Chapter 121

Chapter 121 - Struggle for Survival (1)

'It looks like chunks were torn off here and there.'

They were not the kind of wounds that would occur from bastards who used weapons like fellow humans, Lizardmen, or Rakshasas.

"Who did they fight to end up like that? Are there any monsters that come to mind?"

"Well... We don't know much about the monsters around here either."

Samur was the region with the most diverse biological species in the entire continent. Even the experienced Rex could not answer regarding the unfamiliar injuries. It wasn't an area he primarily operated in initially, anyway.

"Is such an oral structure even possible?"

"The cross-sections are much too clean to say it was torn by teeth, though?"

When putting their heads together yielded no answers, Eugene pulled out some copper coins. He approached a traveler who arrived alongside the wounded.

Originally, the desert trade route connecting to Tripol was a very safe place, but now traveling in groups was mandatory. Traveling alone was an act of suicide.

"I have something to ask you quickly, is that alright? Take this for your trouble."

"Oh my, thank you."

No traveler refused an easy way to make money.

"We rescued them while they were held captive by the Smallfolk."

"You mean those bastards over there?"

Eugene gestured toward a small corpse impaled on a stake at the city entrance. Despite quite some time having passed, it hadn't rotted because an alchemist hired by the city had sprayed preservatives on it.

"That is correct. They are bastards who originally lived deep in the jungle and didn't come out. What kind of wind blew recently, they started descending near the roads. So those who let their guard down suffered an unexpected disaster."

Many of the civilian casualties occurring right now were sustained while acting based on past standards. Humanity's territorial sphere in Samur was currently shrinking far beyond expectations.

"They look like absolute monsters, yet they take prisoners? Without just killing them on the spot?"

"You read it as prisoners, but it basically means preserved food. Because they aren't bastards that eat a lot, as you can see."

"That is to be expected since their bodies are small."

"Even so, they are picky eaters and cannot eat spoiled meat. In fact, they are beings that are ambiguous to classify as monsters."

Monsters generally referred to grotesque beasts hard to classify under the category of animals.

Civilized groups with appearances similar to humans but revealing beastly traits were Beastkin.

Sain-folk existed somewhere midway between monsters and Beastkin.

Beastkin belonging nowhere, like elves or dwarves.

These were all classification systems tailored to human understanding. It was difficult to categorize the numerous races living in the world with just this alone, however.

Smallfolk were aborigines who existed before people from Samur crossed over from foreign lands and seized this territory in the past.

They were barbaric and fierce like monsters, but possessed their own culture. Their digestive and immune systems were similar to humans, so eating rotten meat would cause stomachaches for them.

"Those guys cannot just pick up and eat anything like Orcs or Goblins. They do not possess the ability to salt meat like us, either. They do harbor cruelty, however."

"You mean they tie them up alive and tear off chunks of meat whenever they eat?"

"Yes."

As expected from their appearance, their viciousness was beyond imagination.

"But wouldn't they die of excessive bleeding or shock if they did that?"

"They keep the prisoners half-delirious with hallucinogenic mushrooms and cauterize the wounds with fire. I heard they have a secret technique to keep the victims alive for quite a long time besides that. Even if monsters are barbaric, don't each of them possess at least one unique skill?"

Goblins, for example, frequently exhibited bizarre talents like digging tunnels flawlessly or forming solidarity by offering some of their members as sacrifices to stronger monsters.

Naturally, the indigenous species of Samur, possessing a long history, each possessed their own unique secret arts. On top of that, their resentment toward humanity, which stole their original habitats, was deep-seated.

"Those people are the lucky ones. In worse cases, they are discovered with only about half their body weight remaining."

The traveler shuddered, seemingly getting goosebumps just thinking about it.

"While they still have breath in their bodies, that is."

"So there was a reason they specifically skewered the Smallfolk like that, while severing the heads of other bastards to impale. Thank you for the explanation."

Because they were excessively wicked bastards, it seemed the city had given them special treatment.

Whenever he saw wounded being carried in from the trade routes after that, he gathered information by handing copper coins to the party that came with them.

Since they were not particularly comrades but merely companions for safety, they spilled information smoothly without any discomfort.

"Just how diverse are these damned tribes?"

Rex made a disgusted face.

The Blackhand mercenary group had vast combat experience, but new things emerged in Samur the moment one deviated even slightly from their usual paths.

"It is a relief that you guys are archers."

In times like these, fighting while keeping a distance was unequivocally the best approach.

* * *

After a few more days, the mercenaries and free knights waiting in the city began to mobilize. They had not specifically received requests from the city, but coveted the spoils.

An era without the concept of lost property. Bandits and monsters were essentially the mercenaries' helpers in a certain sense.

Apart from providing jobs, the items those bastards robbed from travelers and merchants instantly became unowned spoils upon retrieval.

Since the accumulated damage inflicted upon travelers had grown quite massive, the time was ripe for thoughts like 'Shall we go collect them around now?'.

Conveniently, many had to urgently leave the city as well, so they began establishing conditional escort contracts with those sharing their routes and departed one by one.

From the city's perspective, they welcomed those who left voluntarily like this because there was no need to pay separate hiring fees.

On the other hand, those more interested in various rights and relationships with the city rather than trivial loot, like the army led by Eugene, waited for official requests.

"Samur really doesn't seem to suit us."

"I'm dying from being so restless."

During the wait, the tribal warriors grumbled. They could have enjoyed hunting while riding their horses in other regions, but they were confined inside the city here.

Since the outside was either desert or jungle, hunting as a pastime was impossible. Going out in the currently chaotic situation effectively meant a military operation.

Furthermore, Eugene had forbidden all combat acts until an official deployment order came.

"We are quite satisfied, though."

"Try having some fried foods here. It is genuinely delicious."

In contrast, the human mercenaries were content with the city life that offered novel cuisine and plenty of entertainment.

"Sir! A deployment request from the city has arrived."

Then the anticipated moment arrived, and Rex came running in one breath.

"The scouting adventurers reported discovering a Rakshasa colony."

The face of the matriarch retreating with a resentful expression flashed in Eugene's mind at that moment.

"Are they the bastards we fought?"

"Yes. But the situation has become interesting. Rumors must have spread that they were severely weakened from suffering heavy losses in the last battle. I mean out there in the wild, that is."

"Could it be?"

Rex smirked and pointed to the various monster corpses hanging at the city entrance.

"Your 'could it be' is right. I heard bastards that share a competitive relationship are attacking them, perhaps because the Rakshasa tribe looks easy now."

It was not strange news at all. Humans also fought each other almost daily over trivial interests.

Let alone the wild, where loyalty or diplomacy did not exist. In a struggle of all against all, showing weakness simply turned you into a meal for the day.

"If that's the case, wouldn't it be better to let them fight each other more? I don't think we necessarily need to intervene early."

"They say it is not an all-out war. Small-scale looting and ambushes are occurring frequently. If left alone like this, the Rakshasas unable to endure might just hide even deeper."

Even if they disappeared for the moment, they would return eventually as time passed.

"So you are suggesting we strike right now, when they are the most exhausted, to deal a devastating blow?"

"Exactly."

Eugene summoned his troops. The mercenaries who were scattered across the city enjoying their vacation returned immediately. True to their veteran status, they instantly regained military discipline without any signs of slacking.

They seemed to have gained a bit of weight from eating so many fried foods, but they would shed it quickly anyway rolling around enthusiastically from now on.

"Did you prepare everything I ordered?"

"Yes."

Both the tribal warriors and the mercenaries held up their mosquito nets. They resembled nets covering everything from the head to the neck. They were not extremely fine due to technological limits, but were very sturdy in exchange.

"It isn't even chainmail but just a piece of cloth, yet why is it so expensive."

"You didn't buy it with your own money anyway, did you?"

"Hehe. I suppose that's true."

Having to resolve everything with personal funds was the life of a warrior in this era.

No employer existed anywhere, like Eugene, who provided rations as a given, along with consumables like arrows and bolts, and other combat supplies free of charge.

"Make sure to wear it when we enter the forest. It is not simply to block bugs."

"We haven't just been playing around either. We went around gathering stories from here and there."

One mercenary curled his fist, put it to his mouth, and pretended to blow with a 'huff!'.

"They call them blowguns, was it? We heard about them often from our mercenary friends from Samur. They coat them with poison because they have weak power."

"The folks who were caught alive to be eaten but got rescued were victims of that thing."

Eugene nodded.

"They will aim for the face and neck intensively since they cannot pierce a simple gambeson. Just properly wearing the mosquito net alone will almost completely block them. Ensure you put them on immediately once the order falls."

"Understood."

Valda approached and added a remark.

"We examined the wounds of the casualties and somewhat identified the poisons used."

The female warriors Cassandra had provided for support stood beside her.

As expected of unmounted rangers, many of them were versatile, and among them were rangers professionally trained in survivalist skills.

At Eugene's instruction, they attached patches depicting a red cross to their arms. Several pouches and bottles containing various medicines hung from their waists.

"Although it is not perfect, we have also prepared antidotes, so get help from them if push comes to shove."

"..."

The listening mercenaries became momentarily speechless.

They had seen the local mercenaries they befriended in the city for information exchange depart for missions. They marched towards the danger zones holding their usual appearances.

In contrast to them, observe themselves carefully preparing for danger while receiving various delicate forms of support. Their vastly different circumstances drew too stark of a comparison.

'I want to continue staying with them.'

Mercenaries were not solely engrossed in victory, loot, or adventure.

The feeling of being protected. Experiencing an emotion they never even imagined feeling in a mercenary's life made them profoundly delighted.

* * *

Tripol City attached experienced adventurers to mercenary groups above a certain scale.

"You have great skills. I was puzzled when we went off the main road, but to think there was a shortcut like this."

"It is a faster route, and the water sources this way are cleaner."

"I see. The city carefully selected an excellent adventurer for us."

"It is merely a trivial stunt. It cannot be compared to the folks under you, Sir."

At Eugene's praise, the adventurer bowed his head deeply.

Mercenaries fundamentally earn money revolving around combat and escort duties. It was a profession pursuing high-risk, high-return.

Adventurers were specialized in miscellaneous tasks like guiding, gathering, delivering, and running various errands.

... Speaking out of turn when they haven't even been stabbed before.

... Lower your eyes! Where do you think you're trying to act like an equal?

Because of their pride in working with their lives on the line, mercenaries frequently despised adventurers. In the eyes of others, however, both were just thugs who would do anything for money anyway.

But unlike other regions, adventurers were treated valuably in Samur.

Due to the regional characteristics, they worked while putting their lives on the line in far more dangerous areas than average mercenaries.

Without the information and knowledge they brought back, the mortality rate for mercenaries skyrocketed. Hence, they had formed a relationship where they acknowledged and respected each other.

"We have arrived. You should consider yourselves in the danger zone starting now."

It was the boundary where a small stream flowed and vegetation began.

"It is a campsite frequently used on the trade route. We would normally say we would need to go in four more days from here before it gradually becomes dangerous, but..."

Broken wagons and the remains of horses reduced to bones swayed in the wind. The adventurer wore a complicated expression witnessing the altered state of his homeland.

"Did you all hear him? Stay alert from now on."

At Eugene's words, some mercenaries donned their mosquito nets even though he had not yet given the order.

Just then, a sharp scream echoed from beyond the jungle.

"A human screamed."

Right as Rex finished his sentence, trees and bushes a fair distance away violently shook. Panicked shouts and the noise of combat echoed out like a resonance.

Neigh!

Then, a horse with an empty saddle burst out of the forest.

"Whoa, whoa!"

A tribal warrior urgently approached, calmed the horse, and brought it to a halt.

"This is...?"

On its sweat-drenched rear and flanks, several black needles the size of fingers were lodged and swaying.

"..."

"..."

Seeing that, the other mercenaries also voluntarily began putting on their mosquito nets.

The needles possessed a size and shape that did not look like they would hurt much on their own. However, their blackened discoloration made them something they absolutely never wanted to be hit by, even if someone offered them gold coins.