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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
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Zenebe and I slowly made our way into the Utsu River mine to hunt the remaining Freakers.
Even before reaching the entrance, the ground was littered with corpses—workers crushed in their futile escape, mercenaries who had died fighting.
As I rummaged through a mercenary’s pockets, Zenebe voiced his disapproval again.
“Don’t disgrace the dead.”
“Someone’s gonna take this money anyway. Better it goes to us, who’ll at least avenge them.”
I pulled out a coin pouch and grinned. Heavy. Mercs always carried the good stuff.
“Save that talk for after we’ve killed all the Freakers.”
“Then it’ll be too late. By then, Karah’s soldiers and Alron’s crew will swarm in and loot everything.”
Still humming, I moved to another corpse. Zenebe shook his head and strode toward the mine entrance.
KRAKOOOM!
A deafening crash echoed from inside. Sounded like Zenebe was going all out against a Freaker.
While I continued my income activities, I glanced at the battlefield.
‘Damn, this old man’s slaughter is pure art.’
Berserked, Zenebe carved through the Freaker like paper. Its tough hide split like parchment, its reinforced skull crushed like a melon.
A sight worthy of legend.
Freakers, once the terror of human armies in the Age of Ruin, were nothing more than rats under Zenebe’s blade.
But that was all.
He didn’t inspire the same awe as Old Man Cloud or Grolmog.
I’d sparred with Old Man Cloud once and been hunted to the brink of death by Grolmog. Even in their leisure, they instilled unimaginable dread—a fear that lingered even now, as a Master.
Pausing my looting, I stared at the sky.
‘If those two had lived…’
Grand Duke Cloud and Grolmog both died before the Age of Ruin. Grolmog fell to the old man, who later died of age.
Had they survived, the course of the Age of Ruin might’ve changed. Not the ending, but at least the orcs and the Yosrahim Empire wouldn’t have collapsed so pitifully. The orcs fractured after Grolmog’s death, and the empire erupted in rebellion without Cloud’s presence.
“Old Man Cloud, really. If you were gonna die, couldn’t you do it quietly? Why drag Grolmog down with you? Ugh—these people drive me insane, acting like they’re special.”
Shaking my head, I resumed stuffing coin pouches into my bag. What was coming couldn’t be stopped. Honestly, how could anyone reason with stubborn old fools? They were all self-righteous relics.
No, Old Man Cloud was worse—the more people tried to stop him, the more havoc he wreaked. Even if I clung to his legs begging, it’d only lower Grolmog’s chances of survival.
“Look out! One’s heading your way!”
Zenebe’s shout snapped me back to reality. I straightened and scanned the area—a Freaker was charging straight at me, snorting furiously.
After pocketing a nearby merc’s gold ring, I stood still.
“Human, move!”
Zenebe yelled again. But I remained rooted, smiling at him.
“Old man? Don’t tell me you’re worried about me?”
The Freaker lunged. I slid beneath its belly, its rough hide scraping my forehead as gravel pelted my body. Sunlight flashed above, and its thrashing tail blurred in my vision.
I grabbed a split in its tail’s hide and launched myself forward. Spotting the spine, I drew Requiem and carved an X with a single slash.
“SKREEE—!”
The Freaker collapsed, twitched, then died.
Zenebe rushed over.
“You hurt?”
Dusting myself off, I pried the Chaos Piece from its flesh.
“Nope.”
Zenebe’s eyes bulged.
“You—fight like that, and you’ll die.”
“But it’s the only way to one-shot them.”
“What? One-shot? This thing’s a level 70 threat!”
“Yep.”
“You should’ve approached carefully, studied its patterns—”
I waved him off.
“Nah. I’d be dead.”
“What?”
“That’s how I survived. In my world, hesitation gets you killed. Take too long, and you’re surrounded. So cut me some slack.”
“What kind of hell did you live in?!”
I crossed my arms and smirked.
“Nothing special. Just wars where hundreds of thousands marched out, and I was the only one walking back. Well, sometimes not even me. But you get the idea.”
“Liar! Even we orcs don’t fight wars that brutal.”
Zenebe was fuming. And rightly so—no war in human history had been that merciless. Normally, armies retreated after losing a tenth. The idea of one survivor was unthinkable.
“Oh? Then I must’ve dreamed it.”
“You—!”
Zenebe gripped Titanica. Orcs hated jokes.
I poked his ribs playfully.
“Anyway, what about the rest? We’re on the clock here.”
Zenebe unclenched his jaw.
“Grr… The one you killed was the last.”
“Really? Why’s that the last?”
“It’s the sixth.”
“Ah~ Because it’s the sixth, it’s the last? Who said that?”
“Rumors said six. Even Commander Adan confirmed it.”
I sighed and shook my head.
“You’re so naïve. Listen—if others say six, then it’s not six. Even what I’ve seen with my own eyes isn’t always true. How can you trust hearsay?”
“But I don’t sense any others.”
“Then they’re where you can’t sense them.”
“Where?”
I scanned the area, then pointed at the mine’s tunnel.
“Like in there. Freakers love caves.”
Zenebe stiffened.
“You sure?”
“Yep. And if there is one, it’ll be the strongest. The alpha always takes the best spot. But don’t worry—it’s still just a Freaker.”
Zenebe grunted and marched into the tunnel. Meanwhile, I resumed business operations.
A while later, Zenebe returned, awkwardly holding a massive Chaos Piece—loot from the seventh Freaker. Looked like an 800-unit one.
“Here.”
“Good work.”
After finishing the job, I confronted Adan, ranting about how calling seven Freakers “six” had nearly caused disaster. Not that it was a disaster, but business was business. A little exaggeration never hurt profits.
So I billed him 1,548 leaf gold—including hazard pay. Though Adan protested, one look at Zenebe shut him up.
Man, this old man’s useful.
—
“Wow! You earned all this, little brother?”
Armida gasped at the gold piled on the table.
I puffed out my chest.
“Of course~ Who do you think I am? Yan—no, Kao Yan Anukin. This much is pocket change.”
“Ooh~ But how much exactly?”
“750 leaf gold.”
I averted my eyes. The actual payout was 1,548. The remaining 798? Other pockets, of course.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
But the real prize was the byproducts. Freaker hide, for one—thick enough to make armor or clothing nearly impervious to blades. Not that the market valued it yet, but that didn’t matter. I wasn’t selling. Some things aren’t meant to be traded.
“Anyway, I’m impressed. Normally, Freakers are so strong that we Valkyries have to descend to handle them.”
“Pfft. Freakers? You’d step in for that? Aren’t you overprotecting humans? I handled it just fine.”
“Hmm. True.”
I separated 300 gold coins. Armida tilted her head.
“What’s that for?”
“Payment for help.”
“You fought with someone?”
“Yep. A nagging old fanboy. Orc. Never shuts up. Want me to introduce you?”
Armida waved her hands.
“No thanks. Just hearing about him annoys me.”
Chuckling, I tucked the pouch away and got ready to leave.
“Oh, is Shura meditating properly?”
“Yep. But I’m worried—he’s so focused he barely eats.”
I grinned.
“Don’t stress. Human instinct isn’t that dumb. He’ll eat when he’s starving.”
“Wow, you’re so cold.”
“Just let him be. He thinks it’s a crucial period.”
“But Mastery comes naturally, not by force.”
“Right.”
“Then why leave him alone?”
“Because he could be wrong.”
Armida frowned. I’d just contradicted myself.
“Huh? So is he right or wrong?”
“Both. Like you said, Mastery comes from a natural, purposeless state—but you also need purpose. Think about it—who becomes a Master Swordsman? Someone who dedicates themselves to the sword, not some random farmer. A farmer could dig dirt forever and never become a Master, right? So a swordsman must have purpose.”
“But you have to let go of desire for the sword.”
“Exactly. The true path lies in the balance between those extremes—the razor’s edge of Mastery.”
Armida looked puzzled.
“But how can there be value between ‘is’ and ‘isn’t’?”
“Logically? There isn’t. But reality overflows with it. Take war—to survive, you must be willing to die. To live, you must first offer your life. Absolute nonsense by black-and-white logic, yet it happens all the time.”
I’d seen this paradox endlessly in the Age of Ruin. In fortresses swarmed by monsters, those who risked death escaped, while those who feared it died hiding.
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