Chapter 341 - Tyrant (3)
At the proposal that was little different from coercion, Gerbon nodded, then cooperated actively, and zealously.
To be honest, it wasn't a difficult job.
It wasn't even telling him to overtly collaborate, all he had to do was secretly spread rumors across all of Southern Pit about the king of the underworld.
Gerbon's subordinates fanned out through the streets and flapped their mouths without rest.
Rumors with not a single solid piece of evidence linked together in a chain, and became the truth.
As a result, ordinary people all fled the central district, and the relevant parties gathered before Verden and Adrian.
Just as planned.
'Who, if anyone, knows Jack's whereabouts.'
In the crowd gathered in the square, in the very front row, there were those whose eyes gleamed with greed.
The bounty hunters of Southern Pit.
As if their bodies were itching, their hands settled on the grips of their weapons, and their fingers twitched irregularly.
'Not those bastards.'
The reason was simple.
Among the three forces Gerbon had mentioned, they looked the most base.
Especially with the Republic's Executioners right beside them, there was no way they could hope to win, in information or force.
'That leaves two.'
Just facing them had cut down the candidates by one, but it was still too early to settle it.
And there was no guarantee the two from the Central Continent were cooperating with each other.
Who was the most likely, that had to be found out now.
"Answer me. Are you Asher."
The Executioners' leader asked in return.
His center of gravity tilted ever so slightly forward, as if he might rush in at any moment.
Of course, it wasn't threatening at all.
"Do I need to say it for you to know."
"..."
At the short reply, the Executioners gripped their scabbards.
With their thumbs they pushed at the ricasso, the cross guard. A cold-blue blade showed partly, reflecting the sunlight.
Tension rippled.
Onlookers with no intention of going bounty hunting held their breath and watched the situation.
"───Hah hah hah hah! As expected! Just as I'd heard!"
Then, a gray-bearded old man, patchy of whisker, guffawed and strode forward.
"To stay that calm with this many people in front of you, and facing Executioners at that! Bold enough to suit the name king of the underworld! Isn't that so, everyone."
A bounty hunter with a crossbow in his right hand.
His name was Moron.
He was at an age when he should long since have retired, but unable to forget the thrill of the hunt, he still operated on the front line.
A clout-chaser who wandered taverns boasting loudly of the past, and if anyone interrupted him, a madman who would shoot an arrow through a head or chest.
As countless gazes turned to him naturally, Moron puffed his chest and spread his arms.
"This time I'll ask. What brings the one who leads Vintert here."
"..."
"Hah hah! Won't even spare me a glance. How embarrassing. Well, they do say Roafra's ill fame is famous throughout the Eastern Continent, and you're quite a great Mage… to someone like me, you must be nothing but trifling. But it seems you're misunderstanding something."
Tchk.
He spat on the ground.
"Roafra is like a deep ant nest, enter recklessly and you won't come out alive. But Southern Pit is different."
This was not an underground city.
There were no walls of the Gray Citadel, no Vintert, and none of the organizations loyal to it.
For the moment the soldier ants to guard the king numbered but one.
"No matter how you're exalted inside the burrow, once you're pulled out of it, you're hunted."
Moron was a petty man.
He trusted only what he could digest, and denied all else.
To the point he even distrusted the existence of Transcendents.
So he didn't believe most of the rumors coming out of Roafra.
'Took Roafra alone? And with a Mage? Bull.'
It ran completely counter to common sense.
Most people were the same in their inability to accept such a fact.
Unless you were Gerbon, who had seen it firsthand, it wasn't something you could take at face value.
Moron grinned and declared.
"Asher, here you are no king."
At the same time, he raised his arm.
When he pulled the trigger, a steel bolt tore through the air.
The power of the self-modified crossbow wouldn't be withstood even by plate armor.
A thin robe would be no more than a piece of sackcloth.
"…Huh?"
But an unexpected sight unfolded.
The bolt that should long since have pierced the opponent's knee suddenly stopped in midair, then the arrowhead flipped around in the opposite direction.
And then.
───Kwa-jijik!
At a speed beyond perception it bored through Moron's thigh and shot past.
***
The crossbow bolt was sunk deep into the stone-finished floor.
Thud, Moron collapsed to his knees.
"Uh, uhh…"
Blood welled and sloshed out.
An indescribable searing pain approached, slowly.
Moron clutched his thigh on reflex and bulged his eyes.
"Huaaaaaaaaagh!!"
The belated scream burst out and rang through the entire square.
The air was cold.
Not only because it was winter. A chill atmosphere spread like a plague.
After a moment, when the screaming subsided, Verden rose from his seat.
And spoke.
"I am looking for a man named Jack."
Then a murmur sounded from within the crowd.
"Jack? Who's Jack?"
"Who knows. Never heard the name…"
Most didn't know the inside story, but some clearly did.
Three among them.
Two feigned composure, but they could not deceive Verden's insight.
And the last one showed a relatively intense reaction.
Left, and right, and center.
Casting his gaze in turn, Verden's blue eyes gleamed.
"So cooperate."
There was no need to call names.
They would already know he was speaking to them.
"How arrogant."
The Executioners' leader bared a sharp, heavy air.
"If we refuse."
"Then you will be made to cooperate."
Only the process would differ, the result was the same.
At that answer the leader, who had been laughing lightly, wiped his expression clean and raised his sword.
"Seize them."
Tatadat.
Two Executioners charged.
A man and a woman.
They held swords in right and left hands respectively, and reinforced their bodies.
"..."
Adrian stepped forward.
With bare hands, without even drawing his demonic sword, he gauged the level of his foes.
The red sword aura beading on their blades and the very pattern of their movement were identical.
Like an old, prestigious order of knights would, they seemed to have undergone common training. With their swords drawn in close to the body, they aimed from the center at vital points and joints.
'Specialized for anti-personnel combat.'
Because it was systematized, it wasn't diverse.
A center of gravity focused solely on the purpose of killing.
Ssswik───!
A sword tip targeted his throat.
He twisted his waist and slipped past it, then a second blade flashed for his abdomen.
The precise centerline of the torso.
So precise even instinct hesitated over how to evade.
If you were of their grade, or a lesser, you would die on the spot.
Of course, that didn't apply to Adrian.
His palm met the flat of the blade.
With a light push, the sword stroke's trajectory warped and sliced the empty air.
Her eyes widened.
'He… caught sword aura, with bare hands?'
A moment's agitation.
Because of it, her response was late.
Chuk—!
An elbow smashed into the Executioner's face.
A blow bright enough to make sparks pop in her eyes.
Adrian crossed her wrist with his and wrenched away her sword, then spun half a turn.
Leading with the back edge, his sword stroke drew a half-moon and cracked the wrist of the other Executioner who had been behind her.
"Urgh…?!"
Adrian snatched the sword the Executioner dropped.
In merely three exchanges.
Adrian now held twin swords, and the two Executioners, injured, fell back.
The gap in skill was clear.
Cries of astonishment rose around them, but to Adrian it was nothing noteworthy.
He had heard the Executioners' answer clearly.
As for the remaining Lone Wolf and the Flayer… they still only watched, they did not move.
That too was an answer.
Talks, were broken.
"I will handle the left. You, take the right."
Verden opened Subspace.
He gripped Orient, a staff with an orb set at its tip.
"Except for the second and third, anyone who steps forward, subdue them appropriately. If they cross the line, you may kill them."
The Republic's Executioner and the Flayer were to be taken alive.
As for the interfering bounty hunters and the like, he entrusted Adrian with the right of life and death.
"Yes, my lord."
The mood swelled.
In the taut silence, the first to move was none other than Verden.
Activated Mana Circuits.
A computation process proceeding without error.
Blue rays slashed along a diagonal and charged in.
The target was a man who had come from the Central Continent, the one bearing the epithet Lone Wolf, Romer.
"No, what the hell, all of a sudden—!"
He hastily yanked up his shield.
Even with panic plain on his face, his reflexes were considerable.
Bzzzzzt!
Lightning spread outward.
He endured the magical shock as he was, then dropped downward.
Straight into the crowd.
Casting
The Executioners' leader, "Helgar", shouted immediately.
"Kill them if you have to, just don't let them get out of Southern Pit!"
The Executioners moved.
Even the bounty hunters or mercenaries hired by the Republic moved as well.
The sum of several billion Elk was worth staking one's life on.
'And sometimes, with luck, a stray arrow can hit the mark.'
Confidence born of numbers.
With the Republic of Beldirn at their backs, they felt no fear.
For the moment.
"And the rest of you—"
Helgar, who had been continuing, set his sword at a slant.
Kaaang!
Driven back by a weighty sword strike.
His grip tingled.
Forcing the shock away, Helgar bared his fangs.
"You bastard…"
"I'll say this once."
A swordsman holding twin blades stood at the center of the square.
"Executioners, the Flayer, and the rest of you. Until our purpose is achieved, I have no particular intention of taking your lives."
However.
"If you cross to the left from here, you will die."
Adrian warned.
***
With one breath he raised his physical abilities with
, and on the fourth breath he strengthened the performance of his imbue magic with sixth-tierThere was no plan to destroy Southern Pit.
He had not the slightest thought of carrying out a meaningless massacre.
Therefore he excluded the use of widespread high-tier magic, but such restraint was no hindrance at all.
"Fire, fire!"
From rooftops, inside houses, between alleys, arrows poured down like rain.
It seemed the Republic's Executioners had pre-positioned hired mercenaries.
As expected.
The arrows froze as they were, then returned to their senders.
At very high speed.
"Aaaaaaagh!"
"Gwaaah!"
No one died.
All of them only took wounds to limbs, arms and legs, enough that they could no longer move.
Next came close combat.
They rushed in from all sides, but in the small whirlwind that roared around him, they couldn't last even a dozen seconds before being flung away.
Before numbers, it was a matter of skill.
'So the misdirection ends here.'
The moment the small fry fell away, he felt magical reactions.
At the same time, three Executioners who had been hiding charged in from different directions.
'They've reinforced their bodies with qi, and boosted their defenses with imbue magic.'
Fairly tactical.
Verden lightly tapped the ground with Orient.
Gravity nested into the mana that had spread in all directions.
The exposed Executioners, unable to resist, were all slammed to the ground at once.
"…?!"
"Aaah… ack…!"
"Kh… urk…!"
A massive pressure crushed lungs and windpipes.
Their breathing slowly stopped.
No matter how highly trained, there was no way to keep consciousness.
In the end, strength drained from their hands and their swords fell to the floor.
Just then, one Executioner dropped from above.
Using allies as stepping stones, he had waited until the opponent showed an opening.
'Got him.'
He took the blind spot.
With a magic item he erased his presence, and he closed the distance to a gap a Mage's abilities could not address.
He swung with certainty in his blade.
That certainty was decisive.
Whoosh.
Absurdly, the strike missed.
Caught off guard by the unexpected, his posture collapsed completely.
Twisting away as he evaded, Verden swung Orient.
"How did you—"
The Executioner never heard the answer.
Kwooooom— Kwang—!
A shockwave blasted from the staff and smashed into his flank.
The Executioner, hurled far away, shattered a building wall and vanished from sight.
A few nearby mercenaries faltered.
"An, an Executioner that easily…"
They glanced at each other.
At this rate, they wouldn't even make back their stake.
Those who realized as much lost their will to fight and started fleeing at once.
The street grew quiet.
Before long, other pursuers would come.
"By the way."
Verden spoke toward the building in front of him.
"How long do you plan to keep hiding."
After a few seconds of stillness, someone showed their presence at a window and leapt down.
"Ha, king of the underworld, is it. For someone from the Eastern Continent, you live up to the name pretty well, don't you? Slinging magic without so much as a warning."
A man with a sleek sword and shield.
With a face that looked around Verden's age, clad overall in dark silver armor.
"But compared to what I was thinking… mm, your looks are pretty different. I thought you'd be extremely vicious, to think you'd have a face similar to mine. Kinda kills the mood, a lot."
"You must be Romer."
"Oh, I didn't expect my name to have spread as far as the Eastern Continent. Yes, I'm Romer. The epithet is Lone Wolf."
Romer rubbed the tip of his nose and lifted his chin slightly.
"And I'm the one who's got the Jack you're looking for. I got to him first to claim the bounty."
He caught Jack?
"And the reason you're telling me that is?"
"So things are at least a little fair."
Life sparked in Romer's eyes.
"I hear that if I 'kill' you, I become king of the underworld, right? That underground city Roafra falls into my hands. I've grown quite interested, a lot. But I don't really like killing people."
"So."
"So let's call it a kind of wager. If you win, I'll tell you where Jack is. For real. Conversely, if I win, I take your seat and your epithet. How about it?"
A sudden proposal.
It seemed like a trick… but Romer's attitude didn't look false.
Moreover, for him to suggest a one-on-one in a situation like this made it seem he wasn't right in the head.
Considering he was the guy who had simultaneously messed with the daughters of two rival nobles, perhaps that was only natural.
'Aside from that, it's not bad.'
They were opponents he would subdue anyway, so there was nothing to lose.
If he could learn Jack's location, he could shorten the time considerably.
He would match the childish proposal.
Verden focused more firmly on his purpose.
"I accept."
"Haha! More forthright than you look, huh? Good, then let's have at it. Let's see whether the Central Continent or the Eastern Continent is stronger."
Thunk! Thunk!
Romer drummed his shield with his sword.
As if he were a representative of his continent.
'A madman.'
Fixing Romer in memory that way, he stepped forward.
He would finish it quickly.
Verden, having decided, charged in with
"It is curious for a Mage to fight in close quarters! But, that won't work on me!"
Romer was a master of shieldcraft.
Even discounting the shield's performance, with technique alone he could deflect most shocks with ease.
Those who had gotten past his shield thus far were few.
At last, Orient, packed with mana, came down from above.
Romer bent his knees and upper body.
He set his shield at a slant, and prepared for the next move.
And then impact.
Kwoaaaaaaaang!
A tremendous roar boomed in the very heart of Southern Pit.
A massive shockwave spread through the streets.
The paving stones beneath Romer's feet split into many branches, and parts of it sank into a shallow bowl.
"Uh."
His body screamed.
Romer's knees touched the ground.
…What, is this.
You can read more chapters in organised way on my website:- https://revengernovel.com