[Era of Succession Year 2, Summer / 9]
Yo.
It’s me, the guy who got killed for doing something soft-hearted.
Thanks to that, I woke up feeling refreshed.
If I care so much about how I feel when I wake up, you might wonder why I’m a bandit time and time again, but there’s a proper reason for it.
Well, maybe not “proper”… but anyway, I’ve got my own perspective.
Bandits are weak. If you remember my previous battles, you’ll know—they’re just plain weak.
Of course, if they haven’t had any training and their brains aren’t wired right, there’s no way for them to get strong.
They lack nutrition, so they have no stamina. Sometimes their weapons are a disaster even before you get to the issue of maintenance. A “Bandit Spear” that’s just a tree branch is the prime example.
And yet, bandits are still a threat to people.
Why are such puny guys a threat? It’s simply because their numbers are a threat.
“Three men surrounding a veteran can kill him, even if they’re amateurs”… that’s just a figure of speech, but if you have the numbers, it’s not uncommon to take down someone way above your rank.
Numbers.
Yes, numbers are a bandit’s weapon.
The more people you have, the bigger the “take” you can get.
That’s why bandits brag about their numbers.
In the bandit world, the number of underlings you have is a status symbol for a Boss.
And a decrease in underlings leads directly to a drop in power and prestige. That’s why bandits don’t forgive anyone who deserts the pack.
If you’re going to run, they’ll kill you. By making people think, “I’ll be killed even if I run, so I might as well stay a bandit,” they maintain leadership. It’s a forced position, but being a bandit is actually kind of fun. Except for the occasional disgusting acts they pull.
✘✘✘
Now, how about this time? It’s not “disgusting”—at least, from what I can see.
It’s a cave with a decent ceiling height.
The size isn’t bad either. Even with about twenty grown men gathered, there’s plenty of room.
If everyone slept spread-eagle, there would still be twice as much space left over.
Goblins probably used this as their base originally.
The original owners were likely exterminated by adventurers or something.
Using “pre-owned properties” like this is common for bandits.
The twenty or so bandits are each enjoying themselves.
They’re drinking sake and snacking on food they likely stole from somewhere.
“I can’t believe we made this much just by raiding an unscheduled carriage! As expected of the Boss!”
“Looks like we won’t be going hungry this time, eh?”
“Gehehh, you got that right!”
Every time I die, I wake up, and every time, my body belongs to a different person.
Perhaps there is an original owner of the body, and from an outsider’s perspective, my personality might seem to have changed completely, but bandits don’t care who the guy sitting next to them is, so I never get caught.
I call this “Respawning,” but I still don’t know if it’s a revival, a possession, or something else entirely.
Regardless, I’m not particularly interested in my own situation.
After all, my memory resets after I kick the bucket about ten times.
The reason I’m greeting you with this monologue is just to keep count of those lives.
…The fact that I can even do that means that when a reset happens, I don’t exactly become a blank slate like a newborn baby.
I don’t know if I carry over all my memories, but I seem to remember important things even after a reset.
My skill with throwing weapons is one of those things.
My general knowledge and cultural understanding probably are too.
Anyway, I’m not being looked at with suspicion in this situation. By reading the memories held in this body, I can understand the situation to some extent.
The Boss here makes a living by attacking fledgling adventurers and the occasional carriage, earning fame and growing his organization.
This celebration is happening precisely because he made a profit from a carriage.
It seems the Boss is currently with a merchant he captured.
Probably gathering information for the next raid plan.
Rather than making a racket here, I might get more useful information for the future over there.
Let’s go show my face.
✘✘✘
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT LOCALIZERMEERKAT.GITHUB.IO
The cave has several rooms radiating out from the main chamber.
One of them is being used as a temporary jail, where the Boss regularly tosses captured people.
In most cases, they either say something “disrespectful” and get killed, get killed after some “fun,” or occasionally, some of them turn into bandits themselves.
“Hah? Don’t give me that crap! Why would adventurers come to save you? Don’t make me laugh!”
The Boss’s roar.
Following that, I heard the voice of the merchant.
“I… I was hiding my status as a merchant, but I am different now. I hold a certain position in Tranquilica. I was caught by you while I was in a hurry to return. You have caught me… and you shouldn’t have.”
He seemed to decide that saying more would sound like a petty grudge, so he swallowed his words and continued.
“By now, adventurers should have been commissioned in Tranquilica to find me. If I just return, things won’t escalate. I won’t even ask for my goods back; just release me, and that will be enough! Please, let me go!”
“A person of ‘certain status’ was posing as a merchant? I see. So that’s why your luggage was so luxurious. That’s great! If I use you as bait, I can get an even sweeter deal!”
Persuasion failed.
“Tranquilica isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘nearby’ from here. Even if adventurers are hired to come looking, it won’t be today or tomorrow, right?”
Even if adventurers did come, the bandits would be fully prepared to intercept them.
If they were weak adventurers, they’d be easy prey; even if they were strong, there’s a chance to repel them if the bandits are prepared.
If it’s the latter, the equipment they carry is often high-grade and easy to turn into cash.
In other words, the Boss optimistically thought that just by holding this man, he could make easy money.
However, since I’ve been constantly killed by skilled adventurers, I didn’t think for a second that bandits could win, no matter what trap they set.
Being reckless and short-sighted is why their lives are so cheap.
There’s no point in talking to a bandit about the importance of living, and as someone who “Respawns,” I’m not exactly in a position to lecture anyone anyway.
“In that case, we better get ready. Hey, you there!”
“You mean me?”
“Who else would I mean! Watch this guy!”
I was assigned as the guard.
The others didn’t come near the jail precisely because they knew they’d be ordered to stand guard.
No one wants to walk away from free sake and a feast.
But for me, this was convenient.
Talking to bandits doesn’t yield much fun information, but I can learn a lot from people who travel the outside world.
There might even be a hint on how to quit being a bandit. Living as a bandit isn’t bad, but if there’s an opportunity, I’d take a different path. Once in a while, I’d like to try a life other than this.
The Boss left the room.
I sat down on a half-rotten chair and looked at the “Fake Merchant-san.”
He probably thought there was no point talking to a low-ranking bandit; he seemed to be desperately thinking about how to get out of here—no, how to avoid being killed.
Unless he could turn invisible, escape was impossible. To get to the exit, he’d have to pass through that large room, and there’s no way he could pass through there with all those people without being noticed.
…On the surface, at least.
Actually, in each room, there are several small hidden paths, whether they were made for ventilation or formed naturally.
Almost no one among the bandits pays attention to these paths that connect directly to the outside.
Whether the original owner of this body wanted to quit being a bandit like me, or was preparing a plan to flee if the pack was wiped out, he had a wealth of knowledge about these escape routes.
I could let him escape if I wanted to.
Whether I do it or not depends on his attitude. You think I have a bad personality? Well, I am a bandit.
—
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