Chapter 147
Chapter 147
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 147
Chapter Title: A Friend Like That (2)
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Boys generally like games of fighting and competing.
The children of this small village in the Free City Alliance territories, Maltana, were no exception.
However, the kids here took it a bit more seriously. Maltana had quite a few mercenaries who'd rolled around in the dark alleys of big cities. Their tales of exploits and stories about mercenaries acted as a catalyst, helping the kids break free from bland war games and unleash richer imaginations.
And so today, about a dozen kids gathered in the forest near the village. For a mercenary role-play.
One rowdy kid grabbed a wooden stick and clambered up onto a large boulder.
"I'm the 'Spear of the North'! I handle the spear amazingly well, and I just stab anyone indiscriminately! Even super scary monsters, when they meet me, they just shake in terror!"
The kid flexed his scrawny little bicep. Giggles erupted from the group. After 'Spear of the North' came down, the other kids took turns grabbing weapons and climbing the rock.
"I'm the 'Blood Blade'! My sword never spares an enemy's life! You'd better be ready to die if you come at me!"
"I'm the 'Net Predator'! No one can escape my iron net!"
"I'm Agon’s Furious Horn... There are hardly any barbarians in the world stronger than me... except for, well, that one guy..."
Famous mercenaries' and gladiators' epithets poured out one after another. The kids who snagged their desired titles fully immersed themselves in their roles. The weapons were crude mock-ups made of wood and twine, but their expressions were deadly serious, just like real mercenaries.
But the kid who went up near the end didn't get his desired epithet.
"Uwaaa!! I'm the 'Demon Slayer'! I'm the strongest mercenary no one can stop!! Yesterday for dinner, I ripped off demons' heads and chomped them to bits..."
Puk!
Suddenly, the burly kid next in line lashed out with a kick.
The kid on the rock lost his balance and tumbled down pathetically. The burly kid scowled and glared down.
"What the hell are you doing, you idiot? I told you yesterday. 'Demon Slayer' is mine only."
"Ow! Ugh... B-Boss! You've been hogging 'Demon Slayer' for days now! Can't I, just for today... be 'Demon Slayer'..."
"Oh yeah? You little punk? Got a mouth on you now?"
Puk! Puk!
The kids' boss, Huruk, mercilessly stomped the fallen kid's nose. Then he yanked away the wooden axe by force and claimed the 'Demon Slayer' title. The kid, sniffling blood and tears, had no choice but to take the unpopular epithet 'Sneaky Hunter'.
Even 'Sneaky Hunter' was better off. There was a kid who couldn't even play a mercenary—no, not even a human.
"U-Um, I..."
"Ah, what are you asking for! You're the demon again today! Stupid, evil, worthless demon! No more human talk—wail like a demon from now on!"
"..."
The little kid, Dunsen, hung his head low.
Unlike in reality, the demon here just fled bare-handed and got pummeled by the mercenaries. Dunsen fidgeted with his fingers and barely mustered the words again.
"B-Boss... Can I, just for today, do something other than demon...? I've never done anything but demon so far... Just one day..."
"..."
"..."
The other kids glared with fierce eyes, faces hardening.
Huruk wore the scariest scowl of all. Dunsen flinched, shoulders hunching as he curled up small. Too late—he regretted ever opening his mouth.
"What'd you just say?"
"...Huh?"
"What'd you say, you little shit? You messing around right now? If not you, who the hell am I gonna make play demon? Me? You want me to do it?"
"..."
The wooden axe prodded his skull like it was cracking an egg. Tears quickly welled in Dunsen's eyes. Huruk grimaced in disgust at the sight.
"Ugh... This pathetic wimp, bawling again... Fine. Just for today, you can skip demon."
"R-Really? Th-Thanks, boss...! So what mercenary do I get to..."
"Be a goblin instead."
"...Huh?"
"Goblin, I said. Goblin. I'll even give you an epithet like the others. Since your old man ditched home and died... Yeah, 'Fatherless Goblin' fits."
"Puhahat!"
"Puhuhh..."
The silent onlookers burst into mockery. Dunsen, who'd been moping, finally flared up for the first time.
"M-My dad's not dead! He went far, far away to earn big money, so he hasn't come back yet! Mom said he'll be back by winter at the latest..."
"Hey, no talking—that's for humans, punk. You're a goblin now, right?"
Puk!
"Aaak!"
His feeble protest was crushed in an instant. After the axe smacked his forehead, Dunsen couldn't utter another human word. Huruk let out a sly cackle and turned to the others.
"Men! In the name of I, the greatest mercenary 'Demon Slayer', I command! No demon extermination today! Instead, we're specially hunting 'Fatherless Goblin'! Repeat after me—what are we hunting?"
"Fatherless Goblin!"
"Fatherless Goblin! Fatherless Goblin!"
"That's right! A hunt needs rewards! First one to catch and thrash Fatherless Goblin gets first pick of any mercenary role next time!"
"“Waaaaah!!”"
The kids brandished their fake weapons and stampeded after their target. It might look heartwarming to clueless adults, but raw, unrefined malice lurked at its core.
"Get over here, you Fatherless Goblin!"
"Stop now, or we'll make you motherless too!"
"Keeing, kiiing, kiiing..."
The son of a merchant who'd waited endlessly for his absent father fled helter-skelter into the woods, mimicking a terrified goblin.
Yulia was your run-of-the-mill rural housewife, the kind you see anywhere in the Free City Alliance backwoods.
Until recently, that is. Now she was a touch more unfortunate than most. Half a year ago, her husband had left on a long trade caravan to make a fortune, and he still hadn't returned. The label "widow" now trailed her like a tail.
"..."
Still, Yulia wasn't giving in to despair. No time for that, with massive debts to pay and a lone son to feed. Today, too, she'd shown up at the village steward's estate—their creditor—for her paid laundry work.
But for some reason, the spot for her tools was empty.
"Um, Miss Loraine...? My laundry stick's gone from the shed. Have you seen it?"
"Hah, why ask me? Go bug the laundry girls..."
The prickly-looking maid snapped back and stalked off. Yulia chewed her lip, shouldered the laundry, and headed to the stream.
"That clueless bitch still thinks her man's coming back?"
"Ugh, come back? Bet he locked eyes with some other woman and started a new life..."
"Oh, a new family? That puny, worthless little guy? Probably crossed the border clueless and got nabbed... Oops."
"..."
Were they here to do laundry or crack seeds? The sparrow-like women chattering away clamped their mouths shut the moment they spotted Yulia. No need to guess who they were talking about. Yulia tamped down her boiling anger and approached.
"Mrs. Medel, have you seen my laundry stick? I left it in the steward's shed yesterday."
"Oh... that one? I think Ortan's second daughter borrowed it, but uh, maybe she didn't return it...?"
"..."
Something fishy, but no other leads. Yulia hurried straight to Ortan's place. But they denied any borrowing. Heard maybe someone else knew, checked there—another bust.
After circling the village asking everyone, Yulia finally got a solid clue.
"Oh, that laundry stick? Mrs. Medel took it out of the shed this morning, I think?"
"..."
Burdened with the messy laundry basket, she waddled back to the stream. Only then did Yulia realize: the laundry stick Mrs. Medel had been using was hers.
Confronted on why she'd taken it without asking and played dumb, the woman put on a shocked act.
"Oh dear me, look at my head! Sorry, ma'am, what a mix-up? It looked just like mine~"
"...Yours is a totally different color from the start. How do you 'mistake' it?"
"Oh? What kind of talk is that? Someone might think I took it on purpose... Anyway, borrowed it well. We're off—keep up the good work~"
"..."
Mrs. Medel casually set down the stick and left with the other women. Yulia clenched her fists tight, grinding down her fury.
The unexpected hassle delayed her laundry until dusk. Scolded by the head maid over the late drying—"How's it supposed to dry like this?"—she wasted even more time. By the time Yulia dragged her weary body home, night had fallen deep.
"...Dunsen, you home?"
"..."
Her eight-year-old son was crouched in his usual dark corner, the spot he'd claimed since his father left. Yulia let out a deep sigh.
"Sorry I'm so late... You must be starving. I'll make dinner right now..."
"No, I don't wanna eat."
"...Huh?"
"Not eating. Not hungry."
A sinister premonition prickled her.
Yulia soon noticed her son's body was covered in bruises and scrapes again.
"Oh my god, Dunsen! Who did this? Again? Those kids you play with?"
Dunsen didn't answer the question. Instead, in a choked, hoarse voice, he asked:
"Mom... Is Dad dead?"
"...What?"
"The kids said Dad's already dead... They called me Fatherless Goblin... Dad's really coming back by winter, right, Mom?"
"..."
Her words caught in her throat.
Any other day, she'd snap who spread such nonsense, swear he'd be back by winter—like always, her white lie. But after today's exhaustion and shocks, Yulia couldn't muster a reply.
Dunsen's face crumpled. He bolted out of the house.
"Dunsen! Dunsen!"
No matter how she called, her son didn't return. Yulia stared blankly into the darkness before collapsing with a thud.
Her legs went limp. She couldn't chase. How much longer must they live like this? Every day felt like sinking deeper into an endless bog.
She'd braced for the hardship of raising a son alone. But reality was hundreds of times harsher. Backbreaking labor that drained her soul, neighbors' blatant sneers, the steward's mercenaries hounding debts every moment, uncooperative maids— the whole world seemed to harass her with relentless malice.
Worst of all was her own foolish self, still clinging to hope that her husband would return.
"..."
It couldn't be. Her husband had always come back every three months at latest. Half a year with no word... Something awful must have happened.
Still, she couldn't abandon life.
Her suffering was burden enough. She couldn't pass that weight to her poor little boy. No more sitting here broken. Yulia steeled her resolve once more, sprang up, and pursued her son.
"Dunsen, Dunsen! Where are you! It's dangerous—come back!"
But combing the forest at the village edge, Yulia ran into people she never imagined.
A diminutive man with a goatee beard like a goat's, and a barbarian so massive he barely seemed human.
Normally, one's eyes would go to the barbarian, but not Yulia's. Her gaze locked solely on the small man. Was this a dream? Reality? Doubting her own eyes, she froze stiff.
The man was the same. He hadn't budged since spotting her. Blinking like an idiot, he finally snapped to and flashed a huge grin.
"Y-Yulia...! How'd you know I was here...! M-Missed you so... H-How've you been all this time..."
Slap!
"...Ek."
A thunderbolt slap struck his cheek. Duncan stared blankly at his wife's tear-filled face.
"Where the hell have you been, you good-for-nothing rotten bastard about to get struck by lightning and freeze to death!!"
"..."
The man who'd proven his worth, comrade sharing the great warrior's blood, victor over Agon’s Furious Horn, swindler who'd fleeced the Arena King's entire fortune, scout who'd infiltrated the Magic Tower to uncover mana, magic stones, and the lord's secrets—the finest guide of all.
Duncan, returning home laden with brilliant achievements, met first with his wife's slap, heavy with eternal grudge.