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"You've worked hard. Leave."
Out of nowhere, the mysterious man spoke incoherent words.
Naturally, confusion hung in the air, rendering everyone silent.
The Poor Brothers, the attacking gang, and even the druid himself stood perplexed.
Sensing the awkward atmosphere, the man blurted out,
"Well, ain't that sothin'? Don'tcha know? It was quite the buzzword two decades back." He rambled on, uttering incomprehensible words about the sorrow of ti.
So wondered if he had lost his sanity.
The druid entertained the thought, but his well-honed druidic instincts whispered that this man was no ordinary being.
The druid snorted and inquired,
"….Are you a warlock?"
"That's why I reckon I appreciate them druids. Y'all get straight to the point, don't ya? Howdy there, my naless druid buddy. I'm just passin' a warlock. Pleasure to make yer acquaintance."
He exuded an aura that seed out of place amidst the battle where lives were being lost.
The druid felt an unsettling discomfort and anger.
It was as if the figure before him was mocking him.
"How in the world did you end up here?"
"I just followed the pointin' of my finger, plain and simple."
"Are you ssing with now?"
"Not even a tad. Take a gander at this."
The man fumbled under his cloak and produced a severed hand. The hand appeared desiccated and contorted, resembling jerky.
His appearance was already grim, and the unsettling amulets he carried only added to the unease.
"It's so kinda guide, ya see. It leads to the person I aim to et… The only downside is, it only works when it damn well feels like it, but it ain't been lazy today. So here I am."
"….Whom have you co to et?"
"My finger's pointin' right at ‘im. The person yer standin' on right now. Could it be Kent?"
Kent, lying beneath the druid's foot, responded.
"Yes….. Do you know ?"
"Let's just say I heard about ya from soone who knows ya… Hey, druid, ya done took one of his arms. Ain't it 'bout ti to step back? Ain't that enough for yer catharsis?"
"Why should I do that?"
"Cause the fella beneath yer foot might be the one who saved the world once. Show so dang respect."
The one who saved the world once? In the face of this preposterous nonsense, the druid couldn't help but chuckle.
"Seems like the sewer is teeming with lunatics… Kill him."
The gangsters employed by the druid redirected their guns from the beggars towards the cloaked man.
With a touch of sadness in his voice, the cloaked man muttered,
"Oh… I can't stand violence."
As he spoke, he withdrew a green bean from his pocket. The bean sprouted and explosively grew, entwining around the gangsters who brandished their firearms, crushing them rcilessly.
"Grrr…..urg….chhh-"
-Boom!
-Boom!
-Boom!
-Boom!
-Boom!
Five gangsters burst like water balloons.
Witnessing this sight, the remaining gangsters blanched and lost their will to fight.
The brutality and malice of the attack were too much to bear.
"Y'see, violence ain't nothin' to be pleased 'bout."
"Bean thief?!!"
The druid, now aware of the cloaked man's presence, retrieved a bean, conjuring a colossal beanstalk to counter the man's assault.
The two beanstalks intertwined like braided tails.
The druid should have prevailed. After all, it was his expertise to infuse the power of nature into the bean, rendering it exceptionally potent.
However, for an inexplicable reason, the warlock's beanstalk began to suppress the druid's, gradually overpowering and shattering it.
Thump… thud! Snap….! Crack!!
The Druid was taken aback, but he quickly shook off the beanstalk and closed the distance to launch a direct attack on the cloaked man.
"Uryaaaaa!!"
The Druid let out a battle cry, infusing his fist with the power of nature and swung it.
That very fist had shattered miners, wizards, warlocks, and skeletal gloves.
Yet, to his surprise, the seemingly frail warlock easily blocked the devastating blow with his hand.
This unexpected turn of events left the Druid montarily stunned.
"Don't go gettin' all amazed. It's thanks to an item, not my own strength."
Upon closer inspection, the cloaked man wore gloves. Unsettling gloves blending red and pink hues, reminiscent of human flesh.
The Druid felt a deep revulsion, instinctively swinging his other hand, but the cloaked man effortlessly twisted his wrist, overpowering the Druid.
A large rat, akin to a wild dog, attempted to co to the Druid's aid, but the cloaked man swiftly intervened.
"The mont ya make a move, I'll snap his neck. Ya okay with that?"
With his other hand gripping the Druid's neck, the other Druid, who was controlling the rat and hiding, stopped the rat.
Whispering into the subdued Druid's ear, the stranger, who had appeared out of nowhere and subdued both Druids, spoke softly.
"I ain't here to tussle with ya… So, what's yer decision? Shall we end it here, or will ya yield?"
The choice was not difficult.
The subdued Druid relented, leaving with the gang, while the cloaked man approached Kent, pale-faced and missing an arm.
"Ya all right there?"
"Huff… Huff… First of all, thank you for your help. But who are you?"
In a precarious state, with consciousness slipping away, Kent expressed gratitude to the unknown man while also seeking to ascertain his identity.
As the leader of an organization, it was vital to determine whether the figure before him posed a threat.
"The na’s Ewan Bremner, and I’m a skilled craftsman who can create all sorts of miraculous items. I’m also a master negotiator, able to trade a re bag o’ beans for a fine ol’ cow. And if that ain’t enough, I’m also quite the debtor and a wanderer too!… ‘Scuse for a mont."
The cloaked man retrieved a vial of blood replenishing potion and a painkiller with a needle, injecting it into Kent's arm. He deftly disinfected the wound and wrapped it in bandages, displaying remarkable skill.
"Huff… Huff… What made you help ?"
While skillfully tending to the bandages, the cloaked man replied.
"As I ntioned afore, ya might be soone who saved the world once. So I saved ya in return."
⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩
Tak. Tak. Tak.
Oliver visited the abandoned sewer in the slum beneath the land he had visited with Jane in the past.
This marked his third visit.
In the past, many beggars had gathered here, forming a small village. But now, it appeared as though it had been ravaged, with everything in ruins and bodies scattered about. Though so beggars still clung to life, most of them were injured.
"Ya ca mighty quick, considerin' how occupied ya are."
As Oliver reached the center, he was greeted by Ewan.
Encountering soone unexpected in an unexpected place was quite surprising.
"Hmm… What's got yer curiosity stirred the most?"
Ewan posed an abrupt question.
"Eh?"
"What's got yer curiosity stirred the most?"
"…Where is Mr. Kent?"
After a brief mont of contemplation, Oliver asked the question that had been weighing on his mind.
Ewan nodded and pointed towards a patched-up beggar's tent.
"He's in yonder."
Oliver expressed his gratitude to Ewan, who had beckoned him and guided him, and slowly approached the tent.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
As he entered, he found Kent sleeping with one arm severed.
"……."
"How did you end up here?"
Kent, awakened by the noise, spoke to Oliver, who stood silently observing him.
In response to the question, Oliver remained silent for a mont before chanically answering.
"I received a ssage from Mr. Ewan. I heard you were injured," Oliver explained to Kent, who was still grappling with the effects of the painkillers.
"Ah… so he's a friend of a friend… That's what it ans… Do you know him?" Kent asked, his mind muddled by the painkillers.
"Yes, in a way… But more importantly, are you alright?"
It wasn't the best question to ask soone who had just lost an arm, but Kent simply laughed it off.
"I'm fine, aside from the dizziness caused by the painkillers… But how did he find out about ?"
"I happened to ntion you to him… I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. Thanks to that, I survived. He may be a bit peculiar, but he helped save and my group. I'm grateful. To both you and him."
Kent expressed genuine gratitude.
Normally, such words would have brought at least so sense of satisfaction, but this ti, Oliver didn't feel that way.
How should he describe this feeling…?
"Who attacked you?"
"Don't worry about it."
"I'm just curious. Who attacked you?"
"It was a minor dispute that occurred during work. It's common in Landa. You don't need to concern yourself."
Kent tried to dismiss Oliver's inquiry, but it had little effect.
In fact, Oliver could piece together fragnts from the keywords "work," "dispute," and "Landa."
"Mr. Kent, right? The one who took the photographs of Mr. Shamus's hotel affair."
"Technically, it was one of my mbers who did it. He works at the hotel… But you've beco sharper. You were quite naive when you first arrived. Hehe."
"Was it for money?"
"In the end, yes… Can you co closer for a mont?"
Despite his injuries and the haze induced by the painkillers, Kent asked for a favor.
Though Oliver didn't understand why, he knelt down beside Kent as requested. With his remaining wrinkled hand, Kent tightly gripped Oliver's hand.
"You're my friend, right?"
"Yes."
"And you also owe a debt, right? For taking you to the contaminated zone."
"Yes."
"So, as a friend, I'm asking you to repay that debt."
"If it's about Mr. Shamus, I-"
"Don't seek revenge."
"Pardon?"
"I said, don't seek revenge. Don't get angry. That's my request as a friend."
Kent spoke earnestly to Oliver, his plea laced with concern for his friend, hoping to dissuade him from seeking vengeance or becoming consud by anger.
Oliver suddenly found himself perplexed. Utterly perplexed.
"Am I angry right now?"
"If you're not, that's good."
"Why shouldn't I be angry?"
"I simply thought it would be better if you weren't. I like your unique personality."
"Is my personality unique?"
"Very much so."
Kent chuckled. Each ti he laughed, pain pulsed through his wounds, but he continued to laugh—for Oliver.
"How is my personality unique?"
"You appear naive yet you're clever, you seem fragile but you're stubborn, you don't easily get angry and you value everything… I like that about you. So, please, don't let these events consu you with revenge, anger, or hatred. Those emotions… can be incredibly addictive. I'd rather you steer clear of them."
Oliver blinked, processing Kent's words.
"But-"
"-I am not the victim."
"……."
"I am rely the perpetrator who has beco a victim. I have committed countless sins. I've driven a mother and child out of their ho, sold a child into prostitution, exploited honest workers, injured and killed countless people… all for the sake of money."
"……."
"Now, I am simply receiving what I deserve. That's why you shouldn't let anger consu you."
Kent firmly grasped Oliver's hand. Even without the eye of a warlock, Oliver could sense the sincerity in Kent's words.
"I didn't intend to relay Priest's words to you. I'm not qualified to do that. I just… ask that you refrain from harboring anger. Can you do that for , my friend?"
Kent asked solemnly, dropping the facade of nonchalance. It was as if he was desperately trying to protect sothing precious.
Oliver remained silent for a while before responding.
"I… promise."
"Thank you. I am truly grateful… I'm feeling tired now."
Kent closed his eyes, as if he had achieved his objective.
Oliver gazed at Kent for a mont before stepping out of the tent.
Ewan was waiting outside.
"Did ya have a anin'ful conversation?"
"Yes…"
"And I reckon ya got plenty o' questions."
That was true. Oliver had nurous inquiries—about how he had ended up here, or why he had co here in the first place. However, he had sothing else to do first.
"Thank you, Mr. Ewan."
Oliver bowed politely to Ewan, expressing his gratitude.
Ewan appeared surprised.
"Why the tone of this conversation done switched all of a sudden?"
"Oh, I didn't explain… Thank you for helping Mr. Kent. Mr. Ewan. As you ntioned, I have many questions, but I felt it was important to express my gratitude first. Thank you once again."
"I didn't expect ya to be so appreciative."
"He is my friend… If it's alright with you, could you take care of his treatnt and ensure his safety for the ti being?"
"I ain't got no objections, but my services co with a steep price."
"If it's about money-"
"-Ah. Ah. Ah. Settlin' this with money is like a thief's mindset."
"Then…?"
"Hmm… How 'bout ya do a favor down the line? Repayin' a favor with another favor."
Oliver nodded, finding this arrangent acceptable. It seed fair.
"Yes, I understand."
"Good. Seems like ya grasp sothin'. As a reward for a fine deal, I'll give ya this."
Ewan retrieved two tonfas from his cloak. These were the ones Oliver had requested, crafted from a portion of the at hamr.
"This is what I asked for last ti."
"Yeah, I made 'em a while back, but I found it to be a hassle to deliver. By the way, any issues?"
"No, thank you for returning them at the right mont."
Oliver received the tonfas as he responded.
"What's yer plan now?"
"I should return to my work… I was working before coming here."
⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩
After bidding farewell to Ewan, Oliver retraced his steps.
The abandoned sewer was enveloped in darkness, and the rhythmic sound of Oliver's quarterstaff striking the floor echoed as he walked.
Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak…….
While walking, Oliver ca to a sudden halt, seemingly entranced.
Simultaneously, dozens of rats, both large and small, erged from the cracks in the sewer. These were ferocious rats that had grown accustod to feeding on their own kind and the corpses littering the sewers.
Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!
Their squeaks ford a rhythm.
However, Oliver appeared unaffected by the swarm of rats, fixated on sothing. He sat on a protruding ledge of the sewer and retrieved an item from his pocket.
Five letters.
"As I thought, I couldn't resist… I'm sorry, Elder."
Oliver seed to resign himself as he tore open one of the letters and examined its contents.
Inside was a letter, written in sowhat clumsy handwriting.
anwhile, the rats of all sizes had completely surrounded Oliver, and as the encirclent was completed, two beings possessing the power of nature quietly revealed themselves.
They were Shamus's subordinates, the ones who had attacked Kent.
"I didn't expect a mont's wait to turn into such good fortune. I can present a gift to the boss. You must be-"
"-Shhhh. Please wait a mont."
Oliver placed a finger to his lips and spoke, before resuming reading the letter.
(To be Continued)
OR
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