Chapter 30: Trouble

After I finished my tea, one of the men who had come to his senses tried to threaten me —

“Kid, after what you’ve done, you won’t live long.”

So I went and cut off a suitable tree branch.

The flexible wood made a nice whipping sound through the air, promising them a taste of what was coming.

I gave the one who had slapped me across the face earlier a “thank-you strike.”

Crack! A sharp sound, followed by a thin cut opening on his cheek, blood trickling down.

“You’ve really got no sense of fear, huh?”

“I’m an adventurer — our creed is ‘if someone hits you, hit them back.’ My senior also taught me: ‘If you find a fight you can win, pay money to join it.’”

One hit wasn’t enough, apparently, so this time I aimed for his eye and swung horizontally.
He only let out a low groan — “Ghh…” — and said nothing after that.

“Hey, neighbor. Who exactly is this ‘Warrens-sama’? If you don’t tell me, I’ll put out your eyes and leave you here in the grassland. There are goblins nearby — I’m sure they’ll appreciate the meal. So, what’ll it be?”

“You think you can make an enemy of Warrens-sama and still live in this city?”

“Are you stupid? I’m an adventurer — Korche is just a stop on the road. I don’t even know this Warrens guy, that’s why I’m asking. Now answer the question!”

They just glared at me, saying nothing — all five of them. Fine. Time to change tactics.

I ran toward the goblins, who were probably out scavenging, showed myself, and tossed a few pebbles their way.

Instant reaction — they spotted prey and charged forward with a delighted roar. Perfect.
I sprinted back to where my little group was waiting.

The five were struggling to undo their ropes, but froze the moment they saw what was behind me.

For safety, I cast a dome around us, trapping all six inside. The goblin pack swarmed over the dome, licking their lips, while I put up another barrier — a “ring” — behind them.

“So, what do you think? We’re protected by my dome for now, but if anyone wants to volunteer as goblin feed, I’ll oblige.”

Their faces were priceless — especially the pale one staring at the ground. I addressed him.

“Who is this Warrens? If you don’t talk, you’re goblin food. Talk and live — or get your bones sucked clean. Your choice.”

He stayed silent, trembling, so I drove a knife into his calf, slit his pants, stripped him from the waist down, then stabbed him near the shoulder and cut open his shirt.

The man finally realized what I was about to do and started thrashing.

“Stop! I’ll talk! I’ll talk — just don’t do that!”

“Shut up, Vasil. You know what happens if you talk.”

“Yeah, I know — but I’d rather not get eaten alive! Listen, brother, I’ll tell you everything. Just let me go. I won’t say a word to Warrens-sama — I’ll leave the city, I swear!”

“Fine. Then who’s Warrens?”

“He’s a grain merchant — head of the Warrens Trading Company, and a viscount, or so they say. He’s close with Fleming-sama, the Marquis.”

“Don’t say another word! Even if you run, we’ll find you in every corner of the kingdom!”

“So noisy. If you’re that eager to die, you can be the goblins’ appetizer.”

The man understood what I meant and began to thrash wildly, but tied hands and feet don’t allow much movement.

I undid the rope around his neck, stabbed knives into his thighs and shoulders, and propped him against the inside of the dome.

Behind him, the goblins shrieked in delight — I gave them a gentle whirl with a gust spell to keep them back.

When they fell back from surprise, I opened a hole behind the man, kicked him out, and sealed it immediately.

The goblins, blocked by the ring barrier, couldn’t flee — soon they calmed, spotted the man, and pounced.

He screamed:

“I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything, just help me!”

Too late.

They tore into him, biting through his clothes. When the fabric got in their way, one goblin ripped it off. It was gruesome.

One down. The next man watched, trembling.

“Come on, they’re having dinner. Let’s continue our chat.”

He babbled everything he knew, though it wasn’t very useful.

Warrens — head of the Warrens Trading Company, supposedly a viscount.
The man being eaten — Zeldas — had approached me under orders from Warren’s butler, Molkan.
The company’s main office was in Korche, with branches along the Blange Highway and even in the capital, expanding further still.

Another man added that Warrens wasn’t actually a viscount, only treated as one, much like an A-rank adventurer — not true nobility.

Judging from how they’d acted toward me and Thaddeus, something shady was going on.
They claimed to be taking orders from the butler, but it seemed more like underground business done under Warren’s name — not something they could talk about freely.

Meanwhile, the goblins finished their meal and looked back at us, clearly still hungry.
If they wanted seconds, I could arrange that.

I sliced all three men’s Achilles tendons, slashed their arms and shoulders so they couldn’t fight, then untied them all.

“Hey, stop this!”
“You said you’d spare us if we talked!”
“Damn you — you’ll be hunted down no matter what!”
“You promised to save us! I don’t want to die!”

I slit the throat of the naked man and stored his body in my magic bag.

“Did you really think I’d let you live after killing Zeldas? If I leave even one of you alive, I’ll be branded a criminal. With no witnesses, I can just say I refused your job and ran off. Even if someone saw us, they’d just testify that you were chasing me.”

“Damn it… so that’s how it was from the start…”

“Of course. The moment Zeldas hit me, your fates were sealed. The goblins are waiting — go entertain them.”

I created a small protective shell around myself and released the dome.

The goblins lunged at the men — a few turned toward me, but my barrier stopped them, and I sent a gust spell spinning through their ranks.

While they were disoriented, I dispelled both the ring and the barrier, slipping away from the grisly feast.

Later, I dropped the naked man’s body in a thicket deep in the forest — cleanup left to the wild beasts — and set off toward the next city.

The next stop after Korche was Gerande, but that city also belonged to Marquis Fleming’s territory — best to avoid it.
After that came Heliant, which should be under a duke’s jurisdiction.

As usual, I moved in a zigzag along the border between grassland and forest, hunting as I went, avoiding other adventurers and leaving no trace that pointed toward the capital.

By the third day, I could see the city of Gerande far off in the distance — it would’ve been only half a day’s walk along the highway.

No one would imagine that I, who had “vanished,” was traveling this leisurely.

The next city, Heliant, was part of a duke’s territory, but to be safe, I decided to head one city farther — to Adele.

The food in my Rank 3 magic pouch was running low, so I hurried toward Adele.
I’d completely avoided contact with other adventurers during the journey and focused solely on hunting, so my stockpile should be quite large — though since I hadn’t actually counted, I’d have to limit how much I sold.

The beast tags — proof of kills required for entry to the dismantling yard — included not only wolf- and dog-types, but also others that had attacked me along the way. There should be a decent amount.

Adele Adventurers’ Guild — big or small, every guild is built in almost the same way, so there’s no mistaking it.

I probably stood out a bit with only a single knife hanging from my belt, but pretending not to notice, I went up to the appraiser’s counter and requested entry to the dismantling area.

“Hold it, hold it — what’s a little brat like you doing asking for the dismantling yard…?”

I silently showed him my guild card.

“See? I’m Bronze rank. I’ve got enough monsters to fill your dismantling tables. If you don’t believe me, I can start piling them right here on the counter.”

“…Alright, go ahead.”

Ah, thank you, Submaster of Lynas, for promoting me to Bronze — really saved me there.

I took my place at the end of the line, waiting my turn while a suspicious-looking dismantler eyed me.
Same old routine — I was already tired of it, but unless I went through this, I couldn’t unload my catch. So I waited.

“You’re new here, huh? What’ve you brought?”

“Bigger ones include orcs and a big elk. Smaller ones are various bird-types.”

“Bird-types?”

“Red Chickens, Green Birds, Runner Birds, and Chikki-Chikki Birds.”

“How many?”

“More than thirty, I think.”

“Alright, come with me.”

Ah, I knew it — the usual pattern. But once they call you, you can’t exactly refuse, can you?

As I followed the dismantler, the familiar chorus began behind me:

“Hey! Why’re you letting that little runt go first?”
“How long do you plan to make us wait?”
“Don’t care who his daddy is — doesn’t he know the guild rules?”

The dismantler snapped back:

“What, you idiots think your scarred-up carcasses take less time to appraise? This kid brought in birds that actually sell! Of course he gets priority, you dumb bastards! Now shut up and stay in line!”

Ahh, great.
Now they all hate me. Just look at those glares.
Well… not that I care.

I laid out my haul on the assigned dismantling tables:

• Chikki-Chikki Birds: 13
• Runner Birds: 15
• Green Birds: 9
• Red Chickens: 12
• Orcs: 3
• Big Elk: 1
• Medium Horn Boar: 1
• Brown Sheep: 1
• Prairie Sheep: 2
• Killer Dogs: 6
• Black Wolves: 8

“That should be about it.”

“…Almost no visible damage, huh…”

The dismantler muttered to himself as he wrote on the appraisal sheet.
Then he took my guild card without another word and said only:

“Wait in the dining hall.”