Chapter 187
Chapter 187
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 187
Chapter Title: The Road to Samp'o (11)
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Dawn was ripening.
Returning to the camp, Yeomyeong told the Saintess and Corbus that Orse Tabul needed to be sent back to the mountains.
"Is that so? What a shame."
Corbus looked a bit surprised, but he nodded right away once Yeomyeong explained the reason.
The Saintess, on the other hand...
She couldn't meet Yeomyeong's eyes and just fidgeted with her innocent fingers.
She clearly looked like she'd done something wrong.
When Yeomyeong narrowed his eyes at her, she even started whistling.
...Anyway.
Right on cue, with Seti waking up, the group began preparing to bid farewell to the dragon.
It wasn't some grand ceremony or farewell party.
They just gathered casually, exchanged light greetings, and that was enough.
Because they believed they'd meet again someday.
"Next time, I'll come to the mountains to see you."
After the final goodbye, Yeomyeong placed his palm on the dragon's massive claw.
The dragon gave a faint smile, spread its wings wide, and said,
[Cheon Yeomyeong, it was a short meeting, but I'm glad I could help. I look forward to seeing you in my homeland. And... Saintess?]
The Saintess, who had been staring blatantly at Yeomyeong, flinched at the dragon's call and looked up. She saw the dragon's back turned to the dawn, its eyes hidden by an eyepatch.
[When we meet again, I hope you've grown as strong as the previous Saintess.]
"W-What?"
The Saintess tried to protest, but the dragon kicked off the ground and soared into the sky.
The wind from its massive body shook the camp tents and surrounding trees.
Only then did the merchants and workers, now awake, poke their heads out of the tents and gaze in the direction the dragon had vanished.
A red dragon flying away toward the reddening dawn sky.
Some felt regret, others awe, but everyone fell silent as if by agreement.
And so, as the dragon departed with the dawn and morning arrived...
Yeomyeong spoke up. Not to anyone else, but to the Saintess.
"...What the hell did you do to the dragon?"
The Saintess couldn't answer.
***
After the dragon left, Yeomyeong proposed to Tindamel that they travel together as far as the Gemini Autonomous Region.
Their destinations matched, and it was simply more convenient to move in a larger group.
Naturally, Tindamel didn't refuse his offer.
Was it due to practical reasons like dealing with the remnants of the traitorous mercenary band or the mafia ties to the Awakening Potion?
Those factors played a role, of course, but the decisive one was the Saintess in Yeomyeong's group.
A Saintess who had flown in on a dragon, along with her companions.
As a devout follower of the Five Gods, Tindamel bowed his head to the Saintess with pleasure and handed over the finest carriage in his caravan to Yeomyeong's group.
"You don't need to give us such a nice carriage..."
Yeomyeong politely declined, but Tindamel was adamant. He said it was the least he could do for the Saintess and his benefactor to save face.
Anyway, with the discussion settled, the caravan began preparing to depart.
They were delayed a bit by the dozens of bound mercenaries, but the workers and merchants quickly packed up the camp tents and set off toward the Gemini Autonomous Region.
The caravan's destination was the nearest rail station.
The sound of wheels echoed through the forest, and the morning sunlight peeked through the leaves at the caravan.
Just as the forest seemed to regain its silence...
"You're really just going to let them go like that?"
From atop a massive tree overlooking the entire forest, a voice shattered the quiet.
"Comrade Demerond, are you truly going to do nothing?"
An urgent voice. Demerond, watching the caravan recede from below the tree, replied nonchalantly.
"Do you have a problem with my judgment?"
"...At the very least, you should have retrieved the World Tree Crystal from that Earthling."
A very elf-like remark, tormented by an Earthling.
Demerond leaned back against the tree and crossed his arms.
"I can't take back what Mother World Tree has decided."
"You demanded a favor in exchange for your teachings. Use that favor..."
"No, now's not the time. I'll use the favor at a more appropriate moment."
"...."
A brief silence.
Only after the caravan had vanished from sight did the voice from the tree speak again.
"...What exactly did you see in them?"
As if he'd been waiting for the question, Demerond smiled over his scar-covered face and answered.
"Potential."
"...Potential? What kind of potential?"
"The potential to overturn this board set up by those Yankee bastards."
***
The carriage provided by Tindamel was comfortable.
The interior was spacious enough for all five of them to sit with room to spare, and it hardly shook—probably due to some magic.
Normally, this would be the moment for excited chatter about the carriage's performance, but the inside was as quiet as a library.
Yeomyeong was deep in thought, wrestling with the koan Demerond had given him... in other words, trying to sum up his life in one line.
Corbus was lost in meditation, the Saintess was sneaking glances at Yeomyeong while fidgeting with something in her pocket, and Neti was curiously scanning the carriage interior.
And finally, Seti was...
Too embarrassed to let Yeomyeong see her hungover and miserable, she sat alone up front on the driver's seat.
At least, thankfully, the view from the driver's seat wasn't bad.
Scattered trees, gentle hills, and a babbling brook flowing between them.
If not for the motorcycle roaring in from the distant horizon, belching exhaust, it would have been a perfect scene.
Seti immediately gathered mana in her eyes to count the motorcycles.
Roughly over thirty. Including those in the sidecars, about forty heads?
It would be nice if they were just passing biker gang, but judging by their shabby armor, helmets, and weapons, that seemed unlikely.
Seti rapped on the carriage window and shouted.
"Strange people approaching from the east!!"
Only then did the merchants spot the motorcycles, and the carriage procession came to a halt.
The original escort mercenaries had long been captured, so Seti was the only one preparing for battle.
No, Yeomyeong was stepping out of the carriage too.
"Enemies?"
To Yeomyeong's question, Seti pointed at the motorcycles and replied.
"Not sure yet... but no one would think they come in peace, right?"
By then, deeming themselves close enough, the motorcycles stopped.
They lined up perfectly with their front wheels aligned, suggesting they weren't ordinary folk...
One motorcycle broke from the pack and approached the caravan. A rider in flashy, eye-catching armor sat atop it.
Moments later, close enough to make out his face, the rider shouted.
"I'm Captain Kahdak of the Gemini Autonomous Region Guard! You've trespassed into the region's territory without permission! By the sacred U.S. Constitution, I hereby detain you!"
Tindamel's face twisted at the words from this Kahdak fellow.
He glanced at Yeomyeong—or rather, the carriage carrying the Saintess—before responding.
"Captain! I am a merchant with official permission from the region! I'll show you the permit personally granted by the mayor!"
This time, Kahdak's face twisted.
He hesitated as if pondering something, then revved his motorcycle right up to the carriage line.
"You have a permit? Hand it over. I'll check it myself."
Tindamel immediately summoned a servant to fetch the permit.
Was this a first for them? The merchants and workers looked visibly tense.
"Uh, who are those guys? Slaves?"
While the servant retrieved the permit, the rider eyed the bound mercenaries.
"They were our escort mercenaries. They betrayed us midway, so we had no choice but to tie them up."
After hearing Tindamel's explanation, the rider licked his lips and dismounted, wandering around the caravan, peering everywhere.
"Uh, Captain? This kind of inspection is new. Has something happened in the region?"
Kahdak replied without even looking at him.
"Something? There's always something. Trash like illegal immigrants and refugees. Sneaking into America—"
Mid-rant, he spotted Seti and his eyes widened.
"Oh...?"
A blatant once-over from head to toe.
As Yeomyeong summoned mana with sunken eyes, the servant arrived with the permit just in time.
"Here is the permit, stamped with the region's seal."
The rider took it and glanced at it while still side-eyeing Seti.
Then, pausing mid-read, he alternated looks between Tindamel and Seti before asking.
"Who's that woman? Not nobility if she's driving, right? Your lover, maybe?"
"...She's not someone for you to address so casually, Captain."
Tindamel's firm response drew a smirk from Kahdak.
"Nobility? Even better."
"...Better? Better how?"
This question came from Yeomyeong. Kahdak confirmed his empty hands and curled his lip.
"Noble bitches, especially pretty ones, fetch a high price."
With that, he raised his hand high.
The next instant, a horn blared from the lined-up motorcycles, as if on cue.
No need to ask what it meant.
Before the sound faded, the motorcycles charged at the caravan.
Kahdak scanned around, expecting panicked merchants to flee, but not a single terrified merchant was in sight.
Some workers even looked at him with pity?
Sensing the odd atmosphere, he reached for his sword at his waist when Yeomyeong spoke.
"Having fun?"
"What?"
"Having fun playing bandit with that shitty act?"
Why is this bastard so relaxed?
Suppressing his creeping unease, Kahdak taunted back.
"You're about to die, and you're crazy...? Hey, wanna know what's really fun? That bitch next to you screaming in my bed tonight..."
His taunt went no further.
The moment "bed" left his mouth, the carriage window opened, and a revolver muzzle spat fire.
Bang!
A clean shot to the gut. Kahdak collapsed with a scream mixed with shock.
Yeomyeong turned to see the Saintess peeking out the window.
"I think I've got this disease where I just wanna shoot any son of a bitch I see... Looks like it's terminal."
Yeomyeong gave a wry smile, summoned his mana, and turned toward the charging motorcycle bandits.
No need for a sword. None of the approaching bandits could use mana.
"Don't kill them all. We need to find out why bandit packs are roaming around the region."
Ignoring Seti's request, Yeomyeong dashed toward the motorcycles.
"A knight! There's a knight among the caravan escorts!"
Someone shouted upon seeing Yeomyeong burst forward at motorcycle speeds.
Soon, the sidecar riders pulled out assault rifles.
Crude Soviet knockoffs, obvious even to Yeomyeong, who knew little about guns.
But a knockoff rifle was still a rifle. Especially one copying the reliable Soviet designs.
"Fire! Turn him into Swiss cheese!"
As they pulled triggers, muzzles flashed.
Some rifles exploded or jammed, but quantity had its own quality.
Amid the bullet hail, a few pierced Yeomyeong's skin, drawing blood.
"Hit him! Fuck, did you see?! I killed a knight— Gahk!"
The one who hit Yeomyeong couldn't celebrate further. An unseen force snapped his neck.
"Huh? Not a knight, a mage—"
A few drivers noticed their comrade's twisted neck and sensed something wrong, but it was far too late.
The instant Yeomyeong, wounds regenerating in a flash, clenched his fist.
Every front wheel of the bandit motorcycles "bent."
A telekinetic spectacle even the dirt-road daredevils couldn't anticipate.
As the motorcycles toppled en masse, the plains filled with panic, terror, and roaring exhaust.
* * *