Translator: Nox

Ch#20

Outskirts of the Capital.

Pearl City, the port town where ships to the southern continent docked.

The popular pub , said to be frequented by the fiercest mercenaries, was bustling with people today as well.

“Breaking news! Breaking news!”

A woman with bandages around her neck kicked open the door and burst in.

Though all eyes turned to her, she ignored them and dashed across the tables straight to the bartender.

“Unit Leader! Jackpot, jackpot! A real huge incident, for real!”

At her voice, the man sipping gin at the bar slowly turned around.

Messy black hair under his hood.

Meeting his cool gaze directed at her, the woman spoke.

“Some new mercenary corps passed through the gate? The problem is their founder……!”

“Here we go again.”

Suddenly, someone beside her cut her off.

Another man with his navy hair tied up high was glaring at her annoyedly.

“Libia. Do you really not know what the ‘Era of Great Mercenaries’ means?”

Libia’s eyebrow shot up.

“What?”

“You think rookie mercenary corps getting registered is a one- or two-day thing? You gonna steal the Unit Leader’s rest time with such trivial crap?”

Libia’s eyes flashed.

“……This crazy bastard picking a fight again? What do you puny shit know about the news I brought!”

At her sharp insult, the navy-haired swordsman Victor stared her down.

“Who knows. Whatever the news, it’s probably nothing special.”

“You son of a…….”

It was when Libia drew her sword from her waist.

“Victor. Libia’s right.”

One more person appeared through the pub entrance.

The one who entered was a short silver-haired man.

With high-quality orbs (spheres that stored and amplified mana) dangling from his chest, the man strode forward.

And stood before the one called ‘Unit Leader’ until now.

“Seems a freak’s appeared, Unit Leader.”

The entire pub fell silent as if doused with cold water.

Instead of the ‘Unit Leader,’ Victor quickly asked back.

“Freak?”

“Yeah, a mage. And a pretty powerful one at that.”

Victor’s face went blank for a moment.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You saying a mage formed a mercenary corps right now, Aleric?”

“Yeah.”

Victor narrowed his brows.

Mages were rare in Talochium these days.

For good reason: becoming a mage required innate talent and acquired effort simultaneously.

They had to be born with a lot of mana in their bodies first,

then train to shape that mana into desired forms,

and learn to manipulate it freely outside their bodies.

The problem was that those capable of that were extremely limited.

‘That’s why mages are all monsters, right?’

In fact, every mage Victor had met in his life had been a bit off their rocker.

Of course, Aleric before his eyes was the same.

Gazing at the ‘Unit Leader,’ Aleric continued.

“And this freak handles a rather unusual attribute.”

Mages each had an ‘attribute.’

Aleric was a water-attribute mage using orbs, and he’d heard there were even more impressive attributes among the palace mages.

But an unusual attribute?

“What attribute?”

At Victor’s question, Aleric stared at him.

“That freak is a necromancer.”

“Necromancer?”

He’d never heard of a mage with that moniker.

To be precise, he’d heard of it but didn’t know if it actually existed.

“What the hell does that mean? So what attribute are they supposed to handle exactly?”

“Can’t say for sure. But if we have to guess, high chance it’s dark attribute. They summoned a Skeleton.”

The quiet surroundings erupted in clamor in an instant.

A dark attribute mage.

That existence, never once in history, had suddenly appeared and summoned the legendary summon ‘Skeleton’ that only existed in myths?

“Is it true? That.”

Then the one who’d kept silent finally spoke.

It was the man Victor, Libia, and Aleric had been calling ‘Unit Leader.’

The man spun his half-empty glass and stared straight at Aleric.

“Verified info?”

Aleric bowed politely.

“Certain. Heard it through the Holy Knights’ communication network.”

“I see, so that’s how it is……”

The man trailed off with interest.

“Wonder where this freak came from? Thought the top ranks had already swept up all the mages.”

“That’s probably why they’re called a freak. Mages forming their own corps hasn’t happened before.”

Mages were usually in the position of being ‘selected’ by mercenary corps.

No matter how powerful, mana limits prevented them from leading battles.

Mercenary corps structurally couldn’t entrust the ‘Unit Leader’ role to those unable to lead fights.

‘But an unknown mage formed a new corps?’

Meant insane confidence in their skills, or they really were that strong.

Aleric placed a few sheets of paper before the Unit Leader.

“Agabert?”

Interest flickered in the Unit Leader’s eyes.

Mercenary corps, .

Currently four members.

First was Basto Paerix, former vice-leader of ,

“Nordix and Veil?”

He knew nothing about these two.

High chance they were small fry then.

But the last one.

“Necrolord……”

His gaze stopped on the boldly written name.

Soon a slow smile spread across his lips.

“What’s this? Hiding their real name, huh?”

His green-brown eyes curved, and soon loud laughter echoed through the pub.

“Ah…… this one’s pretty interesting.”

Necrolord.

Everything about this guy was intriguing.

From suddenly popping up after hiding all this time, to wielding dark attribute magic that never existed before.

Even going around with freakish monikers like Necrolord and necromancer already was fresh.

And the last bit of info…….

“Necrolord, huh. Bet they made it up themselves? Hilarious.”

The man chuckled for a while before setting the paper down.

He draped his arms over the bar and slowly scanned the pub interior.

“Man, now you guys gotta tense up a bit too, right?”

Disbelieving laughs, sighs, curses burst from all around.

But the man just shrugged nonchalantly.

“You’ve already had a hard time fighting for ranks ‘cause of me……”

He waved the paper.

“What do we do about this one? Doesn’t seem ordinary, and they go around looking like a four-year-old girl.”

The pub buzzed.

“Sounds like a tough nut. Might climb up soon.”

Only the man was relaxed.

At his demeanor, the Unit Leader of the Empire’s rank 2 mercenary corps , Reaper, spoke up.

“Hilarious! Don’t you need to tense up too?”

At the hostile voice, the man slowly turned to Reaper.

“Even if you’re number one now, no one knows how long that glory lasts! Don’t get cocky.”

“……Ah, this one’s hilarious too.”

“What?”

The man smirked.

“Buddy, you think you can claim number one if I slip?”

“You bastard!”

“Mercenaries can’t just swing their bodies like idiots. Gotta use your head, Reaper.”

The man tapped his temple with his index finger.

Then mimicked an aristocratic tone toward Reaper.

“Stop daydreaming and face reality. Keep being annoying, and I won’t leave you even a single Mana Stone from now on?”

Reaper’s face flushed red.

Unable to hold back his anger, he slammed the table, but the man just grinned and brushed past him.

Countless others followed behind him.

His subordinates, members of his mercenary corps.

In the now-empty pub.

Reaper ground his teeth.

“Th-that……!”

Tesetan Veronios, that damn bastard!

He was infamous for being obnoxious, but no one could defy him.

For good reason: he was the Unit Leader of , holding immovable number one,

never dropped from personal rank one since debuting,

the world’s strongest, and at the same time,

“That crazy bastard!”

infamous in the industry as a madman.