Becoming a Hero in Another Territory

In the neighboring territory, I became a hero by slaughtering every orc in sight. Prioritizing the ones attacking people or trying to assault women, of course.

The neighboring lands are basically my money pipeline, one way or another. You can't run a business without connections to nearby territories. The Delros Merchant Guild had even been using this place as their base. These folks were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠potential trading partners and customers. More people meant more spending or earning—either way, it was a win.

"But seriously, where the hell are the soldiers or knights around here?"

The orcs were rampaging through the territory unchecked, but I barely saw any soldiers or knights. The few fights breaking out were from small squads or adventurers. Were they planning some other strategy? Or short-staffed because of the Gate? Armeyna Territory had kept fighting even after the lord's sudden death, with knights and soldiers holding the line on their own.

"...Maybe I should start a hunter mercenary business later."

A knight order built around Iana could make bank. In a world overrun by gates, few jobs paid like being a Hunter.

"Eh, food for thought."

Pu-geok!

I stabbed an orc in the back as it lunged for a woman. Blood sprayed from its mouth around the blade piercing its heart. I yanked the sword free, and its massive body crumpled sideways with a heavy thud.

"Ah... th-thank you..."

"No need for thanks. Head that way—no orcs behind me. Go."

Were these all orcs in heat or something? Every damn one went straight for women over food. Worked in my favor; I could backstab the distracted bastards easily. A guy's most vulnerable when he's ogling tits and ass, after all.

"Man, there are so many. How long's it gonna take to clear 'em?"

I muttered as I ran, only to spot another orc pinning a woman. I dashed forward and severed its neck. A faint unease prickled my wrist—the blade had dulled already.

"Tch! Should've bought a decent sword. Skimped on it to save cash."

I grumbled and snatched the axe from the orc's grip. Its edge sucked too, but for smashing, it'd do better than a dull sword.

"Ah... th-thank you!"

"Don't mention it."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The woman bowed with a quavering voice. I'd heard it dozens of times on the way here. I nodded casually and moved on—until her face stopped me cold.

This woman's no ordinary NPC.

I clocked her as a named novel character instantly. That figure was on par with Tavi's at minimum. A body and face like that didn't come around often. And right on cue, she fit the profile perfectly: the master craftswoman from the territory near Armeyna.

Vanilla? No, Manila.

I remembered her as an exceptional blacksmith. Iana had met her through some fateful encounter during her adventures and scored a top-tier sword as a gift. She'd been a reliable contact ever since, with Iana yelling "Help me out, Manilémong!" whenever shit hit the fan.

Artisan and magic tool researcher to boot. Bragged about being the kingdom's best, if I recall.

Point was, she was a key novel character. Story aside, talent like hers was rare ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even scouring the whole kingdom. A top-tier technician I had to secure for the future—no matter what. Losing her could butterfly-effect harder than sidelining the protagonist Iana herself.

"Any injuries?"

"N-no! None, thanks to you, sir knight!"

"I'm no knight."

"Pardon? Then..."

"Lord of Armeyna Territory nearby."

Manila blinked in confusion, then jolted and bowed deeply.

"Ah—! S-sorry! I didn't recognize you, my lord!"

"No need for formalities."

"I insist! You saved my life—how could I...!"

I eyed her odd reaction. The Manila I knew prioritized gear development over noble etiquette. Gate fallout changing her? She couldn't even meet my eyes, cheeks flushed.

"Hide in any building for now. No more orcs around here."

"What about you, my lord?"

"Gotta finish the rest. Plenty left."

"Y-you'll be okay? There are a lot of them."

She glanced sideways mid-sentence.

"The lord just died too—no one's giving orders."

That guy's the lord?

A shattered-skulled corpse lay nearby, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠face too mangled to ID. Figures—I never bothered memorizing random dude faces; he wasn't even in the novel.

Why was the lord riding alone, no guards or carriage?

From the soldiers' and knights' movements, I could guess the territory's state: total clusterfuck. When the emergency hit, everyone just bolted.

"Fighting alone... you'll get surrounded."

"Won't happen. Don't worry. Gotta run—busy."

I hefted the axe and turned. Still, she was valuable; better lay groundwork.

"We'll talk after this blows over."

"P-pardon? Why me...?"

"Got stuff to discuss with you."

Mainly magic tools and business. I waved and bolted.

"H-he's so cool..."

Manila murmured, watching the Armeyna lord's retreating figure. After dealing with that doddering old lord earlier, his sculpted handsome face seemed to glow.

And his strength, his sense of justice! She'd never heard of a lord from another territory charging in sword-first.

"Why'd Armeyna's lord come all this way?"

A fleeting question, but irrelevant. That man had saved her life. His heroic flair evoked a fairy-tale prince. And he'd even suggested meeting again—like an after-date invite!

"Hmm... did he fall for me? Wasn't even dressed up."

She'd never thought her looks or figure lacking. Just too buried in research to bother primping. She had fans, quietly.

"Thought handsome nobles swooping in to save the day was novel stuff only..."

Recalling his dashing form, her cheeks heated. Genius artisan Manila: zero dating experience. Pure maiden at heart.

The territory's chaos wrapped up relatively quickly, thanks to the knights and soldiers finally mobilizing.

The captain had some sense, but the story was absurd: Tavi rode up on horseback and talked him down. When he whined about no lordly orders,

Slap!

"People are dying—that's your excuse? If you're a knight, sortie now."

The knights must've felt the sting too; they mobilized on the spot. Tavi was no ordinary woman. Born modern, she'd be CEO material at some megacorp.

"Anyway, last one."

"Kuooh!"

"Shut it."

Ppu-geok!

The final orc's skull split under my axe swing. I'd swapped weapons mid-frenzy, butchering orcs nonstop. My outing clothes were blood-soaked rags now.

I tossed the axe and straightened up when a message popped:

Gate Raid—system term for this clusterfuck where monsters pour out harder than usual. Normal gates spawned mobs too, but raids erased the gate itself.

That's why civilian casualties skyrocketed despite easier difficulty.

This orc mess was textbook: disaster-level damage relative to mobs slain. Upper brass incompetence amplified it—they'd experienced gates already, yet fumbled this bad. This world lacked gate immunity.

"Gate Key. Been a while. S-rank hunters always carried 'em."

Gates sometimes capped entrants—say, 10, then locked. This bypassed that. Niche, but handy.

"Orcs done—I'm out."

I muttered and turned, finding territory folk gathered, staring. A woman pushed through, grabbing my hand.

"Thank you! So much! Without you, we'd all be dead!"

"...Not a knight. Armeyna lord from next door."

"Wha—next territory's lord, here?!"

"Just passing by, saw..."

"Heavens! You raced here hearing about the orcs! Such gratitude!"

...Impossible travel time logically, but they didn't care. I shut up—hunter life taught me silence works best here.

"Thank you, my lord! Our lord just taxes us and vanishes. You fight personally!"

...Yeah, that geezer's skull got axed already. The crowd roared.

"Waaaaah!"

"Long live Armeyna's lord!"

"Long live! Long live! Long live!"

"Thank you! You saved my child—truly!"

I took their thanks stoically. Cringe-worthy, but appreciation never got old. Plus, this goodwill was leverage.

Sell the mana stones and hides from these orcs—jackpot.

Business barely started, cash piling up. Soon, kingdom economy would pivot to gates. More mana stones, the better.

Lord's dead—who negotiates distribution? Vassals?

Tavi could sweet-talk 'em easy. I shook my head and headed to Manila's mansion. Fight over—time to profit.

Jackpot! Hero shot!

And a journalist from the capital, visiting by chance, snapped away furiously at Ian's figure.