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Chapter – 07
Showing His True Skill (3)
After the rapid settlement of the bounty was completed, Shakron left the northern border region without hesitation. There was no reason left to stay.
Of course, he had made sure to leave a strong impression on Roman one more time.
Roman had brought up the idea of a “tea time” much sooner than expected.
In their culture, tea time referred to a private audience where two people could meet and talk.
In other words, it was an invitation for a personal conversation. A very good offer.
Shakron naturally did not refuse, and instead took control by saying he would visit whenever he chose.
Roman only laughed warmly. He seemed overflowing with composure.
As Shakron walked, he said,
“Let’s go, Redin.”
“Are you sure it’s okay for us to leave?”
“What happens if we don’t?”
“If we follow you, we won’t die… but if we don’t, I feel like we definitely will.”
Redin, quick-witted as always, gave a wise answer.
It meant Shakron was scarier than Captain Teneum. And that made sense—Teneum was already completely powerless before him.
After suffering such humiliation, the guard captain likely wouldn’t want to even look south toward House Midios for a while.
Shakron walked forward confidently.
The direction they were heading was deeper into the Blasian Mountains.
Their original purpose had been to hunt Guntar, the king of the Blasian Orcs.
Going deeper into their territory was only natural.
At that moment, Redin spoke up.
“Young master.”
“Hm? Wait. Now that I think about it… I don’t like that title. Just call me brother.”
“…Pardon?”
Redin’s eyes widened like a startled rabbit.
That was far too bold a request. It was practically inviting charges of disrespect.
“In private, call me brother. Outside, use proper etiquette.”
“Is that really okay?”
“I say it’s fine. Who are you asking permission from?”
“…Alright. Understood, brother!”
Shakron quickly realized Redin was sharp and quick to accept instructions.
He wasn’t someone who could lead on his own, but he could execute orders at 200% efficiency.
“How well do you know the northern terrain?”
“How much do you know, brother?”
“I know the main route.”
Shakron only knew the path leading to Guntar’s base—the main road.
That alone seemed sufficient.
“I’ve lived here for over 18 years! Not only the main route—I know 17 side paths.”
“That’s pretty specific.”
“It’s true! I’ve climbed this mountain so much I know every possible path!”
Redin quickly explained further.
“How we get to Arcio Shelter… the route splits northwest here.”
Shakron pointed at the path most travelers used.
But Redin shook his head.
“If we go down this slope and circle around, we can save at least 30 minutes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, brother! I guide hunters here as a side job after my shifts. Trust me!”
If he was that confident, it was probably true.
He had expected a decent escort—but Redin was turning out to be a skilled guide as well.
He might actually be useful.
Shakron smiled slightly.
“You’re pretty good.”
“Heh. I should earn my keep.”
Redin laughed.
After all, he had been paid a year’s worth of wages in advance.
To him, Shakron was a golden lifeline.
Strong, rich, skilled, handsome—and confident.
Of course he had to cling to him.
Sometime later
One hour later, they arrived at Arcio Shelter.
Despite the name “shelter,” it was effectively a massive complex that functioned as a pub, inn, and even a gambling hall.
It wasn’t huge, but it was a well-built three-story structure.
Because many hunters and herb gatherers visited Blasian Mountain, the place always had steady business.
As soon as they arrived, Shakron gave Redin an order.
“There’s a hunter-run market nearby. You know it?”
“Of course! That’s my job, brother. Leave it to me!”
“Good. Buy everything on this list. We need it for the climb.”
“What if I run off with all this gold?”
Redin asked while holding the gold coins.
Shakron answered casually.
“That’s fine. You’ll wake up tomorrow without your head anyway.”
“Eek…”
“Go. And if you find good boots, buy yourself a pair too. You need comfortable shoes in the mountains.”
“Thank you, brother!”
Redin immediately disappeared.
His speed made it clear—he was too good to remain just a guard.
Shakron thought:
‘Training him wouldn’t be difficult.’
The knowledge and insight he had gained from the Tower of Radiance could be used not only for himself, but also for training others.
But even if Redin was useful, there was no need to show excessive kindness.
Give according to what you receive.
Never give blindly.
That was one of the principles Shakron had taken from the Tower of Radiance.
And it would not change.
Inside Arcio Shelter
Shakron enjoyed a special herbal drink made from plants unique to Blasian Mountain.
After downing it in one go, he looked genuinely satisfied.
If his father Crasus, a strict ascetic, had seen him, he would have been horrified.
But Shakron didn’t care.
The noisy atmosphere of the pub was pleasant.
Unlike the Tower of Radiance, which was filled with monsters but no human warmth, this place had life.
People. Voices. Warmth.
He had once stayed in the tower for over a month and nearly forgotten how to speak.
But here, even a few occupied tables made the place feel alive.
Then—
“Damn it! Another wasted day!”
“Fucking Blasian orcs! Their hides are so tough we had to hack them apart and ruined everything!”
“Hey! This first floor is ours. Get upstairs or get out!”
A group of hunters burst into the shelter.
But they weren’t ordinary brutes—they were elite fighters: swordsmen and mages.
They were a specialized orc-hunting team.
A powerful one.
Everyone else quietly gave up their seats.
No complaints.
No resistance.
As if it were natural.
They took over the space, acting as if it was their right.
The expensive food already served to others was taken without hesitation.
“Alright! Let’s unwind now! Everyone sit down—huh?”
The leader, a bald man with a massive build and ugly face, tried to set the mood.
But he froze.
Right in front of him, Shakron was already sitting at a table.
Arms crossed. Chair tilted back. Feet on the table.
Completely relaxed.
The bald man frowned in disgust.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m drinking at my table. What does it look like?”
“Who the hell talks like that right off the bat? You insane?”
“And who are you to talk to me like that? Baldness doesn’t mean your brain fell out too.”
“What did you say?”
“Drink where you want. I’ll drink where I want. Don’t interfere.”
Shakron casually pushed the man’s face aside.
A murmur spread through the room.
The group was known as the Demon Hunters.
The bald man—Galton—was famous for being the strongest and most violent among them.
And Shakron had just insulted him.
Some people closed their eyes, unable to watch what would come next.
Everyone expected disaster.
But Shakron only smiled faintly at them.
‘I get it. This is the north.’
A place where strength ruled everything.
Where civility had long since been thrown away.
Survival of the fittest.
The law of the jungle.
“Ah, this is good.”
He ignored Galton and drank his beverage.
But then—
Snatch!
Galton grabbed Shakron’s drink.
“You want me to buy you another one?”
“If you don’t want your face caved in, get out.”
Shakron replied calmly.
“Or maybe I should carve your pretty face up instead.”
Galton’s teammates laughed.
“Heh, he’s kind of cute.”
“Should we mess him up a little? Haha!”
“Looks like a newbie. Crawl back home before you get wrecked like the others.”
Galton waved the drink in front of Shakron’s face.
Then—
Shakron smiled.
“If even a drop of that touches me, you die. Honestly, I’m already debating whether I should kill you even if you don’t.”
“Seriously? What nonsense—”
Something snapped.
Galton’s wrist tilted.
Shakron had just picked up a fork from the table.
Without hesitation, he infused it with sword energy.
Swishhh—
Space itself seemed to be cut.
“AAAAAAARGH! MY ARM!”
Galton’s thick, muscular arm was sliced clean through in one strike.
Before he could react—
Thud!
The fork moved again.
And pierced through his neck from right to left.
A clean, fatal impalement.
“You said you’d die if it touched you.”
Shakron’s answer was simple.
