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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
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Inside the office, I lay sprawled across the sofa, dozing off as a few flies buzzed annoyingly around me. Though their noise was irritating, I didn’t even consider opening my eyes.
The reason was simple: I couldn’t be bothered.
Across from me, Armidia, seated at the wooden desk, let out a sigh.
“Little brother. Could you kill those flies?”
I barely cracked one eye open.
“Why?”
“They’re bothering me.”
“Wow, sis, that’s cold. You want a Master Swordsman like me to swat flies?”
Armidia narrowed her eyes.
“Then should this Valkyrie do it instead?”
I shot upright.
“Ugh, seriously. Even flies must value their lives—why bother killing them?”
“It just feels like they’re mocking me by flying around like that.”
As she spoke, her gaze drifted to the sign hanging on the office pillar:
Kao-Yan Investigation Agency.
My current business involved taking on miscellaneous requests and solving them. In simpler terms, it was an errand center—but contrary to expectations, business wasn’t booming.
“Was this the wrong career choice? This was all your idea, sis. You wanted to find your friend, right? Who else looks for runaways besides a detective agency? If we keep at it, we’ll build connections, gain experience, and eventually track them down. This was all for you.”
“I know. But first, we need customers. Honestly, with prices like these, even the ones we do get will leave.”
Her eyes dropped to the fee chart beneath the sign. Basic Request Fee: 80 Leaf. Even to someone as financially clueless as her, the pricing was clearly unreasonable.
But I had my reasons.
“Whether business is good or bad, this is the rate. You think a party with a Master Swordsman, a Dallahan’s Master, and a Valkyrie should run around looking for lost cats for free?”
“Is that so?”
“Obviously. But if business stays slow, we can always head outside the city, hunt some monsters, and sell the byproducts.”
The Great Desert of Kara was vast relative to its population, meaning monsters were abundant. Chaos Pieces and other materials were easy to come by. Of course, mercenaries from Proxia and other continents often took on requests in the city, but their reach was limited.
“Well, that’s true. Alright, then—let’s just kill the flies~”
Back to square one. Clearly, the flies were getting on Armidia’s nerves. Flies were the Valkyries’ nickname.
‘Tch. No wonder they call them blackflies…’
I stood up, gripping Yozo’s hilt and settling into stance. After tracking the flies’ erratic flight paths for a moment, I slashed—once—and they all fell, neatly bisected.
As the fly carcasses dropped, I clasped my hands together in prayer.
“All beings struggle to escape the dung heap of life, yet in the end, they gather again in the latrine. So don’t resent me too much.”
“Uh… little bro, what are you doing?”
“Praying.”
“Why the latrine talk?”
“What’s the problem? To dung flies, the latrine is heaven.”
“What kind of logic is that?”
“I’m saying don’t look down on the latrine. Even there, the laws of nature and sublime philosophy exist.”
I slipped on my white mask and turned toward the office door.
“Where are you going?”
“Gonna drum up some business. Hold down the fort.”
“Oh? Alright, take care~”
With Armidia’s gentle send-off, I stepped outside. As expected, a man’s worth is measured by his earnings.
Kara’s main streets were packed with caravans crossing the desert. Some inconsiderate camels had left landmine-like droppings everywhere, while in the distance, date palms for landscaping grew near the central plaza.
As I passed the trade market, voices called out from all directions. Middlemen mistook me for a merchant or mercenary from Proxia. Most of Kara’s residents were of the Sika tribe, whose sun-darkened skin made them easily distinguishable from Proxians.
“Hey there! Got any Teven herbs?”
“If you’ve got healing potions, I’ll buy ’em off you—top price!”
Proxian goods were in high demand here. Trade caravans from the Eastern and Azenka continents often purchased Proxian wares in Kara before moving on. If Kara couldn’t supply them, they’d risk the journey to Proxia itself—cutting into Kara’s intermediary profits.
After scanning the area, I stopped in front of a middle-aged broker.
“Hey, uncle. Any brats or thugs around here causing trouble?”
“Not particularly…”
“What about mercenary bands robbing people near Kara?”
“None. There’s plenty of work here—we’re short on mercenaries, not overrun by troublemakers.”
I scratched my head awkwardly. No jobs for me, then.
“Uncle, anyone you personally dislike?”
“There is one.”
“Who?”
“Some brat in a half-mask just showed up, talking down to me and disrupting my business. I’m swamped as it is.”
My eyes rolled.
“Ah~”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“Carry on, then.”
I hurried away. Ugh, embarrassing.
After walking a bit, I pulled out my wallet and sighed. My total assets amounted to a few silver coins and a handful of coppers. My funds were nearly depleted.
The 100 Leaf donation Shura made when entering the Temple of Divinity. The 82 Leaf portal fee for two to Kara. A year’s office rent (45 Leaf) and interior setup (3 Leaf)—totaling 230 Leaf. I should have had about 7 Leaf left, but greed got the better of me.
A few days ago, I lost it all on a bad camel race bet.
‘Ah, Camel No. 5… it should’ve won.’
At the race track, No. 5 had caught my eye—strong, agile, and a first-time racer. The payout would’ve been huge.
So I bet everything… only for it to stumble near the finish line after a fierce duel for first place.
The worst part? It could have won.
No. 5 was neck-and-neck with the leader, so I “kindly” tossed a coin at the frontrunner—only for No. 5 to freak out mid-sprint, veer wildly, and cost me everything.
“Ugh… my hard-earned money…”
Life never goes as planned. No. 5 had the strategy and stamina to win, and my coin throw was perfect—yet somehow, it all went wrong. Infuriating.
But that’s how life is. Good days, bad days—they come and go.
‘Meh, I’ll earn it back.’
Suddenly, I froze. A rich, meaty aroma hit my nose. The sun was high—lunchtime. I followed the scent.
Near Kara’s west gate, I found the source: a food stall.
“You’re a disgrace to orcs. Squeeak.”
“A mighty orc running a measly stall? How shameful. Gurgle.”
My eyes landed on a group of green-skinned orcs surrounding the stall. Their heavy armor and weaponry ruled out petty thugs—they were likely mercenaries.
Kara, as a neutral hub, hosted many orc mercenaries.
‘What’s this scene about?’
Inside the stall, a half-gray orc kept his head down, silently grilling meat despite the taunts. His face was shadowed like a defeated soldier, wrinkles etched with the weight of the world.
Yet his sheer presence was overwhelming. He stood a full head taller than the others, his muscles like layered armor—thick and gnarled. Frankly, the harassing orcs seemed more at risk than him.
‘They’re gonna get their skulls cracked if they keep this up.’
But the stall owner showed no reaction. He endured the insults quietly.
Yet it wasn’t fear. His hands moved steadily, flipping meat over the fire without hesitation.
I approached the stall. Not out of concern for the orcs—I was just hungry.
“Hey. If you’re not eating, scram.”
All eyes turned to me. Their gazes screamed, What fool dares interrupt us?
“Human. Who are you?”
“Can’t you tell? A customer.”
One orc snorted.
“Get lost. We don’t like humans. Gurgle.”
“Oh? I like mercenaries, though.”
“You a merc too?”
“Nah, I hunt mercenaries. Pays well. So how about picking a fight with me? The world’s too orderly—I can’t just kill freely.”
With a vicious grin, I partly drew Yozo. The orcs bristled, stepping forward. Orcs never back down from a challenge—they fight until victory or death.
Then a cleaver-wielding hand shot out, blocking them. The stall owner.
“That one’s dangerous. Attack, and you all die.”
His deep, resonant voice carried authority, but the orcs charged anyway—taking it as another taunt.
‘Tsk tsk tsk. Orcs… They’re the ones who’re really screwed.’
I closed my eyes. The outcome was obvious.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
When I opened them, the orcs lay strewn across the street, faces pale.
Situation resolved. I plopped onto a wooden stool in front of the stall.
“Orc uncle, you’re pretty good.”
The stall owner wiped his hands on a rag and stood across from me.
“Move along.”
“I said I’m a customer.”
“Then why pick a fight with them?”
“Side hustle. I’m strapped for cash.”
“All beings are brothers! Killing recklessly is wrong!”
As he roared, an overwhelming aura burst from him. This guy was at least Master-tier. Not surprising—his presence had been unusual from the start.
“Heh. Hand over your purses quietly, and I won’t kill recklessly either.”
“You’re a wicked one.”
“Even humans turn into wolves when hungry. That’s why we eat first. Well? Serve me.”
The stall owner exhaled deeply, reining in his energy.
“What’ll you have?”
“Meat, bread, stewed veggies.”
I ordered everything in sight. The orc began cooking, laying thin slices of meat on the hot griddle and seasoning them generously.
“By the way, orc uncle—what’s your name?”
“Zenbe.”
My eyelid twitched.
Zenbe of the Holy Anointment. A name I knew from my past life. Zenbe was the wielder of Titania, a third-tier divine artifact, and chief of the Blue Earth Tribe. Once, he’d been recognized as one of the top three orc warriors—a Master-tier berserker.
Rumors said he died a decade ago in a war against Grolmog’s Red Tusk Tribe. Yet here he was, sulking in Kara.
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