《Zethir, Butcher of Order》


 1: Just a Child

    Zethir looked at his hand, seeing a thumb-sized ant biting and stinging his palm.


    It hurt, to the point that he was biting his lower lip¡­


    ¡°Why do you bite me? I''m not food.¡±


    And yet, he didn''t rush to crush the ant. His eyes, red like ruby, contentedly stared at the puny ant.


    ¡°Zethir!¡± A voice called out from behind, making him turn around. There, his mother rushed toward him, holding a wooden ladle.


    ¡°Where have you been, you child!¡± His mother scolded, grabbing his other hand and dragging him off. ¡°Don''t play with bugs,¡± she said after noticing the ant on top of his palm.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Zethir asked, his bright-red eyes gazing up at his mother''s crimson ones.


    His mother''s brows furrowed, her eyes turning fierce as she forcefully squashed the ant on his palm with her thumb.


    ¡°You child, watch your tone, ah!¡± She clicked her tongue out of frustration. ¡°Your father''s home, he''s looking for you. Who knows, maybe the bastard wants to marry you off for money.¡±


    ¡°Father?¡± Zethir tilted his head. ¡°I have a father?¡±


    ¡°Otherwise? I fucked a tree?¡± His mother scoffed, before gnashing her teeth. ¡°That bastard comes home once every five years, so obviously you haven''t seen him before!¡±


    As she said so, the mother-son duo reached the doorsteps of a wooden, dilapidated house. As his mother opened the door, Zethir saw a man sitting on a chair like a sack of potatoes, a bottle of beer in hand.


    ¡°Witch! Ye¡¯ back,¡± he said, earning a scowl from his mother.


    ¡°Billian, call me that once more and I''ll turn you into a woman!¡± She yelled, but the man just placed the bottle of beer in his mouth and took a long sip.


    ¡°¡®s zat my brat?¡± He asked, motioning with his chin to Zethir.


    ¡°Damn right,¡± his mother yanked Zethir''s hand, throwing him toward the man, his ¡°father.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°If you''re gon¡¯ take him, just get it over with. I''m damn hungry and the pot won''t stir itself!¡± His mother yelled, storming into the kitchen and not long after, the clattering of pans could be heard.


    On the other hand, Zethir stood in front of his father.


    The man had deathly pale skin, just like him and his mother, as well as glossy black hair, but his eyes were brown. Not only that, his cheeks were sunken, and dark circles made themselves at home beneath his eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s yer name?¡± The man said, taking another sip from the bottle. However, he later frowned, peering inside the bottle.


    It was now empty, apparently.


    ¡°I''m¡ª¡± Zethir tried to answer, when his father raised the bottle and threw it at his head.


    ¡°Giv¡¯ me ¡®nother beer!¡± He yelled, and seeing Zethir unmoving, he went and kicked him too.


    Zethir stumbled back from the kick. Clutching his forehead, he felt some warm liquid soak his fingers and palm.


    ¡°...it hurts,¡± he mumbled, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.


    ¡°Well?! Are ye gonna do it or not?!¡± His father screamed, struggling to stand up.


    Zethir lowered his head, ¡°Okay.¡±


    Dizzy, he walked toward the kitchen. He didn''t know where to get beer, but surely, his mother did, right?


    However, just as he entered the kitchen, he failed to grab the wall and support himself. Tripping on his own foot, he fell to the floor, hitting his head again as more blood gushed out.


    ¡°Yih?! What''re you doing?! Get out! Get out!¡± His mother shrieked, running toward him to kick his body out of the kitchen.


    ¡°Go fuck off! Don''t disturb me when I''m cooking!¡±


    After yelling so, she closed the door leading to the kitchen, leaving her son''s unconscious body on the ground.


    At the same time, Zethir¡¯s father waited for his son, only to fall asleep without getting his second bottle of beer.


    {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}


    ¡°Four years old. Looks like a skeleton. No aptitude for magic.¡±


    A man with a red cape over his shoulders spoke, sitting on the couch in the living room. Zethir¡¯s father sat on a wooden chair in front of the man, with Zethir standing beside him. His head was bandaged up, but they were already stained with red and were dripping blood.


    As for his mother¡­ she was nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°You want that thing to marry my daughter?¡± The red-caped man said, raising his voice and an eyebrow.


    Zethir''s father rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to speak like his tongue was tied.


    ¡°A¡¯ least he''s got a breath,¡± he said.


    ¡°Billian,¡± the man frowned. ¡°My daughter''s twenty-four. She wants a child, I want a grandchild. How in the world do you expect that thing to give us that?¡±


    ¡°...wait a few years?¡± Billian, Zethir''s father, asked, confused.


    The other man laughed, unable to believe the man before him. ¡°Look, go sober up and talk to yourself in the mirror. Ask which part of your brain failed to turn.¡±


    Billian¡¯s brows nearly touched, his lips downturned. ¡°Goryo¡­ You''re in my house, remember.¡±


    ¡°And what? You''ll fuck me up?¡± Goryo sneered. ¡°Listen here, pretty boy. I don''t care how much beer or drug you inhale, but keep your delusion in check. Wouldn''t wanna fuck up one day, eh?¡±


    Billian stood up, making the wooden chair rattle and tumble back. Goryo remained seated, amused.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± Goryo ordered, but Billian clenched his fists. Then, before the former could react, Billian sent him a punch to the face!


    ¡°Fuck¡ª¡± Goryo growled, standing up only to feel a punch to his throat.


    ¡°Billian, you don''t know who you''re fucking with!¡± Goryo hollered, but Billian''s ears were full, and his fists were thirsty.


    Zethir watched, unblinking, as his father pummelled the other man helpless. Until Goryo took out a pocket knife and shoved it to his father''s throat¡ªhis father quickly collapsed, eyes rolled back, his body going limp.


    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Goryo wiped off the blood on his now crooked nose. Then, his eyes went to Zethir''s frame.


    ¡°You his son, right?!¡± He yelled, stomping toward Zethir.


    Zethir didn''t flinch¡ªeven as the large man''s fist filled his vision and sent him flying to the wall.


    ¡°That''ll teach ya, ptui¡ª¡± He spat on Zethir''s face. Seeing that the boy had no reaction, he frowned, raising his foot¡­


    ¡°Tsk.¡±


    But in the end, he only kicked the ground as he left.


    A while later, Zethir stood up, his world spinning. Subconsciously or not, he stumbled toward his father, before standing over his dead body, unmoving.


    That was the scene his mother walked into when she returned home.

 2: Rules are Run by Both Corrupt and Just

    ¡°Hey, have you heard about that guy?¡±


    In the Mercenary Union¡¯s lobby, mercenaries gossiped with each other, uncaring about class or manners.


    In one of the corners, two mercenaries huddled together. One wore leather armor, covering his torso, and the other was topless, proudly showing off his¡­ skinny body.


    ¡°What guy? There¡¯s tons of guys here,¡± the skinny mercenary asked, slapping the other''s shoulder.


    The armored mercenary clicked his tongue, rubbing his hit shoulder. ¡°You know, that guy who watched his teammates die?¡±


    ¡°...did you just describe us?¡± The skinny mercenary narrowed his eyes.


    The armored mercenary choked.


    ¡°Ahem! I mean, yeah, we¡¯re like that¡­¡± He scratched his forehead. ¡°But I¡¯m talking about another dude! Lean build, long black hair like a ghost, pale like a corpse, and creepy red eyes. So? Does it ring any bells?¡±


    The skinny mercenary cupped his chin, narrowing his eyes in thought. ¡°Nope. So¡­ what did he do anyway?¡±


    The armored mercenary smirked, picking his nose. ¡°Rumor has it, if you team up with him, you better watch your back. Because if he has a holy potion, and you¡¯re dying, he won¡¯t even think twice to abandon you.¡±


    He patted the skinny mercenary¡¯s shoulder, wiping his fingers on the other''s skin. The skinny mercenary furrowed his brows, his eyes going wide.


    ¡°He has a holy potion?!¡±


    The leather armored mercenary smacked him in the back. ¡°Idiot! It was an example, a fucking example! You goddamn drug addict.¡±


    ¡°Hey man, you need to make it clear!¡± The skinny mercenary tried defending himself.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± the armored mercenary rolled his eyes. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s take on a mission. I need some quick cash.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡± The skinny mercenary frowned. ¡°Girls?¡±


    ¡°You got it,¡± the armored mercenary winked. This time, it was the skinny mercenary who rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Pei! Girls this, girls that. You¡¯re hopeless. Drugs is where it¡¯s at! I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    ¡°No thanks¡­¡±


    While they walked, the wooden entrance door swung open, flooding the lobby with hot, afternoon air. The mercenaries frowned, and even more so after they saw just who came inside.


    Meanwhile, the odd pair ignored the ruckus, opting to look at the mission board. There, dozens of mercenary hires were plastered on the wooden board, its difficulty varying.


    ¡°Hey, bro, look. It gives a thousand mitos,¡± the skinny mercenary said, pointing at a paper no longer nor wider than a hand.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The armored mercenary squinted, yanking the paper off the wall and bringing it close to his face. Only then could he read it.


    ¡°You''re right, the reward''s a thousand mitos. Let''s take it,¡± he said.


    After approaching the clerk, they submitted an application and signed their names and ranks. However, when the clerk saw their applications, her polite smile turned into a frown.


    The clerk looked at the armored mercenary. ¡°Augustin, magician, rank 1, correct?¡±


    The armored mercenary, Augustin, nodded.


    ¡°Hm¡­ Gerardo, er, brute?¡± The clerk scratched the side of her face, looking at the skinny mercenary''s body. ¡°Um, rank 1?¡±


    Gerardo, the skinny mercenary, nodded.


    ¡°...and you both wish to take on the mission, [Noble hunt, Viscountess Erri]?¡± She showed the mission paper to the two.


    Like before, they nodded.


    The clerk licked her lips for two seconds.


    ¡°...sirs, with all due respect¡­ you cannot accept this mission. This mission is for rank 5 and above only, noobs¡ªerm, beginners should stay clear from it,¡± she bowed slightly, refusing to accept their applications.


    ¡°Eh? But it pays a thousand mitos,¡± Gerardo said, not paying attention to Augustin, who was choking from his own spit.


    ¡°Rank 5?! Very sorry miss, but we''ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°I''ll join them.¡±


    Suddenly, a deep voice echoed behind them. Turning around, they saw a tall figure wearing a dark-brown cloak, its hood covering the person''s face.


    ¡°Oh, sir! My apologies, but I really can''t let you¡­¡± The clerk tried to refuse, when the cloaked figure placed a paper on the desk.


    It was the man''s application formed, and it was already filled up and signed.


    ¡°Ha¡­ swordsman¡­ wait, rank 6?¡± The clerk tilted her head. ¡°...alright, you may take this mission. Please be careful and succeed,¡± she smiled.


    On the other hand, Augustin was staring at the cloaked figure with bloodshot eyes.


    ¡°Hey, you good?¡± Gerardo nudged him from the side.


    ¡°Dude! That''s a rank 6 mercenary!¡± Augustin said, dragging Gerardo by the arm to follow the cloaked figure.


    ¡°Mister, mister! I mean, master!¡± Augustin cleared his throat. ¡°Can we follow you in the mission? We promise we won''t make any trouble!¡±


    The cloaked figure didn''t answer. He exited the building, followed by two ducklings by the name of Augustin and Gerardo.


    {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}


    ¡°Master, what''s the plan?¡± Augustin chirped, lying on the ground beside Gerardo and the rank 6 swordsman.


    Hearing this, Gerardo whispered into his ear. ¡°Why do you call him ¡®master¡¯?¡±


    Augustin whispered back, ¡°Because I know how to bootlick.¡±


    ¡°There,¡± suddenly, the rank 6 swordsman spoke up. ¡°Stay here,¡± he said.


    Augustin blinked, watching as the rank 6 swordsman stood up and ran. In his path, a carriage was rushing through in full force!


    ¡°What the¡­¡±


    Augustin shut his mouth.


    The rank 6 swordsman leapt, and then buried his sword on the roof as he landed atop it. A miserable wail sounded out, and the carriage door slammed open.


    The coachman, startled, tried to calm the horses, but the stallions rampaged away. At the same time, a woman dressed in a deep blue and white gown stumbled out, tripping and landing face first on the ground.


    ¡°Wow, she''s pretty,¡± Gerardo commented from the side.


    Augustin nodded, wetting his dry lips.


    Before anyone could react, the rank 6 swordsman hopped off the roof and swung his sword at the woman in a blue gown.


    However, his sword met another, and he crossed eyes with a gold-haired swordsman.


    ¡°Th-there you are! Quick, kill him!¡± The woman in the blue gown pointed at the cloaked swordsman.


    On the other hand, the other swordsman pushed with his sword, his hair swaying with the motion. The rank 6 swordsman stepped back, and then stepped in to cut the other swordsman''s arm!


    ¡°Urg!¡± The other swordsman stumbled back, holding his bleeding arm¡ªit was now a stump.


    The rank 6 swordsman ignored him, walking slowly toward the woman.


    The woman shrieked, crawling back as the rank 6 swordsman approached him. Then, the he raised his sword¡ª


    ¡°STOP!¡± The other swordsman yelled, attracting the rank 6 swordsman¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Let viscountess Erri go, or I''ll kill your man!¡± He yelled, pushing a dagger at Gerardo''s neck as he held him in a chokehold.


    The rank 6 swordsman looked at him, and then at the viscountess. Wordlessly, he swung his sword, cutting the viscountess¡¯ throat.


    ¡°Fuck! You bastard!¡± Enraged, the viscountess'' swordsman sliced Gerardo''s throat, before running away without turning back.


    ¡°Gera!¡± Augustin yelled, crawling toward Gerardo''s spasming body. His chest hurt, having been kicked by the viscountess'' swordsman when he took Gerardo hostage, but he gritted his teeth and endured.


    ¡°Sir! Can you¡­ carry him back? There''s a doctor back in the city!¡± Augustin pleaded, kowtowing to the rank 6 swordsman.


    The rank 6 swordsman stood still, carefully wiping off the blood from his sword. Then, as he sheathed his sword, he took off the hood of his cloak, revealing his blood red eyes, and his long, silky black hair.


    ¡°You''re¡­¡± Augustin¡¯s words got stuck in his throat.


    ¡°Let him die,¡± the rank 6 swordsman said, walking toward them.


    ¡°He sold his son and daughter to fuel his addiction. When his money ran out, he butchered his wife and sold her organs, and then kidnapped several women and sold their bodies in brothels. He''s better off dead,¡± he said, turning around and walking away.


    Augustin, pale faced and dumbfounded, shuddered in fury. Sure, he didn''t know any of those crimes his ¡°best brother* committed, but¡­


    ¡°Who do you think you are?! So he committed crimes, does it mean you can judge them yourself? Let the temple judge their sins!¡± He panted out, his heart beating as adrenaline pumped in his veins.


    The rank 6 swordsman paused his steps, glancing back.


    ¡°...the rules are run by both corrupt and just. Those sinful and those innocent can be deemed guilty all the same. Rather than let the temples pardon the criminal, I''d rather just kill them.¡±


    He turned around, his steps quiet as he walked away.


    ¡°As for who I am¡­¡±


    He scoffed.


    ¡°I am Zethir.¡±

 3: Should You Leave a Feather at a Funeral?

    With a bird''s cry, an eagle arrowed down, before clawing at the frightened lamb that was frozen in the middle of the street.


    The crowd gave startled yells, cursing at the eagle that was flying past the shabby houses.


    Amidst the raging crowd, a cloaked figure silently trudged through, his face hidden by his dark-brown cloak. Suddenly, the clouds moved, and the scorching sun blinded the streets.


    The crowd quieted down, finding shade to shield themselves. So when the cloaked figure kept on walking, as if he was unaffected, numerous eyes gathered on him.


    Undeterred, Zethir''s steps were steady as he trailed the path to the blacksmith shop. Thinking about it, he couldn''t help but pat the sword tied to his waist.


    It was an iron sword, a gift from his enemy. As to why his enemy would give him a sword? Of course, because they were already dead when he took his ¡°gift.¡±


    ¡®Good enemies are dead ones,¡¯ he shook his head at the thought.


    A few minutes went by in a flash, and he soon found himself standing in front of a blacksmith shop. The door was made of a special metal, though it looked like pure iron. According to the blacksmith inside¡­


    ¡°Those who can open the door can be my customer. Others, scram!¡±


    Sighing, placed both his palms on the door''s surface, and then dug his heels on the ground. Gritting his teeth, his muscles bulged as he pushed the door open with all his might.


    CREAAAAK~


    The iron door stood its ground, but alas, when ten minutes passed, Zethir pushed the door wide open. As soon as he did, a series of crisp claps welcomed his ears.


    ¡°Ten minutes, to the dot! One second less from yesterday, not too shabby,¡± a loud, gruff voice spoke up. ¡°Quick, close the door and we can talk business.¡±


    Moving his head, he saw a short man wearing a simple beige shirt and brown shorts standing before him, his arms crossed.


    Zethir gasped like a dog, his arms about to fall. But seeing the short man turning around and walking toward the table and chairs, he closed his eyes in resignation. Then, walking around the heavy door, he once more pushed using all his strength.


    This time, it took him fifteen minutes to close the door.


    ¡°Hm,¡± the short man rubbed his hairless chin. ¡°No improvements there, maybe it''s too much to ask. Anyway, little guy, what''s your business here?¡± The short man asked, tilting his head back to maintain eye contact with Zethir.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Zethir looked down, inwardly wondering how he was the ¡°little guy.¡±


    The short man was no taller than five feet, while he was six feet and six inches tall.


    ¡°Falco, I need my sword sharpened,¡± Zethir said, walking toward the table and sitting across from the short man, Falco.


    ¡°Again? I sharpened it just last week!¡± Falco slapped the table, watching with narrowed eyes as Zethir placed his iron sword on the desk like it was a porcelain vase.


    ¡°Did you break it?¡± Falco asked, his voice carrying a pointed knife.


    Zethir took a deep breath, closing his eyes.


    A few seconds later, he answered, ¡°No.¡±


    Falco¡¯s left eye twitched. ¡®...then why did you look like you were admitting a sin?!¡¯


    Coughing to clear his mind, Falco said, ¡°It''s dull already? Do you not maintain it? Or is your so-called special swordsmanship just a hot bundle o¡¯ scraps?¡±


    Zethir shook his head. ¡°I just want to sharpen it,¡± he said, shrugging.


    Falco opened his mouth, but in the end, he swallowed his words. ¡°Alright. You know how much it costs, right?¡±


    ¡°Ten thousand mitos,¡± Zethir nodded.


    Falco nodded back, hopping off the chair. After unsheathing and inspecting the sword¡­


    ¡°Hm? There''s not even chips ¡®n nicks in this bad boy. It''s perfectly sharp¡­ be honest, why are you here? Do you like wasting money?¡± Falco looked into Zethir''s ruby-red iris.


    Even after entering the room, Zethir hadn''t pulled down the hood of his cloak. Thanks to exercise from opening and closing the door, his sweat made the hood stick to his forehead and one of his eyes.


    Zethir¡¯s visible eye narrowed. ¡°I''m here to make sure my blade is sharp.¡±


    Falco sighed. ¡°Alright, fine. I''ll sharpen it. It won''t take long, so I''ll give you a¡­ ninety percent discount.¡±


    Hearing this, Zethir''s lips curled up. ¡°Sounds good,¡± he tapped his fingers on the table.


    Meanwhile, outside the metal door, Augustin was standing in place with a baffled look. The metal door was engraved with the words ¡°push,¡± so he did.


    ¡°UUUURGH?!¡±


    But even after several minutes, the metal door didn''t budge. Not even a millimeter!


    ¡°What the fuck is up with this door?!¡± Augustin gasped. ¡°That rank 6 guy could open it, is there a secret method?¡±


    Thus, he looked around the door for half an hour, finding nothing but a single ant walking on the wall.


    Frustrated, he squashed the ant and resorted to banging on the door. Even then, no one answered.


    ¡°Tsk,¡± hands tucked in his pocket, he kicked the door a final time before walking away, rain clouds hanging above his head.


    After following Zethir for the entire morning, he had nothing to show!


    Meanwhile¡­


    ¡°So, are you satisfied?¡± Falco pushed the iron sword into Zethir''s hands.


    Looking at the sharp edge, which seemed to shine, Zethir nodded in satisfaction.


    ¡°More than,¡± he said.


    Falco covered his mouth, rubbing his jaw to hide his smile. Then, seeing Zethir rubbing the sword''s surface, he licked his lips for a while before asking.


    ¡°Are you going to leave?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Zethir sheathed his sword, before tying it to his waist.


    ¡°... you''re a mercenary, right?¡± Falco smacked his lips, words jumbled up in his mouth.


    Zethir blinked at him, adjusting the hood of his cloak to properly show his face. ¡°Falco, do you need a mercenary?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Falco scratched his head, turning his head to the side.


    Zethir squinted, seeing a faint red appear on the short man''s ears. Falco was not young, he was in his 40s, but he looked like he just entered his 30s. His face had very little wrinkles, if any.


    But still, Zethir felt like cringing when he saw the bashful blush.


    ¡°Damn it! I know my rank is 11, but can you help me out here?¡± Falco slapped his muscular thighs. ¡°I need some fighters, but I need someone I can trust. Though you just entered rank 6¡­ I know I can trust you. And you''re good at killing,¡± he said.


    ¡°Alright. Don''t worry, I won''t charge you¡ª¡±


    Before Zethir could finish, Falco erupted into laughter. ¡°Bullshit! I''ll pay you twenty thousand mitos in advance. After you complete the mission, I''ll pay you another hundred thousand. Sounds good, right?¡± He tutted.


    Zethir paused, licking the back of his teeth at the offer. He was rich¡ªhis money coming from robbing his enemies and dead allies. But one hundred and twenty thousand mitos¡­


    One could live doing nothing for half a year with that much money!


    ¡°What''s the mission?¡± Zethir¡¯s face turned solemn, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.


    ¡°It''s simple,¡± Falco cleared his throat, before walking toward a drawer, opening it. Then, he pulled out a piece of paper, and then a long, brown and black feather.


    ¡°I want a bloodbath, and you''ll leave this feather in the eye of the strongest person you kill,¡± Falco said, giving Zethir the feather first before the paper.

 4: Im a Mage, Not a Warrior, a Monkey, or a Mouse!

    After leaving the blacksmith shop, Zethir found himself standing at the Mercenary Building¡¯s Lobby in the middle of the night. Although the building was open 24/7, at this time, he only saw two mercenaries lounging the night away.


    As for the staff, there were only two ladies gossiping behind the counter.


    Unfazed, Zethir walked toward the mission board, his gaze scanning all the available tasks.


    ¡®There¡¯s no good ones,¡¯ he thought. The board was full of escort or gathering missions, all of which were not his forte.


    He was a swordsman, and killing was all he knew.


    ¡®Better wait for others,¡¯ he shook his head, scanning the lobby and finding an empty seat at the corner. After taking a seat, he bowed his head, closing his eyes.


    Then and there, his consciousness blurred, his mind in the middle of asleep and awake.


    BANG!


    Suddenly, the door slammer opened, prompting him to open his eyes. Tilting his head up, he looked at the wide-open door, and the man standing before it.


    ¡®It¡¯s him,¡¯ Zethir narrowed his eyes, watching Agustin in silence. ¡®Does he want revenge that bad? ¡­whatever. When the time comes, I''ll kill him too.¡¯


    With that in mind, Zethir lowered his head, closing his eyes again.


    ¡°Hey, rank 6!¡± Augustin yelled, pointing at Zethir. However, the latter didn''t raise his head.


    ¡°I know you''re awake! You just looked at me!¡± he huffed.


    Zethir''s fingers twitched, and a vein in his forehead bulged. Exhaling to calm himself, he opened his eyes and raised his head, looking at Augustin.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± He spat, his voice deep like a drum.


    Augustin gulped, while a girl whistled from the side. Both of them ignored the whistle.


    ¡°Since you killed my teammate, you have to take responsibility and accept me,¡± Augustin, with a proud smile, patted his chest. It was like his ¡°teammate¡± that was killed by Zethir yesterday wasn''t his ¡°best brother.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Zethir hummed, lowering his head and pulling the hood of his cloak to cover his whole face. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Hell yeah!¡± Augustin cheered, grinning with all his teeth.


    Siting next to Zethir, he chirped. ¡°Sooo, mister leader. What''s your name? I definitely didn''t forget,¡± he did.


    But Zethir didn''t reply¡ªhe had entered his half-asleep state.


    ¡°Hey?¡± Augustin tilted his head, trying to look under the hood of Zethir''s cloak.


    However, realizing that if he did, he''d be in an awkward position, he changed his mind. This time, he poked Zethir''s arm.


    ¡°Hey?¡±


    No response. Brows furrowed, he moved his finger, poking Zethir''s thigh.


    ¡°Heh,¡± smirking, he moved his hand, pointing his finger at Zethir''s stomach.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Zethir''s voice startled Augustin, who tried to take his hand back. But Zethir was gripping his wrist, staring right into Augustin''s blue eyes.


    ¡°Since you want to follow me so much, then come, let''s go.¡±


    Faced with Zethir''s ruby-red eyes, Augustin gulped. Opening his mouth¡­


    ¡°So slow,¡± Zethir scowled, tugging on Augustin''s wrist and dragging him out of the Mercenary Union building.


    Then, under the bewildered gaze of Augustin, Zethir took him deep into the forest.


    {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}


    In a tent sitting at a mountain foot¡­


    BANG!


    ¡°Where are our reinforcements?!¡±


    Slamming his fist into the metallic desk, a middle-aged man wearing bloodied iron armor roared like thunder. Around him, a dozen young soldiers gathered, wearing bloodied armors just like him.


    ¡°Sir, I''m afraid they''ve run into an ambush,¡± one of the soldiers said, his voice light like the squeak of a mouse.


    ¡°Do you think I don''t know that?!¡± The middle-aged man yelled, turning to face the soldier who spoke up, his face as unsightly as a demon''s.


    The soldier obediently shrunk his neck, though inwardly, he was cursing. ¡®Then why did you ask us?!¡¯


    The middle-aged man cleared his throat. ¡°Come on, it''s not suitable to stay here. Let''s depart and head into the nearest city¡­ But wash up first, or the city might not let us in¡­¡±


    {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}


    ¡°Are you a mage, or are you a warrior?!¡± Zethir yelled, holding a long, thin, and flexible tree branch. Raising his hand, he used the branch as a whip against Augustin''s back!


    ¡°ARGH?! Fuck¡ª¡±


    Zethir whipped him again, hitting the same exact spot.


    ¡°EEK?! Shit¡ª¡±


    The branch struck thrice, hitting the same spot yet again, turning it scarlet.


    ¡°URGH!!! Fffuu¡ªhaaa! Hoo! Ha!¡±


    Zethir''s lips twitched. ¡°So you''re neither. You''re a monkey!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Augustin yelped, his back arched in pain. ¡°I''m a mage, da¡ª... I swear!¡±


    ¡°You swear?¡± Zethir narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°Yes¡ªNo! I mean, I''m certain,¡± Augustin rubbed his shoulders, while trying to look at his back. If he could see it, he''d cry.


    His once unblemished skin, milky like a lady''s, was now soiled by a scarlet, whip line.


    ¡°Hm,¡± Zethir moved his gaze to the wooden log in front of Augustin''s feet. ¡°If you''re a mage, then why can''t you lift that tiny thing?¡± He asked, pointing at the log.


    ¡®...I''m a mage, not a warrior! Why should I lift heavy weights?!¡¯ Augustin threw a tantrum, inside his mind of course.


    ¡°I''m out of practice,¡± he said after half a minute of contemplation.


    Zethir shrugged. ¡°Well, now''s the time to get in shape,¡± he swung his ¡°whip,¡± creating a crisp sound, followed by the sound of wood tearing apart.


    Augustin looked at the nearby tree, where a cut appeared on its surface like someone hacked it with an axe.


    ¡°Sure, but can I¡­¡± he mumbled, making Zethir furrow his brow.


    ¡°Are you a monkey-mouse hybrid? Speak loudly!¡± He crossed his arms, his foot tapping the ground.


    ¡°Can I start with something smaller?¡± Augustin looked at Zethir''s lips, not daring to look at the other''s eyes.


    Zethir chuckled. ¡°I don''t know, can you?¡±


    Augustin beamed, nodding like a woodpecker. ¡°Yes! Yes, I can!¡±


    ¡°No, you can''t,¡± Zethir scowled.


    ¡°Why can''t I?¡± Augustin frowned, scratching his head.


    ¡°Because I''m carrying this,¡± Zethir pointed at his back with his thumb.


    Augustin peeked behind Zethir, before shaking his head with a sigh.


    ¡°Fine¡­¡± After giving up, he crouched, placing his hands on both sides of the log.


    ¡®Damn it, I''m a mage¡­! but at least, I don''t have to carry iron¡­¡¯ He smiled, comforting himself at the thought.


    As for what Zethir was carrying, it was a thick pillar of iron. It was wider than his body, longer than his torso and head, and three times as thick as his body.

 5: Scamming a Pushover

    The moon hung above a white mansion, the rain pouring down relentlessly. Inside a bedroom, a man wearing a white and red uniform raised his voice, his face scrunched up like a crumpled paper.


    ¡°Useless bastard!¡± He grabed a mug from atop the bedside table, throwing it to the wall near the windows. The glass shattered, and thunder wailed anger amidst the dark clouds.


    ¡°If he can''t even use a sword, then he can leave and never return!¡±


    Zethir opened his eyes in a daze, his ears ringing from the gut-wrenching words. His eyes cought the sight of his knees, with his arms wrapped around them as he sat on the corner. At the same time, his nose felt stuffy and he could hear himself sniffling quietly.


    ¡°Fernando! How could you say that to our child?!¡± A woman screamed, her concern nearly turning him deaf. ¡°Arthur is your child first, your damned heir second! Why must you be cruel?!¡±


    Zethir tried furrowing his brows, but he only felt himself burying his face into his knees, tears rolling down his eyes.


    ¡®Arthur?¡¯


    ¡°Arthur is no child of mine if he''s no stronger than a beggar!¡± The man in the white and red uniform argued back, sending a glare at ¡°Zethir.¡±


    ¡°Fernando!¡± The woman gasped out, unable to believe her husband''s words.


    ¡®I¡¯m dreaming again,¡¯ Zethir thought, watching his body moving on its own, walking toward the arguing couple.


    ¡°Mom, dad, don''t argue, please¡­ I¡¯ll, I''ll do better, I promise,¡± a meek, almost feminine voice came out of ¡°Zethir''s¡± mouth, his fair hands clinging to the woman''s blue dress.


    Surprised, Zethir tried touching his throat, even though he knew he couldn''t control ¡°his¡± body at the moment. Yet, just as he was thinking about it, a palm suddenly appeared centimeters away from his face.


    ¡°Fernando!¡± The woman shrieked, her hand gripping Fernando''s wrist tightly.


    ¡°Vivian, let go of me!¡± Fernando yelled at his wife.


    ¡°Get out, don''t come back until you''ve cleared your mind!¡± Vivian threw Fernando''s hand away, her teeth and fists clenched tightly.


    ¡°Mom¡­¡± Arthur tugged at his mother''s dress, while Zethir saw Arthur''s vision turning blurry.


    ¡°Arthur, oh, my child,¡± Vivian''s soft voice soothed his ears, her hand caressing Arthur''s head.


    ¡®What does she do?¡¯ However, Zethir distinctly felt Vivian''s calloused fingers when they grazed his forehead. ¡®Is she a swordsman?¡¯


    ¡°Please don''t kick daddy out?¡± Arthur whispered to his mother, his voice so gentle that it sent shivers down Zethir''s spine.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ¡°Arthur, your father needs to cool his head first. I won''t let you be bullied by your own father,¡± she said, smiling at her son.


    Meanwhile, Fernando snorted from the side, making Arthur shift his gaze. But the , Arthur''s eyes widened when he saw his father standing before Vivian, holding an axe above her neck.


    ¡°MOM!¡±


    Zethir''s body jolted up, his eyes bloodshot and opened wide like plates. He gasped, catching his breath as he looked around.


    ¡°Urgh,¡± Augustin stirred from the side, curled beside a tree with a blanket beneath and over his body. Above him, a bird lowered its bottom, about to take a dump when it caught Zethirs glare.


    ¡°CHIRP?!¡± The bird fled in a hurry, feeling constipated.


    ¡°Tsk,¡± Zethir looked back at the exhausted mage, before standing up. After tidying up his hair and clothes, he picked up his sword and disappeared into the forest.


    When he came back with three gutted hares in tow, Augustin was already awake, drooling as they roasted the meat.


    {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}


    At the city gates, the guard spat his morning coffee after seeing a group of armored soldiers marching toward him. Coughing while scrambling to get his spear, he raised his voice and yelled.


    ¡°Halt! Who comes here?!¡±


    The one at the forefront, a middle-aged man with his helmet taken off and tied around his waist, showed a scowl.


    ¡°We''re the king''s men! Lower your weapon and let us through,¡± he shouted, his march unabated. Behind, the twelve young soldiers exchanged doubtful looks.


    The city guard frowned, his face twisting in anger. ¡°I said halt! Drop your weapons and¡­¡±


    ¡°Oi, Yukelin, what¡¯re you yelling for so early in the morning?¡± Another guard came out of the tower, rubbing his dazed eyes. Unlike Yukelin, the guard with a spear whose body was packed with powerful muscles, the sleepy guard''s frame was lean at best.


    ¡°Tremodor, prepare your spells. These guys may be enemies¡­ but they claim to be the royal''s troops. But just in case¡ª¡±


    Tremodor, a mage, snapped his eyes open. ¡°What? The royals are here?!¡± He looked around, his eyes trembling as they landed on the middle-aged man.


    ¡°Ah, shit. Yukelin, you should get your eyes checked next time,¡± Tremodor cursed, stumbling toward the advancing soldiers.


    ¡°Ah? Why?¡± Yukelin, jerked back in surprise, reluctantly chasing after the mage.


    ¡°Can''t you see his deep-orange eyes? That''s the mark of royal blood!¡± Tremodor glanced back to glare at him.


    Meanwhile, the soldiers stopped after seeing the guards rushing toward them.


    Tremodor plastered a smile on his face and bowed as soon as he got in front of the middle-aged man.


    ¡°Welcome, welcome, sirs. Very sorry for earlier''s rudeness, we hope you understand,¡± he said.


    The middle-aged man waved his hand, his gaze locked onto Yukelin. Yukelin, not one to be intimidated, stared back and saw the middle-aged man letting out a smile.


    ¡°Not bad, kid. The kingdom needs soldiers like you, alert and doing their jobs properly. It''s better to be suspicious of allies than to let enemies pass through,¡± he said, patting Yukelin¡¯s shoulder.


    Then, before Yukelin could say anything, the group of soldiers marched past them, entering the city.


    Tremodor scratched his head. ¡°So¡­ wanna go have a cup of coffee?¡±


    Yukelin sighed, his shoulders drooping down. ¡°I''m not in the mood¡­ the grass drank my coffee.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    While Tremodor was wondering if Yukelin lost his mind, the middle-aged man and his soldiers entered the mercenary union building. Standing in front of the counter, he passed a piece of paper to the clerk.


    The clerk read the application, before giving it back to the middle-aged man.


    ¡°My sir, this hire will cost you, at minimum, fifty thousand mitos,¡± she said, smiling politely.


    The middle-aged man frowned. ¡°Fifty thousand? And what kind of mercenaries will that get me?¡±


    ¡°Green mercenaries, sir. Ranks one to five,¡± the clerk briefly closed her eyes, nodding her head lightly.


    ¡°No, that won''t do. Raise the price, I need elite mercenaries,¡± the middle-aged man shook his head, tapping his fingers on the desk.


    The clerk nodded. ¡°Then the reward should be at least fifty thousand, per elite mercenary.¡±


    The middle-aged man scoffed. ¡°I''m not new to this, don''t scam me,¡± he narrowed his eyes as a warning.


    The clerk sighed, bowing before speaking with a distressed tone. ¡°My apologies, sir. But hiring mercenaries to fight in wars will cost significantly more than normal.¡±


    BAM!


    The middle-aged man slammed his fist on the desk, gritting his teeth while glaring at the clerk. The clerk calmly stared back, a polite smile painted on her face.


    ¡°Tsk, fine. I need at least three elites, and however many cannon fodders fifty thousand can get me.¡±


    The clerk smiled. ¡°Sir, they are called green mercenaries, but if you insist. Fifty thousand will get you a maximum of fifty noob¡ª err, fresh, green mercenaries,¡± she said, taking the paper from the middle-aged man and stamping it.


    With a scowl, the middle-aged man received the paper again, signing his name and title, before giving it back to the clerk. The clerk squinted, reading his name.


    ¡°Sir Fernando Solien Yve. Is this correct?¡±


    The middle-aged man, Fernando, nodded. ¡°If there''s nothing else, we''ll get going.¡±


    The clerk bowed. ¡°It''s a pleasure doing business with you.¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± Fernando turned around, leaving after slamming the door behind him. The soldiers scratched their heads, awkwardly opening the door to leave.


    Rolling her eyes, the clerk hopped joyfully to her friends.


    ¡°Hey, I got news! I just scammed another pushover¡­¡±

 6: Its Over...

    The sun was rising when Zethir and Augustin reached the city. Behind Zethir, Augustin kept on yawning, his eyes darting around the streets as he noticed the people staring at the two of them.


    ¡°Hey, why do you think they''re staring at us?¡± Augustin asked.


    Zethir refused to answer.


    However, if Augustin could see his back, he''d realize why. After sleeping on the forest, soil stuck to the back of his shirt, and Zethir didn''t bother to tell him.


    ¡°Haa¡­ man, I want some barbecue¡­ Hey, wanna get barbecue?¡± He whistled a carefree tune.


    ¡°We''re here,¡± Zethir said, causing Augustin to stop and look ahead.


    ¡°Oh, are we going to take a mercenary hire? Don''t worry, I''m very competent, and I¡­¡±


    ¡°You better be,¡± Zethir cut him off, opening the door to the mercenary union building. Unexpectedly, the two weren''t met with glares like usual.


    ¡°What''s going on?¡± Augustin looked around, seeing the mercenaries gathered in front of the mission board.


    Zethir narrowed his eyes. ¡°Come,¡± he said, walking toward the mission board.


    Although he couldn''t get a better look at the missions, thanks to his height, he was able to tower most of the mercenaries.


    ¡°An army hire?¡± Zethir muttered. The board was almost full of the same task, titled [Royal Hire, Help the Army].¡°


    Snorting, he was about to leave when he saw Augustin squeezing into the crowd and plucking one of the mission papers.


    Zethir frowned. ¡°Put it back,¡± he said.


    ¡°Wait, come on! Look, it pays thirty thousand mitos! We''re gonna be rich!¡± Augustin beamed, his hands trembling like he was holding gold, not paper.


    Zethir furrowed his brows. ¡°What kind of pushover set up this hire?¡± He mumbled, snatching the paper from Augustin and reading it.


    His face was impassive, though his eyes containeda bit of desire. After all, thirty thousand for one mission was only appears once in a blue moon¡­ until he reached the name of the employer.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Fernando Solien Yve¡­ is it a coincidence?¡± He squinted, turning around and walking toward the counter.


    Augustin nearly jumped at the sight. ¡°Oh, hey! Are we going to take it! Nice!¡± He grinned, oblivious to the countless glares behind him.


    The army hire was attractive, attracting many flies, but most of the flies were cowards. They dared to look, but not to take on the challenge!


    As the two of them reached the counter, Zethir gave the paper to the clerk.


    ¡°We¡¯ll take it,¡± he said.


    The clerk glanced at him, and then at Augustin. ¡°What are your ranks, sirs?¡± She asked, her smile as polite as usual.


    ¡°We are rank 6,¡± Zethir said, his eyes slightly glowing under the hood of his cloak.


    Augustin flinched, opening his mouth to refute when Zethir stepped on his foot.


    The clerk nodded. ¡°Alright, sirs. This hire is pretty good, don''t you think? Thirty thousand just for one elite! My gosh, rich people, I''m telling you¡± she sighed, shamelessly selling out Fernando from earlier.


    Zethir remained silent. Then, as the clerk stamped two application forms, he grabbed the papers and dragged Augustin to the side.


    Augustin whispered, ¡°Hey, I''m not rank 6, why did you say that?!¡±


    Zethir tutted, ¡°Just shut up and act like one,¡± he said, filling out both of their applications. Then, after forcing Augustin to sign above his name, he gave the application to the clerk.


    The clerk scanned the application, her gaze lingering on Augustin''s form.


    ¡°My, my,¡± she chuckled, looking at Augustin, who was tense. ¡°I didn''t know sir Augustin was such a genius! Going from rank 1 to rank 6 in a matter of days¡­¡±


    ¡°Ahem,¡± Zethir coughed, staring at the clerk.


    The clerk licked her lips, her eyes curved. ¡°Impressive, am I right?¡± She looked at Zethir, and then at Augustin. ¡°Well, handsome. My name is Amanda, care for a drink once in a while?¡±


    ¡°O-oh? Y-Ye¡ª¡±


    ¡°He''s busy,¡± Zethir patted Augustin''s shoulder.


    ¡°Such a shame,¡± she shook her head, taking their applications. ¡°Have a safe journey, sir elite mercenary,¡± she turned looked at Augustin, her smile stiff and her eyes full of amusement. ¡°And you.¡±


    After leaving of the building, Augustin was still in a daze. If not for Zethir dragging him around, he would''ve stood frozen in place.


    ¡°What''s up with you?¡± Zethir looked at Augustin, tempted to smack him in the back with his sword.


    ¡°... it''s over,¡± Augustin muttered, eyes dispirited.


    ¡°What''s over?¡± Zethir frowned. ¡®Is he being chased by a bounty hunter? No way, when I sought information about him and his partner, this guy is cleaner than soap.¡¯


    Augustin sighed. ¡°My love life is over.¡±


    ¡°...¡± Zethir gritted his teeth, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. ¡°Do you want your life to be over too?!¡±


    ¡°No, no way! Ahem, let''s go,¡± Augustin cleared his throat, walking ahead of the fuming Zethir.


    ¡°Go where?¡± Zethir scoffed.


    ¡°I thought we accepted a mission?¡± Augustin looked back at Zethir, confused.


    ¡°Yes, and?¡± Zethir crossed his arms. ¡°Do you know when and where the mission takes place?¡±


    ¡°...¡± Augustin swallowed his words.


    ¡°Just like I thought,¡± Zethir shook his head. ¡°Instead of having a head full of junk, start thinking about being useful. The mission will start tomorrow, and we''re to gather at the city gates. Now, let''s go,¡± Zethir said, walking ahead of Augustin.


    Augustin scratched his head. ¡°Go where? I thought the mission was tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Where else?¡± Zethir looked back. ¡°Obviously, to the forest. Let''s train.¡±


    ¡°... fuck me.¡±


    ¡°No. Maybe ask someone else.¡±


    ¡°... that''s not what I¡­ whatever,¡± Augustin groaned.


    {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}


    ¡°Sir, you received a letter,¡± a soldier approached Fernando, handing him an envelope.


    ¡°A letter?¡± Fernando took the envelope, tearing it open and taking the letter inside.


    Reading it, Fernando frowned, before crumpling the letter and tossing it on the ground. ¡°Pfft, as if they do. Throw it away,¡± he said.


    The soldier tilted his head, picking up the paper. ¡°Alright, sir. Have a good day,¡± the soldier said, leaving the room they were renting.


    Outside, the soldier hid behind a wall, straightening up the paper and reading it for himself.


    ¡°Dear Father¡­¡±


    The soldier¡¯s head jerked back in surprise, reading the first line. ¡°...eh? That guy has a son? Someone like him??¡±


    Baffled, he continued.


    ¡°...I heard you joined the war. I wish you a safe journey, and please come back soon. Mom and I miss you already¡­


    ¡ª Arthur¡±

 7: The Crown Prince, the Emperor, King of All Gods!

    The next day.


    Zethir and Augustin arrived early at the city gates, with Augustin still half inside his dreams. As for Zethir, he was wiping his sword clean, having just maintained its sharpness.


    They''ve been waiting for an hour already, and soon enough, another group of mercenaries arrived.


    They were a group of six, all of which used a sword and a bow.


    ¡®Green mercenaries,¡¯ Zethir secretly peeked at the group, before shifting his focus back to his sword.


    Seeing Zethir and Augustin, the leader of the mercenary group¡ªa tall man with blonde hair¡ªapproached.


    ¡°Are you part of the mission?¡± He asked, a polite smile on his somewhat handsome face.


    Unfortunately, his politeness was wasted on Zethir.


    Seeing the latter refusing to speak, the mercenary frowned. ¡°Heh, suit yourself,¡± he snorted, returning to his group.


    Seeing this, Augustin opened his half-closed eyes. ¡°Why did you do that? Don''t you know it''s rude?¡±


    Zethir scoffed. ¡°He''s not worth my time.¡±


    Augustin¡¯s eyes twitched, before a smile appeared on bis face. ¡°So I''m worth your time? Wow!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Zethir said, flatly, scrutinizing his sword and making sure that it was spotless.


    Augustin deflated to the ground. ¡°So cruel¡­¡±


    At this time, another group of mercenaries arrived. This time, there were a dozen of them.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The leader was wearing an iron armor for his torso, and his green eyes glowed ever so slightly in the dim, early morning. Behind him, the other eleven mercenaries likewise wore chest pieces.


    Seeing the two teams of mercenaries in the gathering spot, the green-eyed mercenary smiled and approached Zethir, not even looking at the group of six.


    ¡°Hello,¡± he said, ¡°I''m Marco, an elite mercenary. May I get your name?¡±


    Zethir looked at him, his red eyes dimly glowing under the hood of his cloak. Then, he looked back down at his sword, in the process of sheathing it.


    ¡°Zethir, swordsman.¡±


    The green-eyed mercenary clapped his hands lightly. ¡°Ah, what a nice name! Mr. Zethir, I am a mage specializing in arcane¡­ and you might be?¡±


    Marco glanced at Augustin, his eyes losing its glow. Augustin smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°Augustin, sir! I''m a mage too, practicing the arcane!¡±


    ¡°That''s wonderful,¡± Marco nodded, looking back at Zethir. ¡°You have an adorable companion. Well, we''ll be on our way, let''s hope our employer arrives on time.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± Zethir nodded.


    As Marco and his team left, Augustin breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Hoo~ Man! That was nerve-wracking¡­ so, why was he worth your time?¡±


    Zethir scoffed. ¡°He wasn''t.¡±


    ¡°...¡± Augustin wanted to slap himself. ¡°...then why did you speak with him?¡±


    ¡°It was all pleasantries,¡± Zethir scoffed.


    Augustin blinked rapidly, but just as he was about to open his mouth, the clanking of iron armor could be heard approaching.


    All the mercenaries turned their heads, watching as Fernando and his troops walked toward them.


    ¡°Is this all of you?¡± Fernando frowned.


    ¡°No, sir. I believe there''s another group,¡± Marco politely said, gathering Fernando''s gaze. Then, Fernando''s deep-orange eyes started to glow, while Marco simply smiled at him.


    ¡°Hm, you''re an elite,¡± Fernando nodded. ¡°Very well, we shall wait for the other team. But first, you!¡± He pointed at the group of six.


    ¡°State your rank!¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, sir!¡± The six mercenaries shot up, straight like arrows.


    ¡°Rank 5, sir,¡± the leader, the one with blonde hair, spoke up. ¡°The rest are rank 4s, sir!¡±


    ¡°Tsk, meat shields,¡± Fernando muttered, turning toward Zethir.


    ¡°Hm, another elite?¡± He asked, his eyes emitting a glow. Zethir looked at him, before frowning.


    ¡°I see,¡± Fernando nodded, turning to look at Augustin. ¡°And you?!¡±


    Augustin nearly melted on the spot. ¡°H-his companion, sir!¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± Fernando tutted, before sweeping a gaze over all of them.


    ¡°Twenty, with only two elites. The last team should have another elite,¡± Fernando said, crossing his arms. Just as he did, a whistle came from behind.


    ¡°Yo, yo~ Am I late?¡± There, a mercenary clad in full iron armor leisurely walked toward them, a solid, iron spear resting on his shoulder. He had long, golden hair tied to a ponytail, and his eyes were a sapphire blue.


    ¡°Sorry ¡®bout that. The name''s Lance, a spearman. So, shall we get going now?¡± He said in a sing-song voice.


    Fernando¡¯s face darkened, his eyes glowing but Lance just whistled at his actions. ¡°You''re alone?¡± He asked.


    Lance flinched, looking behind him. ¡°Strange, I''m pretty sure there''s no one behind me.¡±


    Fernando''s hands tightened at his biceps, before he uncrossed his arms. ¡°Noble! Since you came here, you are now a mercenary! Drop your arrogance before I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Haaa, royals and their mighty temper,¡± Lance shook his head. ¡°Worry not, mister O¡¯ your majesty, his highness the¡­ the crown prince, the emperor! King o¡¯ all gods! I will not disobey your orders, my liege, so long as you give me money.¡±


    The area fell silent, making Lance blink his gem-like eyes, looking around. ¡°Hey? What happened?¡±


    ¡°Heh,¡± Zethir smirked, whispering to Augustin. ¡°I like this guy.¡±

 8: Why Does a Stingy Person Spend Money?

    The sky was cloudy, and the wind was cold. The soil beneath their feet felt damp as they traveled the mountain foot like a line of ants. Fernando and the soldiers were at the front of the formation, while the six green mercenaries were right behind them, their heads bowed like servants.


    Behind them were Marco and his group, and finally, Zethir, Augustin, and Lance were at the very back.


    ¡°So~ What''s your name?¡± Lance asked with his chin raised high, grinning at Zethir.


    ¡°Zethir,¡± Zethir answered, his gaze never leaving the ground.


    Lance shrugged, brushing his hair back with both of his hands. ¡°Whatcha doin¡¯ here?¡±


    ¡°Mission,¡± Zethir glanced at him, his eyes containing a slight ridicule.


    Lance scoffed, yawning. ¡°Money, ya mean.¡±


    ¡°Not quite,¡± Zethir shook his head, turning his gaze back to the ground.


    Augustin looked between the two of them, bewildered. He opened his mouth, wanting to butt in, but couldn''t bring himself to.


    ¡°HALT!!¡±


    Suddenly, a loud voice boomed from the front, and the entire group froze at once. Augustin stood on his toes, trying to see what happened when Lance whistled from the side.


    ¡°Looks like mr. royal guy is in trouble~¡± He said, grabbing the spear behind his hand and spinning it around.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Augustin looked at Lance.


    Lance pointed at the front. ¡°Look, his mistress came to see him, with many other mistresses beside her. Isn''t this what you call¡­ household drama?¡±


    ¡°...forget I asked,¡± Augustin wanted to roll his eyes.


    Zethir raised his head, looking at the front and seeing a soldier talking to Marco. Not long after, the same soldier came toward them.


    ¡°Sir Zethir, sir Lance,¡± the soldier bowed. ¡°We are to take a brief rest.¡±


    Zethir nodded, while Augustin and Lance looked around.


    ¡°In here?¡± Augustin mumbled, but the soldier heard him and nodded.


    ¡°We received a message that the enemy might have set up an ambush. We are waiting for reinforcements¡­¡±


    ¡°Reinforcements? Who, rabbits?¡± Lance grinned, turning around and approaching a tree. ¡°Don''t mind me~¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The soldier''s eye twitched, when Zethir spoke up. ¡°How long will he stay here for?¡±


    ¡°Only a few hours, sir,¡± the soldier looked at Zethir, being careful not to look at Zethir''s eyes.


    Zethir hummed. ¡°Alright, go back.¡±


    The soldier saluted, before running back to the front. As soon as he left, Augustin grumbled.


    ¡°We''re out in the open, couldn''t we have found a better place?¡± He said, looking around.


    Although there were some trees around, they weren''t too abundant. Considering that it might rain soon, the sparse trees couldn''t shield them well.


    ¡°What are you, a girl?¡± Zethir glanced at him. ¡°Besides, we won''t be idle for long. There will definitely be a fight,¡± he said.


    Augustin''s face turned serious. ¡°Does it have to do with those¡­ mistresses?¡±


    Zethir chuckled, though his eyes looked at Augustin as if the latter was a piece of wood. ¡°Can you see Fernando from over here?¡±


    Augustin shook his head.


    ¡°Then how can Lance see him from here? He was making things up,¡± he said, crossing his arms.


    Augustin''s brows furrowed. ¡°But¡­ Lance is an elite mercenary, don''t you guys have special abilities? Your eyes glow.¡±


    Zethir raised an eyebrow. ¡°That''s due to energy fluctuations. It doesn''t have anything to do with better eyesight¡­ if anything, it grants us a bit of night vision.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ wait, it doesn''t improve your eyes?¡± Augustin couldn''t help but touch his eyes. ¡°If enough energy is going into your eyes and making it glow, how come it doesn''t improve it?¡±


    Zethir frowned. ¡°I don''t know, am I a mage? You''re the mage here.¡±


    Augustin scratched his head. ¡°I''m only rank 1.¡±


    ¡°Tsk,¡± Zethir sighed. ¡°Energy can be used in two ways: externally or internally. For mages, sorcerers, and the like, you use energy outside of your bodies. For us swordsmen, we use energy internally.¡±


    Zethir raised his hand, channeling his energy toward his hand. The veins under his skin started glowing dimly, making his hand look as though it was burning magma.


    ¡°Look,¡± Zethir motioned for Augustin to come closer. In fact, he didn''t have to¡ªAugustin was already in front of him.


    ¡°Because of how we use our energy, it doesn''t harm me when my energy flows through my veins. At most, it manifests like this. But for you,¡± Zethir stopped channeling his energy, making his hand return to normal.


    Looking at Augustin, Zethir continued. ¡°Because your body hadn''t adapted to energy, if you did what I did, your hand would burn and fall off.¡±


    Augustin shivered. ¡°But, I read in some books that some mages can use energy to enhance their bodies. That''s why I thought it would improve your eyes¡­¡±


    Zethir sighed. ¡°I said your body isn''t used to energy yet, I didn''t say your body can''t get used to energy. Otherwise, how could I flow energy through my veins?¡±


    Augustin blinked dumbly. ¡°Oh¡­ Then how can I¡­¡±


    ¡°It''s easy,¡± Zethir patted Augustin''s shoulder. ¡°Just train more.¡±


    ¡°...¡± Augustin closed his eyes, thinking, ¡®I¡¯m sorry, but my body can''t take it!¡¯


    After an hour, the clouds in the sky started to darken, and the leaders from the mercenary groups were called by Fernando.


    Gathered in a circle, sitting on tree stumps, Fernando, Marco, Zethir, and Lance sat across each other. As for the leader of the six green mercenaries¡­ no one remembered them.


    ¡°We have confirmation, the enemy has an ambush ahead,¡± Fernando looked at Lance.


    ¡°What?¡± Lance raised an eyebrow, his legs and arms crossed.


    Fernando scowled. ¡°The nobles have a hundred soldiers surrounding us, blocking our way to fortress Arho.¡±


    Marco raised a hand, before his strangely melodious voice echoed out. ¡°Excuse me, but I thought we were heading to the capital?¡±


    Fernando shook his head. ¡°We changed our plans.¡±


    ¡°...¡± Marco smiled, lowering his hand.


    ¡°What are we doing in a fortress?¡± Zethir asked, his voice cold and curt.


    Fernando''s brows knitted, ¡°Our job¡ªyour job is to help us guard the fortress until the royal army arrives. Until then, we must ward off all the nobles.¡±


    ¡°But it sounds to me that the nobles have taken over the fortress, right~?¡± Lance chuckled, making Fernando grit his teeth.


    ¡°In any case, we must reclaim fortress Arho! Before rainfall, we will intercept the nobles¡¯ ambush and charge straight toward fortress Arho.¡±


    Zethir frowned, taking his sword and placing it on his lap. ¡°We will be facing a hundred enemies now. But we will face more at the fortress, won''t we?¡±


    Fernando nodded, turning toward Marco. ¡°I heard you''re a mage¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you worried about the archers?¡± Marco smiled.


    ¡°Yes. We need to guard against the nobles'' bowmen,¡± Fernando said in a solemn tone. ¡°The nobles'' bowmen are infamous throughout the world. One arrow can penetrate city walls, and skewer three men hiding behind it.


    ¡°They''re not bad,¡± Zethir nodded. ¡°But we need more¡­¡±


    Fernando coughed. ¡°Yes, the royal family will pay each of you handsomely. Rest assured.¡±


    Zethir narrowed his eyes.


    Not long after, the four of them returned to their respective groups. Of course, Lance was still on his own.


    ¡°What happened? Why the frown?¡± Augustin whispered into Zethir''s ears.


    ¡°Something''s strange,¡± Zethir whispered back. ¡°The royal family are known for being stingy. But today, Fernando was willing to spend more¡­¡±


    Augustin scratched his head. ¡°Well¡­ maybe the fortress is really important to them?¡±


    Zethir scoffed. ¡°What do you take the royals for? They can build fortresses everyday without getting tired. If the nobles are known for their archery, the royals are known for their mages.¡±


    ¡°Really? I never heard that before,¡± Augustin asked in surprise, when he felt droplets of water landing on his face.


    ¡°... It''s time,¡± Zethir tugged on the hood of his cloak, lowering his head. ¡°Get ready.¡±


    As he spoke, a loud war horn tore through the area like the roar of a lion. Followed closely by the whistling wind, and the rain of arrows.

 9: Suspicious Request, Are You With a Witch?!

    ¡°TAKE COVER!¡±


    A loud roar echoed through the mountain foot, as arrows blocked the sky. Raising their heads, the mercenaries grimaced, hurriedly hiding behind the thickest tree nearby. If they could, they would''ve sung praises to the god of luck.


    After all, the trees alone weren''t enough to save them.


    Dozens of arrows whistled down like maddened wasps, ripping through trees like they were pieces of paper. Although the trees blocked most of the arrows'' momentum, they still stabbed the earth until only their feathers stuck out.


    Zethir narrowed his eyes.


    ¡®How did they know our location?¡¯ Grabbing Augustin by the collar, he shoved him to the side¡ªjust in time for an arrow to rip through the tree ahead of them, landing where Augustin was.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Augustin rubbed his arms, feeling goosebumps when he heard a sharp whistle pass by his ear. Zethir turned around, eyes slightly widening as an arrow tore through the tree behind Augustin, missing his left ear by the width of a hair.


    ¡°Tch, run¡ª¡± Zethir turned around, unsheathing his sword and slashing in front of him. A red trail followed his slash, and the arrow heading for his heart fell lifeless beside him.


    ¡°Run back as far as you can!¡± He yelled, not bothering to look back at the rank 1 mage.


    Before hearing Augustin''s reply, he took off, running toward Marco''s group.


    ¡®Where did that spearman go?¡¯ He glanced to the sides, seeing nothing but arrows tilling the soil. ¡®I didn''t see him leave,¡¯ he gripped his sword tighter.


    Marco''s group was only a dozen steps away from them. He only had to dodge three arrows before he reached Marco.


    There, Zethir saw Marco surrounded by a translucent green dome of energy. Arrows were half buried in the shield, and the closest to Marco was just a finger away from touching his nose.


    Beside him, Marco''s group of mercenaries were huddled together, their hands raised high as they maintained a thick, gray energy shield .


    ¡°Hm?¡± Marco hummed, sensing someone approaching from behind him. ¡°Mr. Zethir?¡±


    ¡°It is me,¡± Zethir said, crouching behind Marco. As for the eleven mercenaries working together¡­


    An arrow penetrated their shield, managing to skewer one of them in the head before losing momentum. Squinting a bit, he saw that the energy shield thinned slightly.


    ¡°Haaa¡­ there he goes,¡± Marco grieved, though his voice remained light. ¡°This is such a loss, don''t you think so, mr. Zethir?¡±


    ¡°Not for me,¡± Zethir replied in a heartbeat, when he remembered what he came there for. ¡°Did you see the spearman?¡±


    Marco tutted. ¡°Saw him running away!¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ What''s your plan?¡± Zethir asked, standing up and dusting his clothes. Then, he dashed past Marco, running without looking back.


    Marco¡¯s voice barely trickled in his ears. ¡°Of course, I''ll continue the¡­ mission¡­ haa, what''s the point of asking if you just run off?¡± He shook his head helplessly, watching Zethir disappear behind trees.


    Not long after leaving Marco''s side, Zethir found Fernando kneeling on the ground with his soldiers, their swords stabbing the ground. In front of them, arrows piled up like harmless sticks. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Just as he saw them, Fernando suddenly looked back. ¡°Where are the others?!¡± He barked.


    ¡°Marco is maintaining a spell,¡± Zethir replied, crouching behind the kneeling soldiers. Looking around them, he squinted.


    ¡®It¡¯s less focused here,¡¯ he thought. Back to where Marco and his group was, the surrounding trees had been mangled to the point that it looked like a storm had gone by.


    However, the trees surrounding Fernando barely had any holes from the volley of arrows.


    ¡®Did they cast some sort of¡­ technique?¡¯ Zethir''s brows furrowed lightly, a frown gracing his face.


    ¡°He¡¯s using a spell?¡± Fernando frowned as he nodded slowly. Glancing at Zethir, he asked, ¡°What about that spearman?¡±


    ¡°The spearman? Who knows,¡± Zethir shrugged, when a joyful whistle sounded behind him.


    ¡°Man~ These nobles sure gave me a startle!¡± Lance laughed, walking toward Zethir and Fernando. ¡°So~ What''s the plan?¡±


    Zethir frowned, barely able to keep his face straight. ¡®What¡¯s that smell? Blood?¡¯


    Fernando grunted. ¡°Wait for the volley of arrows to subside.¡±


    Lance hummed, grinning widely. ¡°But we can charge in right now~ It will force those bowmen to stop,¡± he said, casually swinging his spear around.


    Hearing him, Zethir looked up. The rain of arrows had weakened, but his frown couldn''t help but deepen.


    ¡°There''s no need to risk it,¡± Fernando sneered at Lance, who simply chuckled.


    ¡®...the arrows are avoiding us?¡¯ Zethir looked at the arrows in front of Fernando and his men. ¡®Did they even face The volley of arrows?¡¯


    Frowning, he spoke to both men. ¡°The arrows have stopped.¡±


    Lance blinked, looking up before saying, ¡°Nope.¡±


    Fernando tilted his head up, seeing the volley of arrows persisting. Then, he stared right at Zethir. ¡°We are using a special formation, rendering the arrows useless to us. That''s why the nobles are avoiding me.¡±


    ¡°Then why didn''t you tell us before?¡±


    ¡°This came too suddenly, I wasn''t prepared,¡± Fernando answered smoothly, without missing a beat.


    Zethir glanced at him, before flicking his sword. Then, he turned around, running back toward Marco and his men.


    However, right as he went a few steps away from Fernando, he felt his back tingling. Turning around, he came face to face with half a dozen arrows, all coated in a light blue glow.


    ¡®The bowmen are warriors¡­ no wonder,¡¯ Zethir sighed, brandishing his sword like it was a thin branch.


    All six arrows were cut in half and lost their momentum, but three managed to leave a cut on his arm and hand.


    ¡°Tsk.¡±


    Paying the wounds no mind, he turned around and ran faster. When he reached Marco''s group, his mercenaries had turned into hedgehogs. Marco''s shield was flickering as well, and a few arrows were starting to inch toward his face.


    ¡®It¡¯s only been a minute,¡¯ Zethir felt morbidly amused.


    ¡°...mr. Zethir?¡± Marco called out, his voice barely audible.


    ¡°Marco,¡± Zethir nodded, about to run past the mage.


    ¡°Do you mind if you take me with you?¡± Marco asked as loudly as he could, and when Zethir reached him, he didn''t bother saying anything.


    Instead, he yanked Marco out of his shield, and ran back to Augustin.


    When they reached him, the sight left both of them speechless.


    Augustin was laying flat on the ground, arrows outlining his body. The trees around him had fallen, but none landed on him.


    The poor guy was too scared to even move, pale and frozen.


    ¡°Mr. Zethir, do you know about the god of luck?¡± Marco whispered as he was dragged like a curtain by Zethir.


    Zethir''s lips downturned. ¡°No. Quiet down.¡±


    Marco continued. ¡°There''s a saying; no god is omnipotent, but the god of luck is half.¡±


    Zethir glanced back at him.


    ¡°Marco. Has anyone told you about the chicken god?¡± Zethir said, his voice stale as he grabbed Augustin by the back of his neck.


    Then, he threw him on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, before leaping off into the distance.


    ¡°The god of chickens?¡± Marco¡¯s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly in bafflement.


    ¡°The chicken god talked too much, so the gods butchered him for dinner,¡± Zethir nodded seriously.


    ¡°...¡±


    {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}


    It wasn''t long before the three of them ran far enough from the arrows¡¯ range, but it also put them a fair distance away from Fernando and the rest.


    They were currently hiding behind a dense group of trees and bushes. Marco was sitting on a tree stump, while Augustin was cross-legged on the ground.


    Meanwhile, Zethir was standing in place.


    ¡°My, what to do now?¡± Marco cupped his chin, his eyes focused on a book he was reading.


    Next to him, Augusting was unable to stop trembling as he drank water from a gourd. ¡®How about we leave now?¡¯ He looked at Zethir.


    ¡°We will regroup with them after the volley of arrows is over,¡± Zethir looked at Marco. ¡°You''re a mage. Do you know any royal formations?¡±


    Marco lifted his head up, catching Zethir''s gaze. ¡°Royal formation? What could you mean?¡±


    ¡°Fernando and his soldiers were kneeling with their swords piercing the ground. According to him, they were using a special formation to shield from the arrows,¡± Zethir said in a flat tone.


    Marco hummed in thought. ¡°Oh, you might mean an array. Or do warriors call it a formation?¡± He shrugged.


    ¡°Nevertheless, there are many mysterious kinds of arrays. I don''t know the one you described, and it''s the first time I heard of a defensive array.¡±


    Zethir raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is it uncommon?¡±


    Marco smiled. ¡°No. It''s unheard of. Arrays are meant to boost attacking prowess. Using it to defend is like pointing a sword at yourself and calling it a shield.¡±


    Zethir nodded, rubbing the hilt of his sword absentmindedly. ¡°Then, could Fernando have betrayed us? What would be his purpose?¡±


    Marco laughed. ¡°Well, maybe it''s a thing between the royals and the nobles¡­ However, mr. Zethir, have you heard of the god of blood?¡±


    ¡°Tsk. What is it about?¡± Zethir stepped back, leaning against a tree.


    Margo covered his smile, trying to lower his light-hearted voice. ¡°Legend has it, warriors who worship the god of blood get stronger through slaughter. Unfortunately, while the religion¡­ or rather, the cult, exists, the ritual is just a legend,¡± he sighed, shaking his head like it was a pity.


    ¡°However, there were witches who uncovered the secrets of life. They would trigger massacres, and then use a ritual to collect life from blood. After which, they consume the harvested life to make themselves stronger¡­ ho-ho-ho~¡±


    Marco patted his thighs.


    Zethir''s hands froze. ¡°...why haven''t I heard of these witches before, then?¡±


    Marco giggled. ¡°Why, of course. Because you''re too weak. The witches practicing this are beyond the elite rank.¡±


    Zethir''s clenched the hilt of his sword. Letting out a curt hum, he lowered his head, hiding his thoughts.


    ¡®...if that ritual truly exists¡­ Then Falco, what do you want to do?¡¯ He closed his eyes, remembering Falco''s request a few days ago.


    ¡®Are you working with a witch, my dear friend?¡¯

 10: Preparation for the Godly War

    ¡°The royals made a request to me. They wanted to weaken the nobles, in preparation for the godly war.¡±


    Zethir''s eyes flickered, spewing out a thin, red mist. ¡°Godly war? The godly war?¡±


    Falco nodded, his face devoid of playfulness. ¡°Yes, it''s that godly war. Of the fourteen kingdoms, seven will fight. four virtues against three sins¡­ The royals want to unite the religion before the war begins, that''s why they want to kill as many nobles as they can.¡±


    Zethir nodded. It wasn''t his first time hearing about the blood feud between the royals and nobles. In their kingdom, the kingdom of Targia, the god of lust was the main religion. However, the nobles of Targia believed in the god of chastity, leading to the feud between the two factions.


    Legend has it, the god of lust and chastity were once good friends. Though no one could prove it, this was how their kingdom was built in the first place.


    ¡°But¡­¡± Falco lowered his head. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, silently taking out his eye contacts.


    As he raised his head to look at Zethir, his once ordinary brown eyes were no more. Instead, his left eye glowed in topaz orange, while his right eye glowed in sapphire blue.


    ¡°...my request is different. Every time you kill a noble, I want you to let them bleed as much as you can.¡±


    Zethir nodded calmly. He wasn''t averse to such requests, having done far stranger missions. Once, he was hired to torture a slave, prolonging their suffering for an entire day before their death.


    ¡°I won''t ask why. I trust you, Falco,¡± Zethir said, turning around and placing his hands on the iron door.


    Thinking about it, Zethir couldn''t help but feel frustrated. ¡®I should''ve asked him back then,¡¯ he clicked his tongue.


    After an hour, their group of three decided to reunite with Fernando. Neither of them had anything to pack, so their departure was swift.


    ¡°Be careful, the enemies might still be nearby,¡± he whispered, moving carefully from tree to tree.


    Although the trees in the mountain foot were sparse, there were many bushes to hide behind. The sun was setting, and the dimming light helped in concealment too.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Hmm. Mr. Zethir, if I may ask a question¡­¡± Marco looked at Zethir''s back as he inched toward the man.


    Behind him, Augustin was almost crawling like a baby in fear. Ever since earlier, he hadn''t spoken many words.


    Not hearing Zethir say anything, Marco smiled. ¡°Why do you insist on continuing the mission? We could''ve left earlier, it would be safer.¡±


    Zethir glanced at Marco. ¡°Two reasons. A favor and a desire.¡±


    ¡°That''s¡­ unexpected,¡± Marco cocked an eyebrow.


    Augustin nodded.


    ¡°May I know what those are?¡± Marco asked, suddenly looking behind at Augustin and winking.


    Zethir looked around, before moving behind another tree. Then, as Marco and Augustin moved after him, he spoke.


    ¡°Do you know anything about Fernando?¡± His hand tapped the hilt of his sword.


    ¡°Mr. Fernando? I heard about him. He''s a brave warrior, and he brought many victories to the kingdom before,¡± Marco nodded.


    Zethir blinked in surprise. He hadn''t expected that. He didn''t even know the man before, he only knew of him from his dream.


    ¡°...then, do you believe in Clairvoyance?¡± Zethir''s eyes glowed crimson red, dyeing his eyes but not turning his vision red.


    ¡°Oh!¡± Marco exclaimed, a little too loudly for Zethir''s taste. Even Augustin tensed up, but Marco seemed to not notice.


    ¡°I''ve heard of Clairvoyance before. Does mr. Zethir you know about the god of three eyes?¡± He asked in a cheerful tone.


    Zethir frowned, wanting to silence the other man.


    However, Marco spoke before he could do so.


    ¡°In the past, when gods were abundant, there was a powerful god who could see the past, present, and future. Legend has it, he knew what you would think about before you thought about it. He''d know what you did, and what you would do,¡± he sighed. ¡°Alas, he fell in battle many, many years ago.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡± Augustin cried out from behind. ¡°If he was so powerful, how could he have fallen?¡±


    Marco chuckled. ¡°Gods are not omniscient. Their powers come at a great cost. In essence, gods are just extremely powerful individuals who gained unique abilities¡­ that''s the theory, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Really? So, say we become rank 15, will we be considered a god?¡± Augustin chirped, his pale complexion turning rosy.


    Ranks 1 to 5 were called ¡°green.¡± For mercenaries, they were all dubbed green mercenaries for convenience.


    From rank 6 to 10, they''d be called an elite.


    ¡°Silly child,¡± Marco smiled. ¡°Rank 15 isn''t the end. Even a thousand rank 15s can''t hope to lick a god''s toe.¡±


    ¡°Tsk,¡± Zethir glared at the two parrots behind him, his patience running dry. ¡°Could you be any louder? Be quiet!¡±


    Marco grinned bashfully, averting his gaze. Augustin followed his example.


    ¡°We''re about to reach our previous position. In a bit, we''ll reach your mercenaries, Marco,¡± Zethir walked ahead, not bothering to hide behind tree anymore. Instead, he unsheathed his sword.


    ¡°Be ready for battle,¡± he said.


    Marco let out a lengthy sigh. ¡°Have you found anything?¡±


    Zethir nodded, gritting his teeth. ¡°I sense extreme bloodlust. We may be surrounded. It''s better to act quick, than to be caught unprepared,¡± he said, giving Marco a meaningful glance a they half-ran forward.


    Marco took out a book. Opening it, a glass flask full of green liquid appeared on top of the yellowish pages.


    ¡°I can fight,¡± he said, downing the potion. ¡°But the only battle spell I do well is [Telekinesis]. Will that be¡ª¡±


    ¡°That''s enough. You,¡± Zethir motioned at Augustin.


    Augustin opened his mouth when they reached Marco''s team. Seeing the pile of dead mercenaries, he couldn''t help but gulp.


    ¡°I¡ªI know [Chain of Lightning]... but my arcane isn''t high,¡± he said, peeking at Zethir.


    Zethir nodded, not expecting anything more.


    ¡®[Telekinesis] and [Chain of Lightning]... I can focus on the archers,¡¯ he thought.


    ¡°Use your spell at the best opportunity,¡± he told Augustin. ¡°The bloodlust somehow thinned out. Let''s hurry.¡±


    Marco nodded. Then, he tapped Zethir, as well as Augustin. Smiling, he said, ¡°As a good luck token. [Lightness]!¡±


    Suddenly, Zethir felt like his bones were oiled. Twisting his limbs around, he nodded in satisfaction. ¡°Thank you¡ª¡±


    Marco''s eyes widened, and he shoved Zethir aside. Then, raising his hands, he yelled. ¡°[PROTECTION]!¡±


    An arrow cried out like an eagle, falling down on Marco''s green energy shield like lightning.


    BANG!


    The green shield shattered, and blood splattered on the ground. Marco stumbled back, falling to his knees as he looked down at the arrow sticking out of his body.

 11: Im Disappointed, Father

    Marco gritted his teeth, his face pale from pain. Moving his hand, he yanked out the arrow from his left shoulder!


    ¡°Hiss?!¡± Blood spurted out of his wound, which he hurriedly covered with his hand. Flowing his energy through his shoulder, the bleeding gradually stopped.


    Zethir cursed, turning to look at where the arrow came from. ¡°We''ve been found, hurry up!¡± He yelled, grabbing Augustin by the arm and dashing off.


    ¡°Wait¡ª Carry Marco instead! He''s injured!¡± Augustin cried out, looking behind them.


    ¡°He''s fine,¡± Zethir said, speeding up.


    Behind them, Marco stood up shakily, before taking off after the two. To Augustin''s surprise, he wasn''t any slower than Zethir, who was running so fast that his cloak was fluttering like butterfly wings.


    ¡°I''m fine,¡± Marco smiled, seeing Augustin''s worry. ¡°Us elites aren''t the same as ordinary humans. You''ll understand when you reach our level,¡± he said.


    Hearing this, Augustin looked at the wound on Marco''s shoulder. The iron chestplate he was wearing did nothing against the arrow. The only thing it did was show where Marco was hit.


    ¡°If you say so,¡± Augustin shook his head and looked around. Looking at where they were going, he couldn''t help asking, ¡°How come they haven''t fired another arrow?¡±


    Zethir frowned. ¡°Don''t ask me.¡±


    ¡°They probably don''t have much energy left,¡± Marco said from behind. ¡°After all, we''re just humans. We don''t have infinite energy.¡±


    ¡°Energy¡­ what about you, Marco?¡± Augustin looked behind him.


    ¡°I practice arcane, my magic comes from the surroundings¡­ you practice arcane too, don''t you?¡± Marco casted a doubtful look at Augustin.


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Tsk, quiet. I can sense people ahead,¡± Zethir butted in. Then, throwing Augustin from his shoulder, he unsheathed his sword.


    Ahead of them, an arrow shome brightly in blue, tearing apart the air as it traveled the air. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ZZIIIII¡ªBOOM!


    A tree on its way tore into two, it''s upper half falling forward and it''s lower half being half uprooted.


    BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!


    Trees fell one after the other, but the arrow gained more and more momentum instead. Finally, after piercing a dozen trees, Zethir and the others were able to see the arrow.


    Zethir swung his sword¡ªBANG!!!


    ¡°Zethir!¡±


    A shockwave threw the two mages off their feet, followed a cloud of dirt engulfing Zethir. Zethir gasped, his arms feeling numb from the impact.


    He managed to cut the arrow in half, maing it lose its blue glow. However, the muscles in his arms were almost torn!


    ¡°Marco!¡± Zethir yelled, his eyes glowing a fierce red like two balls of fire.


    ¡°On it!¡± Marco hurriedly stood up, raising his hands to gather energy.


    Gray dots of energy gathered around his hands like a swath of fireflies. Then, as he mixed it with his energy, the energy started turning green, and soon it was emitting steam.


    This was arcane energy.


    As soon as the arcane energy was ready, Marco''s eyes bursted in a fierce green glow. Swinging his arms, rocks all around them started to levitate, before gathering around him.


    ¡°Follow me!¡± Yelled Zethir, who was already far away from the two.


    A second after Marco started gathering energy, he already took off. Using the trees as footholds, he dash in a zigzag, rapidly moving forward. As soon as he yelled, dozens of fist-sized rocks chased after his body.


    ¡°Found you,¡± Zethir mumbled, jumping from the trunk of another tree. Like a bullet, he flew forward, his eyes trained on the man standing straight with his bow drawn back.


    The arrow cocked in the bow was starting to glow blue, and as soon as Zethir and the bowman locked eyes, the bowman released the string.


    Zethir spun mid-air, dodging the arrow, but he was forced to land abruptly. Then, like a panther, he pounced on the bowman.


    In an instant, his sword was already inches away from the bowman''s neck.


    ¡°Heh,¡± the bowman scoffed, swiftly raising his hand. Then, before Zethir''s widened eyes, the bowman blocked his sword with the back of his hand.


    ¡°Tch,¡± Using the bowman''s hand, he used his sword to launch himself away from the man.


    ¡°A warrior?¡±


    The bowman scoffed, patting his now untidy dark-blue uniform. ¡°A blind man?¡± He taunted, shooting two arrows at Zethir one after the other. Zethir cut both of them expressionlessly.


    ¡°Where''s the others?¡± Zethir asked, walking toward the bowman, who fired four more arrows.


    ¡°You''re wasting your time~¡± The bowman sang.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Zethir nodded. But then, the bowman turned around, squinting at the dozens of rocks shooting toward him.


    ¡°Hehe,¡± chuckling, the bowman raised a hand and opened his palm. Then, a half-dome blue energy shield manifested in front of him.


    ¡°A mage?¡± Zethir whispered, and finally, the bowman''s eyes widened in surprise. Zethir was already behind him, breathing down his neck.


    {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}


    ¡°Ha¡­ Ha¡­¡±


    Kneeling, Fernando stabbed his sword on the ground, if nothing just to keep himself upright. His glowing topaz-like eyes started to dim, blood flowing at the corner of his lips like drool.


    His body, once protected in full iron armor, was now covered in blood, his armor shattered and on the ground.


    ¡°Putui!¡± He spat blood on the ground, glaring at the dozen men approaching him. None of them wore armor, only dark-blue military uniform, and they were all holding a sword.


    ¡°Noble¡¯s bastards, you''re so slow,¡± he grinned, cackling soundlessly, his teeth caked with blood.


    ¡°Hm~ Sir Fernando surely jest~¡± A whistle came from behind the twelve swordsmen. The swordsmen stepped aside, giving way to Lance who leisurely walked toward Fernando.


    Behind him, five bowmen followed.


    ¡°What would your son think~?¡± Lance placed the tip of his spear on Fernando''s chin, using it to raise the latter''s head.


    Gritting his teeth, Fernando''s eyes glowed fiercely, his blood roaring in defiance. Sadly, he was but a candle at the end of his life.


    ¡°My son is none of your business,¡± he tried to rise, but his knees had already given up.


    Lance hummed. ¡°Well~ Did you ever care for your son? Rumor has it, the honorable sir Fernando is a bastard father!¡± he chuckled.


    Surprisingly, Fernando chuckled with him. ¡°Men thrive in hard times.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± A voice trickled into his ears. Fernando''s body turned stiff, turning his head to look behind Lance.


    And then behind the bowmen.


    There, a man dressed in a red uniform was calmly walking forward, his topaz-like eyes dim with dismay.


    ¡°I''m disappointed,¡± the man said, ¡°Father.¡±