Chapter 97
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 097
Chapter Title: The Freak and the Curse (5)
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'What in the world am I looking at right now?'
Chapman had spent a long time on the battlefield.
Yet even he had never witnessed a sight like the one unfolding before his eyes.
Dozens of men dead from a single spell? It was impossible.
Of course, it had actually been two spells, but Chapman, unaware of the double casting, had no choice but to see it that way.
'Yeah, no wonder they didn't freak out.'
A few days earlier, when Curtis had summoned that whirlwind.
The Oak Mercenaries hadn't batted an eye.
Magic, right? How could anyone see such mystical power and not be amazed?
Chapman hadn't understood their reaction back then.
But now he did. He'd finally solved the mystery.
'After seeing magic like that all the time, who'd get worked up over a mere whirlwind? Hell, I wouldn't either.'
With that thought, Chapman glanced at Curtis.
The man's eyes were wide open, mouth agape.
Seeing it, Chapman instantly knew what Curtis was feeling. He'd been there himself.
'He's been overwhelmed.'
Overwhelmed.
It was the exact emotion Chapman had felt as a green rookie mercenary, witnessing a knight in action for the first time on the battlefield.
The battle ended quickly.
As the barbarians who'd been fighting the freaks eyed us warily, Timothy approached me.
"We're truly grateful for your assistance. If it's not too much trouble, might I have your name?"
Timothy spoke with impeccable courtesy.
His skill, his demeanor—everything about him screamed model knight.
Naturally, I took a liking to him.
But revealing my real name? That was a no-go.
So I went with an alias.
"John, captain of the Oak Mercenaries."
Cedric, hearing my response, let out a sigh, his face full of disappointment.
It was supposed to be his job to introduce me, and now he couldn't. He looked genuinely bummed.
Couldn't be helped, though.
If I'd let Cedric do it, he'd rattle off every ridiculous nickname I'd ever earned.
My true identity would be out in the open.
I wanted to avoid the hassle.
"Pleased to meet you, Mage John. I'm Timothy, knight in service to Baron Patrick and lord of Stott."
"The honor is mine, Sir Timothy."
After the exchange of greetings.
I cut straight to the point.
"I'd like to discuss the recent developments in the north with you, Sir Timothy."
Timothy eyed me carefully upon hearing that.
Clearly trying to guess my intentions.
To ease his suspicions, I spoke up.
"Truth be told, I came to Stott because of the letter you sent to Baylin."
"Baylin? Whatever happened to that fellow?"
Had the familiar name struck a chord?
Timothy asked urgently.
I explained Baylin's fate as delicately as I could.
"Baylin was killed by a griffon attack on his way here. I found his body while passing through and took care of it."
Bringing it there, I pulled Cedric forward and continued.
"This is Cedric, captain of the mercenary band Baylin had hired. He was there when the griffon struck."
"Ah..."
Baylin's death.
Timothy squeezed his eyes shut upon learning it.
Then, with a heavy sigh, he said,
"I've led my friend to his death."
"It's not your fault, Sir Timothy. Who could've predicted a griffon swooping down from the sky to snatch the carriage?"
I tried to console him.
But his expression didn't brighten.
Still, I'd achieved my goal.
He'd agreed to talk with me.
"We'll wrap up here quickly and set up a meeting. Wait just a bit."
"Understood."
I nodded.
A few hours later.
Timothy invited me to his manor.
I met him in the drawing room.
"Did you read the letter I sent Baylin?"
Sitting across from me, Timothy met my gaze directly.
I nodded.
"Yes. I read it to identify the body. If that offends you, I apologize."
"No need. In this situation, you shouldn't be apologizing—I should be thanking you. For taking care of my friend's remains."
Timothy replied, then lifted the cup before him and took a sip of water.
He looked at me again.
"Don't you think it's time you told me? John, why did you want to talk to me?"
"To get some information."
"Information?"
"Yes."
I gave him a condensed version of my story.
On a journey to the empire's northernmost reaches in search of the Mystery, I'd learned about the empire's plague along the way.
Timothy let out a deep sigh before speaking.
"The letter mentioned a plague at the empire's far north, but my thinking has changed since then. Whatever's tormenting the barbarians? I can say with certainty—it's no plague."
"Why do you think that?"
"A plague doesn't turn people into monsters. This is less a disease and... well, more like magic. Anything but a plague."
"People turning into monsters?"
I pictured the freaks.
Mottled red skin, severely bloodshot eyes.
Aside from those, they looked no different from ordinary folk.
Of course, ripping people apart with their bare hands and lapping up the blood from those wounds set them far from human.
Still, outwardly, they weren't monsters.
That's what I thought when Timothy spoke, looking at me.
"John, the monsters I'm talking about aren't those freaks you saw here. It's the ones among them with the most extreme physical mutations."
The words sparked a memory.
Eremus.
Turning people into monsters.
Just like what they'd done in the east.
"Where can I find those kinds of monsters?"
"No need to go looking. One will be here soon enough."
"Oh ho..."
If the monster Timothy mentioned had a red gem, I'd know for sure.
The 'plague' plaguing the barbarians was a curse from Eremus's dark mages.
So, I'd stick around and wait for it.
Take it down when it showed.
But... doing it for free? Nah.
Timothy had exactly what I wanted, and I had every reason to ask for it.
Pass up a chance like this?
Not my style. I'm a greedy bastard.
"Sir Timothy. Hire the Oak Mercenaries. We'll handle that monster for you."
I made the offer to gauge his response.
He sighed deeply before answering.
"I'd love to hire you all. But funds are tight. I can barely afford even one of you right now."
"You don't have to pay in gold."
"Then what can I offer...?"
"Actually, you can."
I could sense it.
Magic artifacts in Timothy's manor.
Not just one—several.
And each packed a hefty amount of mana.
I'd seen their kind before.
"Sir Timothy. Don't you have items like this?"
I held up my magic staff in my right hand.
Pointing to the gem at its tip.
Timothy's eyes widened in admiration as he nodded.
"I have a few gems like that. Much smaller, though."
"You took them from the freaks' bodies?"
"Yes."
"And the freaks with those gems were noticeably stronger than the others, right?"
"You know your stuff."
Timothy stared me down as he replied.
The pressure hit me like a wave.
That instant, Bear and Connell stepped forward from behind me, taking positions at my sides.
The pressure vanished cleanly.
He'd suspected me of something foul and let loose his killing intent.
To dispel his distrust, I laid out the truth.
"Truth is, I dealt with something similar in the east. Dark mages' doing."
"So you're saying..."
"Yes. The plague spreading among the barbarians? High chance it's dark mages too."
"Those useless scum."
Timothy scowled.
I pressed on while he did.
"Hire us. We'll take payment in those red gems you have."
Timothy pondered briefly.
Then slowly nodded.
"I'll hire the Oak Mercenaries."
"Best decision you could've made."
I smiled back.
The next afternoon.
Timothy's soldier found us resting comfortably in an empty house he'd provided as lodging.
He shouted energetically.
"Mage! The monster's coming!"
Monster.
Hearing that, I shot to my feet and rushed outside.
The big three and the rest of the crew followed.
"This way!"
The soldier led us.
As we reached the gate following him.
Through a gap in the half-destroyed palisade, I spotted a massive silhouette.
"Whoa..."
No wonder Timothy called it a monster.
Nothing else fit.
Thud!
The thing was a giant, troll-like in height.
But beyond having arms and legs, it shared little with humans.
For starters, no head.
And a massive maw in its belly.
Yeah, definitely a mouth.
Teeth, tongue—the works.
And the grotesquery didn't end there.
'Creepy as hell.'
Dozens of tentacles sprouting from its back.
Writhing independently, like they had minds of their own.
A horrifying sight.
'Freaks tagged along too.'
And it wasn't alone.
Hundreds of freaks swarmed around it—at a rough guess.
Small wonder the villagers who'd grabbed weapons to defend looked grim.
Aside from Timothy and his soldiers, they were all barbarians who'd fled to Stott.
"John."
Then, Timothy called me quietly.
Seemed he had something to say.
I stepped to his side, and with his eyes fixed on the monster, he asked,
"Can you open with a big, flashy spell?"
His reason was obvious.
To boost the soldiers' morale.
I nodded readily.
"I've got just the thing."
Gripping my staff in my right hand, I stepped forward.
Tilting it so the red gem pointed at the monster.
Truth be told, I didn't need to do it that way to cast.
But where's the flair in that?
People's fantasies about mages.
Style was essential to live up to them.
'Flame Sphere.'
The moment I willed the spell.
A flame sparked at the red gem's tip.
It swelled rapidly into a fireball huge enough to engulf me.
A beautifully crimson blaze.
Startled by the sight?
Admiring voices rose from the rear.
"Whoa!"
"That's magic...!"
"Has to be the one sent by Acovar. He's punishing our enemies with divine wrath through him!"
Too bad I couldn't make out most of it.
Didn't speak barbarian.
But their awe was clear enough.
'Go!'
Satisfied with the barbarians' reaction, I hurled the completed fireball at the monster.
"Groooaaargh-!"
Spotting the incoming spell, the monster bellowed from its abdominal maw and swung an arm to swat the fireball.
The instant its fist connected.
BOOM!
An explosion rocked the air.