Crunch.
"A slave brat—how dare you?!"
Crunch.
"Biting me?!"
The hook-nosed man showed no mercy, ruthlessly stomping on the boy.
Judging by the fury in his eyes as he clutched his bleeding forearm, he wouldn't care even if the boy died right there.
And yet, despite the brutal kicks, the blue-haired boy refused to budge—his posture rigid, unyielding.
Anyone could see why.
He was shielding the girl he had been carrying—his sister—from the man's blows.
'Is that his sister...?'
Even as blood trickled from his bitten lips, the boy stubbornly kept his arms and legs locked in place.
"O-Oppa... I-I'm okay."
The girl trembled as she whispered, clutching his arm.
Though Logan had to strain his ears to hear her, there was no way the boy above her hadn't.
Yet he only bit his lips harder, refusing to flinch even as the kicks rained down.
"They're just slaves. Best to move along."
"I know. Just... give me a second."
Slaves weren't considered people—they were property.
How their owners treated them was no one else's business.
Even if the sight was revolting.
Moreover, the five mercenaries who had captured the boy earlier were now eyeing the surroundings warily, ready to pounce on anyone who interfered.
There was no reason to invite trouble over someone else's property.
And yet, Logan couldn't tear his eyes away from the boy.
'Why?'
It wasn't just sympathy.
Beneath the boy's blue hair were eyes of starkly contrasting colors—one red, one blue.
Heterochromatic odd-eyes, rare on the continent—perhaps even unique.
Those mismatched eyes tickled something in the back of Logan's mind.
'Blue hair, red-and-blue odd-eyed slaves...'
Something important, but frustratingly just out of reach.
Then, the moment Logan's gaze met the boy's, a long-buried memory flashed through his mind.
"Ah! Victor!"
"Huh?"
"Ah, no. Just... wait."
The sudden recollection brought a strange thrill, but it also presented Logan with a new dilemma.
'To think I'd run into the Noble Slayer here.'
Logan's gaze deepened as he watched the boy being beaten.
Victor, the Noble Slayer.
In his past life, Victor had been an infamous Aura User who rose to prominence in the kingdom—precisely because of his origins.
Not a noble, not even a commoner—a slave.
A slave who had killed his master and escaped.
A slave who had received no martial training, no proper education—yet had slaughtered his pursuers, leaving a trail of soldiers, knights, and nobles in his wake before vanishing.
Nearly a decade later, when the Imperial War began, Victor resurfaced—only to massacre the entire noble family that had once owned him.
And he did it using Aura—the mark of a Transcendent.
From then on, he hunted down nobles indiscriminately, earning himself the infamous moniker: Noble Slayer.
'That slave revolt happened about a year after I became a mercenary.'
Since it occurred right after the MacLaine family's territorial war, Logan had a rough idea of the timeline.
But he hadn't remembered the finer details—like which noble family Victor had belonged to.
And now, by sheer chance, he had stumbled upon him.
If he saved this boy now...
'I'd gain a future Aura User on my side.'
That would undoubtedly be an advantage. But the problem was...
"Aaaagh!"
While Logan was lost in thought, the boy—likely Victor—had seized an opening and bitten down on his master's shin.
His jaw strength was terrifying—even from a distance, Logan could see the hook-nosed man's leg drenched in blood in an instant.
The startled mercenaries rushed in, beating and prying the boy off, but he clung on stubbornly.
The ferocious determination in the boy's eyes was enough to remind Logan of the dark rumors from his past life.
'A bloodthirsty madman no one could control.'
What Logan needed was a sharp blade—not a weapon that might turn on its wielder.
'...Then again, if it's a weapon too dangerous to wield, I can just lock it away. Better than letting it weaken the kingdom's forces.'
After a brief moment of hesitation, the conclusion came easily—almost laughably so.
The instant his thoughts reached that point, Logan moved.
"You damn—"
Thud.
"Huh?"
The hook-nosed man, who hadn't stopped kicking even after the boy lost consciousness, flinched as a scabbard suddenly blocked his foot.
"What bastard—"
A red-haired man stood right beside him—none of his guards had noticed his approach.
Seeing his men belatedly draw their swords, the slave trader swallowed his curses.
And trailing behind the redhead was none other than Kai—a well-known mercenary in Halun.
Finally, spotting the flame crest emblazoned on the redhead's armor, the hook-nosed man instinctively bowed deeply.
"M-My apologies for not recognizing your esteemed presence! H-Have I offended you in some way?"
"Just a passerby. But I'd prefer the merchandise I'm interested in to be a little less damaged."
The slave trader's eyes darted nervously before he forced an awkward laugh.
"......Ah, a customer! What poor timing for such a scene, ahaha!"
"Enough. Is this how you normally handle slaves?"
"Ahahaha, of course not! These two are just particularly disobedient... Hah, I must've looked quite uncouth just now. So... you're interested in these siblings?"
Despite the blood still dripping from his forearm and shin, the slave trader rubbed his hands together with an ingratiating smile.
Logan ignored his grotesque appearance and focused on his words.
"Customer... merchandise... So you're a slave trader? Perfect. Can we make a deal right now?"
In negotiations, showing urgency usually put one at a disadvantage—but this situation was different.
Everyone around was watching, and Logan had already demonstrated his dominance—both in force and psychologically.
Yet the slave trader, seasoned in the ways of the market, didn't fold easily.
"......These children are rare—heterochromatic odd-eyes, both siblings at that. They're quite the prized merchandise, so the price might be a bit steep..."
"Cut to the chase. How much?"
"Well... At least 10,000 gold per—"
Logan's eyebrow twitched.
A healthy young male slave typically cost around 300 gold.
The slave trader was pricing these malnourished children at dozens of times that value.
Of course, considering the future Noble Slayer's worth, even 100,000 gold for the pair would be a steal—but that was knowledge only Logan possessed.
Right now, they were just two children with rare eye colors.
He had no intention of paying such an exorbitant price.
'More than that, I don't want to let this trash profit off them.'
The moment Logan locked eyes with the girl—now tearfully cradling her unconscious brother—they ceased to be just another pair of slaves he had stumbled upon minutes ago.
His tone turned icy.
"You're charging thirty times the price of a healthy slave for two half-dead children? One of whom looks like he's about to die?"
"O-Oppa..."
The girl flinched, tears streaming down her face at the words.
But the slave trader merely grinned shamelessly.
"Ahaha, you've got quite the sense of humor! He might look like this, but he's tough—he'll shake it off soon."
"Hmm. The medical bills won't be cheap. Not to mention the cost of feeding and training them before they're useful."
"Even so, as you can see, they're one-of-a-kind merchandise in this market..."
"500 gold per. More than enough for healthy slaves."
"Oh, come now, honored guest! I wouldn't even recoup the cost at that price!"
"You're getting greedy. 1,000. Be satisfied with that."
The slave trader's mouth snapped shut as Logan's hand rested on his sword hilt.
It was practically a threat.
The slave trader's mind raced.
'That Victor brat has been nothing but trouble. And he'll keep causing more.'
His gaze flicked to his bleeding limbs.
Unique appearances were valuable as ornaments—but if those ornaments turned on their owners, they were worthless.
After a brief hesitation, the slave trader nodded.
"......Pleasure doing business, honored guest."