Misteltein.
Known throughout the world as a mercenary mad for gold coins.
The Trickster Mercenary Company.
A swarm of locusts gathered and formed around Misteltein as its core.
“Get ready to throw.”
“Already ready.”
But there was one thing people never failed to mention when talking about them, just as surely as they mentioned their love of money.
“Kihit. Angle calculations complete. Margin of error, one to three.”
“Amplification scrolls ready.”
“Enhancement scroll ready.”
“Shield scroll ready.”
“Formation complete.”
“Want me to start the count?”
“Yeah.”
Once they accepted your money, they might demand additional payment.
But they would never disappoint.
Those were the kind of mercenaries they were.
“Five.”
Each subordinate took a position within the formation devised by Horde, Misteltein’s subordinate as well as Trickster’s chief strategist and weaponsmith.
Their role was that of human catalysts.
They would divide among themselves the burden of Mana that, under normal circumstances, the person standing at the center of the formation would have had to bear entirely alone.
“Four.”
“Damn, this is my first dragon too. Got me a little nervous.”
At the very center of the formation, the person who had taken position with the spear launcher began emitting pale blue light from his eyes.
It was the glow of excess Mana Misteltein himself had failed to completely contain.
“Three.”
“Don’t worry, Boss. You, me, and Loki—when has anything the three of us made together ever failed?”
Meanwhile,…