Chapter 25
Chapter 25
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Latent Dragon's Feast
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Huff... huff...!”
The day after successfully refining only the medicinal power of the Hundred Ghosts Pill—excluding its side effects—and shattering the third chain of the Solar Meridian Blockage.
Ian had been throwing himself into physical training since early morning.
Now that the Hundred Ghosts Pill's energy had been added to his mana core, the balance of his heart, qi, and body had been thrown even further into disarray.
'The clan doesn't know I took the Hundred Ghosts Pill. Given that this mission stood out as something special from an outsider's perspective... I shouldn't be short on aura for upcoming missions anytime soon. Which means I need to focus solely on physical conditioning for a while.'
The Blood Demon True Qi forged through the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art was an energy of overwhelming majesty.
Without a sufficiently sturdy body to back it up, his frame might not endure the aura's power and collapse from the inside out.
“Hmph, hmph!”
As Ian sweated profusely through his relentless training in the martial arts field, a sudden clearing of the throat reached his ears.
He wiped away the sweat streaming down like rivulets of fire and looked up to see Ralph standing blankly at the entrance—not in training garb, but casual clothes.
“What's the matter? I specifically told everyone to rest up fully today.”
For some reason, Ralph didn't answer right away and just stood there at the field's entrance.
“Well, it's just... you already gave plenty to the village reconstruction and the merchant caravans, right?”
Ah, so that's it.
Ian could guess at Ralph's thinking and responded slowly.
“Didn't I say the spoils would be divided tomorrow? There's plenty left over. I won't hog it all, so don't worry.”
It was the truth.
The Red Fang Orc Tribe had pillaged so voraciously over the years that, even after providing ample aid for the victims to get back on their feet, a substantial amount remained.
Enough to sustain the Latent Dragon Squad's operations for the entire year without taking another mission—though that was partly because their numbers were so much smaller than other strike teams.
In any case, Ian was more than a little disappointed to see Ralph show up so impatiently despite the abundance.
'Greedier than I thought.'
Ian himself had claimed the greatest spoil of this mission with the Hundred Ghosts Pill alone, and he'd planned to distribute even his own share to the squad members.
But seeing Ralph come early to wheedle(?), he couldn't help but lower his opinion of the man.
Perhaps sensing Ian's cold gaze...
“...What do you take me for right now?! You think I came here drooling over some lousy spoils?!”
Ralph's face flushed as their eyes met, and he bellowed out.
“Huh? That's not it?”
“No, it's not!”
Ralph huffed and puffed, then cleared his throat and lowered his voice.
“Ahem! Sure, our squad got off to a rocky start like a bunch of street rats. But we're all under the same banner now—that's gotta count for something, right? We wrapped up our first joint mission without a hitch. Don't we need some time to bond as a unit? That's the gist of it.”
“Yeah, sure. Though someone did go swinging that halberd around like a madman.”
Called out on his own reckless stunt, Ralph trailed off in a way that didn't suit his burly frame.
“Wha—why drag up ancient history...? Anyway! Are we doing it or not?”
His words were long-winded, but his point was clear.
'Hmm, a feast.'
Maybe embarrassed about his own earlier antics(?), Ralph scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“I get it. I was the one who picked a fight with Sylvia, that damn girl. That's exactly why—don't you think we should cut loose like the other strike teams for once?”
'Fair enough... Building camaraderie is important.'
Ian had grand ambitions: to seize control of the martial clan and exact bloody vengeance on those who had brought him low.
And it all started with this strike team of his.
But perhaps because he'd taken the Hundred Ghosts Pill and was growing faster than expected, he reflected on how he'd failed to properly take stock of those around him.
“All right. Let's do it—a feast.”
“Knew it might be too much... Huh, what?”
Having assumed Ian would refuse outright, Ralph was the one startled by the ready agreement.
“F-For real?”
“What, you think we'd have a fake feast? Round everyone up. I'll wrap up here soon and join you.”
Swoosh!
As Ian toweled off his face and headed out of the field, a sudden thought made him turn back and call out to Ralph.
“Oh, and I like meat. Prep that.”
“Got it, Captain!”
“......”
“......”
“......”
The once-tidy spread of food lay scattered in ruins, and the feast dragged on in a suffocating tension thick enough to choke on.
No, calling this a feast was an insult to feasts everywhere.
Two groups, faces flushed with heavy drink, gripped their weapons and radiated murderous intent at each other.
Standing at the eye of this swirling conflict, Ian uttered just one quiet word.
“What a shitshow.”
To make sense of this absurd scene, one had to rewind the clock a bit further.
After bathing his exhausted body from the morning's nonstop training, Ian stepped out to find the squad waiting in front of the building.
“Captain, didn't you say feast today?”
Ryu An Pallkion asked brightly.
“A f-feast...? Th-this is my first time.”
Helena's cheeks flushed as she failed to hide her excitement.
The quiet Dane and Sylvia said nothing, but their faintly thrilled expressions were the same.
Perhaps because they all shared the common trait of stray dogs who'd never known true belonging.
Always lingering on the fringes of the pack, they couldn't hide their anticipation for their first group gathering.
Seeing the squad like this, Ian's rock-bottom opinion of Ralph began to climb bit by bit.
'Who knew that simpleton's idea could be useful.'
The Ralph he'd first seen upon entering the Latent Dragon Squad building had given off the vibe of a fighting dog that lived to stir up trouble.
“All right! This is one of the top spots in the clan for meat dishes. Their grilling is the best!”
But from the intel on the Red Fang Orc Tribe to this, he showed a surprisingly keen sense that belied his bulk.
“I-I'll have this! This one!”
Helena boldly pointed at her drink choice on the menu with an excited grin.
Ryu An Pallkion gaped at where her finger landed.
“...Helena. That's whiskey. You sure that's okay for a priestess?”
“Ryu An, you're such a stick-in-the-mud!”
Helena, whom he'd pegged as timid for barely speaking up, was picking her booze bolder than anyone. Meanwhile, Ryu An—from the sword clan environment—turned out to have a surprisingly rigid, by-the-book side despite seeming unconventional.
“Ralph, I'm saying this now, but why'd you have to act like such a punk? Who the hell do you think you are?”
A question sharp as a blade. Ralph had no choice but to apologize quietly.
“S-Sorry...”
“Cut the crap, got it? You think we're all just meek 'cause we got no tempers? I'm keeping my head down so I don't get booted from the clan after causing more trouble. So why pick on perfectly normal people?”
With alcohol fueling her buzz, Sylvia shed her usual reticence and poured out her pent-up feelings in a torrent.
“That's why the clan needs to ditch those outdated traditions. How long are we gonna keep relying on the mage tower for backup? We'll never surpass them that way. To become the top power on this southern continent...”
Blah blah blah.
Even Dane, prattling on with serious talk that killed the festive mood.
The Latent Dragon Squad members were gradually revealing their true selves, sides they never showed outsiders.
Contrary to Alex's original intentions, the squad—which had succeeded in its mission under Ian's lead—benefited from being a tight-knit elite unit with shared backgrounds, drawing them closer at a rapid pace.
Though the feast stemmed from Ralph's out-of-nowhere suggestion, the Latent Dragon Squad was already coalescing solidly under Ian's banner.
Boom!
An uninvited guest barged in, dousing the rising high spirits of the Latent Dragon Squad.
A mug slammed down onto their table.
Splat splat splat!
Because it was slammed with beer still inside, droplets splashed messily onto the food laid out on the Latent Dragon Squad's table.
“......”
Was it because this was their first truly enjoyable feast?
In an instant, the squad's faces hardened, their gazes locking onto one spot.
“The world's really gone to shit. Wet-behind-the-ears punks reeking of mother's milk showing up in a place like this.”
The intruder's tone was edged like a knife.
Even viewing it upside down, the man's intent was crystal clear.
He was picking a fight with the Latent Dragon Squad.
The man wore red training robes, and on his chest was the emblem of a coiled serpent baring its fangs.
There was only one strike team in the clan that used that symbol.
The Red Serpent Squad.
The Lichtenauer Martial Clan's restaurant, Moon's Resting Haven, was famed for its high-quality meats and diverse dishes.
Its deep flavors drew not just the clan's ordinary folk but also strike teams fresh off missions, making it a longstanding favorite.
Strike teams often celebrated successful missions here, so it was usually buzzing with energy.
But today, the first floor felt like a funeral parlor.
Boom!
A mug slammed down hard enough to splinter the table.
The impact sent the shop's signature dishes bouncing, ruining their artful presentation—but no one at the table complained.
They simply hung their heads with grim expressions, just like the one who'd slammed it.
“Goddamn it...”
Heto, captain of the Red Serpent Squad, spat curses as his anger refused to subside, chugging his booze straight from the mug.
There was no special reason for their dour mood.
For every rising sun, there was a setting moon—that was the law of the world.
-A newborn strike team of barely grown kids had subjugated the orcs of Fire Mountain.
The Latent Dragon Squad's stunning first-mission feat: taking down the Red Fang Orc Tribe with just six members.
The more their achievement stood out within the clan...
-What the hell had all the previous strike teams dispatched to Fire Mountain been doing?
The reputations of those teams—which had gone to Fire Mountain and come back empty-handed—plummeted to rock bottom.
And among the many now suffering by comparison, none took a bigger hit than the one that had been on the exact same mission until recently.
The Red Serpent Squad.
With its red serpent emblem, the squad had built a solid reputation for steady achievements under Captain Heto's command.
They took on missions of middling difficulty with an extremely low failure rate—a stable powerhouse.
That reputation had won them sponsorship from Manus Kalia, heir to the Kalia Soldier House, one of the clan's three great vassal families.
Or rather, had won them that sponsorship.
Ralph Kalia—delinquent brother of the ne'er-do-well Manus Kalia and a member of the Latent Dragon Squad—had accomplished in one week what they couldn't.
It was tantamount to slapping Manus in the face.
Manus was one of the clan's next Patriarch candidates.
He wasn't the type to give a second chance to a squad that had tarnished his prestige.
In short, the Red Serpent Squad had lost everything: their hard-earned record of successes, their reputation, and the bright future paved by high-level backing.
All because the Latent Dragon Squad had succeeded at Fire Mountain.
'Damn it all, what now...'
“C-Captain!”
Heto's brooding was interrupted by a squad member's urgent call, spiking his irritation.
“...Didn't I say to keep quiet and not bother me today?”
He swallowed his boiling rage and shot a warning glare at the member.
He wasn't in a good mood, but that didn't make it the kid's fault.
Just rotten luck.
But the member showed no sign of backing off despite the warning.
On the contrary, he called out even more frantically.
“I-It’s those bastards! The Latent Dragon Squad!”
“...What?”
Forgetting his anger at the words, Heto peered over the railing.
There they were: Ian and the Latent Dragon Squad, laughing and drinking carefree.
...Crack!
Gripping the railing too hard, he snapped it clean off.
“Ha... haha... They turn us into laughingstocks, and now those pricks come swanning in for a leisurely drink?”
He knew it.
They'd done nothing wrong.
They'd simply succeeded at their mission, and it just so happened they'd been on the same one right before.
But the same went for them.
They just happened to pick the same shop, at the same time.
And one of his squad—just happened to get drunk enough on their frustrations to pick a fight.
'Opportunity.'
Heto's eyes gleamed as a scheme dawned on him. He curled his lips into a smirk while glaring down at the Latent Dragon Squad on the first floor.