Chapter 100

The Dragon Mountains were shaped like a dragon. A great dragon that raised its massive dorsal scales to intimidate any challenger who dared to climb it. The Northern People believed more in the existence of dragons than in the Archdeity Church. They disliked the scaled Ain, yet they feared and revered the dragons.

The people living in the North believed the caves in these Dragon Mountains were the dragon's eyes. This was because the massive, jet-black holes seemed to gaze down upon the lands of the North like eyes. Just looking up at the mountain range from the northern lands, one could see dozens of eyes watching over the North. Seeing the caves staring at us from between the sharp, sheer cliffs, one would unconsciously feel a sense of solemnity and bow their head.

The Hero was probably in one of those caves. There was no better place to use as a base in the mountains than a cave. I was overwhelmed by the sight of the jet-black caves that had been visible since I entered the North. The very fact that I had to search every single one of those caves was bringing me a sense of cosmic horror. I clicked my tongue and shifted my gaze to the northern villages.

In-game, the Northern Region was a place that had a Switzerland-like atmosphere. But now, the territory ruled by the Grand Duke of the North was half-fucked by the Ain's attacks, and the other half was in the process of being sequentially fucked up by the influx of refugees. The smoke I had thought from afar was the cozy sight of cooking fires or something similar was, in reality, the scene of a village being wrecked by rogues in real-time.

It seemed there was no talent left in the North after the Grand Duke, who would have established public order, was gone. I couldn't help but be surprised that the North, which I had heard was quite livable, had hit rock bottom like this. For rogues to be brazenly robbing a village in broad daylight. I couldn't tell if the problem was the Ain or the character of the Northern people.

Some of them even gathered around my carriage, stealthily looking for a weak point. They were "politely" speaking to the coachman, saying they wanted to have a "talk" with me. The coachman asked in a voice full of fear.

"My Lord. Wh-what should I do? They... they're asking us to stop for a moment..."

"Who are you?"

"My Lord. You look loaded. How about giving us some alms?"

"Ah, of course, I must... Where... is my wallet....."

As I said that, I gripped the mace at my waist. Did he really think I was reaching for my wallet? The man was smiling slyly, caressing the frame of my carriage window. I have no idea how long it had been since he washed his hands, but every time the man's hand touched the brown carriage, it was stained with a black color.

"Aigoo, there, take your time..."

"My wallet... is right... here!"

Clang!

With a light sound, the skull was shattered to pieces. If you punch holes in both sides of a food can and press it with a press machine, the contents shoot out of the holes with a squirt. With one swing of my mace, the thief bastard collapsed to the ground, his contents pouring from his ears like a punctured can of tuna. The rogues who had been observing the situation behind the man drew their weapons and went berserk.

"That bastard killed Karl!"

Karl, a name I'd heard somewhere before. The next batter rushed at my carriage with a sickle. Without hesitation, I kicked the carriage door open. The bandit's jaw, struck by the door, snapped back, and the man fell to his knees like a deflating balloon. I stepped outside and lightly swung my mace.

Whack!

The fallen man rolled to the side like a plastic bag. The sight of the rogue collapsed in what looked like a yoga pose didn't seem to register in the eyes of the other gang members.

"I-Iik...! G-Get him! All of you, at once!"

One of the bandits shouted as he drew his weapon. Dozens of bandits charged at me all at once. I grabbed the collar of the first bandit to reach me and slammed him into the ground. When one person was planted in the dirt floor and became a human seedling, the charging bandits stopped in their tracks.

The bandit, planted upside down, was trembling all over like a lightning rod struck by lightning. There wasn't enough time to do this to every single one of them. I was a busy man, needing to find the Hero in the Northern Mountains. I didn't have the leisure to attend to every detail of the North's fucked-up situation. In times like these, it was best to scare them off. I grabbed the rogue's legs and said.

"Watch closely, you fuckers."

I grabbed one of the bandit's legs in each hand and pulled them apart with all my might. A desperate scream came from the dirt, and I ripped the bandit's legs off.

"Uwaaaaaaaah!"

"A m-monster!"

The bandits fled in terror. But even after I put on this fucking idiotic strongman show, there were still some who remained. About 10 of them seemed to think they could win if they all attacked at once. I brushed the blood from my clothes and asked.

"Not leaving?"

The bandits were trembling, their faces like those of privates caught slacking off in the barracks by their senior. But they seemed to have some sort of conviction about their robbery. They gritted their teeth, pointed their weapons at me, and slowly circled around, then grabbed the coachman who was still sitting in the coachman's seat.

"G-Give us everything you have, or we'll kill this coachman!"

Fuck. Killing the coachman would be a pain. But why didn't that bastard run?

"Why didn't you run?"

"Ah, well... I thought you'd take care of everything, My Lord..."

"Fuck, there were dozens of rogues, and you thought I'd kill every last one of them without missing?"

"Ah, that... I-I'm sorry."

"That was a mistake, right?"

"Yes, yes! It was."

"Then it's a natural death."

"Pardon?"

I smashed the head of the nearest rogue. The startled rogue pressed his blade harder against the coachman and screamed.

"I'll kill him! I said I'd kill him, you crazy bastard!"

Clang!

"U-Uwaaah!!"

When I smashed another thief bastard's head, the hostage-taker fell into a panic. Ten of them had attacked, failed to land a single effective blow, and two more had their heads smashed. Shaking my mace, I looked at the other rogues who had created some distance. The hostage-taker was at the front. I spoke to the hostage-taker very politely.

"If you leave now, I won't chase you. Go quickly."

"A-Aah... Ugh..."

The rogues were slowly backing away. If they had run when I ripped a man in half, more of them wouldn't have had to die. Why didn't they give up? The rogues finally abandoned the coachman and fled. The coachman sat down, looking dazed, then looked at me with a slightly resentful expression.

"What."

"N-Nothing, sir."

Of course, when I politely asked if he was okay while holding my mace, his expression softened. The sight of my mace made him generous.

Do you know the anecdote about George Washington? Washington was chopping with an axe and cut down a tree his father cherished. Washington stood proudly before his father and said, 'I cut down that tree,' and his father, moved by Washington's honesty, forgave him.

The lesson to be learned from this story is that holding an axe can make the other person generous. This was a lesson that also applied to a blood-stained mace. When I spoke honestly and plainly with my mace in hand, the coachman also understood and forgave me.

Honestly, if he had said one word to me there, it would have been a natural death.

Thus, the journey to the Lord's Castle was nothing but perilous. The "monsters" stationed in the North were supposed to be the Ain, but public order was so fucked that every time I stopped at a village, a band of thieves came as a package deal. From as many as dozens to as few as five or six, rogues periodically sought me out like Jurchen raiders, trying to disturb my peace.

"Fuck."

"A-Are you alright?"

This was already the fifth village where I'd encountered rogues. To commemorate meeting the fifth group of rogues in the fifth village, I wanted to get a pentakill, but these clueless thieving bastards only had four heads among them. Why wasn't there a named rogue with two heads? Laying the rogues out on the ground like dried fish didn't bring me any satisfaction. Shaking my mace against the ground, lost in thought for a moment, I glanced at the coachman.

"Wh-Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No. It's nothing."

Still, that's not right. Right. What kind of crazy idea was that? My mind, briefly lost to the desire for a pentakill, quickly regained its reason. I sat on the carriage's footrest and spoke.

"Let's rest here for the day."

The fatigue from traversing five villages in one day was no joke. Since I'd saved the village from the band of thieves, I figured I could just borrow a house and stay. The coachman agreed, saying it was a good idea.

The Village Chief looked drained of vitality, even though I had saved them. When I said I wanted to borrow a house, he readily agreed but seemed to want to talk more. He seemed so glad to have someone to lament his fate to, sighing heavily as he spoke.

"The rogues have been rampant lately."

"I see. That's a pity."

I said so with a pitiful expression. Of course, if the Village Chief asked me to subjugate the band of thieves, I planned to decisively cut my ties with him. I didn't have the time, nor was it my responsibility.

No matter how I thought about the conflict between the Grand Duke of the North and me, it was that bastard's son's fault for throwing the first punch. It wasn't my fault he picked a fight with me without considering the risk of his own death. Should I have died and let Eve become fried fish? I casually asked the Village Chief about the current situation with the Ain.

"I heard the Ain are still running wild in the North."

"Since the Grand Duke passed away, their momentum has grown more ferocious by the day. We are desperately trying to stop them from coming down from the mountains to the villages. My son also volunteered as a soldier to protect the North. I hear he builds a defensive line every day and shoots his bow at the Ain."

It seemed the Ain were descending like crazy now that the Grand Duke of the North was dead. As if they were trying to repay the grudge from being tormented by the Grand Duke. The Village Chief seemed to hope I would lend a hand in this incident, or at least subjugate the rogues, but I pretended not to notice. I planned to get a cup of tea, go to a cabin for a nap, and head straight to the castle.

"Village Chief!"

Someone burst through the door of the Village Chief's house. It was a young man. The Village Chief asked, startled.

"What is it?"

"The Adjutant has come from the castle."

"The Adjutant?"

The Village Chief trembled as he put on his outer coat. I stood up as well. There was only one reason for the Lord's Adjutant to come. It was because of me.

I went outside the building. A man in armor was staring at me with hollow eyes. The knights under his command were also extremely gaunt and disheveled. I almost thought an undead knight order had come to greet me. The man at the front opened his mouth.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Noivan, the Acting Grand Duke of the Northern Territory, and the former Grand Duke's Adjutant."