Chapter 9

The Dream Merchant of the Refugee Settlement (2)

The gatekeeper looked troubled after hearing their story.

“Now’s not a good time.”

“What do you mean?”

“We received word from the city last night that someone is targeting the Master.”

As he finished speaking, the gatekeeper subtly glanced over the mercenaries’ faces.

They had painstakingly used makeup powder beforehand to make themselves look grimy and disheveled, and their appearances did not arouse any particular suspicion from the gatekeeper.

“Those bastards. If they normally handed out decent rations, I wouldn’t complain about all this shit. Ptooey!... Anyway, we can’t accept newcomers for the time being. Orders from above.”

The guide clung to him with a distressed expression.

“Come on, do me a favor, will you? If I don’t get my commission, I’ll have to scrape by collecting monster carcasses from that damned city all week again. You’ve done it before, so you know how awful the poisonous fumes rising from that place are.”

“Hmm. That’s true. Every time I come back from there, I completely lose my appetite. The stench is just…”

The moment the obstinate gatekeeper’s attitude softened slightly, the informant seized the opportunity.

“Just this once. If you close your eyes and let them through this one time, I’ll give you half their commission.”

The gatekeeper had looked conflicted, but his ears perked up at those final words.

“If we get caught…”

“How many addicts do you think there are around here? Even the suppliers of dream powder don’t know anyone except their regular customers.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll make sure this never comes back to bite you. All right? I’m telling you, I’ll handle everything.”

Zrek, who had been silently watching the two, nudged Allen in the side.

“How much did you promise that guy?”

“The Mercenary Office offered him two silver coins as a success fee. Half of it was paid in advance.”

“So that’s why he’s clinging to this so desperately.”

Whether it was disposing of garbage or collecting monster carcasses, these wretched people at the very bottom of society spent entire days laboring for a few measly coins.

To them, a silver coin was enough money to make their eyes roll.

Meanwhile, Kaspar stared intently at the gatekeeper, who was on the verge of being won over by the informant’s smooth tongue.

He stared as though something strange were stuck to the man’s face.

“That’s part of it, but that bastard was originally scheduled to be hanged for acting as a broker. We reached an agreement that the Mercenary Office would spare his life if he cooperated with this purge. That’s actually the bigger reason.”

The gatekeeper soon granted them permission.

After entering the Dream Merchant’s district, Kaspar and the others went into a suitably abandoned building and began their meeting.

Allen hung a map on the wall.

Broadly speaking, the Dream Merchant’s territory was shaped like the number eight, though a closer look revealed that its pathways twisted and turned considerably.

“There are two key locations. One is the old village hall in the inner district, where the dream powder is manufactured. The other is an abandoned restaurant in the central district where the man himself lives. The problem is that we don’t know when he’ll be at either location.”

“Then what are we supposed to do? Attack both places simultaneously? Split into pairs?”

“No, Ellasen. Dividing our forces when hunting a mage would be reckless. We already agreed to wait until the informant locates him, then strike together. You weren’t listening to the explanation again, were you?”

“Huh?”

Honestly, it was difficult for any of them to feel nervous.

There might be unexpected variables, but even accounting for those, everyone believed this was not a particularly difficult or dangerous commission.

That was what they thought until the floor exploded with a deafening roar.

BOOM!

Rather than answering, the woman called Ellasen sprawled sideways across the old table and pretended not to care. Her brilliant golden hair cascaded down like a waterfall.

It contrasted starkly with the shabby, faded refugee camp.

“Don’t you all think you’re overthinking this? They’re just an illegal mage who wormed his way into a refugee camp and a bunch of small fry.”

She was not wrong. In fact, most of them shared that opinion.

This was not a mage destroying cities with vicious magic or creating monsters through grotesque experiments and unleashing them on the populace.

It was merely a mage holed up in a refugee camp, producing and selling some strange powder.

Kaspar forced himself to cough out the dirt and dust pouring into his mouth and nose through the thick smoke, then rose to his feet.

His foot came down on empty air, causing him to stagger and nearly fall. After barely regaining his balance, Kaspar looked down.

The floor where the table had stood moments ago had become a deep crater, spewing smoke thick with the smell of gunpowder.

Everything around him was in utter chaos. The explosion had apparently not occurred in only one spot. Craters had been gouged throughout the floor, their black mouths yawning open.

“God… damn it.”

Zrek lay sprawled on the floor, panting as he cursed.

When Kaspar tried to support him, Zrek stiffened his entire body and let out a low scream.

“My… my leg! My leg! Gah!”

Kaspar and Allen tore strips from their clothes and used them to stop the bleeding of the two injured mercenaries.

The old, filthy fabric carried a risk of infection, but they had no other choice.

If left untreated, the two would bleed to death.

“Fire!”

Kaspar saw Zrek’s mangled leg pouring blood. Even with his complete lack of medical knowledge, the bleeding looked severe.

Still, perhaps they could consider themselves fortunate. To have suffered only one shattered leg in an explosion like that was a blessing.

Or perhaps killing them had never been the objective.

“Ellasen!... Ellasen! Damn it!”

A man’s voice came from outside the door.

Then a piercing sound cut through the air beyond it.

Fwish!

Arrows.

Allen’s voice came from beyond the dense smoke.

When Kaspar approached, he saw Allen carrying Ellasen on his back. Her arm below the elbow had been completely blown away.

A volley of arrows poured toward them all at once. The dense smoke and piles of debris proved unexpectedly fortunate.

Several arrows grazed Kaspar’s and Allen’s necks, but that was a small price to pay for their good fortune.

“Shield of Bracelet!”

Unlike Ellasen, Zrek had managed to remain conscious. He forced the words out through clenched teeth.

A faint barrier spread before them and blocked the next volley of arrows.

Beyond the dense smoke, armed men could be seen through the doorway.

The first to charge through the smoke and enter the building was an enormous brute. Even at a glance, he appeared larger than Zrek.

The axe in his hands was so massive that it looked as if it had been made to butcher ogres.

Then it happened.

Swoosh.

The archers stepped back with their bows drawn, and armed men moved forward to fill their places.

As befitted a refugee camp, they carried fewer swords and spears than sickles, pickaxes, axes, and other crude iron implements.

That only made them appear even more sinister.

“What an adorable little bastard.”

Zrek wiped the sweat pouring down his forehead like rain and ground his teeth.

“He really got us good. The bastard actually set a trap and lured us right into it. Don’t you agree? Hahaha!”

Zrek laughed, doing his best to pretend he was fine, but their situation was dire.

“Heh. Let’s see, then.”

A flash streaked before Kaspar’s eyes.

It swept across the brute’s neck.

A fine silver line appeared along the path it had traced. Blood spilled from beneath it, followed by the man’s head.

The men who entered behind him met the same fate. Before they could even take another step, sharp arcs of steel sent their heads tumbling to the floor.

It was Allen’s handiwork.

Without any extravagant movements or noise, he cut them down silently and precisely. His skill was truly remarkable.

“Kaspar. We should retreat for now.”

Scavengers…

Allen calmly retrieved his sword and spoke in an even tone.

“We need to get out of this building before more of them gather around us.”

The men outside were an undisciplined rabble. The Dream Merchant’s direct subordinates, however, were the real problem.

They could not fight while carrying Zrek and Ellasen. Kaspar was also a mage. There was no chance he could properly cast spells with Ellasen on his back.

“Do you mean we should leave the refugee camp? I don’t think we can escape while carrying both of them.”

“I’ll cover you.”

Allen thrust his sword through the neck of a man attempting to climb through the window, then continued.

“These bastards may have numbers, but their skills and equipment are poor. I can provide enough cover on my own.”

His words were laced with hope.

Allen knew that as well, especially now that he understood their enemies’ true identity.

“Scavengers” was the term used for armed groups that had emerged within the refugee camp.

They would do anything for money. Could there be anyone better suited for the Dream Merchant to employ?

They would descend upon them from every corner of the neighborhood. Breaking through with a mage whose hands were occupied and a swordsman armed with only a single blade? The odds were slim.

Even so, we have no choice.

Allen tightened his grip on his sword and steeled himself. Staying here would not change anything anyway.

Hesitation meant death. They had to move and create an opening. That was where their path to survival lay.

Besides, now that their attack had already been exposed…

“Hm?”

Allen saw Kaspar shaking his head.

“Instead of doing that, why don’t we…”

“Instead of doing what?”

“Why don’t we wipe them all out?”

“…What?”

Whooom!

For a moment, Allen felt as if his vision had warped.

Transparent ripples of a shield spread from Kaspar’s finger, forming a sphere.

“What is this…?”

Allen stared at him as though wondering whether he had misheard, and Kaspar repeated himself.

“Since things have already come to this, why don’t we wipe them all out? The Dream Merchant included.”

“…What? I didn’t know you could joke.”

Allen gave a dry chuckle.

Dozens of Scavengers were already spread throughout the area, and just as many more could arrive at any moment. Kaspar’s proposal to take down the Dream Merchant while burdened with two wounded companions could only be interpreted as a joke.

Allen would laugh once out of courtesy and then start planning their escape route—

But why was Kaspar tracing his finger through the air?

“Shield.”

The sphere of rippling energy engulfed Allen, Zrek, and Ellasen.

Fwish!

As though they had been waiting for that exact moment, a volley of arrows poured down upon them. The shield effortlessly deflected every one.

“Wh-What the hell is this?”

The approaching Scavengers stopped when the shield blocked their path. The more reckless ones threw themselves against it, only to be repelled and sent sprawling in humiliating fashion.

Standing beneath its perfect protection, Allen stared at Kaspar in disbelief.

With only a few gestures, Kaspar had effortlessly transformed what had been a desperate situation moments ago.

Kaspar walked outside. His field of vision opened, allowing him to see everything.

So the ones visible through the doorway were only a fraction of them.

From the entrance to the narrow alleyways to the doorways of dilapidated buildings and the gaps between piles of garbage, armed Scavengers had positioned themselves in every direction around the building he had just left.

“To think there was a mage among you.”

A one-eyed man narrowed his eye as he stared at Kaspar.

“What did you come out here to say?”

“Say?”

The one-eyed man cackled at Kaspar’s question.

“Don’t play dumb. Heh-heh. I already know you’re planning to negotiate.”

The one-eyed man raised a finger and pointed at the building Kaspar had emerged from—or, more precisely, the building enclosed within the spherical shield.

“A shield that massive must consume an equally ridiculous amount of mana. It looks like you forcibly inflated its size to bluff us. Be honest, boy. It’s too much for you, isn’t it? You feel like you’re about to pass out, don’t you?”

The one-eyed man cackled mockingly, apparently familiar with the principles of magic.

Kaspar extended his awareness throughout his body and checked himself.

“No, I don’t.”

“Hmph. Keep bluffing.”

The one-eyed man looked at him contemptuously.

“Whether you’re bluffing or not makes no difference. No matter what someone like you says, I never intended to listen in the first place.”

“Really?”

“That’s right! Our employer paid us more than a brat like you could possibly imagine.”

“That’s a relief. I didn’t come out here to negotiate either.”

Kaspar knew better than anyone that he was not particularly eloquent.

Displeased by Kaspar’s calm demeanor, the one-eyed man furrowed his brow.

“Look at this brat pretending to be some big shot. Boys! The moment that shield disappears, rush them together and tear them to pieces!”

“Corpse Mist.”

It happened so quickly that the unsuspecting Scavengers, still hesitating in confusion, were engulfed by the mist in an instant.

“…Huh?”

Kaspar stepped beyond the shield and formed a sigil with his hand. Whitish mist began pouring out like a waterfall.

The first thing they noticed was a sweet smell, like the scent of rotting fruit.

Their vague discomfort lasted only a moment before the terrible stench of blood mingled with it.

“Gah!”

Fwoooosh—

An eerie, pallid mist began filling the surroundings.

Kaspar pointed forward.

The tendrils of mist slithered across the ground like snakes. Following Kaspar’s will, they converged and surged forward like a wave.

Everyone who inhaled the mist clutched their chest.

They felt something bubbling strangely inside their bodies, followed by the sensation of something beginning to boil.

“Bleeergh!”

They began vomiting blood all over the ground.

It was a vicious spell created by Beast Walker shamans in an age when primeval forests covered the world and their tribes waged endless civil wars against one another.

The Corpse Mist caused necrosis from within the body. Every Scavenger engulfed by it instinctively realized that death had come for them.

Some desperately hurled themselves toward the edge of the mist, but their attempts were futile.

Their limbs rapidly grew heavy.

Before they could take more than a few steps, they collapsed like puppets whose strings had been severed.

Thud. Thud, thud.

The fallen Scavengers desperately struggled to move their stiffening limbs as they wailed.

“Argh…”

“Uuugh… Gah! Bleeergh…”

“Save… me…”

Even the faint vitality carried in their final breaths was absorbed by the pale mist and vanished.

“…Huh?”

The one-eyed man stared blankly at the scene.

What had just happened?

The Scavengers under his command had been reduced to corpses in an instant.

But it was not over.

The Corpse Mist continued pouring endlessly from the sigil. Guided by Kaspar, it began surging toward the surrounding streets.

***

Their frantic struggles and labored breathing only accelerated the necrosis.

Their consciousness faded, and their limbs turned rigid. One after another, they stopped breathing.

Allen stepped outside.

The mist that had filled the surroundings had already vanished.

The street held its breath, as though everything had come to a complete stop.

Between the wisps of mist creeping along the ground, all movement had ceased, the screams had disappeared, and the silence settling over the debris smothered everything.

Like the breath of some enormous beast, mist billowed through every window frame and doorway, drifting leisurely across the lifeless street.

There was not even the slightest breeze.

Even the flags in the distance hung limp like loose threads. The corpses scattered haphazardly across the road had stiffened in twisted positions.

Their bloodshot eyes remained frozen open, while dried vomited blood clung thickly around their mouths like moss hanging from trees.

“What in the world…”

Allen groaned.

He stopped just beyond the shield and looked around.

There were no survivors.

They had been completely annihilated.

A few of them appeared to have possessed better equipment than the rest, but even they had been helpless against the unnaturally rapid spread of the Corpse Mist.

In the end, every last one of them had died an agonizing death.

Where is Kaspar?

At that moment, Allen sensed movement above him.

He looked up and saw Kaspar standing on the roof, surveying the surroundings. He appeared to be checking for any possible survivors.

“Mr. Allen, should we go straight after the Dream Merchant now?”

After confirming there were no survivors, Kaspar climbed down and asked the question.

“…What about those two inside?”

“We can take them with us.”

“Take them with us?”

“Yes.”