Chapter 26
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Starting from the Mud Pit
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“You madman! Madman! I’ll kill you!”
Requiya bellowed to declare his survival.
“You demonic bastard!”
Doesn’t hurling curses like that give you a sense of self-loathing...?
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Requiya was savagely beating something with his staff.
A startled horse’s neigh rang out, but it didn’t seem like he was hitting the horse.
I roughly scraped the mud from my eyes and checked on the kid first.
“Kid, you okay?”
“Ah... Y-yes. Thank you.”
He’d gotten even dirtier than before, but the kid’s expression was bright.
Such poise despite the scare—this one’s got a big future ahead.
Or maybe in this brutal world, a baseline level of composure is just survival basics.
“Die, you fucker! Scum like you deserves death!”
Since Requiya kept swinging away, I covered the kid’s eyes.
The kid curiously tilted his head to the side.
The folks carrying the patient on a stretcher came rushing over.
Too terrified of Requiya to get close, they fidgeted in helpless panic.
“Oh god, stop! You’ll kill him!”
“Just hold it in!”
“Hold what in? Guys like this deserve to die!”
The one Requiya was pummeling was the horse’s driver.
The man lay sprawled, bloodied and unconscious.
“Enough. He’s out cold.”
“Yes, Boss. Hoo... whew.”
As if the rage had never been, Requiya straightened up and regulated his breathing.
I approached the people in white aprons first.
“Healers?”
“Yes, medical corps.”
Hmm, medical corps usually tags buildings, but my translator’s not glitching, right?
“Take the kid. Check if he got banged up in the fall.”
“Will do. Come on over—.”
I gave the kid’s back a gentle nudge, like a pat.
“Hurry and go see your grandpa.”
“Yes, thank you.”
I looked down at the guy Requiya had thrashed.
Even knocked out, he wheezed roughly, and without getting close, the stench of booze hit like a wall.
“Drunk-driving motherfucker. Ptui!”
I stared blankly at Requiya as he spat curses and phlegm, then it struck me as odd.
The geezer who’d been chuckling like a kindly elder suddenly flooring it—who wouldn’t be baffled?
And more than that...
A weird fury gripped me.
The hollow frustration of having no target for my anger.
Trapped in the sanctuary, surviving on toothpaste till fancy swordsmen nearly ended me.
Barely escaped, then life-or-death with plate-armored goons.
Went to check on Hama, ran into even scarier Red Dragon Knights and Holy Knights.
To flee them, summoned a giant even worse.
Then bolted.
Days of nonstop running and walking into this shithole beggar town, only to tumble in mud thanks to a drunk driver.
If I hadn’t zeroed in on the kid, I might’ve been trampled flat. For a normal body, that is.
...Lid flipped.
“Argh! Fuck! Die, you shithead!”
I started kicking the downed bastard.
Again! Again! You're losing it!
Barefoot, I stomped his face, kicked his ribs, stomped his thigh.
But I didn’t tap into my inner strength.
Worried the Queen might track us, and those shadowy stares watching irked me.
And above all...
This guy was bloody from Requiya’s hits, but the cuts weren’t deep.
‘Requiya went easy, then.’
Huff—, ha!
Even if half show, real fatigue shortened my breaths.
Requiya latched onto my waist, hanging on.
“Boss! That’s enough! Hold it together!”
“You fuck! Drunk ass! Gripping! The reins!”
“He’ll actually die!”
“Dieee—!”
After repeated pleas, Requiya backed off.
“Kahk—ptui!”
Crack—!
I hawked a thick loogie and delivered a final brutal kick to his asscheek.
His glute was iron-hard; my instep throbbed.
Requiya and I exchanged glances, then strolled off like nothing happened.
“That fucker’s built tough.”
“Yeah, no groans through all that. Feels like someone set it up.”
“Not really passed out? Wasn’t after the kid.”
“Testing us. Spotted the kid and veered the horse.”
“Testing what, exactly?”
“Dunno. Personality, maybe?”
“Personality check for city entry? And such a unique method.”
“Makes it feel like a proper settled town.”
A form of turf claim, but more like a vetting process, he explained.
Can’t have trash seeping into an organized city and muddying the waters.
“Drifters latch onto nice spots and squat. Shows intent to screen citizens.”
“Requiya, you clocked the eyes from the jump?”
“Felt the stares on us early.”
“Devil perk?”
“Nah? Didn’t you sense it too, Boss?”
I nodded wordlessly.
Requiya eyed me darkly.
“You good?”
I nodded again.
Why mad again!
My mood soured further.
Because these cocky pricks tested me? Nah.
Because that Luke fucker ditched and dashed? Eh, whatever now.
So why was I pissed?
‘Beats me!’
I was furious, but couldn’t pin why.
After that, we walked in silence.
No horse to ride, nothing to say, just barefoot trekking.
We ducked into a dark back alley.
“Black markets are usually tucked in shadowy spots.”
“Figures.”
What, not dark enough to be black market?
Still sour, I trudged on, half-listening to Requiya.
Melted earth squelched underfoot.
Thick glop oozed between my toes.
‘Sensations you get to savor because you’re alive.’
A pang of pathos hit me.
Squelching mud, grime clinging to bare feet tanking my mood—that’s what bittersweet feels like, yeah?
Am I doomed to slog through muck everywhere? A chuckle escaped.
And yeah, I figured the sour mood’s source.
Just pissed at my straight-up bum status quo.
Ihi-hi—! Tickles! Toes happy!
‘Yeah, glad you’re having fun at least.’
The ground was uneven.
One step on a bump, and my foot slipped.
Without Luke’s ace balance, I’d have eaten shit a dozen times.
Unfamiliar turf, fresh start.
It begins in the mud pit.
By the time the eastern sky blushed blue with dawn, we halted before a ramshackle wooden shack.
Requiya scanned me head to toe.
“Must be freezing, Boss. Winds pick up at dawn and dusk.”
“I’m good.”
I shook my head dismissively.
Really wasn’t a big deal.
Ah, nothing as familiar as the cold.
Creak—creak—.
The sign over the firmly shut door swayed in the breeze. Blank slab of wood, nothing carved.
Thump-thump-thump—.
Requiya rapped on the door.
Black market’s open 24/365.
Owner’d show soon.
Protector! Berserk earlier! Why so chill now!
‘Dunno? That obvious? Feeling fine.’
Who you fooling!
Yeah, fooling who.
‘Kinda like... catching my breath now hits the barefoot, half-naked reality. Up till now it felt like a dream; wake up, dream’s still rolling. Feels like I’m not me anymore.’
Get it... but don't!
Her spunky cheer made me chuckle again.
“Who’s out there, huh?”
A booming voice echoed from a big-barreled man.
Odd inflections and cadence.
Creeeak—.
The door swung open.
Through the gap, lustrous orange lamplight spilled out.
It resembled starlight guiding a reincarnate’s new path.
“Here to sell goods.”
“Gonna come in, then?”
“Weapons, armor, shield, furs.”
“I’ll take a look-see?”
“Boss. What’re we waiting for?”
Yeah, peddler Holy Knight Andre Bong’s on the move.
The armorsmith was a squat brute—barrel torso, stubby legs, arms dangling near knees as thick as thighs.
Whoa! Dwarf! Spotted a few in Queen-vision days!
‘Subterranean Grevare.’
The owner poked at our dumped packs’ haul, then side-eyed me.
He stroked his navel-length braid beard with a pot-lid paw and grumbled.
“What ya starin’ at so hard? Shit on my mug?”
Ah, my gaze got to him.
“Nah. Sorry if it bugged you.”
No stubborn streak, so Luke’s vibe took the wheel.
Prime perk of Luke’s traits: poker face.
Tone’s rude as hell, but that’s my lot now.
His caterpillar brows twitched up.
“That so? Hm-hm-hmm—.”
Luckily, the owner brushed off my attitude.
Black market vet—seen way ruder than me.
Then quit the brow twitch; had me spooked.
“Where’d ya snag this?”
“Ah, well—”
Requiya gearing up for another fib.
Keep lying, hell awaits. I shot him a look and cut in.
“Killed and looted.”
“Hm-hm-hmm—. That right? No merchant, then?”
“Merchant. Sell it all, not anymore. But core’s Holy Knight. Deny that, you’re heretic.”
Hmm, hadn’t planned that spiel.
Feels like prime me-Luke blend.
Owner furrowed, scratched his noggin trying to parse.
No dice; pure confusion.
“Tricky, eh? Just curious, is all?”
I winked at wide-eyed Requiya.
Leave it to your Holy Knight Boss!
“Guess haggling’s on me.”
“Right behind you.”
Requiya fell back.
I trusted I wouldn’t get fleeced.
Luke’s traits make lying to me tough, downside, but Insight’s killer bullshit detector.
“What’s the offer?”
“Hm-hm-hmm—. Can’t go high? Good steel though, better than most?”
Patience. Patience.
Every word true.
“Nah, but prime sword and gear—hook us up a bit?”
“Requiya, stand down. Time sink.”
“I lowball, but don’t cheat. Can’t fence this?”
I nodded, locked eyes.
He peered up with hawk-sharp gaze.
We staredown’d awhile, then I spoke.
“You’ll melt it down.”
“Oho? Sharp one! Most humans here are dimwits?”
“Your hands tell.”
“Hands talkin’, eh?”
The Grevare bugged his eyes wide, twisted his hand under lanternlight.
“Name’s?”
“Darusong.”
“Darusong. Hands callused heavy, but no fighter’s build.”
I jabbed at his protruding gut.
“Ahem, ahem—.”
Darusong sucked in his belly, clapped thick paws over it.