Chapter 129
Barandur Pass
“Let’s take a break here.”
“Good timing, I’m getting a headache reading on the wagon,” Connie said
After about two hours of riding, they arrived at a small village by Barandur Pass. The houses here ran along the road in clusters of two or three houses due to the scarcity of safe space in the mountain. Nick brought the wagon to the village square, although it was nothing more than five large houses surrounding a community well.
“Oh, there is a Hunter’s Guild even here,” Akula said in surprise. “And it’s even in the same building as the tavern.”
“Good timing. Let’s have some lunch here then. It’s going to be a while before we see another establishment,” Nick advised.
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The tavern in question was called The Blind Boar. Inside, there was only a handful of people. A few locals who were having a drink in daylight with no fear of their better halves’ wrath, a gathering of middle-aged men in washed-out armor, and a couple of travel-worn elderly couples.
A young boy who was sitting by the door woke up suddenly from his stupor and came to them in a hurry.
“W-welcome to the Blind…,” the boy stammered when he saw the eclectic group of people. “…Boar.”
“Five of your strongest ale. And something to eat,” Illumca said.
“What’s good to eat here?” Akula asked.
“Our Boar Stew, of course! I dare to say that my father makes the best stew around,” the boy said proudly, his nerves had calmed down when he realized that the frightening Centaur was not about to eat him.
“Then we’ll have that. And some bread,” Nick said.
“Thank you. I’ll bring them to you soon.”
The stew and bread came quickly, along with the ales balancing on top of the boy’s spindly arms.
The taste of the stew was strong in its gaminess. It was relatively lightly spiced but it was hot and rich, thanks to the long boiling process. Connie, whose palate was better than the others, noticed that it was smoked first before being stewed, making it more fragrant.
As they were eating, Martell suddenly asked.
“Mistress, I’ve been curious about one thing,” he began while dipping his bread into the stew. “Yesterday, you told us that your main weapon should be a sword, then why did you give Grunford to Akira?”
“I was curious about that too,” Nick added. “Grunford is a legendary sword that many would sacrifice everything for. Legends told that The First King gained the strength of a dragon when he used it.”
“Mmm,” lllumca agreed. “I know why you gave it to the Hero, but I think it would still be better for you to use it.”
“Wait, you gave a Legendary Sword to the Hero of Calendia?!” Akula’s eyes widened in surprise. “To resist the temptation of power and gave it to another person who needed it more…are you sure you aren’t a hero?”
“Hmhm. You all give me too much credit,” Connie mulled the question. “It’s actually quite simple. Inside that sword lives a water dragon named Cavenjaal.”
“Cavenjaal!” Martell’s eyes shone. “I’ve read that name in a book before. He was the dragon who ruled the Western Sea. By enlisting his help, the First King managed to secure the path to the Demon Continent.”
“Is that so? Still, no matter how much power he has, there is no way I’m going to hold it.”
“Why is that?” Illumca raised an eyebrow.
“To me, well…dragons are like…how do I put this…sewer rats?”
This caused Martell to pause. “Huh? What do you mean, Mistress?”
“Let me see. Imagine that you are offered with the promise of power as long as you wield a sword with a beast sealed within, will you wield it?”
“Of course!”
“Then what if that beast happened to be a sewer-dwelling rat the size of a house? With diseased skin and rotted patches of flesh that stunk to high heavens. Now imagine if you must hold that sword. Will you be able to do that?”
The instant that the imagery of such scene came into their heads, the whole table went silent. Illumca frowned and discreetly discarded the half-chewed boar meat in her mouth. “Connie, that’s not something you should talk about while we’re eating.”
“B-but, Mistress…you have Yao-Er.”
The little silkworm, who felt that he was being called, popped up from inside Connie’s collar and jumped onto the table playfully. After it noticed that there was no food for it, it grumpily returned inside her sleeves.
“And you use bugs and stuff in your Alchemy. Isn’t that worse?”
“The dragons back in my world...they stole my child from me, all for the sake of righteousness and the Heavenly Way. And then they threw themselves at me before I attacked the Righteous Coalition, exhausting my power and stopped me from using my Contracted Beasts. I could've won. you know, I could've won.”
This earned Martell blaming looks from the others sitting on the table.
"Sorry, I was just venting. I met my daughter even after all that. And for that at least, I am grateful. But there you go, to me, dragons are those sewer rats,” Connie said, as she stabbed the tender boar meat with her fork, disintegrating it.
“I just hate dragons. I despise their very existence. Just like what I said last night, a sentient sword is not something I am partial of. And neither are dragons. It’s not even their form, it’s their essence. Those subservient overgrown slaves of the Heavens,” Connie spat. “Grunford is definitely out of the question.”
Hearing the finality in Connie’s tone, Martell sighed. “I just think that it’s a shame. We are going to a dungeon after all.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Hmm, Yes. There is little info about that dungeon even when I tried to contact my veteran friends. I’ll try asking the Hunters here,” Nick wiped his mouth then called for the servant boy.
When he asked for the Guild Receptionist, a skinny old man with clothes heavily stained by stew came out. It turned out the owner of the Tavern also acted as the branch’s Guild Receptionist and Guild Master.
Nick asked him about how to go to Arlaine and if there was anyone that they could hire to lead them there.
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“What do you mean, no Hunters?” Nick repeated the man’s answer.
“Well, we do have one, Sir. His name is Monty. But he’s just a D-Ranker doing odd jobs around here,” the skinny man said as he pointed at the old Quest Board hammered to the wall. It was quite a sad-looking board. Old and slightly moldy. There were only three Quests on there, one of which looked to be so old that the paper had started to yellow.
“As you can see, this is a very small village with mostly children and old people. The most you can get around here is just enough for a day’s meal. People usually just go straight through if they are looking for money. And Monty? Well, he can’t find the butt end of his trousers on a good day.”
“Is that why there are robbers in the forest?” Akula asked.
The man flinched. “Y-yeah. They don’t really bother us here much. No one here has a lot of money, you see. Did you…meet them?”
“We did, though we don’t know their names,” Nick said.
“I’m really sorry for that. We can’t do anything about those men. There are too many of them and the Capital never cared much about us here in the South. They only come out when they are sure they can rob their target.”
“I did not expect them to actually be smart about their work,” Martell whistled. “I guess that’s why we managed to take care of them so fast, they just go after weaker people. They don’t dare to go after stronger ones.”
The local men sitting on the other table suddenly shouted. “Did you say you took care of them? Are you for real?”
“Yes. We left the bodies in the forest, you’ll find them there,” Martell said. “There were fifteen of them I think?”
“They killed them,” the man slumped on his chair. “They killed them!”
“This…this is great news!” The boy’s father slammed the table happily. “The meal’s free for all of you! My treat! This is the best news I’ve heard all year!”
“In that case, I’d like to ask for seconds,” Akula handed him her plate, licked clean. “Don’t skimp on the meat!”
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The boy served plates after plates of food to the strange group with worship in his eyes. He had heard tales of strong Hunters before, but with Monty being the loafer that he was, he had since become indifferent to them. But after seeing the real deal, he realized that there were Hunters like them out there. Proper, strong Hunters.
As he was taking away the empty glasses, the elderly man who had been sitting nearby came to their table and greeted Connie.
“Pardon my rudeness, Lady Steelheart?”
“Hmm?” Connie put down her bread and looked at the elderly man. The man had deep wrinkles and faded blue eyes, with a well-trimmed beard that jutted upwards from his chin. He was wearing a warm coat that once could have been bright red, but whose color had long since faded from use.
“Forgive me for disturbing your meal. Lady Steelheart. Please forgive my forwardness. My name is Baron Osten Miller. The lovely woman sitting there is my wife, Emma. I have heard a lot about you.”
“None of it good, I bet,” Connie smirked. “Please, dispense with the formalities. I’ve had my fill of them back in Calendia. Is there something you need from us?”
She was treated cordially. Therefore, she replied with the same level of respect.
“We could not help but overhear that you are heading towards Arlaine?” the man asked. “This… might sound presumptuous of me, but could I ask you if we could travel together? My barony in Gouthe is on the way to Arlaine.”
“It does not really matter to me, what do you all think?” Connie asked her companions.
“Hmm, are you traveling alone?” Martell asked.
“No, the three men sitting over there are my footmen. Unfortunately, the people we hired as guards ran away when we were beset by the group of highwaymen. I had to pay the toll after that. That is why we have been stuck here for three days, not knowing how to proceed.”
“Why? Is the journey that dangerous?” Akula asked.
“It shouldn’t be. But I have heard some news from the barony that the monsters are getting rather active despite the cold weather. Which is unusual.”
Connie received the gazes from her companions and agreed to his plea. “Very well, we can go together. We will be leaving as soon as we finished eating, is that fine with you?”
The old man’s face beamed. “Of course, please. We are ready to leave anytime!”
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Deep inside the mountain somewhere in South Calendia, a family of deer was drinking from a small stream that flowed steadily from a broken piece of an old tree. One of them, a fawn, was a curious one. Its small, clear eyes flickered here and there before they fell on a strange thing under a large tree.
If a person was there, one could see that it was a statue of an old man.
The fawn sniffed the statue and nudged it a few times with its nose, but it quickly grew bored and turned to its family, only to find that two large, bipedal monsters were feasting on them. Their mouths dripping blood.
Frightened and confused, the fawn made small, high-pitched bleats before it was snatched up by a pair of long, furry arms. It did not have a chance in Sud-Ghazid to survive as its neck was bitten through.
Then, while the two monsters fed on their prey, one of them raised its head in alarm. The ground trembled a few times before a large reptilian mouth filled with sharp teeth grabbed one by the head and bit it off.
The other bipedal monster screeched and attacked the new monster with its powerful arms, but its carapace was too tough. It then slapped the bipedal down with its powerful tail and stepped on it with its powerful leg a few times, crushing its chest. Any Hunter who saw this monster would have turned tail long ago, for this was a B-Rank Monster. Zagriva, the Armored Wyvern.
It boasted scales harder than iron, with strong pair of legs that could crush boulders easily. On its head was a spear-like protrusion that it used to ram through enemies, pulverizing them through momentum and weight. This particular one had rusted-green scales, a sign of a pregnant female. Pregnant Zagrivas were more aggressive than regular ones, making it closer to an A-Rank Monster.
The Zagriva shook the earth with its triumphant roar before digging into its prize.
Suddenly, she noticed the statue sitting beneath the tree. She did not know why, but despite not showing hostility, she felt danger coming from it.
The Armored Wyvern roared the force of its breath causing the trees in front of it to bend and break.
Yet the statue was immovable.
The statue opened his eyes. Only then did the Zagriva realize that it was a man. The same creature that she had fed on many times before. He wore nothing but a worn-out cloth to hide his shame.
His eyes were grey like clouds in winter. Cold and detached. He looked at the monster with as much interest as a man inspecting a dead animal on the road.
He then slowly unfolded from his sitting position. Stiff muscles and joints creaked as he did so. When fully erect, one could see how tall he really was.
The man’s body was a mass of old scars on top of muscles that looked as if they were carved from ancient rock. His body was so thin that one could see the outline of his bones and muscles from his skin. On his back was a pair of wings as black as a raven's with its tip as white as snow.
His hands and feet had tough, yellowing nails that curved like eagle’s talons.
The greying hair that ran down his back was rough and unkempt. So still he was, that a family of bats had made themselves comfortable within his hair. The bats flew away when they found that their new nest had started to move.
The spear on his lap too was something unusual. It was not made of metal or wood but from the spine of a terrible creature. Its tip was barbed, to saw the wound of its victim as it exited the body. This was a tool for hunting and killing.
But what kind of beast could this man be hunting to need such a fearsome weapon?
The Zagriva lowered its body. Ready to charge.
The man held his spear, just so. Legs firmly planted to the ground, his arm muscles tightening.
Then he thrust with his spear.
It was not a Skill or a Technique.
It was just a normal straight thrust. Something a beginner would do the first time they were given a spear. And yet it broke through the tough skin of the monster. The sheer power it contained pierced through its tough carapace and destroyed many trees in its path.
The Zagriva roared unwillingly as she fell to her death, shaking the forest.
The man dipped his hand into the steady stream of blood pooling under the monster and drew a crude circle upon its chest with it. As he was about to pull the Essence Crystal from the wyvern's chest, he heard a sound coming from her stomach. A small Zagriva came out of the pregnant Zagriva’s belly. Its armor was not yet fully formed, and it had yet to open its eyes.
“If it is fate, then so be it,” the man said, his voice hoarse and gravelly like the sound of an aged dwarven mine. He cut the umbilical cord on the creature then left the newly-born monster to its fate.
As he walked, a golden Hunter’s badge peeked out from under his beard. A badge belonging to only the highest-ranking Hunters in all the continent.
An S-Rank Hunter.