Chapter 44
Chapter 44
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Curse of Service 6
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“Tarki!”
“Hm? What is it? Isn’t that Bune?”
“Bune?”
“My half-sister.”
Bune’s gear was just as impressive as Tarki’s, and she could hold her own in a fight too. But unlike with Kozel or Tarki, her followers were poorly equipped—just a longsword and some hardened leather armor, nothing more.
She was the only one on horseback; the rest were on foot. Trailing behind them was a cart that clearly had been stolen from some farmers.
‘What’s with these half-siblings? They’re all doing the exact same crap.’
Azadin watched their reunion with disbelief.
“What’s going on, Tarki? Where are the mercenaries you had with you?”
This other bastard child, Bune, rode right up to Tarki. Since Tarki was mounted too, their horses’ heads nearly touched.
“Well, it’s like this…”
“Hold on, Tarki—did you take out Kozel?”
“Huh? Take out Kozel? What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t heard? Kozel lost all his men, and word is his dick got cut off. It’s caused a huge uproar.”
“What? That’s real? Awesome!”
Tarki was thrilled. If Kozel, the legitimate son, had been castrated, the inheritance would naturally shift to the next able-bodied candidate—Tarki, with all his limbs intact.
“See? They say good things come to those who live right. Looks like our ancestors rewarded me for all my hard work.”
“……”
Azadin, listening in, couldn’t help but snort.
‘Live right? These guys’ mouths are like broken faucets—spewing whatever.’
That was when Bune laughed.
“But where’d all those mercenaries your mom hired go? How come it’s just you left?”
“Well, about that…”
In that instant, Bune drew her sword. Without even waiting for Tarki’s answer, she whipped it out in a sudden ambush.
Tarki had been totally off guard and was defenseless against the surprise attack. But then a whistling sound cut through the air from behind…
-Clang!
A rock slammed into the blade, knocking it aside. Azadin, who’d been wary of Bune from the start, had hurled it to save Tarki.
‘She got unnecessarily close, just like I thought.’
Azadin was on foot leading his heavily laden goat, which made it easy to scoop up a stone from the ground.
‘No need to waste arrows on trash like this.’
Heralds had a habit of conserving arrows, so Azadin figured not even one was worth spending on them.
“Urk!”
Tarki panicked and pulled back.
“Bune! You trying to kill me?”
“Got to thinking—chasing some mythical True Scripture of the New King sounds like a waste. This seems like a better bet.”
Bune sneered.
“Damn it!”
Tarki drew his sword too.
“Get him, boys!”
At Bune’s command, her followers charged.
*********
Tarki was stunned that his once-friendly half-sister was attacking him out of sheer ambition.
“Bune! You’re making a huge mistake. You know who I’m with right now?”
Tarki boasted as he turned proudly to Azadin and his group. But Azadin, Midiam, and Ismail were just standing there, arms crossed, watching the show.
“What the hell, boss! Help me out!”
Tarki freaked out, blocking incoming strikes from the approaching foes as he retreated.
“Just wanted to see what you’ve got.”
“Come on, this is too much!”
Tarki barely had time to complain as he fended off the onslaught.
Dodging and retreating from four attackers on foot, he was holding his own pretty well—but objectively, his opponents were just that bad. Their coordination was sloppy, so Tarki fending them off from horseback was more than enough.
‘Kozel’s and this guy’s original escorts had real skill. These clowns could bully civilians, sure, but they’re nothing compared to Aragas.’
Azadin sized them up coolly. That was when one lunged at him—probably hoping to rattle Tarki by targeting the spectator.
But Azadin casually backstepped once, and the distance yawned open. The speed gap was insurmountable; there was no catching him.
“Midiam, Ismail—your turn. Don’t kill them. Let’s check your skills too.”
“Huh? Don’t kill them? They’re coming at us with real swords!”
“You can handle that much, right?”
“Got it.”
Ismail dashed forward, drawing his dagger.
“Y-you little shits…”
The one who’d gone for Azadin trembled with humiliation at the sight of a kid drawing a blade on him. Ismail feinted as if he’d try blocking the longsword with his dagger.
“This brat thinks he can take me?”
Outraged by Ismail’s apparent disrespect, the longsword wielder swung with full force. Exactly what Ismail had baited.
With a switch step, Ismail effortlessly sidestepped—from right foot forward to left, flowing lightly past the strike and countering from the side.
Physically outmatched, he couldn’t overpower with brute force, and magic would blow his cover. So he boldly jabbed his short dagger into the soft inner thigh, just below the armor. Not fatal, but without staunching, it’d lead to blood loss death—a precise spot.
‘Like I saw before, he’s got talent. This kid could make Herald easy.’
Ismail was big and quick for a boy, but lacked Azadin’s raw power—no one-shot knockouts. Hence the surgical wound.
Clutch it, and you’d live—but fighting was over. Ignore it, and you might win but bleed out anyway.
Being able to land that showed fast hands, anatomical knowledge, and a cool, ruthless head.
“Impressive.”
Azadin praised him sincerely and turned to Midiam.
“My turn too?”
“Yeah. Wanted to see your non-magic skills.”
Midiam had already shown killer magic. But how was she without it?
“Fine. Azadin’s not alone anymore, so I’ll…”
“What?”
“But you know? If you’ve got the Curse of Service, then by now your belly…”
“……”
“That’s why you’re leaving the fighting to us, right?”
“No! What kind of twisted crap are you…”
Just then, Tarki’s scream rang out. He’d gotten tangled in the mercenaries’ attacks and fallen from his horse.
Backing up the whole time while defending? Predictable end. Any horse that handled that retreat so well was a fine steed.
‘Idiot.’
With top-tier horse and armor, he could’ve just charged and trampled these longsword scrubs. But now he was unhorsed…
Azadin sighed and leaped into the fray.
“That’s far enough for you!”
“Who the hell are you!”
The pissed-off longsword pair swung at him, but Azadin grabbed their blades barehanded. A test of strength began—grip on hilt versus edge.
Common sense said hilt wins, but Azadin twisted lightly, slamming the wielders to the ground.
“Gah!”
“Urgh!”
Those who’d grappled him realized it instantly: the guy had freakish strength. And pinpoint control they couldn’t match.
But the ones who hadn’t touched him yet? They hadn’t even drawn, sneering at the unarmed intruder.
“Oh yeah?”
“This punk knows a few tricks?”
“Thinks he’s some swordsman!”
“We shoveled tons of gold at our swordmasters.”
They rushed Azadin, but he floored them one by one, confiscating their longswords. In the end, he smashed them all flat.
“Guh… Th-thanks. You’re the best, boss.”
Tarki got up and bowed gratefully.
“Don’t say that. People might think we’re buddies.”
“We’re pretty tight now, though?”
“No… Just clean up your act.”
Azadin was sick of Count Kazel’s kids and their plundering habits.
‘How do they even live like this?’
Even Azadin—a soulless heretic, member of the Herald Clan, persecuted across the world—didn’t want to tangle with scum like this.
“Damn it! What the hell is this guy!”
Bune, furious, spurred her horse at Azadin and the dismounted Tarki to trample them.
‘At least she’s got better tactics than Tarki? But still…’
Azadin dodged the charge effortlessly and grabbed her leg. Bune swung her sword at his head. But he yanked her foot from the stirrup, pulled her down as he dropped into a seat, and evaded the blade. Bune tumbled off too.
“Argh!”
She landed with legs splayed and screamed.
“Ah… H-hip! My hip…”
*********
Azadin subdued Bune’s gang and backtracked up the road. He soon found the farmer weeping over his stolen cart.
Haystacks dumped haphazardly by the roadside suggested they’d commandeered his hay cart, tossed the load, and filled it with loot instead.
“We’ll return the cart, and hand back as much loot as we can to their owners.”
The farmer bowed repeatedly at Azadin’s words.
“Thank you! Truly, thank you! May I have your name…?”
“The true heir to Count Kazel—Tarki!”
“…….”
Azadin glared at Tarki, who’d butted in beside him.
“Whatever. You lot—reload that cart with hay.”
“Us?”
“Who else? Me? What the hell are you idiots?”
Azadin demanded of Bune the bastard. She groaned out an answer.
“Urgh. My friends.”
“Friends?”
“Fine adventurers.”
“Fine?”
From the looks of it, Bune—the self-proclaimed adventurer—had been slacking around with this ragtag crew.
Then the count promised lordship to whoever found the True Scripture of the New King, so she’d dragged them out. Ditched the scripture hunt for banditry instead. And upon hearing Kozel was out of the running, she’d gone hunting Tarki.
‘Brainless brats. Unbelievable. Drought’s got everyone suffering, and these fools are rampaging for some scripture?’
Interrogating the so-called adventurers, Azadin learned they were from well-off families—scribes’ kids, craftsmen, lawyers—not nobles, but comfy. They’d run off with fun-loving Bune chasing quick riches.
“Alright. Won’t move the hay? Then I’ll strip your gear, pants too, and tie you to that tree.”
Azadin’s threat blanched Bune and her adventurer pals.
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