Chapter 147
It was early evening when a subordinate rushed into the office of Mercenary King Gersen.
Until the day before, Gersen had been drinking heavily, sleeping in his chair with a newspaper on his face, and he couldn’t help but wake up to the shout of his subordinate.
Gersen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as if annoyed, heard his subordinate say with a face that looked ready to burst into tears.
“Mercenary King, it’s a huge problem! Some punk is causing a ruckus on the first floor of the association!”
“Damn….”
His whole body ached.
Definitely, he had overindulged the day before.
Gersen grimaced, holding the back of his neck as he replied.
“Why the fuss? A fight like this happens every day.”
Mercenaries are, by definition, those who live by the sword. They’re sharp, rough as sandpaper, and most of them are hot-headed types that throw the first punch. The difference between a thief and a mercenary is said to be thinner than a piece of paper.
As the leader of these mercenaries himself, Gersen heard such news several times a day. And, in most cases, he would just stand by and do nothing.
“Come on. If you use the association’s power for such trivial matters, what will people think? We’re coarse mercenaries, but we’re not fools to be treated like that.”
“N-No, Mercenary King! It’s not that simple!”
His subordinate was practically jumping up and down, hitting his chest in despair.
“It’s not a trifling matter!”
“Not a trifling matter? Did the Demon King’s Army come to stir up trouble or something?”
With a scoff, Gersen’s expression darkened as his subordinate gritted his teeth.
“Already dozens have been injured!”
“Dozens? That’s quite serious.”
“By a single guy!”
With that, Gersen halted his hand that was reaching for a glass of water.
With a somewhat altered gaze, he looked at his subordinate.
“Wait, they were taken down by one guy? The mercenaries? That’s impossible!”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”
Surely, the mercenaries stationed at the association building were skilled individuals. They were on a different level than the pathetic mercenaries who caught horned rabbits in the far outskirts.
That seasoned mercenaries were getting trounced by a single person sparked Gersen’s curiosity more than anger.
“So, what’s this guy’s problem?”
“He wants to meet with Gersen.”
“With me?”
“I’m not sure if he wants to talk or fight, though…”
“Hmph.”
Gersen snorted.
One thing was for sure, the guy had grabbed Gersen’s attention in the most effective way.
He soon donned his leather coat and a wide-brimmed hat.
“Alright then. Let’s see that face.”
Gersen made his way through the annex towards the main hall, quickly confirming that his subordinate’s words were not false.
Tables were overturned, and food was strewn everywhere. The sporadic bloodstains indicated just how violent this ruckus had been.
“Ugh…”
Despite not wanting to, Gersen had to admit it.
The faded blonde man standing at the center of the chaos had pulled off such antics without breaking a sweat.
The reason was simple.
His breathing was steady, and above all, there wasn’t a scratch on him.
He had a few scars, and one arm was discolored black, but those weren’t wounds from the recent scuffle.
“Who the hell are you?”
Gersen asked.
At his words, the man turned to face Gersen and opened his arms wide as if to greet him.
“Ah, finally, the Mercenary King has arrived.”
“I asked who you are.”
“Don’t you recognize me?”
The man spread his arms.
“I’m a Hero.”
“Bullshit.”
It was absurd that such a so-called hero would be in the Auriga Desert, causing mayhem at a mercenary association.
More than anything, his demeanor and mannerisms suggested familiarity with mercenary behavior. Gersen was convinced: this guy used to be a mercenary.
Though where such a powerful figure came from didn’t matter much.
There was no way he could understand the sight of someone causing such a disturbance in another’s establishment while reacting like it was all just fun.
“So….”
Gersen rolled his eyes and surveyed the companions accompanying the man.
A plump, white-haired woman in a fur coat. Her petite figure and graceful appearance were enough to enchant many men.
Beside her was a Dragonkin, rare in these parts.
Gersen knew the name of this Dragonkin.
“Laila, you didn’t orchestrate this, did you?”
At that, the Dragonkin mercenary, Laila, raised her hands in innocence.
“No, Mercenary King! I just came along because someone wanted to meet you!”
“Right, that makes sense.”
Laila was an exceptional mercenary.
Gersen remembered her name because she embodied the qualities of a mercenary to the core.
The idea that she would betray him was as absurd as a citizen insulting the Emperor in the marketplace.
If one was in their right mind, such a thing was impossible.
“Let’s hear what this is about. What do you want from me?”
Finally, as Gersen took the initiative to ask, the man raised one hand, seemingly pleased with this flow of conversation.
“I want to borrow your mercenaries.”
“…my mercenaries?”
“The Black Eagle mercenaries.”
“….”
Gersen frowned.
Of course, the mercenaries from the Black Eagle Mercenary Company were exceptional warriors, including Laila who was present.
However, why did this man want them?
“Why’s that?”
“Don’t ask why. It’s a trade.”
At those words, Gersen chuckled.
A trade with him, the Mercenary King?
It was quite a bold declaration, enough for the surrounding whispers to become clearly audible.
“Fine.”
Gersen replied.
“But a trade means both sides must offer something of value. So, you’ll need to bring something hard to get if you want to convince me.”
“For example?”
“Well…”
Gersen pondered for a moment before a good idea struck him.
He licked his lips and pointed at the white-haired woman he had seen earlier.
He had slept with countless women up to that point. Yet, he had never seen anyone quite like her. Though petite, there had to be a body beneath that thick fur coat that would be delightful to hold.
Smirking, he said.
“How about letting me sleep with her…”
However.
Gersen’s sentence was cut short.
He quickly drew the cutlass he had at his waist.
Boom!
A thunderous noise erupted, sending Gersen flying backward.
The force and speed were tremendous.
Had he not drawn the cutlass quickly, his body might have been severed in two.
Reeling on the ground from the pain that threatened to dislocate his shoulder, Gersen looked up and shouted.
“What the hell are you doing?! An ambush out of nowhere!”
“I changed my mind.”
“What?”
In the next moment, a golden glow emanated from the man’s sword.
Gasps erupted around him.
Sword energy, a crystallization of mana that even skilled knights could seldom produce.
Gersen gulped, his throat dry as he swallowed hard.
“Looks like you need a good beating.”
“….”
The moment Gersen saw the fierce flames in the man’s gaze, he had no choice but to harden his expression and adopt a stance to respond.
*
Honestly, he hadn’t planned on this.
Having agreed to a trade, he hoped to apologize for the recent disturbance and get to the main topic. Once in a quiet place, he could reveal his identity with the mark he had kept hidden.
Yet, the man proposed Ophelia as part of the trade.
Yes.
Ophelia.
“You bastard.”
How could he not be furious?
In-game, Gersen was the type of character who was a lecherous thug. This was faithfully reflected in the system, often leading to the resentment of party members.
Seeing it manifest in reality only fueled his anger.
It’s said that one needs to beat a beast for it to listen.
In that sense, Gersen was a beast perfect for hitting, compared to Ophelia.
At the very least, he wouldn’t die from a blade.
“Hey, hey! You madman! What are you doing?!”
Ophelia shouted.
Swinging his sword infused with sword energy at someone who was trying to convince him was definitely crazy.
Even Laila had a look on her face that seemed to scream ‘what a mess.’
“I knew this would happen. This is why Poppy didn’t want to follow this bastard…”
Regardless of that, Gersen focused on maintaining a steady breathing pattern, gathering mana.
A thin line of sword energy formed atop his cutlass. Precise and sharp. It was no wonder he was a named character; Gersen was indeed an outstanding swordsman.
“Is that weapon made by Olmen?”
“You recognize it.”
“Of course, I know. Mine was made by that guy too.”
Well, it wasn’t that surprising that Gersen’s weapon was made by the legendary blacksmith Olmen.
After all, they both lived in the Auriga Desert.
“Hey! Stop this, you two!”
Ophelia shouted urgently, but neither Gersen nor the man listened.
In any case, Gersen felt insulted and drew his sword.
There was no way he was putting it away until the fight was over.
That was the mercenary way of life, and he had once been a mercenary as well.
“Ophelia.”
Thus, wanting to reassure her, he said.
“W-Why do you….”
“Just stay quietly.”
I nodded at Ophelia, trying to calm her.
“I’ll knock that bastard out…”
“….”
“And make him apologize on his knees to you.”
“Then, why are you angry?!”
At Ophelia’s question, I fell silent.
I couldn’t respond.
Especially not to Ophelia.
“Ugh… Poppy and the Saintess are really… too much to handle.”
Unable to take it anymore, Laila whispered something into Ophelia’s ear.
“….”
Boom.
A small volcano erupted above Ophelia’s head.