Chapter 139 – An Unexpected Reunion
It was an unexpected reunion.
Why was the Butcher Galliark in Roafra? Perhaps it was for the same reason as Verden. For a Platinum Rank adventurer, it was not at all strange to take an interest in the underworld auction house.
Moreover, Galliark is an adventurer, yet also takes requests from Gray.
It was Galliark who had introduced Pale to Verden in the first place. Unless he had a terrible habit of wasting money, it was certain that he had at least hundreds of millions on hand.
Galliark strode closer.
"Well, I didn't expect to run into a familiar face all of a sudden."
Galliark glanced sideways at Samwell.
Under his chilling gaze, Samwell shuddered and let out a small hiccup.
"An attendant? Judging by the looks of it, you must have just arrived in Roafra. Did you come to participate in the auction as well?"
"So you're here for the same thing, I see."
"That insolent tone hasn't changed. Still, I've heard news of you. Causing quite a stir in both the duchy and the kingdom… hm, you certainly seem different from before."
After subjugating the Wailing Knight, Galliark had roamed from place to place, fighting countless battles.
Along the way, he had even encountered a powerful abnormal species that dealt him a grievous wound, but in the end, it was Galliark's party who emerged victorious. Through such experiences, he had grown stronger than before, even learning new martial techniques.
And yet—
…What the hell happened to this bastard?
Though Galliark appeared composed on the outside, inwardly he was shaken.
The ashen mage before him was no longer the man who had fought fiercely against the Wailing Knight. As if he had swallowed something unholy, his level was immeasurable.
Soul Trinity, marquisate, whatever… I've heard the rumors.
That alone was strange enough.
No matter how much stronger he was compared to other 3rd tier mages, he was still a 3rd tier. That level of strength could not account for the events the rumors spoke of.
Which meant 4th tier… or, as absurd as it sounded, perhaps even 5th tier.
But can that even be possible?
Not even a year had passed.
And for a mage, no less, to change so drastically—this was far beyond even Galliark's sense of reason.
After a long pause, Galliark asked, bluntly,
"What tier are you now?"
Verden frowned at him as if staring at a lunatic.
"Do you not know it is rude to ask a mage their tier?"
"Well, that's true. If you won't say, then never mind."
With a vicious grin, Galliark looked around.
The eyes of the underworld were all on them. The swindler who had been blasted away earlier lay buried under a pile of debris, completely motionless.
He hadn't been killed—Galliark had held back enough for that.
"…The mood's ruined. Hey, Asher, have you eaten?"
"Why are you asking that?"
"Why else? Because I'm asking you to buy me a meal. You pay."
Verden gave him a dumbfounded look.
It had been a long time since he'd last seen him, but he felt no gladness in the reunion. They weren't even close friends. There was no reason he should be asked to buy a meal out of nowhere.
Then Galliark leaned in, veins bulging.
"Oi… don't you remember I introduced you to Pale? I know damn well how much you earned in Gray. And you mean to tell me you won't even buy me a single meal? Do you have no conscience?"
…Indeed.
Thinking of it that way, Verden realized he did owe Galliark.
If not for Pale's introduction, things would have been troublesome in many ways. His growth would have been slower too. It wasn't some great favor, but it was undeniable that he had received help.
A single meal in return for that introduction fee was perfectly reasonable. In fact, it was cheap repayment.
Besides, it is about meal time anyway.
With that thought, Verden nodded.
"That much is true."
"At least you admit it. Then come along. I'll introduce you to a fine restaurant."
Galliark turned to leave.
But the casino guards blocked the passage with weapons drawn. The butcher's brow twitched.
"And just what do you think you're doing?"
"Apologies, sir, but you must settle the repair costs before leaving."
A man who looked to be the head guard stepped forward.
In his hand was a blade without a guard. From his stance, it was clear he was accustomed to combat against men.
Galliark pointed at the unconscious swindler.
"Take it from that scammer. What nerve you have, when you can't even keep your little brats in line. If you don't want to die, shut up and move aside."
"I understand your feelings, sir. But even if what you say is true, without clear proof—"
Galliark curled his fingers and swung his arm.
It was too fast to follow with the eye. Bang! His fist drove mercilessly into the guard captain's face, smashing him into the wall and sending him vanishing into the casino's depths.
No sound followed, which meant he'd surely been knocked unconscious.
Galliark glared at the remaining guards.
"Not moving?"
"M-my apologies!"
The guards stepped aside.
Spitting on the floor, Galliark strode forward, with Verden following after. Samwell, caught in the middle, found himself reluctantly dragged into the meal as well.
Once they left, the commotion quickly settled.
The crowd dispersed as if it were all too familiar, and the casino guards began tidying up. The unconscious swindler was hauled back inside first.
They would collect the repair costs from him, instead of the Butcher who had felled their captain in one blow.
Strength was law.
This was Roafra.
…One of the spectators who had yet to leave cast his gaze into the distance.
"Asher… if that's Asher, then could it be…"
Muttering the name, the spectator hurriedly slipped away.
***
In a restaurant filled with subdued darkness, Galliark, Verden, and Samwell sat together at a table.
Why am I even here?
He should have been attending to his client.
Such thoughts crossed Samwell's mind, but he wasn't foolish enough to voice them. Quietly, as if he were invisible, he nibbled on the fine food so as not to disturb the conversation.
Gulp, gulp.
Galliark drained an entire cask of whiskey poured into a bowl-sized wooden mug in one go.
After refreshing his throat, he sliced half a steak and shoved it whole into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it down. In no time, he had devoured three dishes, only then opening his mouth.
"Now that hits the spot."
"..."
Verden still had not even touched his cutlery.
Watching such crude table manners had robbed him of his appetite. Taking only a light sip of wine, he fixed his eyes on Galliark's neck.
There was no adventurer's plate, only a large scar left behind.
"Did you quit being an adventurer?"
"Hmm? Ah, this. I didn't quit, I just got disciplined. My adventurer qualification was revoked for a year."
For someone of Platinum Rank skill to receive that level of punishment was uncommon.
And yet, there had been an incident where the Butcher had beaten a semi-noble knight to a pulp with his fists and gotten off with only a verbal warning. For him to have been stripped of his qualification, even temporarily—
"You must have laid hands on a noble."
"Not exactly, but it's close enough. Though I was the one who got beaten."
"…What?"
"You must know the Crimson Sword Leira. I heard you and Soul Trinity subjugated that abnormal species together."
Galliark ordered more liquor and continued speaking.
"In the middle of last winter, I happened to run into Crimson Sword at the Adventurer's Guild. She was on her way to the guild headquarters abroad, said she was going to be promoted to Mithril Rank. So I told her. Let's fight."
Galliark was a strongman.
His greatest desire was power itself, and at the root of it was his fervent fighting spirit. He was the type who delighted in trampling the strong and climbing higher.
Being who he was, he had to test it once. To see just how vast the gap was between a Platinum Rank adventurer like him, and a Mithril Rank adventurer.
"And do you know what she said? That it would be a waste of time. But could I just back off at that? I grabbed my axe and charged straight at Crimson Sword."
"Inside the guild?"
"Better inside than out. With only adventurers around, it's the perfect place for a fight. So she drew that red sword of hers, befitting her title Crimson Sword."
Galliark touched the scar on his neck, recalling the battle.
In physique alone, Galliark was superior. At least in raw strength, he held the clear advantage.
But she deflected every one of his axe swings with her blade.
Each blow diverted, his axe smashed the guild's floor, walls, and tables. It was like cutting through water.
At her swordsmanship and speed, which far exceeded his expectations, Galliark grinned and unleashed his martial technique without hesitation.
Shatter.
His axe came down vertically, aimed for Leira's crown.
It was a strike fierce enough to split a boulder in a single blow.
Then Leira drew in a small breath, revealing her crimson aura.
Threads of red scattered from her blade's tip, and with a faint breeze, she was suddenly behind Galliark.
Even with his trained vision, he could not follow her speed.
His axe struck only the floor, the impact splitting the guild's floorboards clean in two, collapsing part of the ceiling.
At the same moment, a crimson thread landed on the back of Galliark's neck.
Blood Thread.
Shhhk!
His Platinum plate was sliced apart, blood splattering everywhere. Staggering to one knee from the impact, Galliark clutched the wound with his hand, squeezing it to stop the bleeding.
Among Platinum Rank adventurers, Galliark was considered among the upper tier in sheer skill.
But his opponent was the next—no, beyond Mithril Rank. With that clash, it was undeniable that she was truly worthy of her renown.
And yet Galliark had not even shown his full strength.
With a delighted grin, he gripped his axe, his fighting spirit blazing.
"That's when the guild master stepped in and stopped the battle. And right there, I was punished. Damn it, not only did I not get a proper fight, I didn't even land a single hit, and I lost my adventurer qualification for a year."
It was his own fault, but still, he was the only one who had been struck.
What's more, Leira's crimson aura was steeped in killing intent. The wound healed with divine power, but the scar could not be erased.
Perhaps still bitter, Galliark gulped down more liquor.
"Assaulting an adventurer, destroying guild property. You're completely insane. It's a miracle you weren't stripped of your qualification permanently."
"Shut it. That's why my party disbanded for a while. We'd been hunting nonstop, Nerien and Goad had been getting restless. So I sent them off on vacation. And me, unemployed, I went to take requests in Gray… but then a problem cropped up."
"A problem?"
At Verden's question, Galliark's eyes gleamed.
"Some bastard went arm in arm with the Marquisate of Ravishrun, and wiped out that Marquisate called Gardran or whatever. Because of that, the duchy was thrown into chaos, Gray was a mess, and all the requests disappeared. On top of that, Pale used the chance to expand his territory and went into hiding."
"..."
"And just who do you think was responsible for all that?"
Verden silently sipped his wine.
After spewing his grievances, Galliark clicked his tongue and leaned back.
"Anyway, that's why I came to the Kingdom of Estiria. There's plenty of work here. But even here, I heard your name. Something about dragging in some marquis' heir and stirring up the Union? Do you even know that the Third Prince is deeply involved with the Union?"
"..."
"So you knew, and still did it. A guy who goes against the royal family himself—who's he calling insane?"
Of course, there had been reasons. But looking at the outcome alone, it was true.
Verden couldn't think of anything to say. He only shrugged, brushing it off.
And then—
Boom!
The restaurant doors burst open. A troop of armored men poured in, swiftly seizing the area. Customers and staff fell into panic at the sudden development.
Their eyes all turned to the table where Verden sat.
Galliark bared his teeth.
"Ha, whether it's the casino or that scammer, looks like they've come for revenge. A light warm-up in the middle of dinner, just perfect."
Popping the remaining steak into his mouth, Galliark shot to his feet.
The tilted chair clattered to the floor. Chewing his meat, flexing his neck muscles, he rolled his shoulders and loosened his arms.
It seemed he intended to fight barehanded, without even using his axe.
He'll handle it.
This was Galliark's affair, nothing more.
Verden lifted his cutlery and sliced into his steak. Beside him, Samwell ducked under the table, observing the situation. Calm judgment in crisis was, after all, the mark of a cautious guide.
From the restaurant entrance, a man appeared.
An old man, white-haired yet neatly dressed in a suit. Tapping the floor with his cane, he walked forward, raising his gaze as he spoke in a low voice.
"Here, who is the one called Asher?"