Chapter 162
Chapter 162
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 162
Chapter Title: Ghosts of the Past, Ties of the Present
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Even if you sever the knot, the cord remains.
Just like how the people endure even after their leader dies.
『???'s impression upon hearing the tale of Gordius's knot.』
***
Ballagu fiddled with his pistol, gauging the remaining bullets.
One for the fool trying to climb the wall.
Three for the idiots peeking at the entrance.
Two for the morons prying open the sewer lid.
Six shots in total? No, maybe two for the wall-climber...
The acrid gunpowder stench clouded his mind, making it impossible to think straight.
He gave up counting and leaned back against the wall.
The cold concrete against his spine unleashed all the fatigue he'd been holding back.
"...When do you think this chaos will end?"
It was a disjointed remark, but Joseph, who had been watching the street outside the window, picked it up.
"Either everyone gunning for this place dies, or we do. It ends then."
"..."
"Lighten up. Just a joke."
Joseph toyed with the long AK or whatever it was.
He didn't look like he was joking at all, but Ballagu peeled himself from the wall and stood beside him at the window.
The window they were guarding overlooked the inn's front gate from the second-floor center—originally manned by the Brute with the machine gun nest.
But the Brute had taken a blind bolt to the shoulder, so reserves like Joseph and Ballagu had to cover it.
Joseph clapped Ballagu on the shoulder.
"Worried about dying? No need for that. We've got the medkit... and no idiot's charging after seeing the corpses piled around the inn."
Ballagu said nothing, turning his gaze outside.
As Joseph said, corpses littered the barbed-wire-topped inn walls and entrance.
Thugs, thieves, bandits... all lawless scum targeting the armed inn.
Among them, self-proclaimed guards and vigilantes demanding guns for "public safety"—until they tried sneaking in via the sewers right after being chased off. The city's law and order was clearly done for.
'In this mess, it's always the bottom-feeders who suffer...'
As Ballagu sank into vague sentiment staring at the bodies,
Joseph spotted something down the alley and raised his rifle.
—D-don't shoot! Child! There's a child!
A woman, barely past her toddler stage? She hoisted a bundled newborn high.
Confirming no bullets flew, she slowly approached the inn gate.
"Halt! One more step and I shoot!"
By the time she reached the gate, Joseph yelled in frustration.
The woman froze in terror, lifting the child higher.
—P-please, at least take the child!
Joseph answered her desperate plea with a bullet.
Bang! It hit meters in front of her, kicking up dirt. The baby wailed.
"Joseph!"
Ballagu startled, but Joseph replied without looking.
"Not the kid—check behind her."
"What?"
"Fuck, look at the alley she came from."
Ballagu finally narrowed his eyes at the alley.
Hidden in building shadows and trash bins, furtive gazes watched from every crevice.
Ragged kids like her, women in similar states, and... armed Ratkin.
So well-concealed, only an orc seasoned in nomad life would spot them.
'Headcount alone... dozens at least...'
Before Ballagu could ask how he'd seen them, Joseph cut in.
"...You see others too?"
Not firsthand, just a hunch? Ballagu nodded, stunned.
Joseph grinned twistedly.
"South America or here... trash thinks alike."
He spat out the window.
"Everyone, battle stations! Paraguay style! Kid or woman, shoot anything that approaches!"
Loading clicks echoed through the inn instead of replies.
The woman with the child backed away at the gun barrels but didn't get far.
—Kyaaak!
Before she took steps, a scream pierced from the alley depths.
Too perfect timing for coincidence.
Clutching the child, she trembled, eyes darting between alley and inn.
"Using humans as shields? Ratkin aren't that smart..."
Ballagu gripped his pistol tight. Joseph licked his lips.
"Either a smart mutant popped up, or humans taught 'em. Either way, shit."
"..."
"Anyway, I'll shoot if they approach. Fall back if you can't see."
Near-considerate words. Instead of retreating, Ballagu ventured carefully.
"Joseph, what if we go out and save them..."
"Save that shit for the toilet."
"..."
"Abandon our strategic edge for some random bitch and brat? Huh? You think me and my men are superhumans? Heroes?"
Ballagu couldn't argue or condemn.
Hadn't he himself sold slaves until recently?
Circumstances aside, his slaver past didn't vanish.
Him preaching save the woman and child now? Pure hypocrisy.
But...
"...Then I'll go alone and grab the kid at least."
"..."
"Shoot her, and the next, then the next comes. Better snag the kids from the start."
Joseph toyed with the trigger, then sighed deeply.
"Do it if you want. Kid only. Not the woman."
"..."
"And if you threaten this place... no guarantees on your life. Deals over empty justice. Got it?"
"...Overly kind. Thanks."
Ballagu bowed to Joseph, pistol in hand, and leaped from the window.
***
The hefty orc landed, and the woman's eyes quivered at the gate.
Hope, despair, myriad emotions swirling.
Ballagu approached, hand outstretched.
"Hand over the child."
"...Wh-what about me?"
"Sorry. Kid maybe, but you too? Tough to let in."
She squeezed her eyes shut in resignation. Moments later, trembling violently, she extended the bundled child.
The instant Ballagu carefully took it.
The now-free-handed woman drew a long canister from her bosom.
"S-sorry."
Ballagu realized it resembled Joseph's smuggled "smoke grenade" and reached out, but she pulled the pin faster.
Pssshhh—white smoke billowed between them.
The signal.
Next instant, Ratkin surged from the alley.
Each clutched identical smoke grenades, awkwardly pulling pins and hurling toward the inn.
Sloppy throws meant few flew far, but quantity had its quality.
In moments, white smoke choked the inn front, footsteps and shouts erupting.
—Chik, chik! Take it!
—Snatch the building!
—Ura! Ura!!
Ballagu bit his lip, thrusting into the smoke. Eyes stung, throat burned, no time to hesitate.
"Kyaa!"
He grabbed the first smoke-thrower—the child-bearer—and bolted inside.
Bullets immediately poured where he'd stood.
Joseph and his men opened fire on the gate-rushing Ratkin.
But Ratkin weren't dumb. They shoved aside the wall barbed wire, flooding in.
"Inside!"
Ballagu hurled the woman at the entrance and locked the door.
The lead Ratkin lunged.
Bang!
Ballagu fired without pause. The Ratkin staggered but pressed on.
Tough fucker dangled its perforated arm, baring huge incisors at Ballagu.
"D-die! Orc! Die!"
Ballagu pulled again—click click.
Damn, only eight bullets?
He smashed the pistol into the Ratkin's face. As it flinched, he seized its throat.
"Let go! Let go!"
It writhed, but orc toughness matched. Ballagu slammed it down weighted.
Thud! The Ratkin's neck snapped on concrete, body slumping.
"...Damn."
No time for victory joy. Other Ratkin swarmed at the noise.
"Orc! Killed a comrade!"
"You're dead too!"
Unlike the first unarmed, these wielded sword and shield.
Crude? No—proper issue gear.
Ballagu locked the inn door behind, thinking.
This is how I go. Tried one good deed, fucked up.
Life of constant failure.
Hadn't even reunited with his damn ex-master, dying for some nameless woman and kid.
No regrets, but guilt. Especially to Joseph and Cheon Yeomyeong who trusted him.
Last thought done, Ballagu charged the Ratkin.
No clue how long against sword-users, but he'd drag these two along.
Or so...
Sudden ice spikes pierced the charging Ratkin chests.
Cheon Yeomyeong's desert ice awls.
As Ballagu sighed relief, figures emerging from smoke weren't him—but oddly dressed Ratkin.
"Such damn..."
He raised fists again; a hammer-wielding one cut him off. Eerily familiar voice.
"Damn's my line."
"...Miss Hong Seti?"
"Saw your little hero act back there. Noble stuff. We'll settle after."
"..."
Ballagu chuckled dryly as a sword Ratkin spoke in Cheon Yeomyeong's voice.
"Account later. Stop the raid first."
"Cheon Yeomyeong this time? What the..."
"Questions end. Seti, Pinel—clear the inn. Ballagu... with me. Ballagu? Sword, follow."
Ballagu gladly did.
***
The Ratkin legion encircling the inn numbered about forty.
Smoke hid them, causing hassle, but dispatching was easy.
Yeomyeong soloed them in barely five minutes.
"...Stronger already?"
Ballagu asked, watching Yeomyeong sword-cleave the last Ratkin.
No denial or affirmation. He shook blood from the blade, walking opposite the inn.
"Ballagu, how many Ratkin to seize the sewers and whole west side?"
"..."
Abrupt, but Ballagu answered quick.
"At least a thousand."
"Expand: seize key city zones beyond west, control all entries?"
"Then at least five thousand..."
Yeomyeong pondered the astronomical figure as they reached the target alley.
"Here...?"
Ballagu squinted at the clearing smoke.
Familiar—where Ratkin first emerged.
Kids and women huddled terrified—clearly meat-shield civilians.
"...Planning to save them?"
Ballagu hoped, but Yeomyeong shook head.
"No. No capacity for rescues now."
"Then..."
"Use them."
Use? How use the weak? As Ballagu tilted head, Yeomyeong's face shifted again.
Unmistakable to cityfolk: stubborn old man's.
South Palace Lord's face.
No mirror, but Ballagu's shock confirmed the illusory blood-tears illusion hit.
He swept smoke with sword, bellowing.
"All eyes here... ahem, you lowly scum! Rise!"
Voice awkward, but none in alley questioned sudden smoke Palace Lord.
—Palace Lord?
—Kneel! Hurry!
Sharp women knelt first; slow ones followed frantic.
Yeomyeong paused, then addressed.
"You lowly scum, assemble at that inn! Now!"
Women and kids fidgeted terrified, unmoving.
Scared of corpse-strewn inn grounds.
Yeomyeong about to add, Ballagu stomped ground roaring.
"You filth dare! Didn't hear Palace Lord?! Move or I'll drag you myself!"
Women finally shrieked—reply or scream?—rushing innward.
Yeomyeong eyed Ballagu incredulous; he shrugged.
"Uh... wasn't that the act?"
***
Fortified inn third floor, largest bed room.
Seti sat window-gazing the front gate.
Chaotic post-battle: disorderly, frenzied.
Joseph's men cleared corpses; ragged kids and women hauled dirt sacks for barricades.
But Seti's eyes fixed elsewhere.
South Palace Lord... precisely Neti borrowing his face, telekinetically erecting tents.
Round log pillars, waterproof cloth atop—desert nomad yurts.
Tiny compared true, but room for one comfortably.
Decent shelter for refugees...
"...Waste?"
Seti turned. Her blue eyes captured Yeomyeong on bed.
He didn't deny.
"Waste."
"...Hm?"
"Necessary waste."
Seti crossed arms, demanding explanation. Yeomyeong drew fist-sized World Tree Crystal.
"How long to digest this?"
"Common sense? Over five years..."
But you're beyond common? Unspoken tail audible.
Yeomyeong smiled faintly.
"Manchuria: nail-sized took three days. Even accounting growth... full crystal? Month easy."
Crystal sparkled with his voice.
"But month's too long. Kahal Magdu finds us before."
"...Likely."
Kahal Magdu. Underground armory: tanked him. But true body encounter?
Worst case, one companion dead. Can't bet without stronger.
Yeomyeong gripped crystal tight.
"So, shatter to finger-size. Digestion: generous three days."
Lunacy to outsiders. Normal person: year minimum.
But Yeomyeong, World Tree-permitted, three days max conservative.
"So, refugee link?"
"Early warning during digestion."
Warning? Seti eyed tents ringing walls circularly.
"Nothing stops Ratkin meat-shielding innocents like today. They provide response buffer."
"..."
"And you, Neti, Pinel... but ten hands can't block everywhere?"
Seti no rebuttal. Joseph crew plus Ballagu: over twenty guards.
Armed quality sufficient, but numbers lacking weakness.
Especially guarding others.
Seti finally got it, tilting head coy.
"...Share tents, food—they'll fight some. Combat weak, but kids patrol sentry."
Three-day safety investment. Waste, yet sound.
Just...
"...Why not hire thugs?"
Yeomyeong wry smile.
"Seti, trust hires in this city?"
"Ah..."
Impossible. Clean top for clean bottom—but whole rotten.
"Numbers plus smoke-grenade savvy... yeah, they're perfect now."
Seti conceded, choosing believe Yeomyeong's goodwill.
Post-player kill, revenge eased? She hoped earnest.
May he not self-immolate, find happiness beyond vengeance...
Thought ended, she rose lightly, approaching Yeomyeong.
Hid expression burying face in his neck.
"Crystal when... ah, now."
Always urgent on powering up. World, surroundings forever prodding.
"...Eat carefree. I'll guard."
Usually reverse?
Yeomyeong smiled faint, crushing crystal.
Crack—split, thumb-sized shard popped.
Pocketed rest, took shard.
No immediate swallow. Instead, patted Seti's back softly. She'd hugged tighter.
Vivid warmth, soft flesh scent. Seti desired no more.
More, and restraint fails.
Brief silence, Seti peeled away, exiting.
Yeomyeong called to door-holding back.
"...Don't rag Ballagu too hard."
"Then the smoke-thrower woman?"
"..."
"Yep, Ballagu needs it?"
Seti exited on that. Yeomyeong eyed empty spot, swallowed World Tree Crystal.
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