Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: The Monster Hunt Begins
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King's capital, Edirne.
Just as the spring festival for young nobles was unfolding at the palace, the citizens' spring outings were in full swing.
The main streets of Edirne brimmed with amusements and food stalls tailored for the capital's residents.
The volume of goods flooding into Edirne from outside to meet the demands of countless citizens was beyond imagination.
Naturally, the busiest souls right now had to be the guards tasked with protecting the capital.
On the third day of the festival, the capital's guards showed no respite, meticulously inspecting every carriage entering Edirne.
"Let's see here, whiskey... Sniff. Nice aroma."
"Haha, you've all been working hard. This is nothing much, but once your shift ends, we could all..."
Noticing the guards' particular interest compared to other goods, the merchant shot a quick glance at his porters. They smoothly carried a crate toward the guards' barracks, as if it were routine.
"Ahem! What have we here... We'll drink it well."
"Oh, don't mention it. It's meager. Well then..."
"No issues. You're clear!"
"Thank you so much! Take care out there."
The guards, thrilled at the prospect of a post-shift drink, responded cheerfully.
"Next!"
The guard's spirited shout prompted the next merchant in line to grunt and nudge his cart forward.
Rattle, rattle.
A colossal cargo cart lumbered into view, emitting a dull rumble.
"Whew, what's loaded in this beast to make it so massive?"
Even to guards seasoned by all manner of shipments, the cart's sheer size was staggering.
Tongue-tied, the guards inquired,
"Hey, what's all this?"
"Hehe, you've been working hard. Meat and spices for palace delivery."
"Yeah?"
The guard flipped back the cart's tarp at the merchant's words.
Flick!
Beneath the lifted cover, mountains of meat and spices packed the cart to bursting.
"Whew, an insane amount... Ugh!"
Overwhelmed briefly by the sheer volume of meat, the guard's face soured moments later.
The jumble of spice scents assaulted his nose like a numbing fog.
"Damn, couldn't they deliver moderately? Why so excessively... Which merchant group?"
"Hehe, Brams Merchant Group under the Sword Family."
The guard nodded in realization at the merchant's reply.
"Brams? Makes sense—only Duke Dimitri's Brams could muster this much. Got your pass?"
"Of course, sir."
The merchant fished out not just the pass but a small pouch from his satchel, offering it to the guard.
"It pains me seeing you toil amid all this festivity. Can't part with the meat—young master's strict orders—but use this for some drinks and enjoy."
Recalling the prior merchant's whiskey.
Gifting guards during festival season was longstanding tradition.
Any gift earned thanks, but nothing beat cold hard cash.
The guard's demeanor softened further after inspecting the meat.
"Hmm, what a thing. We're not the only ones suffering—you merchants hauling deliveries too. Get in before it gets later."
"Hehe, much obliged. Take care!"
"Clear it! Next!"
Rattle, rattle.
After buttering up the guards, the merchant secured the tarp and steered slowly toward the royal castle.
Once sufficiently distant from the wall's guard posts, the merchant's eyes...
Held no mirth.
Monster hunting contests risked injury, demanding preparations tailored to each participant's needs.
Perhaps for that reason, the third day's banquet wrapped up relatively early.
"The monster hunt's difficulty spikes toward the center, so stick to the outskirts as much as possible."
Saladin cocked his head at my words.
"...You underestimating me too much?"
Saladin scowled, displeased.
The deepest core held ogres at worst.
Mid-tier Sword Experts—like Guren of Poltus territory—risked life just approaching, unless prodigies.
But for Saladin, me, or Sword Family's Victor? Mere snacks.
The hunt was a stage to flaunt power.
Being directed to weak outskirts on such a grand platform? Unthinkable.
"Tsk tsk. You only know playing with dolls."
"What?"
I swiftly cut off Saladin's flare-up.
"Your siblings."
Flinch!
"Gotta watch your brother and his friends. Still Expert beginner level, right?"
"...They can handle themselves. Why me?"
Saladin had a point. Beginner Experts faced only goblins or senile orcs on the fringes.
No chance of defeat.
But.
The three territories' heirs—including Charlo—bore grudges against the Sword Family.
And the Sword Family eyed their slice of the pie too.
"Unforeseen accidents" might arise mid-hunt.
Saladin knew, yet downplayed it.
"...Say I patrol outskirts. You? No rule saying no 'accidents' for you."
"Ahahaha!"
Crack!
I answered Saladin's retort with laughter and a clenched fist.
"We'll see who gets the 'accident'."
"......"
Saladin stared blankly before smirking and shrugging.
"Fine, as you say—just in case—one favor."
"Shoot."
After a quick rundown of my plan, Saladin sighed resignedly.
"Whatever. Do you. Won't listen anyway. But... careful. That guy's unhinged when he snaps—old stories say he ignores all. Solid backing too."
Rumors on Victor.
"No worries. Factored it in."
Known him since childhood.
No one grasped his nature better.
First spring festival, invited with brother Ares.
When Ares snagged the ogre's final thread by a hair, Victor nearly dueled to the death.
Famous tale—sparked another memory.
"Rumors got me thinking—you entered a monster hunt back then, right? Princess Seira too, and she won, I heard. How'd it go?"
Twitch!
Saladin's shoulder quivered, ever so slightly.
"Heard Princess Seira took it. Details?"
Asked to gauge if she rivaled Crimson Flame Mage Wendinel.
Saladin dodged my gaze, mumbling.
"Dunno... Don't remember. Hadn't mastered Heterogenous Power yet—how should I know?"
"......?"
This guy's fumbling oddly.
As I narrowed my eyes to press—
Bang!
During the banquet, Beskin had waited in the attendants' quarters. He burst in.
"Young master, monster hunt starts tomorrow."
"Yeah, pretty much."
"That power... reveal it?"
My power: Steel.
Though quartered apart, ears reached him.
Saladin's Puppet reveal, Prince Julius's endorsement.
Young nobles' views on Heterogenous Powers shifting—perfect chance to unveil Steel?
"Won't use it."
"...Understood."
Beskin nodded gravely.
"As expected. Still, young master."
Beskin neared, gently gripping my shoulder.
"Not yet time. To command this brutal continent, always reserve your trump... Huh? Won't use?"
Mid-advice, Beskin sensed the twist, double-checking.
"Nope. Pankration and Aura suffice for this."
Beskin scratched his cheek awkwardly, chuckling.
"Haha, right... Glad we're aligned, young master. But opponent's 'that' Victor. Aware?"
How could I not? Ares's peer—or superior in ways—kingdom's premier young monster.
Youth belied the monstrosity.
Beskin probed my readiness.
"Sure, Third Young Master beat Miss Mercy... but matchup favored you..."
Treading carefully lest bruising pride.
I nodded breezily. Truth.
"Everyone knows. No need tiptoeing. Sister's blade is light, yeah."
Mercy's sword: swift, flashy permutations.
My Steel: heavy, unyielding unless brute-forced.
Even superior realm unlikely alter outcome.
"Good you know. But Victor's forte? 'Heaviness' laced with versatility."
Varied. Heavy.
Victor's weapon: 1.5x standard two-hander.
Wielded with assassin-like flair—thousand branching flourishes.
Fumble the shifts, Steel lags...
Head rolls.
"Beskin, truly grateful for the concern—it's been ages."
I snatched a table apple, tossing it hand to hand.
Yes.
Beskin's worry spot-on.
Countering Victor's unbound heft? Tricky.
I recalled him resisting Sword Family's execution post-Prince Julius's surrender.
But so?
I crushed the caught apple.
Crunch!
It pulverized traceless.
"I'm fairly confident against the strong myself."
Needing Steel for Victor's ploys? How face countless future foes?
This tier? Aura, Pankration—overkill.
Monster hunting competition.
Spring festival's centerpiece—nobles thrilled yet taut.
Bar northern holds like Carviot countship, monsters rare in kingdom territories.
Royals knew, prepped no true perils.
Yet "accidents" recurred.
"Light load?"
Saladin eyed my sparse kit.
"You too."
Saladin bore only a slim pack.
"Camping's second nature for me. Week inside—what fuss?"
I scanned surroundings.
"Fair. Picnics litter the place."
Why powerhouses like us packed light? Simple.
Others dreaded solo week survival.
When had they roughed camps or fields?
Territorial skirmishes rarities here.
'No wonder routs happen.'
Ikenia ruled southwest mightily, but green troops and nobles capped it.
This hunt? Nobles' crash course in camping.
Formerly: core ogre felled signaled end.
Now? Ended too swift—week-long via noble rivalries.
"...Freak. Warning: stay clear. Real talk."
Saladin backed away, thief-wary glare, concealing something behind.
Dominating rivals showcased power too.
Jingle!
Via necklaces he hid—claiming multiples.
"Naturally—I asked. Relax."
"Oh, yeah."
Recalling my favor, Saladin eased.
Such banter spanned minutes.
Forest mouth: Prince Julius bellowed.
"Spring festival monster hunt commences now. Forceful or not—all here bear kingdom's future. Return hale in a week."