40
My Villains Chapter 40
11. Secret Passage (1)
Grania and Arnal, befitting mercenaries, had good stamina, and Mr. Luke was as healthy as he confidently claimed, as much as any young person.
Perhaps because of this, all three looked quite light on their feet despite carrying rather heavy backpacks.
Thanks to the increased number of companions, Ellen only carried her sling bag plus one small backpack.
It wouldn't be too heavy since it mostly contained light items like bandages, hemostatic agents, ointments, and various antidotes.
However, the longer the search time became, the heavier their once-light steps gradually became.
Shoulders drooped, gazes turned to the floor, and reactions to occasional noises became duller.
In contrast, my senses grew sharper. I had to lead the way looking at the map while also being vigilant of the surroundings on behalf of my tired companions.
Thanks to these sharpened senses, I managed to detect a suspicious presence even amidst the splashing footsteps.
"Wait."
After signaling my puzzled companions to be quiet, I closed my eyes and listened carefully.
After a moment, I heard echoing murmurs from far away, and I pressed my ear against the wall.
"Damn it----- What the hell."
"Shut up------ Getting hit--"
I could make out a few words, but it was impossible to understand exactly what conversation they were having.
I roughly guessed the direction the voices were coming from and then turned to my companions.
"It's people. At least two of them."
"People? Mercenaries?"
At Arnal's muttering, I asked Grania, "Are there any mercenaries hired by the lord besides us?"
"Not that I know of."
"None at all?"
"Yeah. That's because we were hired in the first place with the expectation of getting your cooperation. There's no need to send down mediocre mercenaries when they're already short on manpower."
Mr. Luke, stroking his cleanly shaven chin, opened his mouth with a cautious expression.
"This morning, it seemed like they were starting to control access to the sewers. Surely soldiers wouldn't have come down..."
As Mr. Luke's words trailed off, I pressed my ear against the wall again to listen for the unidentified presence.
The voices were no longer audible, perhaps because they had stopped talking, but the footsteps, now louder than before, suggested they were passing nearby.
"...It seems they're going west."
"West? But that's..."
While continuing to listen, I handed the blueprint to Grania. Grania, who had been muttering strangely, carefully unfolded the blueprint and furrowed her brow.
"There are three staircases going up from the 4th floor to the 3rd floor... The one in the northwest has collapsed, so there's only one in the south and one in the northeast."
"Which means they're not going up."
"Then,"
"Let's follow them."
At this quiet suggestion, my companions' faces momentarily hardened.
It was probably because they knew well that humans of unknown identity were more threatening than corpse beetles, Zombies, or Ratmen. However, pretending not to notice their expressions, I continued speaking.
"This is our third time down in the sewers, but it's the first time we've encountered other people. We need to check out the situation."
"Could they be vagrants? I think I've heard rumors about criminals from the village living underground."
Arnal's words sounded plausible, but I firmly shook my head.
"Even so, they'd hide on the 2nd or 3rd floor, why come down to the 4th? Living in the Ratmen's territory isn't an easy thing."
Oh no, the footsteps are gradually becoming fainter. We need to hurry...
"Let's move for now. I have an idea of who they might be."
"Damn it."
The man with a red bandana on his head and a short cloak on his shoulders quietly cursed. At this, those following behind began to look around cautiously.
"What a dog's life this is."
His voice was too small to be speaking to someone, yet too loud to be a mutter to himself.
The bald man, who had been working as a subordinate under the red-bandana man, or rather 'Swift-footed Tobald', for quite some time, knew well that this was the moment to step in. So he asked cautiously, "Is something troubling you, Sir Tobald?"
"Troubling, you ask? Of course it's troubling. The thought of returning to that godforsaken pigsty is killing me."
"Don't be too disappointed. Once the city falls soon, won't you be able to enjoy yourself to your heart's content?"
Despite the bald man's words, Tobald only frowned and continued grumbling.
"Bull crap, you know nothing. You think there'll be anything left to enjoy after the city falls? Good food, soft women, valuable treasures - they all turn to garbage once they pass through the hands of thieves."
Barely swallowing the words 'Aren't you a thief too, Sir Tobald?', the bald man awkwardly smiled and replied,
"Didn't you hear the boss, I mean, the Baron's speech last time? It seems he plans to settle down here for good... He won't ravage it like some backwater village."
"We already have over a thousand on our side, and think about the pirates crawling in too. Damn it, how can that be controlled? It'll be lucky if there's no bloodshed."
Grumbling, Tobald spat in disgust, feeling sick to his stomach.
'Hierarchy or whatever, what's the use of all that.'
Tobald was tired of the outlaw life.
Getting stabbed in the back was commonplace, and with bad luck, one could end up as monster food.
He had to be constantly worried about noble families raising punitive forces, and whether a cruel boss might pluck out his eyes for fun.
Although Tobald was a heinous criminal who killed people as easily as eating meals, he longed for a stable life. His dream was to open a shop inside a sturdy castle.
'Just one big tavern and I could live off it for life.'
The reason he was lost in such fantasies while passing through the dark and damp sewers was because of last night's memories.
Tobald had delivered a letter to an informant in South Harbor.
The informant was quite wealthy and hid Tobald and his subordinates in his mansion, providing good alcohol, rich food, and satisfactory sleeping quarters.
His foolish subordinates just giggled and enjoyed the unexpected hospitality. But Tobald felt pain even in the midst of happiness.
Because he knew that for him, the kind people, the order ensuring safety, and the unraveled tension were just a one-night dream.
'...Right. When we occupy the city this time, I should grab a big share and run. I'll go to Mittergerant. I won't understand the language, but if I have enough gold...'
Just as Tobald's plan to settle in a new land was roughly complete, the bandits arrived at their destination.
"Sir Tobald, shall I open it?"
"What are you asking for? Just open it quickly."
"Yes, sir."
The eight subordinates, including the bald man, began to feel along the sewer wall as if they had been waiting for this.
As they searched for cracks in the wall with their torches, they pulled out iron nails about the size of a palm.
When about twelve iron nails had been removed, Tobald, who had been silently leaning against the wall, suddenly shouted in a low voice.
"Shh! Everyone stop!"
The subordinates, who were poised as if to tear off the stone wall, immediately froze.
As Tobald rolled his eyes around and drew a knife from his waist, the bald man asked in a whisper,
"Is it Ratmen?"
"No, it's not Ratmen."
Noticing Tobald's eyes shining with tension, the bald man furrowed his brow for a moment and whispered again.
"Wouldn't it be better to just pass by? If we work quickly, we can close it in an instant..."
"No, no."
Tobald, his eyes gleaming sharply, pulled out a small glass bottle from his chest.
"We might be followed. Everyone, put out your torches."
Seeing the determination in Tobald's expression, the bald man drew a short spear from behind his back.
Seeing this, the other bandits threw their torches into the central canal and drew their own weapons.
The sewer passage where nine men stood firm fell into silence.
The bandits stood stock-still, only rolling their eyes to scan their surroundings.
Their pupils were as dilated as possible, but it was difficult to secure visibility in the underground where not a speck of light entered.
Tobald, well aware of this fact, quickly drank the contents of the glass bottle. His eyes began to glow a pale green, piercing through the darkness.
However, rendering such preparations futile, faint footsteps and flickering light began to appear from beyond the dark passage.
Thump, thump.
"Tss."
At Tobald's short hissing sound, four bandits, led by the bald man, carefully moved towards the direction of the approaching presence.
The bandits who reached the corner stopped and waited for the owners of the presence, holding their breath.
But the footsteps were frustratingly slow, almost to the point of impatience.
Thanks to this, the bald man was able to count the number of approaching individuals, and soon became convinced that there were three of them.
"Tss tss."
Tobald, seeming to have noticed this as well, signaled two nearby subordinates to join the bald man's group.
Now there were six bandits lurking at the corner. It would be a simple matter of two people each taking care of one as they turned the corner.
At that moment, suddenly a piercing sound came from behind.
Swish, thud!
"Urgh!"
One of the two bandits near Tobald fell with a muffled groan. An arrowhead had suddenly appeared in his chest.
Tobald turned around with a shocked expression and shouted loudly.
"Damn it, it's from behind!"
As he shouted, some sort of fireball flew in from behind. The fireball made a clanging sound at Tobald's feet and then burst into a large flame.
Whoosh!
"What the hell is this!"
"Be careful! Hold your position!"
What appeared to the bandits as a fireball was actually a lit Molotov cocktail. As the crimson flames drove away the darkness, a shadowy figure appeared.
"Uh, uwaah! What is that!"
The bandit who spotted the figure screamed at its bizarre appearance.
The figure, holding a sword and shield, was rushing forward at a fierce speed with its body lowered. Its inhuman movements and the long, blood-red glow in its eyes were strange enough, but even stranger was its attire.
It wore an iron helmet but was bare-chested, had arm guards and shin guards but was barefoot. Moreover, the figure's sword was gleaming dark red as if soaked in blood.
Due to the sudden burst of flames, Tobald's vision was in a confused state with green light and red flames mixing together.
While the bewildered Tobald blinked a couple of times, the figure that had rushed in like a beast swung its sword and severed the neck of the bandit next to him.
Swish!
"Ugh, damn it!"
Having recovered his vision by then, Tobald thrust his sword at the strangely dressed attacker.
However, the attacker blocked Tobald's arming sword with his shield and quickly stepped back.
Swish!
As if on cue, another arrow flew towards Tobald.
Tobald was skilled enough to act as an executive in a large bandit group.
Thanks to this, he barely managed to twist his shoulder to avoid the arrow flying from the darkness, but...
Stab!
He was stabbed in the side with a sword.
The beast-like attacker had seized the opportunity to strike.
"Urgh, you son of a—"
Tobald spat out curses at the chilling pain in his side.
He desperately swung down his arming sword, but the attacker once again deflected the attack with his shield and swung his sword again.
The ‘Falchion of Lionthus', no, the 'Lion's Fang Crescent Blade', imbued with the blood of the Blood Knight, emitted an ominous light.
Crack.
'Swift-footed Tobald', his head split open, fell lifelessly to the ground.