Chapter 74
Chapter 74
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 74
>Chapter Title: It's Not 'How'
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Several days had passed since crossing the Hamern Great Forest alongside the Aviot Mercenary Corps.
The Hamern Great Forest was truly going berserk.
Was it because they were venturing deeper inside? Or had the influence of Destrow grown stronger?
Kroooar—!
Fierce roars echoed from all directions, and encounters with monsters were becoming more frequent.
It wasn't just the frequency that was increasing.
“It's an ogre!”
“Form up! Chainsquad, step forward!”
Before reaching the First Base Camp, goblins were the most they'd faced at best.
They'd occasionally run into orcs, but large-scale monsters were rare.
‘Now trolls and ogres are the baseline.’
Full-fledged 'monsters' were starting to emerge.
But.
- This will be a great help. Especially in shortening our schedule.
Riley's words had indeed rung true.
Ching-ching-ching—!
The metallic clangs rang out simultaneously.
With the sound of chains slicing through the air, they soon entangled the enraged ogre's limbs.
Finally, its waist and neck.
The ogre, which had lunged forward as if to tear everything apart, was stripped of its freedom in an instant.
Krooo! Kraa!
It twisted its limbs and body belatedly, but the Aviot mercenaries reacted even faster.
“Processing squad, forward!”
“Stab it good, real good!”
Five or six mercenaries stepped up.
The polearms they gripped varied wildly.
One wielded a mace the size of an adult man's head, another a scythe.
A few more advanced with long spear shafts.
What followed was utterly horrific from the ogre's perspective.
Crunch!
Mercenaries leaping high to smash its eyes with their maces.
Slash! Crunch!
A scythe infused with ether sliced through its Achilles tendons and wrist tendons.
Then—
Crunch.
A long spear shaft pierced its throat.
Thud!
A shorter spear thrust up from below, gouging into the ogre's solar plexus.
It took barely five minutes to dispatch one ogre.
“That sight... I still can't get used to it no matter how many times I see it. Impressive, isn't it?”
I gave a quiet nod at Riley's words.
“Definitely... above expectations.”
Objectively speaking, it wasn't all that strange for Aviot's mercenaries to take down an ogre.
Each one was a veteran mercenary.
With twenty-three of them together, what threat was a single ogre?
But considering this was the Hamern Great Forest, it was plenty surprising.
For starters, their size was on another level.
While ogres outside the forest averaged around three meters tall, the ones here were pushing five meters.
And their strength?
‘Monstrous.’
Just their grip strength alone could rip chunks off ancient trees—massive ones at that.
That alone spoke volumes.
So how could anyone not be amazed?
‘I figured they'd at least struggle...’
Far from struggling, they butchered it like seasoned slaughterhouse workers.
And that was it?
“Hey! Scythe guy! You rusty? Damn it. How many times I gotta tell you to just cut the tendons, you punk!”
“Ah, come on. You're so uptight. Fine, big bro'll show you. It's damn good for not wielding a scythe in ages.”
“Hmm... Didn't fully pierce the heart. Yeah, you're definitely out of practice.”
They even grumbled among themselves, clearly unsatisfied.
As I watched, a shadow approached.
“Cut 'em some slack. They haven't handled bladed weapons in ages, so they're still shaking off the rust.”
“Rust?”
“Yeah. The old-timers mostly handle chains. Processing's for the young bucks. Anyway, no delays on schedule.”
With that, Fisher turned away.
‘Definitely...’
Those handling the chains looked effortlessly proficient.
Proficient? That was an understatement.
‘At that level, you could call it a secret technique.’
This was an ogre, after all.
A Hamern ogre, with strength incomparable to the ones outside.
Yet humans weighing under 100kg—ether users or not—binding its limbs with chains? Possible?
‘Impossible.’
Even if two handled each chain, it was still fifty-fifty.
But the chainsquad neutralized the ogre's movements regardless.
- Those chains... cost more than their weight in gold. Made from some ore unique to the forest, apparently.
First off, superior gear.
To withstand an ogre's power, you needed chains that tough.
The other factor...
‘Experience and coordination.’
Arms, legs, waist, neck.
The chain handlers didn't brace independently.
Like twelve people moving as one body, they disrupted the ogre's center of gravity with every motion.
“Hey, blabbermouth!”
“Ah, damn it! Why am I blabbermouth!”
“'Cause your mouth's too loose! Shut it and hurry up, mark the path! Where'd this bastard come from?”
Riley, slacking off nearby, scurried over at an Aviot mercenary's call.
Grumbling but diligently inspecting the ogre.
After a brief check, Riley chatted with Fisher, reminding me of what he'd said days ago.
- Honestly, this is a dream team.
- Dream team?
- Yeah. The best compass and the best ship. No better setup for sailing.
Calling himself the best compass was a bit cocky, but seeing this, it wasn't wrong.
And...
“Anyone hurt? I can handle basic healing spells...”
They even had a slightly clumsy mage.
Not a bad combo.
The journey proceeded smoothly enough.
Occasionally—
“Mage, might need your help here.”
There were times I had to step in, but the obstacles weren't major.
Soon...
“Feels like we've got the rhythm now. We can go straight via the shortest route.”
“Yeah, I've got a feel for it too. I'll plot the path to match the Aviot crew's level.”
As they accelerated in earnest.
An Aviot mercenary scouting the surroundings spotted something right then.
“Chief! Come check this out!”
Rare for one to shout so loudly for Fisher.
“Hm. Wanna come?”
Fisher sensed something off, asking me directly.
I followed casually, and there was a stranger in bad shape.
“It's a guy... still breathing?”
But his condition was wretched.
Soaked in blood—monster or his own, hard to tell—barely clinging to life.
Yet, for some reason.
“...Hm. How'd this one...”
Fisher muttered, face hardening.
“Who is it?”
“First... stabilize him. Heynser, go back and tell 'em to rest up.”
Fisher handled the blood-soaked man himself.
“Ugh, ugh.”
Not critical, as he was groaning.
Shouldering him, Fisher paused with an “Ah,” then looked at me.
“What'd you say just now?”
“Know him?”
Fisher nodded slowly.
“...Yeah. Remember? The favor before we left.”
“Persuade Alion or whoever?”
“Harig. And he mentioned another.”
“Flen?”
“...Right.”
Fisher's face was grim.
“This is Flen. We could skip Second Base Camp, but he said this one's essential.”
“Hmm.”
I frowned, eyeing the man called Flen.
“Wasn't he vice captain?”
“Yeah.”
“So...”
“Yeah. Looks like something happened at Second Base Camp.”
With that, Fisher headed back to the main group.
‘Something happened...’
I glanced at Fisher, then turned sharply.
A moment later.
Thud.
I kicked off and leaped onto a thick branch of a massive tree.
Right after.
“...Guh!”
The dense shadows from the thick foliage.
I plucked out a rat hiding there and curled my lip.
“Been bugging me anyway.”
The rat familiar that kept spying on the group.
I'd left it alone not knowing the intent, but now it boldly revealed itself.
“Come on, spill it. What's your game?”
“H-How... did you...”
Couldn't believe its stealth was busted?
Pinpoint pupils. Trembling eyes.
I shook my head gently at him.
“No, your question isn't 'how'.”
Wrong choice of words.
“Shouldn't you ask 'what' first? That way, it might hurt a little less.”
My hand, wrapped in Collision Formula, loomed over his shocked face.
* * *
Aster returned to the main group after some more time passed.
“What about the stray?”
“Heavy injuries, but not critical. Just exhausted and unconscious. Looks like he'd been hounded by monsters for days.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“...Hm.”
Fisher neither confirmed nor denied.
Given the current state of Hamern Great Forest, it was fortunate it wasn't worse—but still, lucky in the midst of misfortune?
“Anyway, not dying?”
“No, but... hey, what exactly did you do?”
Fisher squinted at Aster.
More precisely, at what his hand held.
Faint blood scent wafting.
He'd tried hiding it, but not from a lifelong mercenary's nose.
“Found a rat. We'll talk later.”
“Rat?”
“Yeah. Anyway, if he's not dying, we should move now.”
“...Hm. Alright, I'll get 'em ready.”
Aster brushed it off suspiciously, but Fisher didn't press.
Some trust built over days together.
“Prepare! We move now!”
“I'll take point now.”
Aster led the group, walking beside Riley through the forest.
The rest was a forced march.
A few more days.
‘...Hm.’
Fisher eyed the leading Aster thoughtfully.
‘Something was up after all.’
His masked face was hidden, but he'd always maintained a relaxed demeanor.
Now?
- Troll! Fallen troll. Gotta sever the neck in one—
- Boom!
- ...!
Troll's head exploding before mercenaries could act.
- Good? Let's go.
Not panicked, but bolder somehow.
- M-Mage. Pathfinding...
- I'll handle most. Stick to shortest route, no matter what.
- ...Got it.
Truth be told, not the best approach.
Aster's power was known, but Hamern wasn't conquerable by brute force alone.
Pathfinders read not just monsters, but the forest's ecosystem itself.
But.
- Uh, poison plant thicket ahead, better detour...
- Whoosh—
- This work?
Torching the entire thicket.
- Hmm... drake tracks. Probably best to go around.
- Straight.
No monster deterred him.
When they actually faced a drake, ripping scales and bursting its heart brutally...
“Hmm, what's with that guy suddenly?”
Riley must've noticed too, sidling up to ask.
Fisher glanced at him briefly.
A moment.
“Comfy, huh?”
“Well, yeah, for me...”
With Aviot, Riley's worries had shrunk plenty.
But since Aster took lead, they vanished.
How to put it.
Right—like a compass.
Point direction, and a bulldozer clears the path.
That's when Fisher's bellow dropped.
“You punk! Don't slack just 'cause it's easy! Stay sharp, especially now! Huh? Quit yapping and scout ahead proper!”
Riley flinched, shoulders hunching at the sudden roar.
“Huh, what the...”
“This blabbermouth, what? Not going? Want me to toss you?”
“Sheesh... annoying old man. Fine, going.”
Grumbling, Riley headed front.
Fisher watched a beat, then shifted gaze to Aster.
“Caught slacking?”
“Ah, slacking my ass. Just the geezer overreacting... ahem, bit sensitive.”
“So do it right. Huh? What is this, freeloader central?”
Aster ribbed the sheepish Riley.
No trace of his usual seriousness...
‘...Hm. Utterly inscrutable.’
Fisher sensed an inexplicable unease.
Like an itch you couldn't scratch, nagging.
As Fisher pondered that far.
The scout who'd gone ahead returned right then.
“Second Base Camp!”
Aster shot forward right after.
“Take it slow. I'll go on ahead.”
“Hm.”
Fisher nodded slowly, then raised his voice to the group.
“Pick up the pace.”
Thus, Aviot mercenaries followed the scout to Second Base Camp.
And.
Entering the wide-open main gate.
“...!”
Fisher's eyes widened.
First sight: the masked mage standing stock-still, surveying the scene.
Silently, without a flicker of emotion, neutral as ever.
But the vista beyond was anything but casual.
Central clearing of Second Base Camp.
The unfolded atrocity.
“Urk... ugh!”
“Blech!”
Even battle-hardened mercenaries retched.
“Ah...”
Obern, who'd seen Destrow's undead horrors at Fourth Base Camp, paled.
One word flashed in Fisher's mind at the sight.
‘Hell.’
The fabled realm dusty theologians never omitted in sermons.
It had unfolded in Second Base Camp.