Chapter 50: The Sinister Sword (3)

Chapter 50: The Sinister Sword (3)

I didn’t have much of a conversation with Vester, the bear beastman.

After all, he was just a hired hand, and I wasn’t his employer.

Even a rotten mercenary is still a mercenary. As cowardly as Vester might be, he wasn’t stupid enough to spill everything he knew in a crowded place like this.

If I had tried to force it out of him, I could’ve gotten some information, but that would’ve only caused more trouble. What I did find out was that there were several other beastmen involved in this, and the one managing them was a man named Millen.

But I didn’t need to dwell on that for long.

The person I was curious about had just appeared before my eyes.

Perhaps he was on edge from searching for Isha, because as soon as he got word, he came straight over.

Millen. The bronze-skinned man shot a sharp glare at Vester.

“You two seem friendly. I take it you know each other?”

“Mi-Millen, sir? I didn’t expect you to come in person. I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. We were just starting to talk things through. This isn’t the person you’re looking for.”

“So it seems. The woman I’m after doesn’t have silver hair.”

Millen was an imposing figure. He stood just about as tall as me, maybe a bit taller. His short, dark brown hair framed a body packed with muscles that bulged like armor in all the right places.

One could tell he’d trained hard to achieve that physique. If we were to fight, he’d likely move faster than his appearance suggested.

There were scars on his light brown skin, though they didn’t seem to come from the battlefield. They weren’t the kind of wounds caused by swords or spears, and they weren’t in spots you’d expect from an arrow, either. If I had to guess, they were left by some sort of concealed weapon.

It confirmed my suspicions—he must’ve come from the underworld.

His scars stretched across his body, front and back, a testament to the dirty battles he’d survived. The blood on his hands was anything but light.

Now that I was facing Millen directly, I was sure. Everything lined up with what the tavern owner and Isha had told me. This man had been one of the key players in the destruction of the Crescent Moon.

I can sense the distortion of mana. And at a high level, too.

Though every human carries traces of mana from birth, there are rare cases where the distortion goes far beyond normal limits. These people are born with special abilities, like controlling the wind at will or spewing fire from their bodies.

They’re often referred to as ‘gifted.’

A swordsman who uses mana needs to train their body. A priest who uses holy power must receive the blessing of a god through baptism. Magic requires rituals—though it might seem like a limitless force, it’s a science of complex theory and precise calculations.

But for the gifted, none of that was necessary.

They could train to wield their power more effectively, but using it was a matter of pure mana consumption, nothing more.

The most irrational and mysterious power on the continent.

Those with abilities were as dangerous as they were enigmatic. The strongest of them were powerful enough to rival swordmasters and archmages.

“Millen, sir? Just a moment.”

Vester approached Millen and whispered something. He was trying to be discreet, but it was a futile effort. The senses of a swordmaster are unparalleled. At this distance, I could expand my senses just a little and easily eavesdrop.

Poor Vester didn’t realize this, and I had no intention of correcting his misunderstanding.

- That man’s the Cursed Blade, a swordsman notorious in the conflict zones. The White Claw mercenaries were wiped out by him.

“I’d love to hear more. I’m quite skilled at finding people, you see.”

“Hmm.” I pretended to ponder for a moment, diverting my gaze.

At just the right moment, Sirien stepped in.

“There was something I needed to entrust to someone named Kirux. But I’ve heard he’s already dead, so I’m in a bit of a bind.”

“Then, does the Saintess plan to just return?”

“No. I’ll have to entrust it to someone else.”

“I heard that one of Kirux’s subordinates or colleagues is still in this city. If possible, I’d prefer to leave it with them.”

Kirux was the reason we had first come to this city. He was the Sewer rat who killed Terion and Hena. The same Kirux who had sent the hunters after us in the forest. Wiping out any trace of them was the first step in our revenge.

To be honest, Isha and Crescent Moon were just side issues.

So, this wasn’t a lie. We genuinely wanted to find them. Millen nodded.

“I’ll ask around. Let’s meet again then.”

* * *

As Razen and Sirien made their way back to the inn, Millen turned and headed back to where he’d originally come from.

His expression wasn’t particularly pleasant.

“Vester, right?”

“Yes. Um, Millen, sir? Are you... upset?”

“I have no reason to be. They weren’t the kind of people you were supposed to deal with from the start, so you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Relief washed over Vester, and he exhaled deeply.

But Millen’s next order wasn’t one Vester wanted to hear.

“Have them followed. Find out where they’re staying, where they eat, and bring me everything you can learn about them.”

“W-what?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me. I said to have them followed. Watch their every move.”

Vester’s vision darkened. The thought of being pitted against those two was unbearable.

He had come to Requitas after the traumatic memories of the battlefield left him terrified of war, yet he still needed to make money. Meeting those two again was already nightmarish enough for him. But it didn’t seem like Millen had any intention of understanding his situation.

“They’re formidable, so I assume they could’ve wiped out three people in an instant. And it doesn’t seem like they’ve been in town for long. The timing is suspicious.”

“You mean...”

“We’ll watch for now, but I don’t like the feeling. Better to be prepared.”

Millen clenched his fist tightly.

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