Chapter 95
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 095
Chapter Title: The Freaks and the Curse (3)
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‘Ah, is that about it?’
The mage from the Chapman Mercenary Corps.
After seeing the magic he displayed, I could clearly gauge his level.
A spell that summoned a whirlwind.
The visual effects were impressive.
And the power was decent enough.
But that was it.
The lethality was a bit lacking.
‘Still, with such flashy magic, he’d be well-treated wherever he goes.’
As I thought that,
Gilbert succeeded in separating the heads and torsos of every Barbarian that had charged at him.
He had taken down thirty enemies all by himself.
Even if the Chapman Mercenary Corps’ mage hadn’t used his whirlwind spell, the outcome would have been victory regardless.
“Let’s go meet the refugees first.”
I said that and slowly stepped forward.
My companions followed suit.
The refugees hadn’t stopped running even while Gilbert held off the Barbarians, so they were now close to us.
‘They must have been through a lot.’
The refugees were in pitiful shape.
Their faces were caked in sweat and grime, and their clothes were filthy.
They had clearly been living rough on the road for a long time.
“Is everyone alright?”
When I asked the refugees, all I heard at first were their heaving breaths.
Then one of them stepped forward to answer.
A middle-aged man.
“We owe our lives to you, young lord. Thank you so much.”
Young lord?
An unexpected title.
Still, I kept my composure and responded flatly.
“I didn’t do it expecting thanks.”
“Even so, it’s a fact that you saved us. If you hadn’t let that man go ahead, we’d all be dead before even reaching here.”
The middle-aged man glanced at Gilbert as he spoke.
The guy who’d dealt with all the Barbarians was walking slowly toward us, covered in blood.
Of course, it wasn’t his own blood.
It was all from the enemies.
“I have a question.”
I took a moment to look at Gilbert, then turned to the middle-aged man.
He met my gaze.
“Ask away. I’ll answer as best I can.”
Was it because he’d just escaped death?
The man’s eyes trembled faintly.
His body was shaking too.
I looked for refugees in better shape than him.
But they all seemed about the same.
So I decided to just ask him.
“Are there a lot of Barbarians around here?”
“Yes. With so many gathered near Stott right now, you can spot them in the surrounding areas too.”
“Why have they flocked to Stott?”
Stott wasn’t a particularly large village.
There was no reason for the Barbarians to converge there.
The middle-aged man spoke up.
“Stott took in Barbarians fleeing from the north. That’s probably why the freaks chasing them gathered there too.”
“Freaks?”
“I mean the plague-ridden Barbarians.”
It seemed they’d coined the term “freaks” to clearly distinguish between healthy Barbarians and those afflicted with the plague.
Hmm, new information.
Satisfied, I asked my next question.
“Do you know anything about the plague?”
Honestly, I didn’t expect much when I asked.
It wasn’t the sort of thing common folk would know.
But surprisingly, I got a solid answer.
“Strangely enough, only Barbarians were getting infected. Imperial citizens mingled with them and came out fine.”
“The plague discriminates by race?”
“Yes, at least from my experience.”
“Oh...”
“And even among the Barbarians, some got sick while others didn’t.”
The plague discriminates clearly?
It seemed less like a disease and more like a curse.
“Among the Barbarians, the ones who didn’t get sick—did they look stronger?”
“What do you mean by that...?”
“Did they look like they could fight better?”
“All Barbarians look like they can fight.”
“Ah.”
True enough.
Barbarians were generally large-built.
They revered martial prowess and feared no battle.
Every man was a warrior, so it was natural the middle-aged man didn’t grasp my point.
I rephrased the question slightly.
“Among the Barbarians, were the ones who stood out as exceptionally strong or tough unaffected?”
“Yes, I think so. On the way here, I saw one Barbarian kill several freaks, and he looked perfectly fine, like he wasn’t infected.”
From what I knew, curse magic didn’t work well on those of higher caliber.
And the plague seemed similar?
It raised the odds that this wasn’t a disease tormenting the Barbarians, but a curse.
Of course, I couldn’t be certain yet.
Still, learning this much was a gain.
Now, heading to Stott to meet the one who’d sent that letter to the mage Baylin should yield more info.
“Thank you. That helped a lot.”
I moved to end the conversation with the middle-aged man.
But he quickly spoke up.
“Um... could you take us with you?”
I observed the refugees.
About twenty of them.
All looking this way hopefully.
They wanted us to take them along.
“We’re heading to Stott. You’d be better off continuing south instead of coming with us.”
Stott.
Hearing that, disappointment spread across the refugees’ faces.
But I couldn’t take responsibility for them just because it was unfortunate.
Saving them from the Barbarians was fulfilling my duty.
“Understood.”
The middle-aged man trudged past us, his face crestfallen.
The other refugees followed behind him.
“Ugh!”
Cedric groaned miserably at the sight.
Wondering what was wrong, I turned to him.
“Something the matter?”
Cedric, eyes fixed on the departing refugees, answered.
“It’s a shame.”
“What is?”
“We’re letting a golden opportunity slip away.”
Cedric’s cryptic words.
Fortunately, he explained right away.
“If we’d just spread Sir Heros’s name among the refugees, we could have used them to boost your fame. You’d rise not as Stonhill’s savior, but the north’s savior. To watch this chance pass by...! It’s agonizing.”
Ah, I got it.
The refugees would head south, passing through various places.
If they talked about today’s events?
My name would spread across the north.
Cedric regretted missing that chance.
“Boosting fame? Sounds good. But that’d expose my movements, drawing hordes of warlocks. Why do you think we’re posing as mercenaries now? To cover our tracks.”
“I know. But I can’t help regretting it, so I’m venting with words.”
Cedric let out a deep sigh.
He seemed sincere about raising my profile.
Probably thought he’d benefit from serving a famous master.
Not bad for me.
It showed he cared.
This was a loyal retainer.
As I felt satisfied, Connel caught my eye.
He was staring intently at one spot.
‘What’s he looking at?’
Following his gaze led to the battlefield.
The freaks felled by Gilbert.
His eyes were locked there.
That’s when I realized I’d been too insensitive.
Connel was a Barbarian too, wasn’t he?
Seeing his kin die couldn’t sit well.
“Sir Connel, you okay?”
I asked him with genuine concern.
He answered immediately.
“Yes.”
A stoic face.
His usual demeanor.
Which made it odder.
“I’m really fine.”
Noticing my gaze?
Connel repeated himself, then continued slowly.
“I was born a Barbarian, but my kin never once acknowledged me as one. So I have no reason to grieve their deaths.”
Connel’s expression remained unchanged.
But his eyes were different.
They burned now, unlike before.
There was a story I didn’t know.
“Why didn’t your kin acknowledge you?”
I asked Connel carefully.
I wanted to hear his side.
He rarely spoke of himself, so I didn’t want to miss this.
“My parents were swayed by the Empire’s assimilation policies and became Imperial citizens. Because of that, my kin branded them Empire collaborators, while Imperials scorned them as barbarians. A foolish choice. And that discrimination passed down to me.”
As he spoke, Connel clenched his fist tight.
His gaze stayed on the battlefield, but not focused there.
Reliving some past scene, probably.
Not a fond memory.
“Sir Connel. Barbarians revere martial strength, right?”
I called to him.
His eyes refocused.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Then use this chance to beat a bunch of Barbarians and prove it to them. Show how outstanding a warrior you are.”
“Would that matter?”
“It would. If word spreads that Sir Connel is an exceptional warrior, the Barbarians would have to accept you as kin. Otherwise, they’d be admitting defeat to an Imperial.”
Amused by my idea, Connel smirked.
But I wasn’t done.
“Plus, once it’s known you’re a top warrior, Imperials won’t scorn you either. Why? Because you can protect them from Barbarians. No one would dare call you a savage then.”
A furrow creased Connel’s brow.
He was deep in thought.
I decided to wrap up quickly.
“Humans are selfish—they’ll side with whatever benefits them. Show your prowess, and both Imperials and Barbarians will claim you as one of their own.”
Imperials and Barbarians.
Rejected by both factions.
Or welcomed by both.
Connel had only two paths.
The latter was obviously better.
That’s what I meant.
But he stayed silent after hearing me out.
Seemed like heavy deliberation.
“Sir Heros.”
Suddenly, Connel called my name.
“Yeah?”
“How do I look in your eyes?”
“Uh... just like the usual Sir Connel.”
“I see.”
Connel looked at me.
After a brief silence, he spoke.
“That’s enough for me.”
After saving the refugees,
my group and I headed north along the road.
The Chapman Mercenary Corps followed behind us.
This was the result of my refusing to travel together.
‘They’re keeping a good distance, though.’
Maybe because they’d witnessed Gilbert’s prowess?
The Chapman group treated us respectfully.
No discomfort at all.
“We cross that bridge up ahead.”
Cedric, guiding the way,
pointed to a stone bridge visible in the distance.
Built over a stream.
But the surroundings felt off.
“Looks like a battle happened.”
Bodies lay scattered around the stone bridge.
All in leather garb, marking them clearly as Barbarians, not Imperials.
“Sir Heros, there’s someone on the bridge.”
That’s when Bear, beside me, spoke up.
Squinting at where he pointed, I barely made out a figure on the bridge.
A person.
Holding hand axes in both hands.
‘What’s that about? Does he think he’s some gear from the Jangpan faction...?’
I spotted the Barbarian standing boldly in the middle of the bridge and sighed deeply.
As we drew nearer,
I finally got a clear look.
The Barbarian was an elderly man with a full head of white hair.
But his body was rugged, belying his age.
His unkempt hair and beard hung to his shoulders and chest, respectively.
The very picture of a wild man.
“My name is Pergal!”
The old man watching us
shouted his name vigorously.
Then, fixing his gaze on the burly trio, he continued.
“I seek foes who will kill me!”