Chapter 71. Call a Blade-Catcher a Blade-Catcher
The next day.
Base Camp No. 1 was in quite an uproar.
When he’d sensed the place with his presence sense the day before, there had only been about twenty people or so, but today, as if they’d appeared out of nowhere, nearly fifty men were clearing out the camp.
“Hey! That tent over there needs to be buried! Bring the oil-soaked cloth!”
“Burn the furniture! We can always make more later!”
The sight of those fierce-looking mercenaries moving as if they were a single body was quite a spectacle.
Aster watched them in silence when a shadow approached.
“Uh, Mage-nim. What in the world happened here?”
It was Raileigh.
His eyes darted all over as he took in the atmosphere of Base Camp No. 1, and dark circles were smeared thick beneath them.
“You have no idea how shocked I was. Out of nowhere, around dawn, that Aviot mercenary bastard barged in—……”
He’d thought he was going to faint on the spot.
So it’s come, he’d thought.
After all, he’d poked the Chief’s temper that badly the day before.
Raileigh had gone in and out of Base Camp No. 1 countless times and run into Fixer again and again, but he’d never once seen him that furious.
A mercenary company on the level of Aviot wouldn’t bury someone just because they’d supposedly offended the Chief’s mood, but still……
‘It’s not like it’s impossible.’
At a base camp, the camp-keeper mercenary company—and the authority the Chief holds—are absolute.
But that wasn’t it.
- I’ll pay you more than enough. Share the information you saw and heard on the way here. It would be even better if you can show me a map.
An officer who, out of the blue, demanded to be told how to get out of the great forest.
In that utterly chaotic situation, Raileigh had been put through it for a long while, still half-asleep.
So how could he not be flustered?
“I… I really thought I was going to be buried. What the hell is all this……?”
“What else? Just think of it as getting ourselves one usable blade-catcher.”
“……Hiiik, Mage-nim?”
At Aster’s blunt phrasing, Raileigh blanched and whipped his head around.
“B-b-blade-catcher?! If you say something like that, you’ll get knifed where no one can see, not a rat or a bird!”
What was the one word mercenaries hated most?
The slur “blade-catcher.”
Sure, they used it themselves all the time, self-mockingly, but it was different when a third party called them that.
They were mercenaries who sold even their pride for money, but even they had a scale you must never touch.
And yet, at Raileigh’s reaction, Aster let out a snort of laughter.
“If it’s a blade-catcher, you call it a blade-catcher. What else are you supposed to call it? Isn’t that right?”
“N-no, Mage-nim…!”
Just as Raileigh panicked and tried to cover Aster’s mouth, a voice cut in.
“It’s unpleasant, but what does a petty name like that matter?”
A familiar voice.
“……!”
It belonged to someone who absolutely should not have been heard in this situation.
“H-haha…… N-no way.”
Raileigh broke into a cold sweat at the voice that came from directly above his head and turned around.
Kkigigik— as if his neck were the poorly oiled joints of a puppet, when his head finally creaked around—
Raileigh’s face was dyed in despair.
“H… haha. Hahahaha.”
Because the man he’d prayed it wouldn’t be was standing right there.
The Chief of Base Camp No. 1.
The captain of the Aviot mercenaries.
Fixer.
“C-Chief—this remark has nothing to do with my position, it’s just the Mage-nim’s personal statement and—……”
Was he trying to save even his one miserable life?
Raileigh drew the line in a flash.
Fixer looked down at him as if he were ridiculous, then waved him away as if he wasn’t even worth answering.
“I don’t have time to fool around with the likes of you, so get lost.”
“Ah, haha! Yes! Come to think of it, there were still some things left to discuss! Then, I’ll be on my way—……”
Raileigh left with a pale face.
Aster watched him go for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the base camp.
“To think a guy like that’s still alive.”
“It’s hard to find a Pathfinder as good as that one. No, you could say he’s the best in the Hamelin Great Forest.”
“Well… yeah.”
True enough.
He hadn’t really seen other Pathfinders in the great forest, so it was hard to compare, but Raileigh’s pathfinding really was top-tier.
With such a faint presence sense, it was like he could see ahead as if he were someone with an incredibly sharp presence sense.
Well……
“Ah—! S-sorry…… I’ll just squeeze by!”
Considering how that hulking body of his bowed and scraped, it was hard to believe, but still.
Anyway.
After a quick sideways glance at Raileigh hurrying away after bumping into an Aviot mercenary, Aster turned his eyes to Fixer.
“You’re more diligent than I expected.”
“The sooner the preparation, the better, isn’t it?”
“Confirmation done?”
“……Mm.”
Fixer let out a low hum.
The day before—
- Yeah. I personally sent it up with my own hands.
The Ruler of the Swamp.
Fixer had heard the shocking declaration that Aster had finished off that ancient species with his own hands.
Of course, it wasn’t easy to believe on words alone.
- ……You killed the Ruler of the Swamp? Alone, as a mere mage? Don’t be ridiculous!
What kind of ancient species was the Ruler of the Swamp?
It was deadly even to an Aether user, and beyond that, it had traits that made it a natural enemy to mages.
It disturbed the mana in the atmosphere and sealed off magic entirely.
What mage could possibly handle it?
But.
‘……To think it was actually true.’
For confirmation, he’d sent the fastest officer in Aviot to the wetlands.
And before sunrise, one message delivered through the communication crystal orb.
- ……Chief, it seems the mage’s words were true. No… they’re true.
Damaged in places, but the corpse floating in the wetlands was unmistakably the Ruler of the Swamp.
That was why Aviot’s mercenaries were clearing out Base Camp No. 1.
“What the hell…… are you?”
Fixer asked, recalling the recorded footage his swift officer had brought back.
The corpse of the ancient species, drifting unsightly in the swamp.
What remained of it looked less like it had been killed by a person and more like it had been torn apart and eaten by some enormous monster.
But unlike Fixer’s complicated feelings, Aster’s answer was as simple as could be.
“What else? Your employer.”
“……Mm.”
“Ah—don’t tell me you still haven’t decided? Since you were clearing out the camp, I thought you’d made up your mind. What, you need more time?”
At the casual question, Fixer slowly shook his head.
“The decision is done.”
In the first place, the decision had been finished the moment he confirmed the Ruler of the Swamp had been subjugated.
That was why they’d cleared out Base Camp No. 1, and why they’d called back those who’d been out scouting the great forest since before dawn.
“However, let’s make one thing absolutely clear again.”
“What?”
“As I said, only the oldbies are going to Base Camp No. 4. Those young ones over there…….”
“You mean they’re going outside the great forest.”
“……Yes.”
It was something they’d already gone back and forth on, but Fixer wanted to make sure.
The Ruler of the Swamp.
If this mage who had subjugated it tried to forcibly drag all of them along, they’d have no way to withstand him.
He’d realized the gap in strength.
Of course—
‘We won’t go down easily.’
They’d have no choice but to struggle at the very end.
While Fixer steeled himself for any possible situation, Aster replied.
“Yeah, then. When are you done preparing?”
“Clearing the camp will be finished soon, but there are still a few who haven’t returned yet. Still, everything should be wrapped up within the morning.”
“Within the morning……”
Aster silently counted the time.
That was plenty of time to wait.
If they were half-baked nobodies they wouldn’t be worth it, but the Aviot mercenaries—no, the unexpected strength that was Fixer. Was three or four hours really anything?
“Then let’s hurry up and finish.”
Aster said that and lightly brushed off his hands.
He started to move, and that was when Fixer’s voice came.
“What do you want. No—what is it you want?”
“…….”
At some point, Fixer had started speaking more politely.
But it wasn’t servile.
How should one put it?
Up until a moment ago, it had felt like a Chief dealing with a visitor to his base camp—now, it felt like a mercenary dealing with an employer.
Aster stared straight into those eyes, then spoke.
“I told you.”
“What…?”
“Blade-catchers. As for the destination… yeah, let’s make it Base Camp No. 4. After that, do whatever you want. You lot escort us until we reach Base Camp No. 4. That’s the request. How about it?”
“Understood.”
Even with that naked term “blade-catcher” in it, Fixer bowed his head politely.
In truth, escorting was just a word.
Did a mage of that level really need an escort?
Still—
“Up to Base Camp No. 4, we will see you there safely.”
As one mercenary, he only carved the client’s instruction into his chest.
“And one more thing.”
“……?”
“Let’s talk comfortably. I’m two years older, but we’re going to be getting old together, and I don’t plan to be strict about it. Right?”
With that, the masked mage shuffled off.
Fixer watched him, and an incredulous smile rose on his face.
“That… rude little—.”
All the way to the end, he insisted on those two years.
At a glance, the guy looked much younger than him.
‘No—maybe not?’
Judging by the skin that was visible and the voice, he seemed about the same age as that young mage.
But considering he’d subjugated the Ruler of the Swamp, it was no longer something he could be sure of.
Such a young mage had subjugated the Ruler of the Swamp, which had ruled the Hamelin Great Forest in terror for countless years?
‘Honestly, it makes more sense that some old mage chugged a youth elixir and rejuvenated.’
Of course, such an elixir existed only in legend.
“Chief-nim?”
“Mm, yes.”
Fixer gathered his thoughts at the mercenary’s call as he approached.
“The scouting team has all returned. Clearing the camp is also nearly finished.”
Preparation seemed to have ended faster than expected.
Fixer looked at the young mercenary, then turned on his heel.
“That’s enough clearing.”
“Then…….”
“Gather what’s left in one place and burn it. If goblins set up a village, it’ll be a nuisance.”
“Yes, understood.”
The young mercenary accepted the order without question.
“And when the clearing is done, have everyone assemble. We can’t keep the client waiting any longer.”
Base Camp No. 1, now emptied out.
A space that had once bustled with mercenaries and adventurers, and a few merchants, was now held only by about fifty mercenaries.
Under that suffocating silence, fifty Aviot mercenaries stood in formation by fives and tens, staring forward.
Unlike the freewheeling, rough image of mercenaries, they looked like hardened veterans, thoroughly trained.
Yet even so, there was a wildness that couldn’t be hidden.
A truly sharp military aura (軍氣).
Before that military aura stood Fixer, firm as a towering mountain, taking the Aviot mercenaries in one by one with his eyes.
‘…….’
Their faces were truly diverse.
From seasoned mercenaries who’d been together since their greenhorn days, meeting faces for decades—
to chicks who’d been with them for barely a year.
Fixer took them in silently, then finally opened his mouth, which had been tightly closed.
“It’s time to leave.”
“…….”
“Half of you will head deeper into the great forest, and the other half will head outside.”
Aviot, who had guarded Base Camp No. 1 for about two hundred years.
The moment had come for them to leave their home.
“I won’t speak long. Even if the directions differ, the resolve we carry is ultimately one. And you know that resolve even if I don’t say it.”
How could they not know?
Aviot’s mercenaries have nowhere to return to.
Base Camp No. 1 is a refuge for drifters with no parents, no siblings, not even a teacher.
They shared not a single drop of blood, but Aviot’s mercenaries were brothers to one another, parents, children, and teachers.
So they would protect it—Base Camp No. 1.
No, the name Aviot.
Thus, the resolve in their hearts was only one.
‘Aviot’s continuation.’
A few drifters were walking toward death for that reason.
To protect the refuge of their brothers, their children, their disciples—the place to set foot, the place to return to!
Those leaving were the same.
But as everyone breathed out hot fervor with one heart and one will, one voice, so heated it seemed ready to burst, sprang out from the crowd.
“……Chief!”
The voice belonged to a very young mercenary.
“I… I’ll go too!”
He couldn’t accept it.
That only they would escape for life—that they would run away!
It wasn’t dishonorable.
Mercenaries don’t know honor.
It wasn’t shameful.
Mercenaries don’t know shame.
They were simply afraid.
They had no confidence they could endure that life—those long years—surviving alone after sending off their comrades.
That strange heat soon spread in every direction.
“……Th-then.”
“I-if that guy can go, then I…….”
No—it wasn’t spreading.
All the young mercenaries already had that in their hearts; it was only the emotions they’d been pressing down that were bursting out.
“Chief! I’m a bit better with a sword than that bastard!”
“I may not be great with a sword, but aren’t I a bit faster on my feet?!”
The military aura (軍氣) collapsed, and emotions surged higher.
With shouts erupting from all sides, the pent-up feelings swept through the area like an explosion.
Who would want to live after sending their comrades into a death zone?
The reason Aviot had been able to protect Base Camp No. 1 for nearly two hundred years was precisely because of this bond.
And so the oldbies’ hearts, too, wavered.
‘……These damn bastards.’
‘Damn it…….’
Were they not afraid of death?
No.
‘Then… those guys in my place…….’
They wanted to live.
Rather, they wanted to shove one of those guys into their spot and leave the Hamelin Great Forest to survive.
But.
“You little—!”
One of the oldbies spat out a voice filled with rage.
He broke formation, strode up to the young mercenary who had shouted first, and smashed his face with a brutish fist.
“……Kuhk!”
The mercenary crumpled from the sudden blow.
“You—where do you get off! Trying to jump into! The water we swim in! Huh?! You wanna square up? You f*cking bastards!”
He unleashed a merciless beating on the fallen mercenary.
The mercenary had already been unconscious for some time, but the oldby didn’t stop punching, eyes burning with venom as if he meant to kill him.
“You need your discipline set straight?! Huh?! You think it’s easy? You think it’s easy for us?! You bastard! Where do you get off! Trying to match us!”
No one stopped him.
The oldbies watched with heavy eyes, and the young mercenaries froze.
That was when a voice came.
“Enough.”
Fixer’s low voice.
At that calm tone, it seemed like the enraged mercenary might cool down, but……
“…….”
Strangely, the oldby stopped immediately.
The eyes he lifted to Fixer were far from excited. They were colder than ever.
Fixer exchanged a look with the oldby once, then took the young mercenaries into his gaze.
“Indeed, your discipline has grown lax. I won’t take questions. All of you, get out. Go outside and wait for your disposition. You damn bastards.”
That single statement settled everything.
“What are you doing? Hurry up and get out!”
At that furious shout, the young mercenaries moved in a panic.
Fixer, too, watched them, then turned away.
There were no farewells—no “take care,” no “goodbye.”
The oldbies would go deeper into the great forest, and the young mercenaries would head toward the outer edge.
However……
The reason the young mercenaries could move was none other than—
- Wait for your disposition.
A promise that wouldn’t be kept, but that one single phrase.
That one phrase made their steps lighter than a hundred farewell greetings ever could.
Aviot’s mercenaries who had protected Base Camp No. 1.
Twenty-three oldbies, to Base Camp No. 4.
It was a feeble step to stop Destrow, an unclean existence handed down from antiquity.