Chapter 381

Chapter 381
## Chapter 381

Intermission (2)

Drakal, the Free City of Auterica.

Positioned right at the vital junction connecting the central Ion Continent’s Azerion Empire, the eastern Zepia Republic, and the vast arid territories of the south, this urban hub hummed with endless energy.

Even though it rested upon a sterile landscape where crops could never thrive, its unbeatable positioning as a continental transit artery—coupled with hosting the primary base of operations for the grand Mercenary Guild—more than made up for what the soil lacked.

‘Wow, so this is truly Drakal!’

An incoming convoy that had just crossed the city gates was merely one of many groups pulled in by the settlement’s legendary status.

A collective of traders, managing a string of wagons packed tight with valuable freight, marched alongside the sellswords they had commissioned for protection.

‘The scale of this place is unbelievable. It completely dwarfs anywhere else I’ve ever visited.’

Billy, a novice warrior experiencing his very first long-range deployment far from the borders of his isolated upbringing, couldn’t stop staring in absolute awe, taking in every detail of Drakal with wide, captivated eyes.

The small towns bordering his own birthplace, and even the larger regional hubs he had crossed during this journey, seemed like mere outposts compared to this metropolis.

“Hey there, Billy! First time setting eyes on Drakal, isn’t it?”

“Huh? Oh—yes, sir!”

A companion from the same outfit, an experienced fighter originally from his own territory, slammed a heavy palm onto his shoulder, snapping the young man out of his daze.

This individual was a towering, heavily muscled veteran whose grand exploits had initially motivated Billy to take up the blade.

Had it not been for those captivating chronicles of wandering the frontier and the bright appeal of distant lands, Billy would likely still be stuck in his rural settlement, tending to livestock and working the dirt.

‘If he hadn’t backed me up, I never would have landed a spot on a high-paying, long-distance transport contract like this.’

Granted, his status remained that of an apprentice, brought along primarily to handle menial chores rather than stand as a front-line combatant… but every veteran had to take that first step.

Besides, the journey had been highly rewarding. It provided a perfect window to witness the grander world and expand his understanding of reality.

“You look completely spaced out, kid. Shake it off! Our protection detail is wrapped up, the coin is in our pockets, so the first round of good food is on me!”

“Awesome! Thank you so much, Senior!”

The seasoned warrior, feeling a protective duty toward his younger neighbor, had consistently guided him through the rough transition into this chaotic trade.

Just like at this moment, offering to buy him a feast at a renowned local establishment.

He possessed a bit of an arrogant streak, but his heart was undoubtedly in the right place.

“You haven’t truly experienced Drakal until you’ve grabbed a seat in this tavern!”

The pair pushed through the entrance of ‘Ogre’s Table’, a dining hall famous for its massive portions of seasoned meats.

True to the veteran’s word, the food served was exceptionally gratifying…

…yet as Billy began to satisfy his intense hunger, his attention drifted toward a collection of patrons occupying a long bench a few paces away.

A quartet of men and women were burying their faces in their platters, consuming their food with shocking velocity.

Watching them with a mix of curiosity and confusion, he leaned toward his older companion and whispered softly,

“Hey… Senior, what kind of people are they?”

He had been burning to ask this question ever since they passed the outer walls, but the hectic nature of their arrival had pushed the thought aside.

Individuals dressed in bizarre, unfamiliar garments that defied local fashion norms were navigating the thoroughfares of Drakal without a care in the world.

“…Hmm? Oh, those are combatants from the Southern Tribes. Keep your eyes to yourself, they aren’t the types you want to provoke.”

“People from the Southern Tribes?”

Billy focused on them once more, his curiosity spiking at the veteran’s dismissive description.

Their torsos were completely bare, displaying dense muscle groups interwoven with intricate skin markings, and they wore nothing but treated predator furs and necklaces of sharp fangs…

They bore a striking resemblance to the ancient, untamed clans depicted in historical folklore.

“And whatever you do, make sure you don’t use the word ‘savage’ within earshot of them.”

But just as he turned his attention back to his meal,

“Ugh, looking at those filthy primitives completely ruins a good cut of meat.”

“They radiate the stench of unwashed wilderness.”

“Pfft—what business do these backward nomads even have inside a civilized city anyway…?”

Crash—! Shatter—!

“Gah!”

“You absolute piece of garbage!”

“Take them down!”

…an explosive uproar erupted from the table where the Southern warriors sat.

A violent, chaotic brawl instantly broke out, pitting the four tribal fighters against a dozen local sellswords, transforming the corner of the establishment into a localized warzone.

“…See what I mean? That’s exactly why you steer clear.”

The veteran let out a heavy breath and pushed himself up from his bench.

Their plates were empty, and he had zero intention of getting dragged into a senseless riot.

“Tsk! Finally revealing your true animal nature, are you? Let’s see how tough you are when your bones are broken!”

“You brainless nomads! You’ve got some nerve starting a riot inside Drakal! Get out of our sight!”

“To hell with your arrogance! There are no borders or sovereign laws within the gates of Drakal!”

“I’m going to beat you until you’re coughing up your own blood!”

The violent melee escalated rapidly, with more than fifteen combatants tangled in a brutal exchange of blows, while curses and venomous taunts filled the smoky air.

Despite the chaos, the remaining diners merely shook their heads in mild annoyance and shifted their seats away, treating the spectacle as a mundane, daily occurrence.

When it came down to it, Drakal operated essentially as a ‘sovereignty of mercenaries’, making these sudden clashes entirely routine.

An urban center packed to the brim with hot-headed combatants possessing massive pride and endless physical energy was bound to be a constant powder keg.

“Let’s move. They certainly don’t lack confidence, do they? Whoever loses this little dance gets stuck with the entire property damage invoice.”

That stood as the unwritten protocol within the territory of Drakal, provided the altercation wasn’t a completely unprovoked, one-sided slaughter.

‘Blades remain sheathed’, ‘no lethal strikes’, and ‘the defeated party covers the reconstruction costs’… these were the strict statutes maintained by the overarching Mercenary Guild, meaning nobody dared violate them openly.

That explained why the service staff didn’t seem particularly panicked by the shattering wood.

A few employees were even observing the exchange with sharp focus, quietly trading wagers on which side would drop first.

The proprietor of the establishment was likewise tracking the brawl, mentally calculating the expenses required to replace the splintered benches while silently praying the losing faction possessed enough coin to cover the tab.

Creak—

Yet before Billy and his older mentor could step past the threshold,

…the heavy timber door swung open, and yet another tribal figure… no, a massive Southern warrior, stepped into the room.

“Huh? What’s all this noise about?”

—

A monumental presence stood in the doorway, towering a full head above the average man, his skin etched with breathtakingly complex tribal tattoos that completely overshadowed the basic markings of the fighters currently engaged in the melee.

“Tsk, making such a ridiculous scene inside an eating establishment. Truly disgraceful.”

His brow furrowed as he evaluated the ongoing riot, clicking his tongue to signal his irritation.

However, that remained the full extent of his initial annoyance.

“Bring me thirty portions of your premier mixed meat platter!”

He casually shouted his order toward the tavern keeper, who was hovering near the counter, and then strode directly into the path of the swinging fists.

He reached out and tapped the shoulder of an active mercenary, keeping his voice remarkably conversational.

“Excuse me, friend? I don’t really care about your little recreational scuffle, but my stomach is empty, so if you could…”

“Who the hell do you think you’re— Wait, another primitive!”

Unfortunately, his polite intervention was met with pure rage.

The fighter, completely blinded by the adrenaline of the ongoing brawl, didn’t bother assessing the newcomer before driving a heavy fist straight toward the stranger who had dared to grab him.

Wham!

It was a bare fist, yet it carried a dense condensation of internal aura, packing enough destructive force to shatter solid stone.

The strike landed directly against the stranger’s unprotected midsection.

Crack—

Immediately following the impact, a horrific snapping sound reverberated across the room as the attacker’s own forearm splintered and bent outward at an impossible angle.

“…A-aaaargh!”

“What in the—?! What just happened?!”

“There’s another tribal giant backing them up! Rob’s arm is completely shattered!”

“Did they bring reinforcements?!”

The neighboring mercenaries, alerted by the agonizing shriek, spun around to face the new threat.

They still maintained a massive advantage in sheer manpower.

Overwhelming a single additional tribal fighter should have been a simple task.

“…Could that truly be… him?”

“Huh? Do you recognize that man, Senior?”

In sharp contrast to the aggressive sellswords who were eager to rush forward, Billy and his seasoned mentor, tracking the events from the perimeter, immediately recognized that a catastrophic shift had occurred.

They had caught every detail of the brief exchange with perfect clarity.

“…He shattered an opponent’s arm without even throwing a counter? Just through the sheer density of his physical reflection? What kind of unnatural entity are we dealing with here…?”

Furthermore, the fallen mercenary was no amateur.

He was a battle-hardened veteran, a seasoned tracker who had survived engagements with lethal apex beasts.

Yet his entire limb had been ruined by simply striking a man who hadn’t even braced himself.

“Gah!”

“Ugh! What is this madness?!”

“Hold on! Back off!”

A identical fate quickly befell every other fighter who attempted to lay a hand on the giant.

One after the other, men dropped to the floorboards, clutching shattered bones and howling in deep agony.

One particular attacker, who had tried to reinforce his strike with a surge of aura, ended up vomiting dark blood on the floor, his internal structure completely ruptured by the kinetic feedback.

Consequently, the front-line brawlers, who had been far too preoccupied with their own individual duels to track the rear disruption, finally registered that an absolute monster had entered the fray.

Their forward momentum evaporated instantly, and they rapidly retreated several paces, desperate to put distance between themselves and the towering figure.

They cast terrified glances toward the epicenter of the destruction, every survival instinct screaming at maximum volume.

An accurate reading of a threat level was the single most vital skill for surviving the mercenary life.

“…Is that the branding of an elite warrior?”

“No, hold on! That pattern…!”

The tribal fighters from the South were naturally the first to truly comprehend what they were looking at.

The breathtaking, interwoven markings dominating the giant’s skin were lightyears ahead of the standard tribal tattoos etched onto their own chests.

Though they had never witnessed the design with their own eyes until this moment, their lore left no room for doubt.

“The branding of the Fighting King!”

“The Supreme Ruler of Kalcos…?”

Harley, the legendary Fighting King, the newly risen monarch who held absolute sovereignty over the Southern Tribes, the revolutionary leader who had single-handedly resurrected the primordial customs of their civilization.

That was the figure standing before them.

‘…Curse it all… We are utterly doomed. Why did he have to show up here of all places…?’

The captain of the mercenary squad, finally putting the pieces together, felt the blood completely drain from his face.

Even if the giant’s garments matched the style of the common tribal fighters, his titanic physical frame, his striking heterochromatic eyes, and those unmistakable royal markings left zero room for misinterpretation.

Reports of his movements had gone silent for a considerable period… and now, without warning, he was standing right in front of them.

The captain’s eyes stretched wide with absolute terror, a cold perspiration breaking out across his brow as he looked toward his remaining men, who were still foolishly trying to gauge if they could win.

“W-what’s the plan? Do we attempt to overwhelm him with numbers?”

“…Are you completely brain-dead? If you’re eager to commit suicide, leave the rest of us out of it.”

Needless to say, the confrontation concluded right then and there.

—

The deafening chaos of the tavern died down in an instant as the aggressive faction completely threw in the towel.

“Hehehe… We offer our deepest regrets for disrupting your dining experience, Your Majesty. There was a slight… breakdown in communication…”

“A breakdown in communication? You bastards were the ones who threw the first punch…!”

“W-we will gladly shoulder the entire financial burden of the property damage! The broken wood, the meals… and compensation for disturbing Harley-nim’s dinner… Absolutely.”

The mercenary captain, plastering a trembling grin across his face, bent his waist in a series of deep bows, his voice dripping with desperate submission, while the Southern fighters standing in Harley’s shadow locked their knees and squared their shoulders, their expressions radiating absolute validation.

Harley, observing their frantic maneuvers to de-escalate his wrath, offered a slow, indifferent nod.

“Is that so? Are you absolutely certain you can cover it? I happen to possess quite an expansive appetite.”

“W-without a doubt! Ha… Hahaha…”

He saw no reason to turn down a complimentary offering.

It stood as a remarkably merciful resolution, given that they had possessed the sheer audacity to raise a fist against him, the Fighting King… but the truth was, he didn’t even view these men as entities worthy of combat.

To him, they were nothing more than minor insects, buzzing around his ears just as he was preparing to sit down for a quality meal.

Naturally, if they persisted in testing his patience, he would simply obliterate them where they stood… but there was no utility in wasting energy on slaughter when they were actively offering tribute and retreating.

‘If this were the past… I would have broken every single spine in this room without a second thought.’

Harley, who had once existed purely as a cyclone of unbridled fury and devastation, a living manifestation of bloodlust and war,

…had developed… a significantly more measured approach to life after mastering the 「Mad Control Heart Technique (Modified)」 during his time in Ganghwange.

He had successfully trained himself to regulate his internal energy, entirely masking the suffocating pressure of his presence when desired.

‘…Reflecting on it, none of these weaklings would have even possessed the courage to walk into the same street as me in the old days.’

His unmasked aura alone would have paralyzed their hearts, snapping their resolve before a word was spoken.

Granted, his patience remained exceptionally short when contrasted against the temperament of regular citizens…

‘…But dealing with garbage like this… ’

He tracked the terrified sellswords, who were trembling under his gaze, and ran a tongue over his teeth.

They weren’t even worth the effort of raising a finger.

His mind was far more focused on resolving a much more critical dilemma: whether to order his meat fire-roasted or slow-stewed.

“Your premier mixed meat platter is served, sir!”

“Ooh! The aroma is incredible. Next up, bring over the house special slow-stewed platter!”

“Right away, Your Majesty!”

Naturally, there could only be one logical resolution to such a dilemma.

He would take both.

‘It’s not as if I intended to pull out my own pouch today regardless.’

When it came down to it, he possessed… highly cooperative financial backers now.

And absolutely nothing tasted better than a feast funded by someone else’s misfortune.

“Add another twenty portions to that…”

“Hmm, wonderful. Let’s make it thirty more portions…”

“Stop running back and forth to ask. Just empty out your entire cold storage and keep the plates coming!”

The surviving mercenaries, who hadn’t yet been hauled away on makeshift litters, turned completely translucent as his demands continued to escalate.

A considerable duration later, their expressions entirely hollow and devoid of hope,

…Ogre’s Table, the premier meat establishment within the walls of Drakal, documented the highest single-day financial windfall in its operational history, completely exhausting its entire meat supply, while the destitute sellswords, utterly drained of coin, were hauled away to begin hard labor to settle the outstanding balance.

“Hmm, I could honestly go for a bit more, but I suppose this is a decent stopping point. I appreciate the hospitality, gentlemen! Hahaha!”

“Ah… Uuuh…”

The legendary feast, observed by dozens of stunned eyewitnesses, rippled through every alleyway of Drakal like wildfire, serving as a grand proclamation across the territory that the King had finally returned.