Chapter 752: Chapter 752: First Strike (2)
One of the Noark soldiers approached to inspect the cart. However, it didn’t feel like he was sincerely performing his duty. Regardless of his sleazy appearance, that distinctive attitude seeped from his voice.
"What’s this? Why aren’t you talking? Got something expensive in there?"
Hearing that, Rotmiller understood. This man’s goal was purely to satisfy his own greed.
"...It’s just food."
He said it hoping to draw away interest and be left alone, but the Noark soldier only grinned.
"Food? Say something that makes sense. Hey, brother? Don’t be so heartless. We’re all just trying to survive here."
"What is it that you want?"
"Nothing big, just asking you to share a bit. We’re all in this mess together, right?"
Rotmiller sighed inwardly. How did I end up getting noticed by someone like this? Or maybe... I should be grateful it was someone like him?
‘If I’m lucky, I might be able to resolve this with just a conversation.’
With that decision made, Rotmiller pulled out a few items of high monetary value from [Treasure Vault].
"This is all I can give. So please, be satisfied with this."
The items he handed over were valuable assets, but he didn’t particularly feel regret. And why would he? If something like this could save Bjorn Yandel, then it was absurdly cheap.
But—
"Oh, something this valuable?"
There was one problem with the solution Rotmiller had chosen. Since retiring from exploration and spending his days teaching young warriors in the Sanctuary, Rotmiller had momentarily forgotten. The greed of beasts has no end, and there definitely are beasts who speak like humans.
And so—
"But hey, the more I think about it..."
If you look weak, you’ll get bitten.
"This doesn’t seem like enough."
The Noark soldier’s voice now carried deeper greed and confidence. It was simple. Because Rotmiller had given valuables away after a few words, he now looked easy. Even more so—
"What kind of stuff are you hiding to give something like this away? Let me have a quick look inside."
In the Noark man’s logic, Rotmiller must be hiding something more valuable, which was why he gave away these items.
"...Didn’t you hear me? I said I want to see inside."
The man who had kept a careful distance at first was now clearly ready to use force to check inside the cart.
"Do you really have to look inside...?"
"And what if I do?"
A confident grin appeared on the Noark soldier’s face, and Rotmiller let out another long sigh in his mind.
‘Sigh... So this is how it ends after all.’
He quickly finished that fleeting hesitation and nodded.
"Fine, then take a look. But as I said, it really is just food inside."
"Bullshit. You think I’m stupid? Must’ve hidden it real well, huh?"
The Noark soldier sneered and approached the cart. But the moment his greedy hand reached for the tarp—
Puk-
Rotmiller drove a dagger taken from [Treasure Vault] deep into the man’s neck.
"...Huh?"
Even after getting stabbed in the throat, the man’s eyes showed confusion, as if he still didn’t know what had happened. He collapsed to the ground.
Rotmiller slowly looked around.
Thump-
Every nearby Noark soldier was staring at him. It was no surprise—after the commotion, he had just slit a man’s throat.
But now Rotmiller understood. Until now, he hadn’t fully grasped what kind of place Noark really was—he’d only heard the stories.
"......"
"......"
Even among the Noark soldiers who were actively searching the area, there was no suspicion in their eyes. No surprise over someone being killed. No fear. Only thick, greedy desire filled their gazes.
That’s why Rotmiller shouted back at them.
"Fuck are you looking at?"
"......"
"If you don’t wanna die, mind your own damn business and get back to work."
A shout to avoid looking weak. But those sticky stares didn’t go away.
Thwip-
Rotmiller pulled the dagger from the man’s neck. And then—
‘Shit, shit, shit, shit...’
Cursing nonstop in his head, he began slicing the dead man’s neck like sawing through it.
Shk, shk-
He cut through the flesh, and even separated the hard spinal bone. The head, now completely detached from the body, was thrust onto the spike mounted to the left side of the cart.
And then—
"What, you wanna be mounted on the right side too?"
When he said that to everyone watching, only then did the Noark soldiers finally lose interest and return to their duties.
Clack, clack.
The cart, which had come to a stop, began moving again. A bit faster than before.
Clack, clack.
As it rolled forward, Rotmiller began to understand why goblins and orcs wore bone decorations. They may seem grotesque to human eyes—but in reality, they were extremely practical tools of barbarism. Exactly like this.
"...Who the hell is that?"
"Where’s he taking that cart? Should we ask?"
"Leave him alone. Guy looks fucking nuts."
People they passed by didn’t just ignore him—they actively avoided him. No one imagined that inside the cart—rolling through the street with a severed human head on display—was the very man they had been desperately searching for:
Bjorn Yandel.
Clack, clack.
The cart, which had picked up speed, only came to a stop again when the distant city wall had clearly come into view.
"You. Who are you? Don’t seem like we share the same hobby, but you’re interesting."
A mage holding a staff stepped out and blocked the cart’s path. The mage didn’t even seem to care about the mounted head—nor did he act like it mattered.
"Then what exactly were you trying to protect to pull off such a cute little act...?"
With those words, a strong gust of wind surged forward.
Swaaahhhhh—!
The tarp covering the cart couldn’t resist the wind and fluttered into the air, revealing to the world what had been hidden inside.
Truly unfortunate.
"Bjorn Yandel...!"
"That’s Bjorn Yandel...!!!"
There wasn’t a single person in this city who didn’t know that face.
***
Thanks to the sudden appearance of the bear and its help, Sven Parab managed to escape safely from the Eastern Branch and made it out onto the street. And then—
Boom—!
He shattered the well that was connected to the secret passage, ending any concerns about being pursued. In front of ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) the well, familiar faces were waiting for him.
"Mr. Parab...!"
From Riris Marone, who threw herself into his arms in tears, to the refugees expressing their thanks, to the bear woman...
And—
"Haha, good to meet you. First time, right? I’m Hikurod Murad. In a way, you could call me your senior."
With a hearty laugh, the dwarf reached out his thick hand for a handshake.
"Senior...?"
"Ah! Mr. Murad used to be one of Mr. Yandel’s teammates!"
At Marone’s explanation, Sven Parab nodded. Come to think of it, he had heard about someone like that in the past.
"Oh, the one who retired and runs a forge now..."
"That’s right! Though now, I’m on the verge of losing everything again! Hahaha!"
"It’s a real pleasure to meet you. But what brings you here...?"
"It’s because of that guy over there. Said he was going alone to rescue his wife, but how could I let someone who can’t even find the road go off on his own?"
The dwarf gestured toward the direction where the bear woman’s husband had gone, and that’s when Sven Parab finally had a chance to introduce himself.
"I’m Avman Urikfrit."
"Ah...! I’ve heard of you. I’m Sven Parab."
"Let me say it again—I really mean it. Thank you. You saved my wife and child, didn’t you?"
"Ah... It was something I had to do."
"Even so, gratitude is gratitude. If anything happens again, just say the word. I’ll drop everything and come running."
Even as he listened to the heartfelt thanks, Parab felt a strange emotion. Was this what people meant when they said fate worked in strange ways? The woman he saved just happened to be the wife of one of Yandel’s old comrades. But thinking about it... it was because he chose to save that woman that he survived. It all tied together.
"By the way, did you and Mr. Murad ever work together?"
At that moment, Marone looked between the two and asked. The dwarf answered on their behalf.
"Haha, not exactly. I’m technically his senior."
"Really? You two seemed so close that I thought otherwise..."
"We became friends over time. We both ran businesses, we drink well... and we’ve got Yandel in common."
"Ah, I see. I was wondering if I had misunderstood and you’d actually been on the same team."
So that was the story. Makes sense now. Even today, it was the connection to "Yandel’s comrade" that brought them together like this.
"Then who was on the same team with Mr. Murad? I know about Mr. Yandel, Ms. Kalstein, and that mage... but I don’t think I’ve heard of the last one."
"Ah, Brown Rotmiller. He was the guide of our team. In a way, he’s this kid’s direct senior, right? I heard he’s been teaching young warriors about exploration back at the Sanctuary these days..."
"Oh, I see."
"Now that I think about it, we’ve both been so busy that we haven’t even seen each other in ages. Once this is all over, I ought to go find him and have a drink."
The dwarf smiled with a fond look in his eyes.
***
Swaaahhhhh—!
With a sharp sound, the gust of wind lifted the tarp off the cart, and the situation became brutally simple.
"......"
"......"
Even the mage who had playfully peeled back the tarp with a mischievous voice fell into a brief silence.
"Bjorn Yandel...!"
"Bjorn Yandel...!"
"That’s Bjorn Yandel...!!!"
As if time, which had stopped, resumed all at once, voices erupted. But Rotmiller wasn’t afraid. His mind went blank for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure and thought.
Currently, District 4 is under Noark’s occupation. But that doesn’t mean Noark controls the wall between District 4 and the imperial capital. The wall is still under control of the royal army, and the Noark forces are maintaining a front line far from it. And aside from the area around the gate, the front isn’t even that wide...
‘If I can just break through here...’
Then maybe this will work. The royal army should be watching from atop the wall. They’ll open the gates and send reinforcements. They’ll save Yandel.
Yeah. That’s why...
"...I’m sorry."
With a short apology—
Thwack—!
He stabbed an arrowhead into the horse’s hindquarters.
Neigh!!!
Startled by the sharp pain, the horse bolted forward. The mage, frozen in place at the sight of Yandel, rolled out of the way, momentarily clearing the path.
Of course, the odds of breaking through the enemy lines and reaching the wall were almost nonexistent...
But—
‘It’s not zero.’
Living with the barbarians, Rotmiller had learned something naturally. That giving up without trying is the dumbest thing you can do.
And really, isn’t it true? It’s better to fail than to surrender.
Thump—!
Especially when you’ve got nothing left to lose.
"Yeah! Behell—raaaaaaaaah!!"
Rotmiller shouted the battle cry he’d heard so many times it was ingrained in his skull—for the first time himself. And at that moment—
"Behell—raaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!"
As if in answer, a true barbarian war cry erupted from somewhere. Hearing the voices of countless barbarians, Rotmiller could immediately tell who one of them was.
‘Huh, that voice... Ainard...?’