Wandering Mercenary in an Open World
Wandering Mercenary in an Open World - Chapter 72

Time flowed like water and the morning of the sixth day, when he had promised to meet the blacksmith, dawned.

Tarwen, who spotted Ruon coming down the stairs with his luggage, yawned and waved his hand.

“You’re here?”

“You’re up early for a change.”

“Uh…”

The fairy scratched her cheek with an awkward expression, hearing his words.

He was teasing her for sleeping like a log for the past five days, as if she was one with the bed.

She said.

“I guess I let my guard down. I felt relieved having a warrior like you by my side.”

Ruon didn’t bother to reply and headed out of the inn. Tarwen quickly followed him.

***

“Are you alive?”

The dwarf, who was snoring and dozing off, was startled by Ruon’s voice and lifted his head.

“Oh, you’re here?”

He wiped his chin, which was soaked with drool, and staggered to his feet.

He would have died if he had told him to finish it in three days.

As Ruon muttered to himself, the dwarf washed his face and said.

“You came at the right time. I just finished the thing this morning.”

He moved his short legs briskly and pointed to a sharp metal piece on the workbench.

“Here, this is it.”

Ruon quickly grabbed it with his hand. The dagger, which felt snug in his hand, was quite heavy, as the blade and the handle were both made of steel.

There was a round silver sphere attached to the bottom of the handle. It was decorated with a flame engraving on the surface, which was very delicate and beautiful to look at.

The blacksmith, who was watching Ruon fiddle with the dagger, licked his lips with his tongue and said.

“As you requested, I made the blade thick, but that made the center of gravity too far forward, reducing the maneuverability. It would be hard to use it for throwing, let alone swinging, so I had no choice but to make the handle and the weight all of steel.”

He scratched his head.

“As a result, it weighs more than three times as much as a dagger of the same length, but on the other hand…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Ruon’s arm blurred. The dagger flew like an arrow and stuck deep into something.

The blacksmith’s mouth dropped open, seeing the dagger that had disappeared, leaving only the round weight in the center of the wooden target.

Ruon, who had thrown the dagger without a word, smiled faintly.

“It’s a sturdy one. I like it.”

“Uh, no…”

He was speechless at the amazing strength and accuracy, and he managed to continue.

“I was going to say that the only drawback is the weight, but I guess I was wrong. Yeah.”

“That can happen.”

Ruon chuckled and walked to retrieve the dagger, but the blacksmith raised his palm hastily.

“Wait, you don’t need to do that.”

He picked up something from the workbench with a thin smile.

“Try this on.”

Ruon tilted his head, seeing the leather wristband that the blacksmith offered. It was the assassin’s thing, which had been wrapped like a cocoon with a silver thread.

There must be a reason.

He obediently put on the wristband. It was easy to wear, as it was stretchy.

The blacksmith said.

“When you’re done, hold out your hand with the wristband towards the dagger. I dare say, you’ll be surprised.”

With a curious look on his face, Ruon stretched out his hand towards the target.

Then the silver weight vibrated. At the same time, the dagger, which had come out of the target by itself, retraced the direction it had flown and flew towards Ruon. To be precise, towards his right hand with the wristband.

Ruon caught the handle of the dagger in mid-air and looked at the blacksmith with a questioning gaze.

The dwarf smiled smugly and said.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’ll make you a new thing without harming the original magic.”

He continued with a proud expression.

“While analyzing the thing, I found out that the silver thread had a magic engraved on it that made it return to the wearer’s will. The wristband was the medium for that.”

Ruon looked at the silver sphere that served as the weight of the dagger and asked.

“Is this the silver thread?”

“That’s right. It was such a sharp thing that I wanted to melt it and mix it with the blade, but I was afraid that the magic would be damaged, so I didn’t.”

Tarwen, who had been listening to their conversation quietly, chimed in.

“That’s impressive. If you touch a magic-engraved thing carelessly, you might lose its power. It’s something you wouldn’t dare to do without a magical sense.”

The blacksmith sniffed his nose at the unexpected compliment.

“Hmm, thank you.”

“It’s not an empty word. If you learn properly, you can do the engraving by yourself. I’d recommend buying scrolls rather than collaborating with a foul-tempered mage.”

That’s what Ruon said.

“Thank you for the splendid weapon. I’ll use it well. How much do I owe you?”

The blacksmith frowned at his words.

“Don’t say such disappointing things. It’s reward enough for me that my creation accompanies you on your journey. If you want to pay me properly, just become more famous than you are now.”

He gave a malicious smile and reached out his hand.

“It was an honor to make something for a warrior of the forge. I sincerely hope that you have the blessing of Duermyr on your path.”

Ruon, who clasped his calloused hand, replied with a faint smile.

***

That night, the two of them camped in the dark forest.

They filled their hungry stomachs with ham and cheese, and sat on the floor with a blanket, staring blankly at the burning bonfire.

In the ensuing silence, Tarwen, who was poking the bonfire with a stick for no reason, slowly opened her mouth.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Ruon, who was leaning against a tree stump on the opposite side of her, nodded.

“There’s nothing you can’t.”

With a vague consent, Tarwen put down the stick and asked.

“What happened with Hella, that you’re willing to go all the way to Yoram without hesitation?”

He hesitated for a while, as if it was hard to answer with a simple ‘it just happened’, seeing the serious expression on her face. Then he slowly opened his mouth.

“I made a promise.”

“A promise?”

As he nodded silently, Tarwen gave a faint smile.

“It must be an important promise.”

Ruon shrugged his shoulders, recalling Philip, who had lost his wife and child and cried his eyes out.

“Something like that.”

Tarwen said in a soft voice.

“…Ruon, if Hella is after you at this point, it’s probably not just for revenge.”

As if she didn’t wait for his answer, she continued.

“I’ve been thinking about something all the time while traveling with you. I wonder if the person in front of me might be a warrior who will be remembered as a legend.”

“Is this the time to flatter me? Sorry, but I don’t have anything to compliment you on.”

She gave a hollow smile at his curt retort.

“Flatter? You’ve already written a legend by killing the Archdemon. How many people do you think have achieved such a feat from ancient times to the present?”

“So what?”

She took a breath and said.

“Hella, or Yoram, might have marked you as the body to become an Archdemon. They can’t be unaware of what I’ve realized, so it’s not an exaggeration to say it’s certain.”

Is that so?

Ruon, who had already given up the control of his body and fought a bloody battle with Belducius in his mind, replied without any agitation.

“They’re all interested in my body.”

“What can they do? Where can they find a body that can burst a monster’s head with bare hands?”

Meanwhile, the fire of the bonfire had weakened. Tarwen quickly picked up a stick and poked the fire. She said.

“You don’t seem to be surprised. Anyway, I’m glad. I can be with a warrior like you.”

Ruon thought that the fairy in front of him wasn’t trying to warn him belatedly. He was sure that she still had something to say that she couldn’t spit out.

“Is it so hard to say that you’re a traitor of Yoram?”

“What?”

As she exclaimed in surprise, Ruon gave a snort and said.

“Why are you so surprised? You know everything about Yoram’s witches and their plans, and you even revived a corpse for a moment. Wasn’t that just a way of asking me to notice?”

She opened her mouth after a silence.

“Do you think it’s easy to confess to a peerless warrior who is willing to fight the whole Yoram to kill a witch, that I’m also from the same place as them? I didn’t know that my revenge would end with an unexpected person.”

She gave a weak smile, as if she realized that her actions had been too obvious.

“Yeah, it’s not something that can be hidden by hiding. Right? You’re funny too. Why did you just watch when you knew everything?”

Ruon furrowed his brow and retorted.

“Should I have cut off your head? Do you want me to?”

“No, no, that’s not it.”

She turned her head in fright and said.

“Your hostile attitude towards Hella was so bad, I couldn’t tell you that I was a witch of Yoram like her. I didn’t know that my revenge would end with an unexpected person.”

She spoke without knowing, feeling the pressure from Ruon’s calm eyes.

“I know it’s hard to believe… but I’m not a psychopath who sacrifices innocent people, or a pervert who enjoys their pain. I was just… a trophy who barely survived by being recognized for my magical talent.”

She took a deep breath and asked.

“Can I tell you my story, even though it’s late?”

“Let me hear it.”

With a brief answer, Tarwen, who was digging up the past with a painful expression, barely opened her mouth.

“Like all the victims of the witch, my happy family was killed by the witch without knowing why. I was the only one who survived by luck, because I came home late playing with dirt. One of the witches told me a phrase of an unknown spell while I was peeing on the spot. She said she would spare me if I recited it. I managed to say that strange spell without missing a single syllable. If I had known what kind of spell it was, I would have bitten my tongue and killed myself. I swear.”

As he recalled that time, his clear eyes were full of bloodshot, as if anger was boiling.

“That was a necromancy that turned corpses into ghouls, and I had a damn talent for it. How do you think it felt to watch the bodies of my dead family twist and turn into monsters?”

The faint mist made by the flickering flames distorted the fairy’s face. It was hard to tell whether she was smiling or crying behind the mist. But the emotion in her shaky eyes was clear sadness.

Ruon said.

“I don’t know.”

With a faint smile at his honest answer, Tarwen gulped down the water in the canteen. His throat seemed to burn.

“The witch who noticed my talent took me to the cradle. They argued whether to kill me or save me. It was a close call, but they decided to save me. Of course, I had no say in it.”

She said, brushing her bangs up.

“I’ve been living for revenge for over twenty years. But that became impossible too. My power was still insufficient, and the ritual of the great demon was approaching. The moment the ritual proceeded, I was sure I would live forever as a horrible monster, fused with the crazy women I hated. So I hurriedly implanted a magic circle in my body and ran away. I wanted to do some clumsy revenge along the way.”

Tarwen suddenly started laughing like a madman. He laughed for a long time, shaking his shoulders. The laughter on his face gradually faded.

“This is my story. Not worth much, huh?”

Ruon replied in his usual calm voice, facing the fairy who looked at him with a miserable expression.

“Not worth much indeed. All the witches of the cradle except you will die.”