Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: It Works!
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His steps were light.
A single sheet of paper in his hand.
The discharge order.
It was proof of his freedom.
'It's over.'
A brief farewell to his short military life.
Where to go now?
He didn't ponder it for long.
'I should at least say goodbye properly.'
Before leaving the north.
There was one last place to visit.
"Hup!"
The 1st Infantry Division training grounds.
The shouts echoed from afar.
Squad Leader Ben was there.
'Already moving around?'
His gait still looked unsteady, but his movements showed no hesitation.
Despite the injury from the Black Forest, he had already returned to training.
"Squad Leader Ben."
"You're here."
Squad Leader Ben spotted Damian and lowered his sword.
His face was drenched in sweat, but his expression was brighter than before.
"I heard the news. You're being discharged."
"Yes, I just received the orders."
A brief silence.
Damian spoke up.
"How's your body holding up?"
"As you can see. I'm not dead yet."
Ben shrugged with a curt reply.
"Thanks to you."
A short voice, but laced with sincerity.
"Did you visit Sir Aaron Holt's resting place?"
"I went right after arriving in the north."
"Good."
In truth, it was thanks to Aaron Holt.
He had absorbed the acquired mana sensitivity.
So he expressed ample gratitude and apology.
"What will you do now, Squad Leader?"
"What do you think? Nothing changes for me. Even if the war ends, I'm a soldier."
Ben was a professional soldier, not a conscript.
Unlike Damian, he would remain in the military.
"This is my home and my workplace. Sick of it, but..."
Bitter undertones colored his voice.
"Right. What about you? Planning to go back to farming and bandit-hunting?"
"I'll stick with the sword for a while. Might head to Sobkov Territory in the east if the chance arises."
"Sobkov? Sword Expert Sir Mikhail's territory?"
"Yeah, they say it's crawling with barbarians and monsters."
"Why go there?"
"Seems like a good place to gain experience."
"You're one of a kind. Always diving headfirst into danger."
Ben's expression shifted oddly as he spoke.
"......I'm jealous."
It was his honest feeling.
"Free to go wherever, do whatever you want."
Deep longing burned in his eyes.
Mixed with a hint of envy.
"Seeing you like that made me realize."
Just a few months ago, Damian had been an ordinary recruit.
Now, he had surpassed Ben by leaps and bounds.
"I can't stay like this."
Ben clenched his fist.
"I'm too young to settle for the status quo."
A spark.
Damian's presence had ignited a drive for change within him.
A fierce one.
"I'll find my own path too. No idea when, but."
A firm, resolute voice.
"So make sure you survive."
Ben's way of saying goodbye.
"Next time we meet."
He added.
"I'll be stronger than now. Enough not to embarrass my old squad member."
A promise for the future.
Damian nodded instead of replying.
For some reason, he had a feeling they'd meet again.
The free city of Melrn in the northeast of the continent.
Commonly called the "city of mercenaries and adventurers."
A hub where mercenaries sought work and adventurers chased quick fortunes.
A rough, vibrant, and dangerously thrilling city.
"Hoo."
Damian had just set foot in the city.
Dismounting his horse, he stretched his stiff body.
'This place should let me confirm it.'
His goal was simple.
Visit the Adventurer's Guild.
Take a monster subjugation request there and test it out.
'Can I absorb abilities from monsters too?'
That was why he came to Melrn.
If he could absorb from monsters as well?
'My next destination is Sobkov Territory, high chance.'
With some resolve.
Damian entered the Adventurer's Guild.
An ancient stone building in the city center.
Creeeak...
The old wooden door creaked.
A rush of sour alcohol, sweat, and faint blood.
'The Adventurer's Guild.'
Just as the rumors said.
Rough, noisy, chaotic.
"Hey, more booze over here!"
"When the hell do we get paid?!"
Adventurers dreaming of striking it rich.
Mercenaries scraping by day to day.
They mingled and bustled about.
"......"
A stranger appeared in the midst of it all.
All eyes turned to Damian.
'Expected reaction.'
Black Viper Leather Armor.
Dawn at his waist.
A well-crafted buckler too.
No one would call him a newbie.
'In the old days, they'd have scared me.'
Abilities gained through Gluttony.
A body toughened by mana.
Ordinary foes were no threat now.
'As long as they don't block my path.'
Ignoring the stares, Damian headed to the counter.
A weary-faced woman sat there.
"Welcome. Melrn branch of the Adventurer's Guild."
A purely clerical tone.
"How may I assist? Registration or a request?"
"Here for a request. Will register if needed."
Damian answered curtly.
"New registrant, then. Fill out your details here and..."
She handed over parchment and scanned him.
Then asked curiously.
"Have you taken requests elsewhere or worked as a mercenary?"
"No."
Her expression shifted at the reply.
Annoyed at drawing a troublesome one.
"No experience means start with simple requests at that window over..."
"I was on the front lines until recently."
Damian cut her off.
He pulled something from his pocket and set it down.
The Coldwood Kingdom 6th Legion insignia.
And an official discharge order.
"Served on the northern and eastern front lines. I heard that counts as experience."
That settled everything.
"6th Legion...? The mad legion that charged the Empire...?"
She scrutinized the documents.
Confirmed no forgery, and her attitude changed.
"Ah, my apologies. I didn't recognize you."
A veteran who survived the battlefield.
Qualified for requests.
"What kind of request are you looking for?"
"Monster subjugation."
Damian's goal was clear.
"Monster subjugation..."
The receptionist rummaged through request bundles.
"Instead of going solo, why not join a large subjugation party? There's one leaving in a few days. Good pay too."
She pulled another request from a drawer.
A neatly written, high-quality parchment.
"This one."
Damian took it.
The contents read:
'Cursed Wood Elves?'
Damian's brow furrowed.
A familiar yet unfamiliar name.
"Are elves monsters too?"
Elves.
A beautiful, noble race.
Or forest guardians, subhuman kin.
At least, that's what Damian knew.
Monsters?
"Ah, well..."
The receptionist trailed off.
An uncomfortable reaction.
"......You'll see for yourself. Why they're called monsters."
Disgust flickered in her eyes.
Different from ordinary monster hunts.
'If it's monsters, no reason not to hunt them.'
Cursed Wood Elves.
He anticipated what abilities they might hold.
"I'll take this one."
Damian signed the request.
The start of a new feast.
A few days later.
Open field before Melrn's eastern gate.
Bustling with those joining the subjugation party.
'33 including me.'
Damian looked around.
Mostly rough-looking mercenaries and adventurers.
'A ragtag bunch.'
Far inferior to the 6th Legion elites or eastern front veterans.
In discipline, skill, even character.
"Hey, newbie."
Someone tapped Damian's shoulder.
A hulking man covered in facial scars.
Twin axes strapped to his back.
"Fancy gear, but wonder about your skills. Name's Torg. Subjugation leader."
Open provocation.
Cheap hazing.
"If you're dead weight, die early. I'll gladly collect your sword and armor."
Torg grinned as he drawled.
"......"
Damian didn't reply.
Just stared silently.
'Weak.'
Nothing noteworthy.
Worth engaging?
"What, punk? Don't like your eyes?"
As Torg bristled.
"Attention all! The boss is here!"
A flashy arrival with fanfare.
A middle-aged man stepping from an ornate carriage.
'That's the merchant guild head.'
Obvious at a glance.
Gaudy golden armor.
Feathered gold visor.
Top-grade dwarf-forged gear head to toe, but it clashed horribly.
'Not easy.'
The waddling middle-aged man approached.
Anton Merchant Guild head, 'Anton Pierce'.
"Ahem! Everyone's gathered."
The head cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"Brave adventurers and mercenaries!"
His oily voice boomed.
"Today, we assemble here for this splendid, beautiful free city of Melrn!"
A boring speech kicked off abruptly.
Reason for the armor.
"Cursed Wood Elves! Those vile, ugly monsters threaten our livelihoods! Like pests preying on citizens' property and lives!"
Anger laced his voice.
Fury at blocked trade routes cutting profits.
"As a citizen born and raised here, a merchant thriving on this city's grace! I can no longer stand by those twisted freaks' atrocities!"
The head clenched his fist.
His armor creaked.
"March on Shadow Forest now! Wipe their seed out! Rich rewards await you!"
The mercenaries cheered.
"Woooah!"
"100 gold! 100 gold!"
"100 gold! 100 gold!"
With the money-mad roars.
The ragtag subjugation party's journey began.
Destination: Shadow Forest.
The Wood Elves' hideout.
Shadow Forest east of Melrn.
Half a day since the subjugation party entered.
The forest grew darker, a bizarre stench wafting.
"How long we gotta walk?"
"Yeah, they even here?"
Grumbles rose among the mercenaries.
"Shut your traps! This a picnic? Huh?!"
Subjugation leader Torg snapped irritably.
He looked anxious too.
'Close.'
But Damian was different.
He had already sensed everything around.
'Proficient Tracking.'
'Sensitive Senses.'
'Enhanced Sense of Smell.'
Plus senses amplified by mana.
Abilities from the battlefield shone.
'That way.'
A faint alien presence he'd felt for a while.
Damian's gaze fixed deep into Shadow Forest.
'About thirty.'
Info grasped instantly.
Damian approached Torg.
"Hey."
"What? More complaints?"
"They're that way. About thirty."
"......!"
Torg's eyes widened.
"How the hell you know? No tracks."
"You'll see."
Damian replied shortly.
"This bastard..."
As Torg fumed.
"Leader! Look over there!"
A scout up front shouted.
Matched Damian's direction.
'What? For real?'
Torg stared in shock.
Indeed, shadows flickered far off.
"All hands, battle ready!"
They had clearly spotted each other.
Moments later.
'......What?'
Damian's brow furrowed.
The Wood Elves' state was shocking.
'Those elves?'
Ashen skin.
Dead eyes.
Emaciated frames.
Tumors bulging, veins blackened.
No trace of beautiful, noble elves.
More like horrific undead.
'So that's the curse.'
The receptionist's words made sense.
Monsters, indeed.
"Kieeeek!"
That instant.
The approaching elf pack charged with eerie shrieks.
"Kill 'em all!"
With Torg's yell.
Mercenaries roared and rushed in.
Clang! Clang! Cliiing!
Twisted even in motion, the Wood Elves.
Yet shockingly fast, stronger than they looked.
"Gaaak!"
A few mercenaries lost heads.
Underestimating and getting careless.
"You twisted monster bastards...!"
Both sides tasted blood.
A frenzied melee erupted.
Damian plunged in too.
'Test time.'
The first Wood Elf lunging at him.
No match for Damian, of course.
Slash!
As its head flew with black blood.
'......It works!'