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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
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Crunch. Crunch.
The sound of leaves rustling nearby made me draw my sword and scan the surroundings. Definitely not smugglers—they never traveled these dangerous mountains alone.
Nor was it likely a wild animal. Even large predators moved cautiously, while this noise was downright reckless.
Probably a monster. Monsters had no sense of stealth.
‘What is it?’
Trees swayed unnaturally downhill. Three or four shaking simultaneously suggested something massive. No mountain beast grew that large—the biggest, saber tigers, barely reached three meters.
Then, through a gap in the rocks, a segmented black body slithered past a sapling. A fleeting glimpse, but enough. I was a living bestiary.
‘Silkworm.’
A biological-type monster, this caterpillar-like fiend spanned ten meters. Known for crushing prey with its gaping maw and whip-like body, it was notoriously tricky to counter.
Yet its threat level barely reached 15-20. Slow and easily fatigued, anyone spotting it first could evade comfortably.
In my past life, I’d only encountered them once—at the Battle of Falkin Gate, the first major clash between humanity and monsters. Their sluggishness left them outpaced by faster breeds.
“Shall we dance?”
Gripping my sword, I advanced. Monsters dropped Chaos Pieces—a byproduct refined into Essence, a vital component for magical artifacts. Though silkworms were tough, I couldn’t ignore the opportunity. My prison escape had left me penniless, save for an emperor-gifted formal suit too conspicuous to pawn.
Rustle. The silkworm turned toward me. Luring it to a clearing, I waited.
Kreee!
It burst from the foliage, jaws unhinged like a colossal black worm. As it lunged, I channeled mana into my blade, sidestepped, and—slash—sent its head tumbling.
The decapitated body thrashed, spraying azure blood and flattening shrubs. Even headless, its strength was impressive.
I pinned the still-gaping head with my sword, carved out a thumb-sized translucent crystal—roughly 35 units of Chaos Pieces—and pocketed it after wiping off the gore. Silkworms offered no other loot.
‘Travel funds secured. Now for entertainment money.’
The Divine Temple of Divinum housed the Central Shrine of Degenera, Goddess of Decadence. For sufficient “donations,” priestesses offered heavenly pleasures—a must-visit.
But as an Imperial citizen, I’d need to reach neutral territory first. Life’s short—might as well indulge.
Thus, I hunted every monster en route.
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Dawn broke, then noon. My pockets bulged with 110 units of Chaos Pieces—11 gold leafs, enough to sustain 36 common households for a year. Plenty for a day’s revelry.
‘Huh?’
I halted at a downhill clearing. A smuggler caravan stood stalled, campfire remnants suggesting a lengthy stop.
A young mercenary blocked my path. “New face. Who’re you?”
I stared blankly. “Obviously not one of you.”
“Alone?”
“Obviously.”
“Crossing the Dwain Mountains alone?”
“If you’re capable, why not? Move. I’m busy.”
He held up a hand. “Danger ahead. A battle.”
“Battle?”
“The Jess Mercenary Corps is raiding Aim Village. Nearly got us too. Our captain knew someone, so we avoided it—but it’s risky.”
Rogue mercenaries often turned bandit between contracts. Aim, a once-humble village grown wealthy servicing smugglers, was a perfect target—unprotected and rich.
Scratching my head, I weighed my options. Though not pressed for time, waiting wasn’t ideal.
“How many?”
“Over 200. Their leader, Jess, is an upper-tier Expert swordsman.”
Two hundred was manageable. An Expert leader? Child’s play for a Master like me.
‘Eliminate them. Faster than chasing them later.’
In my remaining decade, wasting a year hunting them was absurd. Simple math.
“Thanks. I’ll head out.”
Ignoring his protests, I dashed off.
Five rough-looking mercenaries guarded the path ahead.
“Halt!”
I approached slowly. “You with Jess’s crew?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
My blade became a whirlwind. Three heads flew. As one fumbled for a flare, I bisected him vertically. The last fled—until my sword split him crown to toe.
“Five down.”
Blood pooled at my feet. Looting the bodies, I found 16 gold leafs—typical for mercenaries who carried earnings on them.
Not that money motivated me. I merely pitied the villagers and sought to expedite my journey (and avoid future hassles). Even a rogue like me wouldn’t kill for coin.
“Here’s your ferry fare to hell.”
Tossing a silver onto the corpses, I hummed toward Aim Village. Five men yielded 16 gold. Two hundred? The prospects thrilled me.
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