Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Does the Saintess Dream of the Sacrificial Lamb? (7)
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After the Blue Rat boss started yammering about life debts and such, the first thought that crossed Darulma Dun's mind was that he'd sent Kwon Captain on an errand for no good reason.
'That damn KGB bitch. No wonder she's as heartless and clueless as her homeland.'
The air in the base camp turned frigid with tension. Neither Yeomyeong nor the two boss rat bastards said a word, but even a blind man could tell things were one spark away from exploding.
Yeomyeong already had his sword in hand, and the boss rat hiding behind his cloak of invisibility was the type who could draw a gun at any second.
'If this keeps up, I'll get caught in the crossfire and die.'
Darulma eyed the two of them warily as he inched toward the base camp's back door. But before he could even reach it, mana erupted from Yeomyeong's body.
Amid the swirling mana, he glared at the invisible cloak with the look of someone staring at something utterly repulsive.
Not to be outdone, the boss rat shot up from his seat.
Seeing the auras of the two superhumans flare, Darulma hurled himself toward the back door. Or at least, he tried to.
But in the next instant, the Saintess wedged herself between them.
"Hey, come on, just stop it already!"
The moment the Saintess intervened, the tension melted away like snow in the sun.
Yeomyeong sheathed his sword and mana, and the boss rat sat back down.
Another brief silence.
The Saintess let out a deep sigh, dragged a chair between the two, and plopped down.
"Mom, you need to apologize."
"...."
"You're the one who messed up this time. I did too."
Still, neither of them opened their mouths. The Saintess shrugged in exasperation and turned to the dwarf.
"Mr. Darulma? What did you do wrong to make Yeomyeong want to quit the mercenary corps?"
The dwarf realized this was classic deflection, but he had no choice.
Better to eat some cold stares than get caught in a superhuman brawl. Forcing a smile, Darulma answered the Saintess.
"...Well, I kind of tested the guy."
"Tested him? What kind of test?"
"Oh, uh, his resume was fake, so I dangled a share of the dragon's ribcage as bait?"
Darulma stuck as close to the truth as he could. With the culprit right there gripping his sword, no flowery corporate spin was coming to mind.
As expected, the Saintess's reaction wasn't good.
"A share of the ribcage? That's the one I vouched for. And you used it as bait?"
The Saintess deliberately raised her voice for effect. The real issue was the mana laced into it.
Darulma's ears rang from the booming tone, reminding him anew that the Saintess was a superhuman too. And that he was the only one here who needed to watch his step.
"S-So, as an apology, I prepared a gift. Kwon Captain should be bringing it any minute now."
"...A gift."
The Saintess's response was lukewarm. Panicking, Darulma added hastily.
"It's an elixir! A really rare one! Yeomyeong? You'll definitely be satisfied. It's a special elixir sourced straight from the elves!"
Darulma swallowed the fact that the elixir was meant for the Saintess.
What could he do? Whether he went this way or that, as long as he reached his goal, that was all that mattered.
But despite Darulma's fervent pitch, Yeomyeong's expression didn't soften.
His heavy golden eyes flicked toward the dwarf for a moment, then away.
"...Mom got nothing?"
Finally, the Saintess's next target was her mother, who at least seemed to listen.
She gazed at the invisible cloak with hopeful eyes.
"Right? Mom?"
As the promising info guild boss, Mom could probably win Yeomyeong over with something pricey.
Eyepatch and invisible cloak. A boring staring contest dragged on between mother and daughter, until Morine raised the white flag first.
She let out a long sigh, like someone finally relieved, and spoke.
"I'm not apologizing."
Seeing her still-cold mother, the Saintess started to say something, but Morine's words came quicker.
"But I'll make some compensation."
Her hand vanished into the invisible cloak, then emerged holding something.
A single red key resting on her palm.
"Mom? Don't tell me..."
"That should cover the mercenary's life debt."
Morine tossed the key. With a whoosh and a clack, Yeomyeong caught it wordlessly, and she left her seat.
No time to even speak. The clicking of heels echoed toward the base camp's back door, then faded.
Realizing her mom had left, the Saintess turned to Yeomyeong. She bit her lip hard, then forced a smile.
"...Sorry."
"...."
"But that key? Super expensive. You know it's a mystic relic, right?"
The Saintess wasn't used to situations like this.
Truth be told, talking to someone her age at all wasn't familiar.
"Anyway, it was found during the Chicago dimension exploration..."
She fidgeted with her fingers, trying to explain the key somehow.
Maybe if he knew how valuable it was, he'd cool off a bit.
But before she could finish, Yeomyeong spoke.
"...Singanling Mountains. Come with me."
"Huh? For real?"
"But only this once."
"Aw, we haven't even started, and you're already thinking of splitting up?"
Was it the mystic relic that swayed him? No idea why he changed his mind, but the Saintess didn't care.
She smiled. As the dwarf sighed in relief and Yeomyeong stared at the key stone-faced, she patted herself on the back for coming to Manchuria.
Then, suddenly, her one and only friend popped into her head. Her friend at the academy right now. Did she know?
That another person had joined the ranks of those she couldn't see clearly with her foresight.
No clue why, but she had a hunch she did.
****
A dragon's bones held limitless value.
Ignorant low-rent mercenaries saw them as just a quick payday, but the military thought differently.
Like mana metal, dragon bones were treated as strategic assets.
Living asymmetric warfare assets—superhumans. In battles between them, gear was as crucial as martial arts or magic.
Unfortunately, Korea didn't possess a single piece of equipment made from dragon bone or scales.
By the time Korea seriously started cultivating superhumans, the UN had long designated dragons as endangered.
For latecomers like Korea, nothing could be more infuriating.
Protecting those talking lizard whelps and all that... Easy for smug advanced nations to say, with their stockpiles of dragon bone gear.
Korea? What good was busting their asses raising mages and superhumans? Domestic superhumans couldn't even get proper mana metal alloy breastplates.
Meanwhile, the Americans treated full-body dragon bone armor and swords like standard issue.
In that sense, finding a dragon ribcage right in front of the North Manchuria base was a national windfall.
The military couldn't hide their joy—even as North Manchuria burned—that Korea finally had legal dragon bone gear.
But the joy didn't last.
Some mid-tier mercenary corps claimed the dragon bones as their spoils.
The military, of course, didn't buy it. Truth be told, they didn't give a damn about the mercs' claims.
In the emergency of North Manchuria's collapse, the army had recovered it themselves. What could a single merc corps do?
They spewed nonsense like the military forfeited it by retreating, and brazen offers to return a share since it was "already theirs."
And before Yeomyeong even came up, the Saintess visited the military.
The one who'd warned of North Manchuria's fall first, preventing tragedy.
She took the dragon ribcage from the military. Common sense said returning it to the original owners, but to the military, it felt like outright theft.
Kim, the lieutenant colonel who'd claimed first discovery in front of reporters, and even Director Park, who'd reported straight to the Blue House president, couldn't hide their despair.
They wanted to seize it back by force, but the opponent was the Saintess.
Living idol of a massive religion with followers across dimensions and Earth.
The military swallowed their tears and gave up the ribcage. Of course, they didn't hand it over cleanly. They'd made too much noise.
They transported it publicly, where every reporter, arms dealer, and rival merc corps could see.
Explaining it as spoils won by hotshot newbie Yeomyeong and the Saintess.
Petty revenge, but effective.
Rumors spread that on day one, a mystery superhuman raided the Firstdeath Mercenary Corps, knocking out mercs and trashing the base camp.
There were whispers the Saintess had ditched her cloak and holed up inside, but few believed that nonsense.
Anyway, that first raid sparked it: droves of ribcage hunters swarming the Firstdeath Mercs daily.
The Firstdeath Mercenary Corps bolted the gates, hunkered down, and rejected all threats and negotiations.
They held out for three days.
Word spread that North Manchuria's situation was dire, and so did rumors the Firstdeath Corps was finally deploying there.
Everyone who heard scratched their heads. Why head to North Manchuria instead of hauling the ribcage back to Gyeongseong safe?
Half curiosity, half mockery. Nearly everyone left at the Manchuria base gathered in front of the Firstdeath camp.
Ribcage chasers, thrill-seeking reporters, soldiers hoping the mercs would eat shit.
They should've just guarded the ribcage safely. Deployment?
No clue what Captain Kwon Mongju's thinking.
Better than rotting at the base—maybe they're trying something.
Amid the crowd's questions, the merc corps gates opened.
The mercs filing out numbered about fifteen, Kwon Captain included—not enough to fill one military truck.
But sharp-eyed folks noticed nearly ten were superhumans.
They're finally making a move.
Captain's leading personally?
Where's that Yeomyeong punk?
The crowd buzzed, but the Firstdeath Corps ignored them, silently loading supplies onto the truck.
Just as the mercs were about to deploy.
Boom!
A man in combat gear dropped from the building next to the road. He blocked the truck's path and bellowed.
"Where's that Yeomyeong bastard!"
Short military buzzcut, military greatsword. A few onlookers who recognized him nodded knowingly.
That guy's Jeong Mafil from the Patriots, right?
Yeah, Jeong Mafil. The dishonorably discharged one.
Patriots are basically army contractor mercs... but this is blatant.
Some frowned, but most watched the drama eagerly.
Fueled by the attention, Jeong Mafil swung his greatsword wildly and yelled.
"Yeomyeong! Get out here! Everyone in Manchuria knows you tricked the Saintess and stole the army's dragon bone!"
His lines sounded like bad dialogue from a play. Onlookers who caught on snickered. Obvious: the military's last jab at the Firstdeath Corps.
As everyone awaited the mercs' response, an unexpected figure leaped from their truck.
"Were you looking for me?"
A handsome young man with striking golden eyes. He could pass for a boy at a glance.
But aside from looks, nothing special. Standard combat fatigues, standard iron sword—no other weapons.
His presence? Meh, ordinary if anything. Definitely not dragon-bone-cutter material.
"You're Yeomyeong?"
"Yes, that's me."
"You hear what I just said?"
Yeomyeong drew his sword instead of answering. Seeing his calm demeanor, Jeong Mafil smirked.
Felt dirty taking orders from some colonel to beat up a kid, but this guy had spine.
"No need for long talks. Let's throw down."
"You sure that's wise?"
"You sure you are?"
Cocky bastard. Yeomyeong glanced at where the reporters clustered.
Good spot for photos. He lowered his sword into stance.
"How much injury is allowed?"
"Anything short of death."
No need for a formal signal—Jeong Mafil raised his greatsword.
Reporters lifted cameras, onlookers focused—and in that moment.
Waves crashed from Yeomyeong's sword.
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