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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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“I smell blood.”
Yekaterina frowned at the unpleasant sensation, adjusting her grip on her warhammer.
It wasn’t that the scent of blood itself bothered her, having spilled and sprayed more than her fair share.
It was the unwelcome intrusion of the scent at this particular moment.
Rellie, noticing her reaction, asked tentatively, “Is something wrong with Gaendal?”
“I doubt it. It’s not a sudden rush of blood-scent, more like we’re approaching its source.”
Rellie face darkened visibly, even in the pre-dawn gloom.
Yekaterina mirrored her expression.
“We should hurry. If he’s crossed paths with the mercenary group, Gaendal could be in danger.”
Ginh’s voice cut through their apprehension.
As skilled a scout as Gaendal was, they were dealing with a band of forty seasoned mercenaries.
He’d already been scouting for days without relief, pushing himself to the limit.
If things went south, his escape would be far from guaranteed.
“I wish Eldmia were here.”
“Yekaterina, do you realize you’ve said that at least thirty times since we took this request?”
“Have I? I didn’t think it was that often.”
“…Frankly, it was.”
Yekaterina flushed, taken aback by Ginh’s polite confirmation of Rellie’s claim.
Thirty times?
In just three days?
She had been thinking about him a lot.
“Well, he was exceptionally capable.”
“…I’m worried.”
“About what?”
“Nothing. Let’s just find Gaendal.”
Since the abandoned dungeon incident, they had discovered a remarkable synergy, working together with surprising efficiency.
They’d started taking requests as a party, intending to invite Eldmia to join them permanently.
They’d spent time at the guild hoping to run into him, but he’d been unavailable, so the four of them had continued on their own.
Their skills and personalities meshed perfectly.
Despite completing only four requests together, their satisfaction remained high.
They’d agreed to take on a longer-term request, hoping to solidify their partnership.
The request was simple: act as temporary guards for a recently established refugee settlement.
Fleeing the demon army, the refugees had sought sanctuary near the capital, intending to establish themselves legally and obtain the city’s protection.
The city welcomed them, but the process took time.
The adventurers were hired to provide security while the city finalized the necessary arrangements.
The four of them alone were insufficient for such a task.
Initially, they’d been part of a larger group of ten adventurers.
However, none of them had anticipated arriving at a scene of utter devastation.
Someone had said it was the work of the Hawk’s Talon mercenary group.
A band notorious for preying on vulnerable, unprotected settlements, enslaving and pillaging without remorse.
They were skilled and targeted those who existed in the gray area between bandits and villagers, which made them difficult to prosecute.
Since this was a blatant violation of the law, the other adventurers had departed, claiming they would report the mercenaries’ actions to the guild.
It was a flimsy excuse.
They were afraid of reprisals and wanted to distance themselves from the carnage.
The four of them, however, were enraged.
They couldn’t stand the thought of these murderers escaping justice and potentially repeating their atrocities.
They’d broken off from the group and begun tracking the mercenaries.
“…Damn it.”
Two days ago, they’d confirmed the mercenaries’ next target, a small farming village, through an informant.
Unsure of how far behind they were, they’d pushed themselves relentlessly.
But they’d arrived too late.
The farming village had already been ravaged.
“This is…”
“Gaendal! Are you alright?!”
Gaendal emerged from the village, his face etched with exhaustion.
He walked towards them, his steps heavy.
“A day. We were just one day short.”
His words were barely a whisper, choked with grief.
Even without his explanation, the scene spoke volumes.
Smoldering ruins.
A meticulously organized mercenary encampment, untouched by the destruction.
Guards patrolling even at this early hour.
“They were so nonchalant. They claimed they were simply eliminating bandits who’d been terrorizing the village.”
“What about the children? The women, the elderly…!”
Gaendal simply pointed towards a relatively intact wooden structure.
The most carefully constructed building in the village, built with obvious care and attention.
They all understood what it was, what his gesture meant.
The village shrine, built by the refugees as a place of sanctuary.
The survivors were trapped inside, awaiting their fate as slaves.
“Before the gods… how could they…”
Excuses were readily available.
The refugees, unprotected by law, had no recourse.
There would be no evidence.
The bandits had already attacked the villagers.
The mercenaries had no involvement.
They’d simply apprehended the bandits who’d surrendered without resistance.
They hadn’t harmed the refugees.
Such flimsy arguments would be enough to secure their acquittal.
“They should be dragged before the Truth Crystal and have their skulls split open…”
No one contradicted Rellie’s furious words, knowing they were all thinking the same thing.
Such a punishment was a pipe dream.
“They’re more organized and better equipped than I imagined. They look like a proper army, not a mercenary group. It’s infuriating, but all we can do is report this to the guild.”
They were adventurers.
While their work sometimes brought them into conflict with other people, their primary adversaries were monsters.
These mercenaries, however, were trained to fight people.
Challenging a group of forty armed mercenaries was suicidal, even for seasoned adventurers.
Even if they somehow managed to win, they wouldn’t escape unscathed.
Yekaterina stared at the mercenaries occupying the ruined village as if it were their own, her face a mixture of frustration and resignation.
She forced a smile, attempting to lighten the mood.
“I wonder what Eldmia would have done.”
It was over.
This wasn’t the first time they’d encountered such injustice in their work.
Sometimes, all they could do was make a joke and move on.
Gaendal, understanding her intent, managed a weak smile.
“…He’d probably stroll in, smiling, and kill ten of them before anyone realized what was happening.”
“If anyone else did that, we’d call them insane. But with Egga, it’s terrifyingly plausible.”
There was nothing more they could do.
They reached a silent consensus and turned to leave.
“Hmm? Is that… a wyvern?”
Ginh, still scanning the sky with a sigh, tilted his head.
His words drew their attention upwards.
“It does look like one. Do wyverns usually fly that low?”
“It’s getting lower… I hope nothing’s wrong.”
Wyvern crashes weren’t common, but they weren’t unheard of either.
Having witnessed the earlier tragedy, they hoped this wasn’t another disaster unfolding before their eyes.
They watched, transfixed.
But their hopes were dashed.
The wyvern continued its descent, skimming the treetops.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Damn it, I don’t know anything about wyvern piloting. I can barely see…”
“The pilot doesn’t seem panicked. I think they’re intentionally flying low.”
Ginh’s sharp eyes brought a collective sigh of relief.
Witnessing another tragedy so soon would have been unbearable.
“…Eldmia?”
“What?”
Yekaterina had noticed something else.
“The person behind the pilot… is that Eldmia?”
“Kasha, you…!”
Rellie was horrified.
Yekaterina had been unusually nostalgic for Eldmia lately, and Rellie had begun to suspect a severe case of unrequited affection.
She’d been unusually close to him during their last drinking session, and Rellie had wondered if…
“Huh? It is Eldmia.”
“Really?!”
Ginh’s confirmation interrupted Rellie’s spiraling thoughts.
Rellie, snapping back to reality, focused on the descending wyvern, but the pre-dawn light and her poor eyesight made it impossible to distinguish the figures on its back.
Gaendal, facing the same difficulty, chose to trust Ginh’s judgment.
“What a coincidence! But where are they going, flying so low…?”
Could it be…?
A silent understanding passed between them.
Their gazes shifted to the mercenary encampment nestled within the ruins.
“…That’s too much of a coincidence. Surely he doesn’t have business with those mercenaries?”
“Ha… ha. Of course not. Even with all these coincidences…”
The wyvern flew overhead, momentarily blocking their view.
But what if…?
A flicker of hope, unacknowledged yet shared, ignited within them.
They watched as the figure resembling Eldmia rose from his seat behind the pilot.
“Greetings, you bastards!!”
The booming voice, filled with unmistakable animosity, was Eldmia’s.
His tone confirmed their suspicions.
He did have business with the mercenaries, and it was far from friendly.
But the wyvern’s speed didn’t decrease.
It was going to fly right past the encampment.
What was he planning?
The question echoed in their minds.
“I am! Eldmia Egga!”
Eldmia drew his sword and leaped from the wyvern.
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[Egga you beautiful bastard!]
I LOVE this man and how he operates
Thank you for the chapter!
Going down like the orbital bombardment that he is