Chapter 36
Chapter 36
Translator: Penny
Chapter 36
The Bottom of the World 3
Agron and Jacob turned around, drawn by the commotion and the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Who are they?"
"I'm not sure, Count. But the things they're carrying look like weapons." Jacob replied, gathering strength in his hands. His fingernails hardened, and veins bulged on the backs of his hands and forearms. He looked ready to kill anyone who dared enter his attack range.
"Hmm, I'll handle this."
"What? No, wait! Give me five seconds, and I can chop off their heads and display them in the alley!"
"Enough. They look like they're still wet behind the ears. If we build an orphanage here, they might even have a place to go."
"Ah, if that's your wish... Very well."
Jacob hesitated for a moment before stepping back a few paces from Agron.
Jacob knew Agron was strong, but regardless, if Agron so much as got a scratch, Elena would never forgive him.
Today, Jacob's sole mission was: "Protect the Count with your life."
He licked his parched lips, gathering magical energy at his fingertips in preparation for any eventuality.
"There they are! The big, rich bastard and his scrawny servant!"
"Beat them up before Josef gets here!"
The boys and girls charged at Agron, wielding broken mop handles, discarded sword scabbards, and rusty daggers with chipped blades.
"Quite a brave bunch," Agron remarked. "But punishment is necessary."
He curled his left index finger into a circle and pressed it against his thumb, forming a flicking stance.
To deliver a truly forceful strike, he should have used his right middle finger, but these were just young teenagers, so he decided to hold back.
At that moment, a wooden broom flew at him. Agron effortlessly dodged the attack with a slight twist of his foot and aimed a flick at the boy's forehead.
"Hah?! This brat's gone mad—"
Crack!
The sound was like a stone being crushed. The boy's body shot into the air, soaring over ten meters before crashing down.
"...?"
"...Huh?"
"M-magic?"
"Did someone pull him?"
They exchanged bewildered glances, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
It was just a flick, wasn't it?
Even if Agron wasn't a fully grown man, no one should be sent flying by such a thing.
It was impossible, unnatural, and should never have occurred.
"Don't worry," Agron said calmly. "He's unlikely to die."
Agron spoke with detached indifference as he delivered another lightning-fast flick to the forehead of another boy.
Crack!
Unbeknownst to the others, the boy—who was actually around Agron's age—was sent flying by the flick, crashing into the wall. He collapsed, foaming at the mouth.
"H-huuuh...!"
"He's a monster...!"
"No, it must be magic!"
"He only has one hand! Attack him from all sides at once!"
They believed Agron's magic was limited to his left hand. They reasoned that if they attacked simultaneously from multiple directions, his single hand wouldn't be enough to defend against them all.
Jacob found their reasoning utterly absurd and naive.
Can't they see the Count's size?
Of course, being large doesn't automatically make someone a good fighter. But the difference in size had to be truly overwhelming to make such a comparison irrelevant.
Their physiques were less than half Agron's size.
Judging by appearances alone, the size difference was as staggering as an Orc clashing with a Skeleton.
Moreover, Agron was merely holding back, not necessarily intending to show mercy.
Leading his group forward, Agron approached the shouting boy and struck his thigh with his right index finger.
Crack!
A thunderous explosion, like gunpowder igniting, erupted from the boy's thigh with just a flick of Agron's finger.
"Uwaaaah!"
"Looks like a bone's broken."
As the boy clutched his thigh and rolled on the ground, the others hesitated, daring not to attack.
"M-magician...!"
"Spare me, please spare me..."
"They must be half-Orcs!"
Jacob stepped forward first.
"I'll subdue them properly!"
He decided to intervene, judging that if left unchecked, they would scatter in all directions.
With swift palm strikes to the back of their necks, Jacob knocked them all unconscious in a single second.
Just then, Wolf and Josef rushed toward them.
They too had clearly been fighting, their bodies stained with blood and their clothes torn.
"Your Excellency, are you alright?!"
"Hmm, I'm fine."
"We apologize. They suddenly split into two groups, and we lost track of them."
"It doesn't matter. More importantly, gather the unconscious children together."
Upon hearing the order, the subordinates began collecting the unconscious children into a single location, following Agron's instructions.
The group's leader was a boy named Ritz.
Like the other children, he knelt quietly before Agron, his knees pressed to the ground.
Agron's threat—"If you try to escape, I'll shatter your other thigh and make you crawl for the rest of your life"—had proven remarkably effective.
Of course, Agron hadn't been bluffing; he meant every word.
After all, a warrior, young or old, should take responsibility for their actions.
Ritz began to recount his life story in excruciating detail, explaining how he had come to commit these thefts.
It was a familiar tale.
Wolf and Josef, having heard such stories countless times, showed little reaction. Jacob, however, focused intently on discerning whether Ritz was telling the truth.
But Agron was different.
He met Ritz's gaze and listened intently to his story for a long time, showing no particular reaction.
"...So I abandoned my dad who always drank and beat me... and my mom who was addicted to drugs... sob... and took the younger siblings I met here... but no one would give us jobs... sniff..."
"I see, hmm."
Ritz spoke incoherently, sobbing intermittently. Each time, Agron patted his shoulder and nodded in understanding.
Perhaps it was because of this...
For the first time, Ritz felt his pent-up emotions washing away as someone listened to his story with genuine concern.
Of course, this single encounter wouldn't heal all his old wounds, but it was enough to open the floodgates.
Following Ritz, the other children clung to Agron, pouring out their pent-up grievances.
The sight of the children sobbing, their faces smeared with tears and snot, was a truly heartbreaking spectacle.
Jacob quietly slipped away and returned with a market basket overflowing with food and drinks.
Though he had bought it for Agron, he knew the children would inevitably ask for some, so he had purchased enough for everyone.
"Hmm, well done," Agron said, a faint smile playing on his lips as he distributed the food among the children. He seemed pleased with Jacob's thoughtfulness.
The boys and girls, their initial wariness completely gone, eagerly accepted the food and began devouring it with gusto, their tear-streaked faces a mess.
They look so much younger now, Jacob thought, observing the scene.
When they had charged with weapons, they had seemed like young men. But now, looking at them again, they appeared unmistakably like children.
The situation had shaped them.
Agron's group vacated their seats so the children could eat in peace, moving to a spot slightly farther away.
"By the way, Count, you're incredible," Jacob said, sounding amazed. "How did you win their hearts without even speaking? It's truly miraculous."
Josef and Wolf shared his astonishment.
Could children as sharp as shattered glass really become so docile after just a few words?
"You just need to establish rapport," Agron explained. "Inner wounds can be soothed simply by empathizing and listening quietly."
"...Huh?"
"If you want to know someone, don't talk—ask questions and listen. People need open ears, not noisy mouths."
Jacob, Wolf, and Josef stared at Agron with wide-eyed astonishment. They had never heard such wisdom before.
"I read it in a book. Don't look at me like that."
"No... it's just... it's amazing."
They realized once again that this young warrior possessed profound knowledge and wisdom far beyond his years.
In battle, he fought with the ferocity of a Barbarian warrior, but in ordinary times, he was as wise and insightful as a sage.
No wonder Lady Elena follows him. I must do my best to become a loyal servant of this Count as well.
Jacob reaffirmed his loyalty.
Agron approached the children again, noticing they had nearly finished their meal.
Their initial hostility and wariness had vanished, replaced by bright, curious gazes.
"Where do you usually sleep?" he asked.
"When the weather's good, we sleep on the streets," one of the children replied. "If it rains or gets windy, we sometimes pitch a tent."
The "tent" they referred to was a patchwork of discarded clothes and rags, stitched together and coated with candle wax.
"What about in winter?"
"That's the hardest part," another child chimed in. "Even when we find an abandoned house, other adult beggars chase us away."
"Aren't you allowed to fight back?"
"We're no match for them. Some are mercenaries or adventurers, others have teamed up with thugs... and worst of all, some are under the Lord's protection."
"The Lord...?" Agron asked, his voice rising in disbelief.
Ritz nodded. "Yes, the new Lord. I heard he's from some cannibal tribe and has partnered with the underworld to run drug trafficking and human trafficking operations."
"Those bastards...!" Jacob and Wolf's faces twisted with fury at Ritz's words.
This wasn't just anyone—it was the Master they served, the Count of this fief. He wasn't someone who could casually claim to be under the Lord's protection.
Still unaware of Agron and his companions' true identities, Ritz assumed they were simply angered by the Count's actions and continued speaking.
"So, whenever we earn some money, we have to pay it to them as 'protection money.' Otherwise, the Lord will take everything..."
"The Lord?"
"The reason we tried to rob you was to get the protection money. They demanded either the money or our youngest sister, Sapia."
"Hmm, do you deal directly with this Lord?"
"No, we deal with someone from the Dark Guild among the vagrant groups in the upper district."
Agron glanced at Josef.
Josef looked flustered and quickly waved his hands, protesting, "We have absolutely no involvement! We don't traffic in humans, and we've never dealt with vagrants or beggars!"
"Hmm."
Well, "Six Fingers" is a fairly well-known assassination organization. It's unlikely they'd stoop to such low-level business like human trafficking.
"But... who are you guys?" Ritz asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
They seemed like decent people, listening to his story and offering him food, but he didn't know who they were or why they were helping him.
Seeing even the renowned Josef flustered suggested they might be nobles...
"How old are you?"
"I'm... 18 this year."
"You're a year older than me, then."
"Huh?"
"Huh?!"
"What did you say?"
Ritz and everyone else hearing Agron's age for the first time wore expressions of shock.
"Why are you repeating my question like that?"
"Ah, no... it's just..."
Agron didn't look particularly old, of course. He was a strikingly handsome man, but his imposing build and numerous scars gave the impression of someone older.
"Don't I look 17?"
"You just... looked so strong..."
"Hmm, as the saying goes, the only weak warrior is a dead warrior. Thank you for the compliment."
"...It's nothing."
Jacob averted his gaze from Agron, his expression awkward.
Only Wolf remained unfazed, neither surprised nor questioning.
"We're the city's cleaners."
"Cleaners...?" Ritz hesitated, almost addressing the younger man informally, but the overwhelming pressure radiating from him made him add the honorific "-yo." Even Josef had used polite speech with him, so it seemed only proper to reciprocate.
"Yes, cleaners. We eliminate filth. Will you help?"
"If we do, will we get paid...?"
Agron grinned. "I'll pay you. Food, drink, clothes, shelter—everything."
"I'll do it! Let us! We can work hard!"
"Good. Jacob."
"Yes..."
Jacob deliberately omitted the title "Count" in his reply, just in case.
"I was planning to clear everything up anyway, but let's pinpoint its location just in case."
"Shall I dispose of it immediately?"
"Hmm, check if it's related to Ananta or Ink Moon first, then proceed."
"Your command shall be obeyed."
Jacob's crimson eyes flared.
📝 Translator’s Note:
You may notice that certain lines or phrases in this novel appear both in their original Korean (or Hanja) form and in English translation.
This is intentional — these phrases are classical idioms, divine titles, or poetic expressions that carry layered meanings.
To preserve their original tone and authenticity, the raw text has been kept for reference, while the English interpretation is provided right before or after it. This helps convey both the literal and cultural nuance of the original work.
but if you guys dont want tha raw for future chapters or my future other novels u can just text me on discord and say so discord name Mr.Penny