Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Jenbe's Food Cart
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< Jenbe's Food Cart. >
"Jenbe, huh... Never heard that name before."
"And what's yours?"
"Kaoyan Anukin."
"That's an unusual one."
"Not exactly the warm and fuzzy type."
Jenbe placed a sizzling slab of meat atop a tray laden with bread and stewed vegetables, steam rising invitingly. The golden-brown crust made my mouth water on sight.
I sliced the bread in half lengthwise with my knife, piled in the meat and veggies to make a neat sandwich, then pressed it down firm and took a big bite.
Jenbe glanced over.
"Why eat it like that?"
"Saves time, easier to handle."
"Taste good?"
"Out of this world."
"Yeah? Gimme a piece then. Let me see for myself."
I stared him down flatly.
"Stealing my food usually costs a man his life."
"Sneaky bastard. Fine, I'll make my own."
Jenbe hauled out a massive hunk of meat and started carving it up with his knife. His pot-lid-sized hands moved so fast they blurred. I slurped the stew juices dripping down my fingers while eyeing him with keen interest.
"Orc gramps, nice knife work. How do you do that?"
"Can't explain it in words."
"Yeah, if it was that easy, every dog and pony would be a Master."
Jenbe fixed me with a subtle, probing gaze.
"So what’s a Master like you doing in a place like this?"
"Eating."
"Not what I meant."
"I know. Just telling you to mind your own business."
Jenbe cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ahem. Sorry. Just curious, that's all."
"Curious about what?"
"You're the second Master customer I've had."
I tilted my head. In this backwater dump called Kara, at a dingy street cart no less—two Masters? Yeah, that's weird. Folks at that level could live in luxury anywhere.
"There was a first? Who?"
"Don't know the details. Said he abandoned himself to fate's call, wandering the world."
I chuckled. Figures. No place like Kara for idle dreamers. No one knows you, so no prying eyes; plenty of gigs to keep you fed. If you've got skills, it's hard to beat.
"What a flake."
"Nah. A true warrior who knew honor."
"Exactly. Heh heh."
Jenbe shook his head, clearly baffled by me.
Just then, a large contingent of troops marched past the cart down the main street. Clad in gleaming chainmail and mounted on camels, they looked like Kara soldiers. Oddly, they towed a train of siege weapons—massive ballistae pulled by eight camels each, plus mid-sized ones and catapults galore.
"War brewing?"
"Probably off to hunt monsters. Word is, some freak show's popped up at the Uts River mines. Tough bastard, too. One big merc band went in and got wiped out. Quest failed."
"Huh. What kind?"
"Not a known breed. About six meters tall, six legs."
"Six legs? Did it have a recessed mouth and a bulging forehead?"
"Come to think of it, yeah, someone mentioned that."
Sounded like a 'Freaker' then. Risk level 70s, a powerhouse. Their signature explosive charges from those insanely tough bodies were no joke.
"How many?"
"Around six."
I clicked my tongue. One's bad enough—six? Most of those Kara grunts marching out today wouldn't be coming back.
"Six, huh... Gonna be a slaughter."
"Why? You know 'em?"
"Yeah. Freakers—brutal monsters, fast as hell. Risk level 70s."
Jenbe groaned. He'd fought plenty of beasts in his day, but never anything pushing 70. By the risk formula, they matched entry-level Masters.
"That dangerous?"
"Yep. Only Masters can handle them. Skin tougher than steel—no normal attack even scratches 'em."
"Siege weapons?"
"Could work if you hit, but good luck. They dodge everything. Seriously fast."
"I see."
I cleared my plate and stood.
"So what about you, gramps? Gonna pretend you didn't see?"
Jenbe hesitated long, then turned away.
"Nah. I swore never to pick up a blade again."
"Pfft. That kitchen knife you're holding—what, it doesn't count?"
"Means I won't meddle in worldly affairs with it."
"Come on. Breathing's meddling. Me eating? Worldly. You slicing meat? Worldly. You think I'm chasing them for humanity's sake? Nah, not me."
Jenbe stared at me quietly.
"Then why go?"
"Business. Same reason you grill and sell meat."
Jenbe was speechless for a beat, then barked.
"Everyone's path is their own—yours and mine included!"
"Dude, I'm saying let's make some coin. Who likes working? Gotta eat. You clinging to this cart 'cause you miss wielding a blade or what?"
"No!"
"Then come on. I'll make you enough to never touch one again. Or you're lying to yourself—chance to quit for good, and you're passing it up."
Jenbe trembled with frustration. Tough love, but true. Kitchen knife's still a knife; slinging grub's still the world.
Even orcs gotta eat before they can talk honor.
"Not trying to trick me with that silver tongue, are ya?"
"What, scared I'll skim your cut?"
"You? You'd do it."
"Hey, gramps—I pick my marks. Wouldn't make an enemy of a powerhouse like you over chump change. Too pricey a fight."
"Fine. Wait here. I'll gear up."
Jenbe stormed off to his place in a huff.
I watched him go, clenching my fist. Hooked. Six Freakers were a handful solo, but with Jenbe, doable. Could call Armida sis, but then no slush fund.
Real men keep a secret stash.
The sword Jenbe brought was enormous. Blade width just shy of two palm-spans, longer than even his hulking frame, thick as a finger joint. Between the pitch-black steel, countless silver flecks gleamed like stars.
Holy Giant's Greatsword Titania. Mere Tier 3 relic, but famed as the cherished blade of orc hero Jenbe.
From atop my jet-black curved demon steed, I looked down at him.
"Swore off blades, but didn't toss this one, eh?"
Jenbe patted the Titania slung over his shoulder.
"This sword's a holy relic."
"Blasphemy to ditch it? Nice excuse. Heh."
Jenbe scowled, then eyed my mount with intrigue. Black smoke-formed body, fiery breath—clearly no ordinary summon.
"And what's that magic beast you're riding?"
"Jet-Black Curved Demon Steed. Pulled it recently. Pretty sweet, right?"
Jenbe shrugged it off.
"Magic beasts are all the same."
Typical ones: slower and tire quicker than normal horses. Mostly for show, rarely combat.
"Why the long face? This baby's from Chronos Mountain in the sky city."
Jenbe's eyes widened. Sky City Chronos—sacred Valkyrie realm. A beast from there? Divine artifact-grade.
"For real?"
"Yup. Money can't buy this."
"Oh yeah? Mind if I take a spin?"
"Nope. Never let a guy on my horse."
Jenbe narrowed his eyes.
"So only girls, then?"
"Hmm, might consider it."
"Who?"
I patted Yojjo at my hip.
"Our Yojjo."
Jenbe tsked hard.
"Selfish prick."
"Can't deny that."
"Anyway, watch yourself. Treasure blinds men. Plenty'll covet it."
"Know that. That's why I don't ride it much."
"Then why now?"
"Gotta look the part for official biz. These Kara types live off ego—snub you otherwise. I know, 'cause I used to be hot shit myself."
Jenbe smirked.
"How'd you end up like this?"
"Traded for freedom."
"Good deal."
"Think so too. More time for sword practice and fun. Only downside? No girls. Used to trip over 'em; now, ghosts. Heh."
I glanced at the distant Kara column. A few warriors in ornate chainmail on camels approached—high-rank officers, by the look.
One young Kara warrior rode up, glaring.
"Who are you, tailing us like this?"
Our getup was bugging them: masked rider on freakish magic horse, hulking orc with giant sword. Back itch for sure.
I waved cheerfully.
"Hey! Nice to meet ya. Kaoyan Anukin here. This is Jenbe gramps. We're here for business. Your turn."
"Insolent whelp! How dare a lowly cur disrespect Hassan Amir, retainer to Kara's lord and third-class noble!"
Hassan puffed up on his bloodline. Laughable. Flexing pedigree before a puppeteer? Priceless.
I urged my steed closer.
"Listen, my bloodline doesn't bend for nobodies. Reveal mine, and even your Kara lord chokes in my presence."
Hassan snuck a peek at my mount. Peasant rags, but pricy ride.
"Th-then state your rank clearly!"
"Can't. Mask not clue enough?"
"What! Suspicious bastard!"
Hassan and his camel riders drew blades as one. I smirked, drew Yojjo, and ignited an Aura Blade.
"Sorry, but my skills don't bow either."
Hassan flinched at the 10cm energy extension.
"A Master?"
I pointed to blank-faced Jenbe.
"And this orc gramps here's even stronger."
"I-is that so...?"
"Your move?"
Hassan signaled his men, sheathing his sword. Warrior code—respects and fears Masters.
He bowed politely.
"Masters, what brings you here?"
"Worried about you guys, so we followed."
"Pardon?"
"Those weird beasts at Uts River mines? If I'm right, risk level 70 heavies. You got no real counter. Means one-sided massacre."
Hassan paled. Six 70-levels? His 800 warriors gone in seconds.
"That bad?"
"Yeah. I've hunted a few."
"Understood. Please wait. I'll report to the commander."
Hassan wheeled back to the column with his men. Without intervention, total wipeout. Worth rethinking tactics, at least.
< Jenbe's Food Cart. > End