Chapter 38
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Iron Fist
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The crackle of sparks, the chirp of insects, the rustle of grass in the wind, and cutting through it all, the clanking of metal.
The faint friction of steel was a sound so subtle that only Luon, whose hearing was always on high alert when camping, could have detected it.
He immediately closed his eyes and sharpened his focus. [Elven Hearing] delivered the voices of the intruders, who were spoiling the white noise of the quiet forest, to his ears.
“We wait until the moon has tilted about a hand’s breadth further west.”
“I’ll say it again, don’t give the dwarf a chance to transform.”
“The dwarf is the top priority, then the big one. The scrawny-looking one can be dealt with last, no problem.”
Hearing only one person's voice at regular intervals, it seemed the leader was giving his subordinates a final briefing.
Just then, Igor lowered his voice and asked.
“The Iron Fist?”
Luon nodded.
“Saying we shouldn’t give Strabo a chance to transform makes it seem certain.”
Though he hadn't heard a thing himself, Igor, who trusted Luon’s abilities completely, nodded in agreement.
“...So the lord didn't trust us in the end?”
“Looks like this was his plan all along.”
Strabo, who had been picking his nose, chimed in.
“All the better!”
Green veins, like tendrils, began to bulge on his face.
Simultaneously, his skeleton twisted and rearranged, his snout elongated like a beast’s, and coarse fur sprouted all over his body. In an instant, Strabo, now on all fours, had taken the form of a beast never before seen.
“Mother of mercy...”
Startled by the sudden transformation, Igor muttered under his breath. The beastly Strabo snorted a puff of hot air from his nose and said.
“Igor, I’m hurt you’re so surprised.”
Seeing Strabo speak playfully in a voice mixed with the characteristic growl of a beast, he could understand why the dwarf had been mistaken for a demon.
At that moment, Luon spoke to Igor.
“You don’t need to follow.”
“What?”
“Those things out there aren't demons.”
“Still...”
“Just wait here.”
Cutting Igor off, Luon immediately started walking toward the bushes. The four-legged beast that was Strabo followed close behind.
***
The Iron Fist.
Known as Halen’s ruffians, they were a group formed from wandering mercenaries.
One might think that being a sort of mercenary guild, they would take on requests systematically, but in truth, they did nothing of the sort publicly.
That was because the Iron Fist was a private organization secretly created by Gunteun, the lord of Halen.
To minimize his connection to the Iron Fist, Gunteun didn't provide them with a regular salary.
Instead, he turned a blind eye to most of their misdeeds, tacitly condoning the Iron Fist's extortion. With the lord at their back, the Iron Fist had no qualms about taking over Halen’s back alleys and marketplaces.
The method for maintaining this strange symbiotic relationship was simple.
When Gunteun made a ‘personal request,’ the Iron Fist would carry it out faithfully, no matter what it was.
That was all.
The reason over ten armed men were gathered on a deserted forest path late at night, under a high moon, was because of one such ‘request.’
Gunteun had been in a rage, demanding they kill the dwarf and the large warrior who had not only killed his nephew but also insulted him, and to do it without a trace.
“Shit, I can’t even sleep because of that dwarf bastard. What is this?”
“He killed our captain.”
“The hell you mean captain? He was just a punk who threw his weight around because of his uncle... good riddance.”
“Aren’t we the same, throwing our weight around thanks to the lord?”
“That’s true.”
As the gathered mercenaries began to snicker at that, the man at the very front turned his head and put a finger to his lips.
“Shut your mouths.”
He was the knight who had been guarding the lord’s office.
At the warning from the man who served as both the lord’s guardian knight and the Iron Fist’s enforcer, the mercenaries swallowed hard.
“We’re about to attack, so do a final check of your gear...”
The knight never finished his sentence. An unidentified beast had appeared from behind and pounced on him.
*Krawrr!*
Seeing the knight tumbling violently on the ground with the beast, the mercenaries shouted in panic.
“Wh-what the fuck is that?”
“Everyone, on your feet!”
Just then, a silver blade sliced through the chaotic atmosphere, severing one mercenary’s neck.
“Gack.”
Luon revealed himself, kicking the man who was stumbling back clutching his split throat.
Without a word, he strode purposefully toward the clustered mercenaries.
Momentarily stunned by his relentless advance, the mercenaries quickly regained their senses and shouted loudly.
“That guy’s alone!”
“Don’t panic, surround him!”
“A few of you, kill that beast first! It’s got to be that dwarf bastard!”
*They have the basics down.*
Luon smirked as he watched the mercenaries move in a coordinated fashion.
He dodged a halberd swinging at him by turning his head, then thrust his holy sword through the opening.
As the mercenary, his forehead pierced, tried to slump down with a sound like escaping air, another man appeared from behind, kicked his dead comrade’s back hard, and swiftly swung his sword.
But Luon’s blade was faster and stronger. He cut down the falling corpse and the charging mercenary behind it in a single motion, then parried a handaxe from the side with his pommel and countered.
He slammed his shoulder into the chest of a man screaming at the loss of his wrist, sending him staggering back into a comrade charging from behind. Both of them tumbled to the ground.
As Luon quickly thrust his sword into the necks of the three fallen men, he swung his other arm without even turning his head. A man whose face was struck by his fist was sent flying backward, spraying blood.
Seeing his comrade’s face crushed by a single punch, a terrified mercenary was met with a shrug from Luon.
“You’re the Iron Fist, right?”
“Uwaaaargh!”
Luon cut the neck of the man charging with a scream that was almost a roar, sending his head flying. He then planted his holy sword in the ground and drew a transparent bowstring, aiming at a mercenary who was already fleeing in the distance.
An arrow of light shot through the dark night air and burst the man’s head from behind.
In an instant, silence fell upon the forest.
Turning his head, Luon saw the beast, its mouth smeared with blood, trudging toward him.
The beast’s body gradually shrank until it became a short, muscular dwarf, who then smiled brightly.
“Luon, I felt this when you killed that ram-headed monster too, but you’re really incredible! It was like watching a legendary warrior!”
“You’re naked right now.”
“Ah, this is one of the side effects of transforming... My clothes get torn!”
Laughing awkwardly, Strabo began to rummage through the clothes of the dead mercenaries. Luon left him to it and approached someone groaning in the distance.
The knight, clutching his horribly torn throat, exhaled a labored breath.
“Did you... expect... us to come?”
“No.”
Luon replied curtly, then knelt to meet the knight’s fading gaze.
The knight struggled to continue.
“This... is personal... personal revenge. It has nothing... to do with the lord...”
*A knight to the bitter end.*
Luon let out a hollow laugh at the knight’s twisted loyalty, trying to protect his master’s dirty secrets even as he died.
“Is that all you have to say?”
There was no reply. Gazing down at the knight’s slowly dilating pupils, Luon dusted himself off and stood up.
Strabo, having stripped a corpse, was grumbling as he adjusted the baggy clothes.
“Dammit, I didn’t even get hit anywhere, but my body feels like it’s going to break... It’s a sad life, being a dwarf druid.”
Luon spoke to him as he grunted and folded the cuffs of his trousers.
“Let’s go. Igor will be waiting.”
***
Luon, Igor, and Strabo walked along a path where the grass had thinned naturally from the frequent passage of people, though it wasn't paved with flagstones.
Spotting a small mill with a windmill turning in the distance, Igor smiled brightly and pointed.
“It’s a village.”
Crossing a gently flowing stream, the party entered the village, each marveling at the tranquil scenery before heading straight for the inn.
As the sun was just beginning to set, the inn was bustling with farmers and travelers who had finished their day’s work.
Their eyes briefly fixed on the party’s unusual appearance before they quickly looked away.
It wasn't so much a lack of interest as it was a desire to avoid any trouble with Luon, who was so tall his forehead nearly touched the doorframe.
A waitress approached the party, who had seated themselves in a corner booth enclosed by walls on both sides, and asked with a perfunctory smile.
“What can I get for you?”
“What’s good here?”
“We don’t really have anything to brag about.”
“Ah?”
Stumped by the waitress’s response, Strabo scratched his head.
Luon asked.
“Do you have lamb?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Then lamb stew and bread should be fine.”
The waitress nodded and scurried off to the kitchen. Igor spoke up.
“How long will it take to reach the capital?”
Luon shrugged.
“Who knows? With a dwarf who can’t ride a horse, I don't think we'll be getting there quickly.”
At his teasing remark, Strabo flinched noticeably and stammered.
“W-well, you can't expect someone with legs too short to even properly grip a saddle to ride a horse!”
He then cleared his throat and added.
“The true romance of a real adventure is amplified when you walk on your own two feet.”
Igor shook his head.
“What good is romance when my soles feel like they’re about to burst?”
“Nonsense! It’s only when you overcome that that you can truly...”
Just as Strabo was about to open his mouth again, the quickly prepared stew and bread arrived at the table.
The lamb stew was little more than stew that had been simmering in a cauldron all day, ladled out with some cooked lamb dropped in, so there was no reason for it to take long.
Uncomfortable with the conversation turning toward him, Strabo quickly shoveled a spoonful of stew into his mouth as soon as the food arrived.
“Wait! W-we haven’t said grace yet!”
Igor stammered, hastily clasping his hands and murmuring.
“Merciful Mother, for this daily bread...”
*What a mess.*
Luon let out a faint sigh at the scene and quietly gripped the hilt of his holy sword.
Over the past few days traveling along the main road to the capital, the holy sword had not once shown any sign of hostility.
In other words, it was proof that the journey had been relatively peaceful, with no entanglements with those who wielded evil powers or the minions of demons.
*I suppose nothing much will happen until we reach the capital.*
Just as Luon thought this and was about to dip a piece of tough bread into his stew, the holy sword began to hum lowly.
At the same moment, the inn door burst open.
“Kyaaaaaaah!”
Luon immediately turned his head at the sharp scream of the waitress, who had been about to bid a customer farewell with her usual perfunctory smile.
There, stood a man drenched head to toe in blood.