【Era of Succession Year 150, Summer / 3】
Yo.
I’m the type who doesn’t just get back up when I fall; I make sure I grab something on the way.
Or rather, since I died and got a “bonus life” out of it, I’m getting more than my money’s worth.
Now then, for the life I’m living with this “bonus” existence…
I see. I seem to be part of a rather unusual pack this time.
Usually, bandits (Zoku) set up a base or a territory and settle there.
If you don’t Pile out a spot with plenty of prey, you’ll starve.
Sometimes you have to survive by chugging water to ignore the hunger.
However, wandering bandits are extremely dangerous because they never know when the food or water will run out.
There’s also the risk of wandering into another pack’s territory and starting a bloodbath.
Since I’m telling you this, you can guess why we’re “unusual.”
Yes. This pack wanders around like nomads looking for prey. The Boss seems to be incredibly powerful; the bandits on our “route” don’t complain when he shows up in their territory.
If someone looks down on you, you kill them. That’s the bandit rule.
But because the Boss’s strength is so far above the rest, even if he walks through their land like he owns the place, the local bandits don’t feel insulted. Some even grovel.
This time, I’m a bandit following that strong Boss.
Following a strong boss should make life easy… or so I thought.
“Listen, whatever you do, do not make that person angry.”
The usually confident Boss turned to me with a pale face to emphasize the point.
We were in a cavern, a classic bandit hideout. A cool breeze was blowing in from the entrance. I doubted the Boss’s face was pale just because the wind was chilly.
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“Thirty reinforcements, huh? Adding my twenty men, we’ve gathered quite a number.”
A man walking toward us spoke about the count. Even with all these people, the cavern was large enough to have space to spare. I could tell by the atmosphere—this was the one the Boss called “That person.”
It’s not rare for bandit groups to merge like this. Groups thinned by battle often do it to regain strength. But from the vibe, it didn’t seem like we were short on numbers. It felt more like there was a goal that required a specific number of people, so he forcibly rounded up these bandits.
I expected a bandit capable of that to be a massive, terrifying brute, but the man who appeared looked like a mage.
He wasn’t particularly tall.
His weapon wasn’t a club or an axe, the bandit favorites.
He held a staff—one with a bit of thickness, but it didn’t radiate the “violence” of a bandit’s bludgeon.
It was a plain staff, the kind a mage or scholar might carry—exactly the type bandits would usually make a target of or mock.
But no one took that tone with him.
Or rather, maybe those who did were already gone, and the survivors had witnessed what happened to them.
Most of the bandits were shrinking back, but a few shadows rose from the crowd.
“You’re the Boss? They call you Naumani ‘The Crusher’ (Gousai), so I expected a monster of a man. You make me laugh!”
“But this is perfect, Brother. If we kill this guy, the fame is ours! Naumani! That name’s too heavy for those skinny shoulders—we’ll take good care of it for you!”
“Gyahaha!” “Hihihi…!”
Vulgar laughter echoed.
It wasn’t a spontaneous reaction; they likely planned to betray him from the start.
Five “brave” bandits approached the Boss—Naumani “The Crusher”—with crude weapons in hand.
Naumani, on the other hand, seemed used to mutiny. He let out a small sigh.
“I went to the trouble of gathering them, and they’re already thinning out.”
“Did you say something, you pale little—”
“《Pile Driver》 (Kuiduchi).”
The moment the short word was uttered, the staff in Naumani’s hand moved abruptly. No, it looked less like it “moved” and more like it blasted forward, venting air from the butt end.
It lunged forward at an impossible speed toward the lead traitor. Or rather, I should say he “was” standing there, because the next instant, the staff had pulverized his face, and he was collapsing.
The staff was attached to a chain extending from Naumani’s sleeve. With a tug, the staff snapped back into his hand. It was a practiced motion.
This phenomenon, triggered by whispering “Pile Driver,” was a power known as a Petition (Seigan), a singular power rivaling magic.
Unlike Magic (Majutsu), which combines various words to pull out a result, a Petition ignores the process and achieves a result just by speaking a single “key” word to activate it.
The difference is simple.
If you understand the incantations and the meaning of the “ink” put into them, Magic can be applied in various ways through recombination.
On the other hand, Petitions are poor at versatility, but if you have the aptitude, you can use a fixed power immediately without years of training or study.
Acquiring a Petition apparently involves some complex “procedures,” but I don’t know the details. Probably because I’ve never met anyone who knows about that stuff.
At least in this loop cycle, this is my first encounter with one.
“《Pile Driver》.”
With another casual word, the staff flew again and hit—or rather, collided with—the face of another traitor. The bandit didn’t even have time for a death rattle; his face was simply gone.
Even as reddish-black fragments scattered everywhere, Naumani and his subordinates didn’t make a sound.
He was used to being underestimated by his peers and just as used to carrying out these executions. Terrifying.
“I really don’t want to reduce the head count…” Naumani muttered boredly.
He glanced at the remaining traitors. Instead of just bowing in submission, they slammed their heads into the ground with enough force to dent it.
It was the Dogeza, the ultimate sign of apology from the East.
“B-B-Boss! We’ll follow you for the rest of our lives!!”
And so, we became a “unified front” once again.
mob wants to be turned into mincemeat like that.
“Now then, I suppose I can explain the ‘Job’ (Shigoto) we’re aiming for.”
Every one of us—including the “outsider” bandits like me—nodded vigorously in unison.
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Naumani’s plan was straightforward but high-risk.
The nearby territory of Count Liselka had been quite chaotic lately.
The breakdown of order and security draws in the worst kinds of people.
Specifically, “Human Traffickers” (Jinzaisho), people who put a price on human lives.
While they are hated in most places, these “black merchants” bring in massive profits.
According to Naumani:
“Targeting those guys is the most profitable.”
If this were a cover for him being a “noble thief,” it would be a nice story, but unfortunately, Naumani seemed to have crafted this plan solely for the money.
A group of human traffickers had finished a job in the neighboring territory and were heading toward Liselka.
We didn’t know if they were “restocking inventory” or heading to another deal.
But they had sold their “goods” in the neighboring land, so their pockets were undoubtedly heavy.
“Human traffickers are scum, every last one of them. But scum usually knows they’re scum—just like me. Those guys understand they’re targets. If you were them, what precautions would you take?”
Suddenly, Naumani pointed his finger at me.
“Eh? Uh… well… I’d get strong guys on my side, I guess. If I have money, I can hire skilled mercenaries.”
“Correct.”
I felt a wave of relief that the conversation didn’t end with “Wrong answer! Die!”
“Or, the target himself could become strong, like me,”
Naumani chuckled confidently.
And it wasn’t just blind overconfidence.
A bandit who can use Petitions is extremely rare. Perhaps his past background had something to do with it.
Given the combat ability he showed, his attitude seemed proportionate to his skill.
“The guards, the merchant himself, or the ‘total idiot who prepared neither.’ We won’t know until we crack them open.”
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People live on the vast continent of Beltland.
About 150 years ago, a new unified nation was on the verge of being born here.
The Kingdom of Karzahari, through the efforts of a boy king and his brilliant retainers, was one step away from unity and stability.
However, the boy king fell to a conspiracy, and the nation was dismantled.
The former vassals fought over the massive land.
A Duke was said to have killed the King. A Marquis killed the Duke to take his vast territory. Counts killed them to prevent being taken from by the Marquis. It was a history of blood washing blood.
In the history following the kingdom’s collapse, people claiming titles of King, Duke, or Marquis appeared, but “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down”—anyone standing out too much was killed by the surrounding Counts.
Now, having moved past the age of warring lords, the title of “Count” carries more weight and power than the titles once did.
Though their lands are incomparable to the old Karzahari, their authority and power are worthy of being called “Kings.”
However, not all Counts possess powerful armies or individuals.
For example, the Count of Liselka was by no means a powerful force.
Generations of Counts had been skilled diplomats, surviving the turbulent times through that power.
But since the current Count stepped away from governance for some reason, the security of Liselka has been slowly declining. The appearance of human traffickers would have been unthinkable when the Count was in his prime.
Three carriages moved along the trade route connecting Liselka and the neighboring territory of Tsiknok.
Sajet, the owner of the carriages, was in a hurry to reach Liselka for a business deal.
Sajet was a well-known merchant in the underworld of Tsiknok—not for his grandeur, but in a bad way. He was greedy, cared nothing for the suffering of others, and rumors said he’d even sell his own family if it turned a profit.
Since he had actually sold his own daughter into slavery in the past, those rumors were entirely true.
Having used his subordinates to kidnap “merchandise” from all over, he ended up with a bounty on his head in several places. His way of working suggested he didn’t care what happened to him as long as he was in a city he had connections with.
The journey had been smooth, with no bounty-hunting adventurers appearing—until they entered the Liselka territory.
The carriage came to a sudden, jarring halt.
“Why are we stopping?!”
Sajet shouted from the cabin, his voice dripping with irritation.
“S-Sir. Based on the coachman’s signals, it seems someone has appeared in the road.”
“People? I thought I told you! If anything gets in the way, just run them over!”
“But, it seems the opponent is—”
In that instant, a thunderous explosion roared. The lead carriage was blown apart, scattering debris everywhere.
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