Chapter 30
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: A Harpy Problem
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Wandering Mercenary in an Open World (30)
Bilto, Delmiel.
The names meant nothing to him, so Luon tilted his head.
The moment the fight had started, he’d tossed aside any thought of letting things go smoothly. Still, he was curious, and he directed his question to the man clutching his kicked chest.
“Who are they?”
“Who are they, you ask?”
The man spoke, a bitter smile on his lips.
“Does a dwarf mage and an elven swordsman ring any bells?”
The helpful explanation jogged Luon’s memory, pulling a long-forgotten incident from the depths of his mind.
“...The stele?”
Back when he had taken the job from Kyle, two people matching that description had tried to destroy the stele where the shield was stored.
“How do you know I killed them?”
The man slowly began to answer Luon’s question.
“Before they died, they placed a covenant on you so their comrades would know.”
“I don’t make promises with people I kill.”
As if to jog Luon’s dismissive reply, the man stated curtly.
“The Waning Moon never forgets vengeance.”
The words had barely left his mouth when the man crossed his hands, plunged them into his robes, and then flung his arms wide.
Luon batted away the black objects that flew from beneath the billowing cloak with his holy sword, identifying them as thin, cylindrical pieces of metal.
The tips of the weeds on the ground sizzled and burned where the metal pieces landed, clear proof that they were coated in a potent poison.
It seemed throwing weapons wasn't his only talent. The man drew two swords from his waist and charged.
The thin, flexible blade of a rapier whipped through the air, aimed straight for Luon’s heart.
Luon was about to bring his holy sword down and shatter the man’s blade, but a dagger flying in from outside his vision forced him to quickly retreat and create distance.
“You’re quick for your size.”
The man who spoke was crouched in a strange stance, his upper body bent low.
His right hand, holding the rapier, was pressed to his chest, while a broad-bladed dagger was hidden behind his back. Luon snorted at the sight.
“Don’t be…”
This time, Luon moved first. He kicked off the ground with such force that the earth, unable to withstand the power, spewed muddy water.
Deciding he couldn’t block the formidable descent of the holy sword, the man pivoted on his left foot, spinning his body to evade the blade by a hair’s breadth before immediately swinging the dagger he had hidden behind his back.
Luon threw his head back to dodge the dagger and immediately swung his holy sword in a horizontal arc.
The man bent forward at an extreme angle, ducking under the holy sword while simultaneously thrusting his rapier forward.
The timing of his thrust was near perfect.
Luon’s arm, having just swung the holy sword, was still carried by its own momentum, making it seem impossible for him to recover the blade in time to defend.
A triumphant smile spread across the man’s face.
The fool would pay the price for overestimating his own strength and get his head pierced. Even if he chose to lose a hand by grabbing the blade, the deadly poison on its tip would claim his life in an instant. The result would be the same.
With such conviction, the man didn't lose his smile even as he felt cold steel cleave into the crown of his head.
*Schlick!*
The man, his head split in two, collapsed into the mud.
His fatal mistake was failing to anticipate that Luon possessed the overwhelming physical ability to change the trajectory of his sword mid-swing.
Luon irritably shook his tingling arm in the air. A sharp pain shot through it, the backlash from having to forcefully alter the path of his blade against an unexpected attack.
*Still, the experience wasn't bad.*
He hadn't leveled up, which was a shame, but Luon felt a satisfying sense of fulfillment as his scowl faded.
He glanced down at the corpse’s head, from which blood was steadily oozing, and muttered under his breath.
“...The Waning Moon, huh.”
Racking his faint memory, he thought the elven swordsman might have said something similar before he died, but it didn't really matter.
He had unknowingly become a target for assassins. That was the bottom line.
“...Kyle, that bastard gets me tangled up in all sorts of trouble.”
Luon turned his head, thinking of the woodsman who was always either cursing up a storm or spouting nonsense.
Through the open door, he saw Becky running toward him.
“Sir Luon!”
“What?”
“Are you alright?”
“The one with his head split open is over there. I’m fine.”
Shrugging, Luon walked back into the house and saw Igor kneeling before the bodies of the dead man and woman, praying. He asked.
“You even pray for people like them?”
“Death cannot wash away the sins of one's life. However, I can offer a final prayer for the souls who will suffer long, unable to reach the Mother’s embrace. That is the mercy the Mother speaks of.”
The sentiment didn't resonate with him.
In Luon’s opinion, there was nothing more meaningless than discussing the afterlife in this gray world where the lines between good and evil were blurred.
“Is that so.”
After his short, soulless reply, Luon immediately carried the bodies outside.
Mercy or not, he had no intention of resting next to corpses.
He laid the bodies next to the dead assassin and returned. Igor approached him.
“May I see your injured hand?”
Luon held out his right palm.
Igor winced at the sight of the hand, which was covered in tiny, millet-sized blisters.
“To swing a sword with a hand like this…”
His voice trailing off, Igor reached out and gently cupped Luon’s hand. Soon, a soft light began to emanate from his own.
Luon felt the throbbing pain in his palm ease and shrugged.
“That’s impressive.”
“It is but a humble skill.”
Luon lightly patted the faintly smiling Igor on the shoulder, then settled down by the hearth.
As if to comfort the group of drowned rats, the warmth radiating from the fireplace gently enveloped them.
The cabin, which just half a day ago had been a refuge for a man and woman with a troubled past, had transformed into a peculiar space where three people, completely unrelated to their lives, now warmed themselves by the fire.
Outside the window, the downpour continued unabated.
***
The port city of Nuke.
Due to its geographical location, the city thrived on trade and fishing, and its docks were always bustling with a diverse crowd of people.
The fishy-smelling streets, where people of all races, genders, and skin colors rubbed shoulders, were always filled with exotic goods from across the sea and crates of fresh fish.
But today, at least, was an exception.
The entire port had been turned upside down by the violent winds and torrential rain that had raged all the previous day.
The rain had thankfully stopped, but the waves crashing against the docks were still ferocious. The ships remained anchored, waiting idly for the sea to calm.
However, in stark contrast to the deserted docks, the nearby inns and taverns were filled with lively chatter.
Igor surveyed the boisterous inn and commented.
“It’s all so overwhelming.”
“Everyone’s been forced into an unwanted break. I guess they want to blow off some steam.”
Igor nodded at Luon’s reply and let out a soft sigh.
“To finally arrive only to find the waves are too high for the ships to sail… it’s a shame.”
After spending a day in the cabin to escape the rain, the group had set out the next day and managed to reach Nuke.
Their plan had been to take a ship from Nuke Harbor to Rdini Island, where the Grand Cathedral was located. But now, thanks to the storm, they were stuck in port along with all the ships.
Even the veteran sailors had declared it madness to set sail in such wind and waves, adding that they would have to wait at least a day or two to see. Igor, who was eager to reach the Grand Cathedral as soon as possible, was clearly disappointed by the situation.
Luon said.
“Let’s just rest when we can.”
“Yes, you’re right. I was getting ahead of myself.”
With that, Igor clasped his hands and began to murmur as soon as a server placed food and drinks on the table.
“Merciful Mother, thank you for this daily bread…”
Letting the prayer he was getting sick of hearing go in one ear and out the other, Luon turned to the quiet Becky.
“I kept my promise to get you to a city. From now on, you’re free to do as you please.”
Becky replied.
“I want to go to the Grand Cathedral, too.”
Her unhesitating response suggested she had already made up her mind. She added.
“I don’t want to dismiss the fact that I met you, Sir Luon, Tivela’s Champion, in such a situation as mere coincidence. I know you said it was, but still…”
“Fine. If that’s what you think, then that’s what it is.”
Becky blinked her large eyes, surprised by Luon’s nonchalant nod, which was far from the reaction she’d expected.
Meanwhile, Luon turned to Igor.
“You done with your prayer?”
He tore a leg from the roasted chicken and placed it on Igor’s and Becky’s plates, then immediately started eating his own meal.
“Oh, the Mother’s Sword… such warmth.”
“Th-thank you.”
The two, moved by a gesture that was practically a habit for him, offered their thanks in trembling voices.
Luon, however, paid them no mind, simply chewing the juicy meat and downing his beer.
The meal ended quickly.
Becky, who had been trying not to show her exhaustion, began to nod off as the first proper food she’d had in a while filled her stomach. Igor, who didn't drink, helped her upstairs.
Left alone at the table, Luon was drinking another beer he had ordered when he spoke to the middle-aged man who had sat down across from him.
“I think you’re in the wrong seat.”
“N-no, this is the right one.”
The middle-aged man with the aquiline nose looked somewhat anxious. He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and asked cautiously.
“Judging by your build and gear, you look quite formidable… Are you perhaps a mercenary?”
Luon gave a small nod at the man’s trembling voice.
“Sometimes.”
“Oh, then could you take on a job?”
“I’ll have to hear what it is first.”
“Phew, alright.”
The man with the aquiline nose let out a sigh of relief and began to dart his eyes around nervously, at which point Luon said.
“If you have something to say, just say it normally. You look a lot more suspicious acting like this.”
“Ahem, r-right.”
The man cleared his throat, straightened his back, and said.
“My name is Matis. I was the owner of a small sailing ship.”
“Was? Sounds like you aren't anymore.”
“...That’s right. I ran into some trouble last night.”
Sighing heavily, Matis began his story.
“I’m a merchant. I import silk from Daran and sell it to the merchant guilds at a markup.”
Matis continued his explanation.
“Yesterday, I was on my way back to Nuke Harbor. I had plenty of time before my deadline with the guild, and the quality of the silk was excellent, so I was in high spirits. But then the storm hit. Luckily, we were near the coast, so I avoided becoming fish food, but my ship was badly damaged.”
Luon tilted his head.
“You want me to fix your ship?”
“No, it’s not that.”
Matis said.
“In my haste to make port, I ended up docking somewhere other than the harbor. The important thing isn't that, but… the fact that it was right near a harpy nest.”
Harpies?
Feeling a spark of interest, Luon leaned forward. Matis continued.
“I was in the middle of moving the crates of silk when those disgusting bird-bodied monsters flew in. What could I do? The silk is valuable, but my life is more important. Naturally, I ran for my life.”
Matis scratched his head and said.
“I got away with my life, but… my precious ship and silk are still sitting there in that den of damn monsters. If you kill those monsters and help me move my goods, I’ll pay you handsomely.”
Luon asked.
“But why me? What about the lord?”
“By the time I get help from the lord and his soldiers mobilize, I’ll have missed my deadline. Besides, they’ll use this as an excuse to levy a hefty tax. I can’t afford to take a double loss.”
“I see.”
*Not bad.*
Luon nodded.
Since he was stuck in port anyway, it wouldn't be a bad idea to handle a simple job like this before heading to the Grand Cathedral.
Besides, thanks to the experience he’d gained from killing the assassin, wasn't he on the verge of leveling up?
There was no need to hesitate. A smirk played on Luon's lips as he spoke.
“Alright. I'll take the job.”