Rewards and Resolve
"Bleeegh!"
Four figures tumbled out of the portal, accompanied by the sound of violent retching.
The lobby was dead silent, so quiet that the frantic battle they had just fought felt like a distant illusion.
Picking themselves up as if waking from a nightmare, they warily scanned their surroundings.
"...Is it... over...?"
Erian Belgard quickly clamped a hand over his mouth before he could finish the sentence.
He had just realized the grim reality of what Cedric Rowell had brought back with them.
"...So, what is this place? Did we get a key?"
"No, the keys we used to unlock those three locks earlier were the last of them," Del Roan replied.
Roan replied in a casual tone.
"*Pant, pant*... No, we're not out of keys yet."
Rowell, who was catching his breath a short distance away, tossed something onto the stone floor.
It was a pale, severed head.
He had somehow managed to bring back the head of the creature he had decapitated earlier.
"He hid it inside," Rowell wheezed. "Who would have thought the bastard would hide the last key inside his own body... If we hadn't finished him off, we wouldn't have even been able to open the final door."
Rowell had executed the task flawlessly.
The seamless cooperation brought back fond memories of Roan's past life, and seeing his comrade adapt so well warmed his heart.
Deeply moved, Roan approached him, fully intending to shower him with praise.
"I knew you were quick on the uptake—"
"You son of a bitch! If you're going to pull something like that, warn me first! Suddenly telling me to climb on, do this, do that! I had to bust my ass just to keep up with your crazy stunts!"
Rowell barked, having waited for the perfect moment to vent his frustration.
His voice was sharp enough to bite, but the wide distance he kept between them practically screamed, 'I'm actually terrified of you.'
Roan, however, merely offered a nonchalant shrug, as if to say, 'Well, these things happen.'
"Hey, Black Armor," Debi Jane interjected. "You're free to bark all you want, but is now really the time for this?"
"She's right..." Belgard added softly. "That wicked person we just fought might have only been a mid-level boss."
"...Tsk, right. There's still the final door."
Tucking his tail, Rowell immediately began rummaging through the severed head.
He didn't seem to have any aversion to the gruesome task, much like Belgard. It was likely a habit forged from seeing too many horrors during his years of wandering.
"Here it is," Rowell said, tossing a slimy key toward Roan. "You're going to lead the way anyway, so you open it."
"You know me well," Roan chuckled.
Roan caught the key and unlocked the final door.
However, what lay beyond the threshold was a rather unremarkable sight.
"...It looks pretty similar to the place we just came from," Jane noted.
"Yeah. I wonder if there's a plaza at the end of this path too?" Roan mused.
Taking advantage of the brief respite, they chatted idly as they pressed onward.
They eventually reached the plaza at the end of the corridor, but there were no monstrous test subjects waiting to ambush them this time.
"Ah... Ah, they're here again...!!"
"Stop... Please, no more!!"
"Let me out! Please!"
"J-Just kill me instead..."
Instead, they were met with the exact opposite of hostility.
Iron cages, barely large enough to hold a single human being, lined the walls.
And inside them were terrified, emaciated people.
Several other cages stood open and empty—grim testaments to those who had already been dragged away to become horrific test subjects.
"...Del Roan," Rowell called out, scanning the prisoners.
"You haven't forgotten our objective, have you?"
"Huh? Yeah. Raiding the White Mages' stronghold and rescuing our client's son," Roan replied.
"Good. Look over there."
Roan followed the direction of Rowell's finger.
A young boy with ash-grey hair was huddled in the corner of one of the cages.
"That boy is the client's son," Rowell said. "They said he was curious about white magic. It seems those bastards used that curiosity as bait to reel him in and turn him into a test subject."
They had exploited everything they could lay their hands on. And the grand result of all those horrific sacrifices was becoming a half-baked transcendent? It was a pathetic, wretched outcome.
"Well, the answer is clear then, isn't it?" Roan said. "The people locked up here are just innocent victims."
"...I wouldn't guarantee all of them are innocent," Rowell muttered, "but yes."
Even if some weren't entirely blameless, it didn't matter. The sheer terror and despair etched onto their faces told Roan everything he needed to know.
The cages were reinforced with magical wards to prevent easy escape, but such flimsy barriers couldn't withstand the raw might of Roan's party.
"There, it's open," Belgard said, shattering a lock with a clean strike.
"Before you leave, please let me know if you're hurt anywhere," Jane offered gently. "I'll heal whatever I can."
"A god... They are gods..."
"Ah... Thank you... Thank you so much..."
After faithfully fulfilling their respective roles and ushering everyone to safety, the party finally reached out to the ash-grey-haired boy.
"...I'm sorry..." the boy sniffled, tears streaming down his face. He clearly understood that his foolish curiosity had caused all of this.
"I'm glad you realize that," Roan said, offering a warm smile. "Come on, let's go home."
Roan extended his hand. Their long, grueling expedition was finally over; it was time to return to the kingdom.
"Thank you... Thank you so much..."
Deep within the third tier of the black market, the party handed the ash-grey-haired boy over to their client under Rowell's guidance.
Although the client wore expensive, high-quality garments, his face was gaunt and aged—a physical toll of the immense anguish he had suffered over his missing son.
It was a heartwarming reunion that felt entirely out of place in the cold, ruthless atmosphere of the black market.
"So?"
Rowell's sharp, businesslike voice cut through the emotional moment.
"What about our reward?"
"Ah, yes. The reward. Of course, I have it ready," the client said, pulling himself together.
He placed a visibly heavy leather pouch into Rowell's hand.
But split four ways, it wouldn't amount to a life-changing sum. Still, Roan figured it would be enough to cover a few decent meals and lodgings—until an unexpected turn of events occurred.
"However, strictly speaking, I didn't do much of anything," Rowell said, hefting the pouch.
"...What do you mean?" the client asked, frowning.
"These three did all the heavy lifting. I just tagged along for the ride."
Rowell glanced toward Roan. No, to be precise, he was checking Roan's reaction.
"...Hound, are you saying they are more capable than you?" the client asked, surprised.
"Without a doubt," Rowell asserted firmly.
"Ro... Rowell!"
Roan quickly covered his mouth with his hand, deeply touched. To think that Rowell, who usually did nothing but growl and snap, was actually tucking his tail and showing such humility!
His heart is slowly opening to us... Ah, so this is what it feels like to watch your comrades grow!
"...They don't look particularly reliable, though," the client murmured, eyeing Roan's youthful appearance skeptically.
"I guarantee it," Rowell said. "He is no ordinary bastard."
"I see. So, why are you telling me this?"
"I want you to grant a request for him instead."
The influential client looked puzzled. The reward he had offered was gold, and now he was being asked to incur an additional expense?
However, his hesitation vanished the moment his gaze fell upon his exhausted, sleeping son.
"...Very well," the client sighed. "What is it you want?"
An unexpected opportunity had presented itself.
Roan glanced at Jane and Belgard, but both of them gave him subtle nods, having already decided to defer the choice to him the moment the conversation shifted.
"In that case..." Roan began.
Money? Fame? If he could ask for anything, what did he need most right now?
In truth, he didn't even need to think about it. There was one crucial thing he had prioritized even before they raided the White Mages' stronghold.
"I need information."
"...Information," the client echoed, letting out a low hum.
"Are you aware? In our line of work, information can often be far more valuable than gold."
"I am. I don't need anything grand, just help me find a certain person."
"A person..."
The client clearly had many questions, but he kept his mouth shut. That was the golden rule of the underworld.
"I'll need details first. Any distinctive features? What do they look like?"
Perfect. He's asking exactly what I wanted to tell him.
Roan conjured up the image of his former comrade from his memories. It was a face so distinct that anyone who saw him would remember it instantly.
"He has tattoos covering his entire body. Even his face."
Roan was certain of this. Regardless of his regression, that man would definitely have those tattoos right now. After all, the man had boasted in his past life that he had gotten them a very long time ago.
"...He certainly doesn't sound like an ordinary fellow. Tattoos covering his face... Very well, I understand. I will look into it."
Instructing the client to contact them at their temporary lodging in the kingdom once he found any leads, Roan's party left the black market.
Naturally, Rowell tagged along with them!
With their numbers growing, the group felt livelier than ever. Roan glanced back at his companions and asked with a grin,
"Doesn't it feel great being together like this? Like we're a real party?"
"Not really. I don't like that guy," Jane huffed, crossing her arms.
"I must agree... I'm not particularly fond of him either..." Belgard added sheepishly.
"I have no intention of staying long either," Rowell scoffed. "Just so you know, I'm heading back the moment we finish settling the accounts."
Well, they were a bunch who would bicker constantly if left to their own devices, so Roan had fully expected this reaction.
Back inside their room at the inn.
*Clink, clink...*
A shower of glittering gold coins spilled onto the wooden table.
Exactly twenty gold coins. It was a generous sum, befitting an influential merchant—though perhaps a standard expense when it came to saving his own flesh and blood.
Rowell slid the vast majority of the pile toward the three of them.
"This is your share."
"Huh? Isn't this too much?" Roan asked, blinking.
"I always keep my business dealings fair," Rowell replied flatly. "My contribution was minimal, so this is all I deserve."
With that, Rowell pocketed just two gold coins and walked out of the room.
Left on the table was a whopping eighteen gold coins. It was more than enough for them to live comfortably without working for an entire month.
They'll probably want to take a break now, Roan thought. We've been pushing ourselves incredibly hard lately.
Between the relentless battles and the constant traveling, the physical and mental fatigue on his comrades had to be immense.
"Well, since we have some downtime..." Roan began.
"Yeah, I'm ready," Jane cut in, as if she had been waiting for him to speak.
"Ready? Well... resting is important, I suppose. You have to recover properly to keep going," Roan said, slightly confused.
"What are you talking about?" Jane frowned.
"Huh?"
Roan was completely thrown off. Unable to make heads or tails of her response, he turned to Belgard for help.
"Do you know what she means, Belgard? It doesn't sound like she's talking about resting."
"Yes," Belgard nodded. "We were likely feeling the exact same thing."
The two of them seemed perfectly in sync. While Roan was glad to see his comrades getting along so well, he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit left out of their secret understanding.
"Roan," Jane said, her expression turning serious.
"We're weak. Right?"
She spoke with a harsh, self-critical honesty that she applied to herself as much as anyone else.
"That's..."
"No need to sugarcoat it! We know it better than anyone else!"
During their recent battles, there had been far too many moments where their attacks simply didn't work.
Jane knew Roan always spoke kindly to spare their feelings, but he, too, must have realized the limits of their current magical power. She wanted him to be brutally honest with them instead of coddling them.
"You're right. You are weak. Extremely weak."
"You didn't have to be that blunt about it!" Jane shrieked, her face flushing.
Realizing she had just asked him to be honest, she quickly cleared her throat and nodded. "Right, right. Anyway... that's why we need to train. If we're going to keep facing monsters like Serenar or those corrupt White Mages, we can't go on like this."
"...I felt it deeply as well," Belgard agreed. "Even if we managed to pull through this time with a bit of luck, we can't keep relying on reckless improvisation forever."
Strength was the ultimate shield to protect oneself. Since they were eager to grow, Roan had absolutely no reason to stop them.
"Alright!" Roan beamed. "Then we train until we get our lead!"
With plenty of gold in their pockets, the party prepared to embark on a grueling regimen to truly forge their strength.