Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Quiet Bloodbath at Polkin Gate
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[A Quiet Bloodbath at Polkin Gate.]
As we climbed the winding path between steep slopes, a wide plain opened up along with the castle gate.
The familiar scenery stirred fresh emotions in me.
Back in the early days of the Age of Ruin, I'd spent nearly half a year at this Polkin Gate, fighting battles that left me shitting blood. For six straight months, combat never let up for a single day, and I lost count of the times I pulled all-nighters spanning days and nights.
'Heh. Thought I'd never come back here, but here I am.'
When we reached the gate, we saw long lines of merchants waiting for inspection. But thanks to a soldier who'd been waiting for us, we skipped the queue and passed right through.
Inside the gate stretched a subterranean passage dozens of meters long. Iron doors and grates lined the way at intervals, each guarded by soldiers standing vigil. Their duty was to seal the gates and hold the line to the death if enemies breached.
Once we fully emerged, a vast open field came into view, hemmed in by towering cliffs on all sides. Nestled within was a bustling urban center housing 50,000 civilians, 3,000 soldiers, and 200 knights. The garrison seemed light for the world's mightiest impregnable fortress, but it didn't matter.
Polkin Gate could hold off a million foes with just 500 defenders.
Honestly, how do you scale 90-meter sheer cliffs? Siege weapons would just bounce off or shatter against the solid granite walls at least 60 meters thick, and most arrows fired from below wouldn't even reach the top.
No matter how vast an army you threw at Polkin Gate, you'd never take it by frontal assault.
"Master. Welcome. We've been waiting."
Three warriors from the Berbe Merchant Company approached us to greet us. They were tasked with monitoring the Alon Mercenaries and had agreed to share intel with me.
"Who's Sain?"
A brown-haired man in his thirties stepped forward at my call.
"That's me."
"How many Alon guys are there right now?"
"Around fifty."
"Just fifty? That's pretty few."
"Yes. When Alon slipped out of Kara, he only took his die-hard loyalists."
"What about the rest of his men?"
"Left behind in Kara."
"Why?"
"Probably didn't want to split the mercenary band's savings with them."
Alon, that bastard—loyalty means nothing to him. Last I saw, he had nearly 300 underlings, but he'd brought only fifty. I'd guessed he was all talk after his boasting fell flat, but I didn't realize he was this much of a scumbag.
Anyway, perfect. I could send them all packing to the afterlife without a twinge of conscience. I hate betrayers.
"Got it. Go tell the bribed official to lift the west gate blockade. I'll wait outside the west gate, and when they come out, I'll wipe them all out on the mountain path—everyone except Alon. Got it?"
"W-Well, about that..."
"What?"
"That plan might be tough to pull off."
Sain began explaining the problem with a troubled look.
The Alon Mercenaries were holed up at an inn called Traveler's Rest, having rented out the whole place as their base. The issue was their heightened vigilance. With only they blocked from exiting the west gate to Lobros Kingdom, they'd naturally catch on. From the second day on, they hadn't so much as glanced at the west gate and were barely leaving the inn at all.
I chuckled dryly. No matter how trashy Alon was, he was still a veteran mercenary captain with sharp instincts.
"Heh. Rat bastards. Quick on the uptake."
"This isn't the time to laugh. If we don't capture Alon soon, our company's heir might be in real danger. Unlike Alon's crew, the desert bandits have no patience."
"Don't worry. I'll wrap this up quick."
"How do you plan to do it?"
I drew Yojjo just a fraction.
"By cleaning out the trash to keep our green lands beautiful. Makes life easier that way."
Sain looked horrified.
"Master! You absolutely can't resort to swords."
"Why not?"
"The gate commander won't stand for it. If you cause a massacre and he learns the details, our company will never set foot in Polkin Gate again. We'd be ruined. Please find another way."
"Oh? Who's the gate commander?"
"Count Malthus."
I knew Count Malthus well. He'd been one of the commanders I'd fought alongside during the Polkin Gate defense in the Age of Ruin.
A mid-tier Master swordsman, he defined his path with 'success'—a total career climber.
The problem was his obsessive drive for promotion, like a compulsive. He never took bribes, fearing they'd derail his ascent.
If I spilled blood on a massive scale here, as Sain said, the count would lose his mind. It'd tarnish his precious career.
I didn't care if Count Malthus threw a fit, but I couldn't let it hurt the client. Rumors of a job gone wrong because of me would tank future business.
"This is a headache. Of all people, Count Malthus..."
"Yes. You really need to be careful."
A tricky commission. Picky client, bad environment.
But Kaoyan Investigations prides itself on customer service first. We deliver exactly what the client wants, clean and neat.
I stepped away from Sain to speak with Sister Armida.
"Sis. How many times can you use spatial teleport?"
She tilted her head.
"Hmm. Maybe thirty? It's an 8th-circle spell—mana drain is insane."
Thirty was impressive. A human 8th-circle mage could manage three or four on a good day.
'So twenty left after this... Yeah, we'll manage.'
Count Malthus was a careerist. He'd rage at scandals that went public, but if it was murky, he'd bury it. A little nudge and some excuses, and he'd look the other way.
After that, Sister Armida and I watched Traveler's Rest from afar, monitoring the Alon Mercenaries' movements.
I strolled leisurely through Polkin Gate's streets for a while. The familiar sights felt strange without the ruins of destruction. Spotting a tavern's basement storeroom by chance, I smirked. Memories flooded back of sharing love with the freckled daughter of the owner here.
"Sera! Enough playing, come eat some blackjack."
A familiar voice drifted over. Ah, right—her name was Sera too. She must've been twenty then, so now... Eh, whatever.
[Little bro. Three heading your way. You'll meet them at the intersection.]
Sister Armida's voice suddenly whispered in my ear.
She was perched on the central temple's roof, scanning for Alon mercenaries and relaying via spell if anything notable happened.
I lowered my hood and headed to the intersection.
"Wh-White Mask?"
The three Alon mercenaries jolted at the sight of me, legs trembling in shock.
Playing dumb, I approached and spoke.
"Hey. You guys mercenaries?"
"Y-Yes..."
"Perfect. Got a question. Seen any Alon Mercenary Group guys around here?"
All three shook their heads vigorously, like they'd crapped themselves.
"Nope."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Ah, these bastards. Where'd they go? Someone said they came this way."
One mercenary mustered courage and stepped up at my mutter.
"What's the problem, sir?"
"Oh, their boss Alon—ate my money and bolted. Pissed me off. Catch those fuckers, and I'll slit every throat. Gah!"
I clutched my neck, drawing and sheathing Yojjo. He backpedaled.
"Ah... I see."
"Anyway, you really haven't seen them?"
"No, sir. First I've heard of them."
"Alright. Move along."
"Y-Yes."
The three spun around and hurried back the way they'd come. I followed openly behind.
After a bit, one—pushed by his buddies—turned back to me.
"Um, sir."
"Yeah? What?"
"Why are you following us?"
I pulled a note from my pocket, pretending to check it with flair.
"Just same road. Coincidence. Heard Alon's crew's at Traveler's Rest inn—asked passersby, and they pointed this way."
"Ah...?"
"You know where that inn is? Someone said it's around here... Streets are a maze."
He pointed straight ahead—right at Traveler's Rest. Loyal bunch, these guys.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Glad to help."
As I passed, I added a chilling line.
"By the way, I'm seeing red right now—might not care who gets hurt. If you're going this way, take a detour. Don't sightsee and get caught in the crossfire. You mercs might get mistaken for them."
"Oh, got it. We'll be careful."
"Good. Go on."
"Yes."
The three ducked into a narrow alley and bolted. Moments after they vanished, word from Sister Armida.
[Little bro. They just headed west gate. Lined up behind a caravan—looks like they're exiting Polkin Gate.]
I scoffed.
Those three were dead now. Dozens of Berbe guards waited on the mountain path outside the west gate. Sain knew all the Alon faces—they'd be cut down on sight.
But they got lucky, in a way. Not dying by my hand. Better the guards than me—they'd at least bury them properly.
After sending off a few more like that, I kicked off the real hunt. "Accidents" and Sister Armida's magic for a bloody feast.
Deep into the night, in a dark alley, a mercenary with a sword at his belt supported his blackout-drunk comrade toward Traveler's Rest. Looked like the drunk had gotten plastered at a nearby pleasure district.
"You idiot. Boss said stay in, but you couldn't hold out—crawling to taverns and brothels."
"Mmmph. Mmmph."
"Shut up and stay quiet. You know how many of ours vanished today?"
"Pfft, first rodeo? They bolted 'cause only we can't leave the gate—atmosphere's off. They were gonna run anyway. Urp."
"Anyway! You're facing the boss tomorrow morning. He won't let this slide..."
The scolding mercenary crumpled mid-sentence. The drunk toppled too, spotting his buddy's head twisted unnaturally, body convulsing. He opened his mouth to scream—then my hand snapped his neck, and he pitched forward.
Satisfied, I dusted my hands and rifled their pockets.
Sister Armida popped up behind me, startled. She'd teleported in when things went sideways.
"Little bro, what are you doing?"
I told her.
"What? Didn't use a blade."
"But that's not what the client wants. We've been clean so far—why change now?"
"Oh? So hands don't count?"
"Of course not."
"Ah, gotcha. Didn't know."
"You did that on purpose."
She eyed me suspiciously.
I pocketed the coin pouches from the bodies, feigning innocence.
"It's fine. Doesn't matter. Can't send them out now anyway—gates are shut tight at night."
"Still. How do you plan to dispose of the bodies?"
"You handle it, obviously."
"Me? How?"
"Magic."
She blinked rapidly.
"Oh, right. Burn them?"
"Nah, leaves traces. Takes time, stinks up the place. Just teleport them somewhere."
She looked troubled.
"Didn't bring my coordinate book..."
"You remember the common ones."
"A few, but... locations are iffy."
"Where?"
"Sky City Chronos and the Hall of Divinity?"
"Perfect. Send to Hall of Divinity."
"But that's a holy site."
"Holy to humans, not you. Isn't that where you Valkyries stash swords and books?"
She rolled her eyes. Truth was, the Hall was sacred only to humans—a mere surface storage for Valkyries.
"Well, yeah, but..."
"So do it. Hurry."
"Fine. Hold on."
She teleported the bodies to the Hall of Divinity. Next year, the priests opening it would faint—but that's their problem. I just needed to finish this job quietly.
[A Quiet Bloodbath at Polkin Gate.] End