Chapter 323
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 323
Chapter Title: Why Are You Asking Me That?
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The Maasai tribe.
They were originally a venerable mercenary people.
Men proved their bravery by hunting lions in coming-of-age rites, then ventured out to become mercenaries.
Once they'd earned enough money, they'd buy cattle, return home, and live out their retirement herding as nomads. That was their typical life.
In the past, it had been enough.
The Maasai, born with superior physiques and courage, were natural warriors.
They commanded high prices wherever they went, and few dared to mess with them.
But that was ancient history.
Lately, the Maasai's situation had grown dire.
Ever since the Iron Age dawned.
Cheap player mercenaries had flooded the market, turning the Maasai into just another dime-a-dozen mercenary folk.
And the result was this.
A tribe once numbering over 200,000 had scattered, leaving fewer than a thousand souls huddled in a tiny village.
"...So."
In that Maasai village.
A blonde, tanned boy lounged brazenly on the low hut roof, smeared with cow dung and branches.
Propping his chin on one hand, Rimon asked in a bored drawl,
"Those guys came to conquer your village?"
"Yes."
The Maasai chief, Umbaru, nodded cautiously, eyes flicking to Rimon's face.
He gritted his teeth and continued.
"The Lukuma tribe used to be a weak little group. But they monopolized a Dark Cave on their land, grew strong, and now they're swallowing up other tribes."
"Dark Cave?"
"Enter and prove yourself a warrior, and you contract with a star to gain power."
"Ah, so that's what you call dungeons around here."
Lucky bastards.
Rimon inwardly clicked his tongue.
In this Iron Age, a dungeon was a gold mine unto itself.
No— in some ways, even better.
Just selling dungeon byproducts brought in fortunes, and with talent, you could level people up and mass-produce players.
Early in the Iron Age, bloody disputes over dungeon ownership had been rampant.
Without the World Peace Initiative.
Without the Seven Dragon Society founding the Player Association to ban private dungeon monopolies under international law.
It wouldn't have been surprising if World War III had erupted ages ago.
But international law wasn't always obeyed.
In Africa, a single tribe monopolizing a dungeon wasn't exactly rare.
Most wars here revolved around dungeon rights, after all.
"You guys just found it recently, huh?"
"No. It's been discovered for over ten years now."
"Then why come after you only now?"
Rimon frowned, puzzled.
Back in the day, maybe.
But the current Maasai? Obviously just a few hundred souls, scraping by in poverty.
Nothing worth taking—clearly why they'd been ignored till now.
So why send soldiers to annex them all of a sudden? He couldn't figure it out.
"...I don't know either."
"Hm. I see."
Umbaru just kept glancing at him nervously, unwilling to say more.
Rimon narrowed his eyes, noting the chief's gaze lingering on his Egyptian-style garb.
Egyptians stood out in Africa, sure—but there was something odd in that look regardless.
Still, Rimon didn't press.
He just waved him off casually.
"Alright, off you go."
"...?"
"I've heard all I need. Head out. You're the chief—you must have work to do."
"Ah, right. Rest well, then."
Not like he had room to talk, the one who'd grilled the busy chief himself.
But Umbaru's face lit up with relief as he scurried out, like prey fleeing a predator's den.
Rimon couldn't help a smirk.
"Weren't you too harsh on him?"
"Didn't expect him to crumble like that from a little killing intent."
"...If he sensed the pressure when you warned him earlier, he's got sharp instincts."
"Mercenary folk at heart. Bound to have a few sharp ones."
The blue-haired woman entered as Umbaru left.
Rimon shrugged at Rose's words and tossed out,
"So, what do you think, sis?"
"...?"
She blinked.
Glanced around slowly.
Confirmed they were alone, then asked with the most awkward expression of her life,
"You talking to me?"
"Hiding our identities for once. Can't have you calling me Count, right?"
Showing her blue hair was risky enough; add her title, and it'd be game over soon.
Rose felt dizzy watching him grin so brightly.
He always reeked of old-man vibes—seeing him like this was shock enough.
That innocent smile? Devastating.
Sensing her fluster,
Rimon teased,
"If 'sis' bugs you, how about just 'sis' then?"
"............No, it's fine."
"Oh? Cool."
Rimon tilted his head at the odd pause before her answer, but Rose looked away, pretending nothing happened.
No way she'd admit the inner turmoil rejecting that had cost her.
He cocked his head briefly,
Then shrugged it off and pressed,
"Anyway, I'd like your take on this."
"My take...?"
"On the situation."
Finally snapping to, Rose grew serious.
"It's bad."
"Yeah, figured."
"Yes. Plenty of malnourished kids and patients— the village needs aid pronto."
"...I meant our getting swept into war the second we hit Africa."
"Ah... ."
She wouldn't normally misread like that.
But "sis" had rattled her so hard, she realized she was still off-kilter—face burning.
Clearing her throat to steady herself, she steered back.
"Honestly, it's tricky."
"Yep. Whole plan's shot."
Rimon nodded.
Their original plan was simple.
Search for the seven-colored bird as stealthily as possible, snag a feather, and bail.
No frills, no flaws.
Problem: War had conveniently erupted on Kilimanjaro right then.
And they'd landed smack in the middle, dragged into the mess the moment their feet hit African soil.
Talk about rotten luck.
They'd even used space movement to straight-shot Kilimanjaro, dodging trouble—backfired spectacularly.
Rose asked gravely,
"Sword Duke, may I ask something?"
"Rimor."
"Pardon?"
"Rimor."
Calling her sis, but expecting "Sword Duke" to blow his cover?
She hesitated under his beaming, silent pressure, then barely managed,
"Ri... mor."
"Yeah? What's up?"
Why was she the embarrassed one?
Glared briefly at the shameless, pretty blonde boy prodding her,
Then forced calm.
"Was there really need to escalate like this?"
"Escalate...? You mean capturing those guys, or dragging them here?"
"Both."
"Can't just slaughter kids for spotting us by accident."
"...I'm not saying wipe them out. Wouldn't slipping away quietly have been better?"
Rose sighed.
It was practically an ambush the second they teleported in—quick action made sense.
She'd been dazed post-buffeting the explosion with her Protective Aura Flow.
So she'd followed his lead, but couldn't help wondering if it was too rash.
If they'd just subdued and vanished.
Maybe they could've stayed under the radar, infiltrated Africa per plan.
But Rimon shook his head at her what-if.
"Doubt it. Would've ended the same."
"Why?"
"What if a hundred soldiers suddenly saw two people pop up right in front of them?"
"...We'd be pegged as high-level space players."
"Nine times out of ten."
Way back in the Silver Age...
Even Heroes Age, it might've passed as ghosts or illusions.
Especially in battle.
But not this era.
Sudden appearances screamed space players; even real ghosts got chalked up to necromancers.
"Word spreads, and every faction scours Kilimanjaro for us."
"Just for a couple high-level players?"
"Not 'just'—one of them, big time."
Players were plentiful now, but high-level ones? Rare.
Mostly in old major guilds with overlords, or big powers.
Small nations rose or fell by them; one could shift economy and military might.
For a tribe like Lukuma, not even recognized as a military state?
Of course they'd obsess over a high-level player appearing in their warzone.
Capture if enemy.
Recruit if not.
Had to track them down.
"Fair point. Would disrupt the search."
"If only. Bet we'd clash with them too."
"That certain?"
"Half-assed powers never know their place—and they hate rejection."
That's why he'd subdued the Lukuma soldiers on purpose and brought them here.
Why he'd grilled Umbaru on the tribe's woes.
If they were reasonable, he could've returned the prisoners, bought silence or time.
But no dice.
In his experience, local bullies expanding like this rarely compromised.
"...Makes sense."
Rose nodded slowly.
Capturing alive had seemed excessive at first.
But his logic showed it was peak murim cold calculation.
So she asked,
"What now?"
"Huh? Why ask me?"
"Pardon?"
"You decide, sis."
Never expected him to bail like this.
Rose gaped, stunned.
Rimon just chuckled mischievously.
"Forgot? I'm here following your orders."
"...!"
Earlier was pure crisis mode—no choice but to step up.
Now? Laser-focused on the seven-colored bird hunt.
Aftermath's all hers, he said breezily.
All Rose could do was stare in shock.