Chapter 382

Chapter 382
## Chapter 382

Intermission (3)

It was by no design of chance that Southern brawlers and soldiers were suddenly making frequent appearances within the Free City of Drakal.

The scars inflicted by their previous ruler, Baltheon—who held allegiance to the ‘Heaven’s Turn Society’—had nearly faded away, making it imperative for them to stretch their reach far beyond the borders of the Southern Tribes.

Furthermore, the impending march toward the Northern Mountains, orchestrated by the Main God Church, loomed just on the horizon.

The Kalcos Tribal Federation, having spent generations wrapped in strict isolation, desperately required fresh intelligence regarding the lands beyond their own. As a major crossroads for travelers and merchants alike, the Free City of Drakal served as an ideal staging ground for espionage and a practical resting place.

‘I really ought to make a return trip to the Southern Tribes before long.’

Harley gave the back of his scalp a rough scratch. His mind drifted to High Shaman Morna and Misty, both of whom were likely drowning in paperwork and logistics trying to keep the clans running without him.

Because he had been so utterly consumed by the matters of Ganghwange, he had, by default, pushed his obligations as the Fighting King to the wayside.

Then again, outside of the sheer symbolic weight of his title as their sovereign, there was rarely a pressing need for his direct intervention. He was a creature of combat, an expert in unadulterated carnage, rather than a diplomat or a grand schemer.

‘They will manage perfectly well. Every single one of them is highly capable.’

His only true obligation was to offer them his backing and trust.

A genuinely effective commander, after all, understood the art of handing off authority and maximizing the specific strengths of their underlings.

Harley gave a slow, deliberate nod, a faint smirk of contentment playing on his lips as he used 「Monarch’s Authority」 to observe the current state of affairs within the Kalcos Tribal Federation.

Owing to his impeccable eye for staffing, the entire operation was running without a single major hitch.

‘The business of governance is best handled by corporate professionals. My involvement would only muddle the gears.’

There was a deliberate strategy behind why he scouted out top-tier professionals and put them in charge of his network.

He hadn’t even managed to graduate from high school. What earthly knowledge did he possess about steering an entire tribal nation?

It was infinitely more practical to merely drop in on occasion, review their metrics, and verify that everyone was executing their duties efficiently.

‘Besides, the Southern Tribes aren’t the sole iron I have in the fire. The arrangements on this end ought to be finalized by now, shouldn’t they?’

With long, purposeful strides, he marched down the pristine, elegantly adorned hallway, making his way toward another precious piece of property… or rather, a highly esteemed asset.

A report had reached him indicating that a major, long-term endeavor had finally reached fruition.

Throwing all courtesy aside, he pushed the office door wide open without a single knock.

“Pardon? Ah! It is a pleasure to see you, Harley-nim.”

Patrick, who served as the Secretary General of the Mercenary Guild, had been buried under a mountain of parchment at his workspace. He scrambled to his feet instantly, offering an incredibly enthusiastic welcome.

Yet, underneath that cheerful front, his complexion was utterly bloodless and spent, cast in a ghostly shade with heavy, dark circles shadowing his eyes.

‘…Simply magnificent.’

In the privacy of his own thoughts, Harley offered high praise for his subordinate’s sheer drive and work ethic, deeply admiring the man’s willingness to run his own health into the ground for the advancement of their mutual ambitions.

What an incredibly industrious, fiercely dedicated… servant.

He had undeniably made the correct call by putting this critical operation into his hands, regardless of the fact that the man was originally an Earthling.

“I have been anticipating your arrival. Your timing is absolutely flawless,” Patrick added, though a slight tremor of fatigue strained his vocals.

The groundwork for a particular initiative—one that had been perpetually delayed simply because Harley lacked the proper leverage and ties inside the Mercenary Guild—was finally laid bare and ready.

“Ha! Sensational work, Patrick! Though, you look completely wiped out. Have you even found a moment to close your eyes lately?”

“Ha… Hahaha… Well, things have been… rather intense, to say the least.”

“And you’ve been skipping meals too, haven’t you? That will absolutely not do! A real man requires proper sustenance! Come along, I am taking you out for a massive feast! Hahaha!”

Extending an invitation to buy a meal was perhaps the highest form of appreciation Harley could possibly show another human being.

It signified that he was entirely willing to part with his own cherished portions of meat.

Patrick, nearly buckling under the forceful, affectionate slaps delivered to his spine, staggered a bit while doing his level best to maintain a polite grin.

‘If only I could just… close my eyes and sleep…’

He forced down the desperate plea that he knew he couldn’t dare voice out loud.

A short while later,

A monumental decree resonated through every single outpost of the Mercenary Guild spanning across the entire continent.

A brand-new Mercenary King had officially ascended to the throne,

…the designated heir who would carry forth the grand legacy of the First King and stand at the vanguard of the crusade against the Immortal King.

—

Owing entirely to the exhaustive groundwork laid by Patrick, the transition went off without any real friction, and Harley’s rise to the position of Mercenary King faced no major protests.

They simply could not afford to leave a mantle of such immense strategic value empty, particularly when a catastrophic global conflict was rapidly bearing down on them.

Naturally, the vast majority of the Guild’s upper management weren’t exactly throwing celebrations in their hearts. Behind closed doors, they were likely praying that he would meet a swift demise in the upcoming clash with the Immortal King… but on the surface, the entire process went off without a hitch.

“Our sincerest compliments, Harley-nim.”

“We place our absolute faith in your guidance!”

“Haha, it was entirely expected. Who else among us could possibly claim the right to be our King?”

The actual induction was far from a grand, royal spectacle, given that the title of Mercenary King carried no genuine crown or kingdom.

Instead, they merely declared a massive, city-wide carnival throughout Drakal, ensuring that spirits and food flowed freely for the common folk, while hosting a modest, tightly restricted feast for the high-ranking Guild officials and notable dignitaries.

Even a gathering of that size would have been scrapped entirely had Patrick not dug his heels in and demanded it.

Harley possessed zero tolerance for such stiff, superficial etiquette. To him, they were nothing more than draining, pointless time-sinks.

He gave passing, half-hearted nods to the attending nobility while tearing off chunks from a massive slab of meat, completely refusing to change out of his everyday gear, all while his eyes swept across the crowded ballroom.

‘Well, there is no reason I shouldn’t twist this gathering to serve my own ends.’

One of his calculated moves had been to arrange for Hubert’s Trading Company to oversee the vast majority of the logistical supply lines feeding into Drakal.

It was common knowledge across the realms that he shared an incredibly tight bond with Hubert, the mastermind behind the enterprise, stretching all the way back to his exploits in Tarak. Consequently, pushing the deal through had been a walk in the park.

While it was, by all realistic definitions, a blatant exploitation of his newfound authority, the societal rules of this primitive world didn’t view such nepotism as something inherently corrupt or dishonorable.

‘Leveraging political ties and corporate lobbying are just basic survival assets. Besides, I hold a rightful stake as a partial owner of Hubert’s Trading Company.’

By virtue of that arrangement, Hubert’s Trading Company—which had previously focused its commercial footprint primarily within the northwestern territories of the Ion Continent, using Tarak as its central hub—had successfully pushed its mercantile empire directly into Drakal toward the southeast.

They had already monopolized the commercial sectors of the Kingdom of Talia alongside the adjacent Western principalities, locked down binding, exclusive trade pacts with the Southern Tribal Federation, and were currently stretching their fingers into the territories of both the Empire and the Republic, the two locked in a perpetual cold war.

“…My word, this vintage is… fascinating. It possesses a peculiar effervescence and a distinct sweetness…”

“Oh! This is remarkably novel. From what corner of the world did you procure this? My house would be deeply interested in securing regular shipments… Wait—Hubert’s Trading Company? Yes, the name rings a bell. They are that aggressively rising commercial house, are they not?”

“Gracious, look at the weave of this table fabric. It is incredibly sleek yet remarkably tough… It bears no resemblance to the textiles crafted in the Elven Kingdom. What could possibly be the secret behind its manufacturing?”

Their cultural and economic grip was steadily tightening around the high society of Drakal and its bordering territories.

They weren’t merely shifting the standard commodities of the realm, but were introducing highly sought-after marvels brought directly from Earth—carbonated cola, pasteurized fruit nectars, refined wines, aged whiskeys, specialized textiles, and unique industrial resources…

…every single item obtainable solely through the distribution channels of Hubert’s Trading Company.

‘Ultra-luxury commodities will never want for buyers. The individuals who possess immense capital and authority, those driven by a desperate need to display their prosperity and social rank, are utterly defenseless against the charm of artificial scarcity.’

This fundamental truth remained entirely unchanged, even with the shadow of an apocalypse brought by the Immortal King hanging over their heads like a guillotine.

The uninterrupted, meteoric rise of Hubert’s Trading Company served as living proof of that concept.

The moment a person acquired a taste for refined, modern indulgences, reverting to a primitive lifestyle became an impossibility. They felt trapped in a societal race, forced to match the opulence of their peers.

‘And if they wish to keep securing these highly coveted treasures, they have no choice but to play ball with Hubert’s Trading Company.’

Exquisite luxury imports hauled from Earth, invaluable geological treasures unearthed from the depths of the Northern Mountains, and a staggering web of political relationships, all carefully sewn together through his diverse array of substitute identities.

That precise combination was the primary engine propelling Hubert’s Trading Company straight to the pinnacle of commercial dominance.

Furthermore, with the utilization of the 「Dragon’s Lair」—an incredibly vast and effortlessly accessible pocket dimension serving as a personal warehouse—shuttling massive quantities of freight across distinct realities was an effortless endeavor.

To complement this, the activation of 「Savior」 allowed him to entirely circumvent border checkpoints and smuggle heavily regulated merchandise away from Earth, driving his operational productivity to unprecedented heights.

‘Magnificent. The rate at which I am accumulating Karma is breaking every record.’

Hubert, seated comfortably within his private office back in Tarak, gave a slow nod of immense gratification.

He was amassing an absolute mountain of physical wealth, yet the financial profit was merely a pleasant byproduct.

His true, underlying target was the accumulation of Karma.

The profound societal shifts he was triggering by threading modern Earth creations into the fabric of this medieval reality, along with the sheer systemic leverage it granted him… it was converting into a torrent of raw Karma.

Granted, the vast majority of his catalog consisted of elite luxury goods, bought and used primarily by the aristocratic top tier, meaning the direct societal shift felt by the impoverished lower classes remained heavily restricted for the time being…

‘…However, the moment I successfully inject modern Earth pharmaceuticals into the equation…’

He tapped the tip of his writing implement against the ledger before him, slowly rubbing his jawline in deep contemplation.

He had already commissioned a select group of skilled alchemists to conduct rigorous trials, assessing how the biological systems of this world’s native populations reacted to Earth’s synthetic medicines.

He couldn’t simply dump them into the public market without absolute empirical validation. The danger of unmapped, catastrophic biological counter-reactions was far too high.

‘I don’t even need to cross into the territory of restricted prescription narcotics. Merely introducing standard over-the-counter pain relievers and basic nutritional supplements would trigger a massive societal revolution.’

The field of healthcare in this current reality was completely dependent on divine intervention and traditional elemental alchemy.

Sacred restorative miracles channeled by the clergy, mages casting woven spells of mending, and expensive draughts synthesized by professional potion-makers…

Inevitably, the lower classes possessed practically zero access to such high-end treatments, leaving them with no alternative but to put their faith in unreliable traditional folklore and unscientific superstitions.

“…Yet, I must proceed with absolute precision.”

Public health resources were entirely distinct from simple luxury indulgences. They demanded the highest level of vigilance.

If his strategies bore fruit, the systemic shift would be astronomical… but the hazard of creating an unpredictable butterfly effect was ever-present.

He was well aware that he couldn’t play the role of their perpetual pharmaceutical provider forever.

“Phew, now then…”

The moment he concluded organizing his mental blueprints and rested his writing instrument onto the desk,

“Are you the one they call Hubert?”

…a voice, entirely unfamiliar and unsettlingly cold, suddenly cut through the silence of his private quarters.

He had been entirely unaccompanied only a fraction of a second prior.

“………”

Hubert’s gaze turned razor-sharp in an instant.

The passive abilities 「Clear Mind」 and 「Hypersensitivity」 triggered in perfect unison. Instantly, the passage of time around him slowed to an absolute crawl, his biological perceptions expanding outward at an exponential rate, desperately searching every square inch of the room.

Yet, his senses detected absolutely no physical presence.

“You possess remarkable instincts. Far from a simple shopkeeper, it seems. Though, against an entity such as myself, your awareness is entirely inconsequential.”

Following the statement came a disdainful chuckle, the delivery drenched in absolute superiority, as though the unseen intruder was reading the mechanical shifts of his brain in real time.

‘…By what method?’

Even so, Hubert’s cognitive functions refused to freeze, his internal processing speeding up within the boundaries of this artificially dilated pocket of time.

‘This is the absolute heart of Hubert’s Trading Company’s primary fortress. Breaking inside should be a physical impossibility.’

The structure was built to replicate a literal military bastion, insulated by endless tiers of defensive engineering.

Runic shielding, alchemical counter-measures, high-tier witchcraft, runic arrays, lethal pressure traps, exotic venoms, protective hexes…

On top of all that, he maintained a constant, personal security detail consisting of biological hybrid vampires who monitored his immediate vicinity day and night.

‘And the commander tasked with leading them is a genuine True Blood vampire, an operative who has long since reached the master rank.’

The sheer disparity in martial power structures between Earth and these foreign dimensions was night and day.

Earth currently boasted upwards of a hundred transcendent anomalies walking its surface, whereas across the lands of Auterica, there were fewer than five known entities of that caliber, setting aside the ancient dragons who lived completely cut off from the mortal realms.

‘To breach a perimeter this heavily fortified without tripping a single alarm, while completely blinding the perceptions of a master-ranked stalker… that dictates only a single conclusion…’

An absolute transcendent being.

An unmapped adversary, an entity whose very existence on the board had completely evaded his network until this exact second.

“You seem to be caught in a violent loop of deduction. Have you managed to properly gauge the reality of your predicament yet?”

The disembodied voice vibrated through the air once more, demonstrating an eerie awareness of his internal computations.

It was a terrifying, heavy voice, saturated with a bizarre, oppressive frequency designed to make any mortal feel utterly insignificant… yet Hubert, possessing an absolute psychological immunity to mental coercion, offered a perfectly balanced, composed answer.

“…Indeed. My apologies for keeping you waiting. Now, to what do I owe this unannounced intrusion? As you can likely deduce, my schedule is incredibly packed. Ordinary clients are forced to book their consultations weeks in advance just to secure a moment of my time.”

“Oh? Your lack of terror is quite fascinating.”

The hidden entity sounded distinctly entertained by his dismissive attitude, a note of genuine astonishment creeping into the delivery.

He found himself genuinely captivated by Hubert’s completely unshakeable posture, noting the absolute absence of primitive panic despite the merchant being cornered by a force that could snuff out his life in a heartbeat.

Nevertheless, the interloper chose not to squander any further words on banter. He cut straight to the core of his visit.

*Thud—*

An object dropped onto the wooden surface of the desk, settling right in the center of the piled records.

Hubert had registered absolutely zero physical movement, no atmospheric displacement, and not a single ripple of ambient energy.

The item had simply… materialized out of thin air.

And it happened to be a specific piece of merchandise that Hubert recognized instantly.

“Where exactly did you come into possession of this?”

There was no earthly scenario where he could fail to identify the object.

He had personally overseen the distribution of thousands of these exact pieces to the high aristocracy across the continent.

It was a premium, precision-engineered metallic lighter, its sleek side meticulously stamped with the text ‘MADE IN USA’ alongside various Western inscriptions.

It had rapidly transformed into a massive trend among the upper-class gentlemen of this continent.

Right after, an invisible force subtly rolled a fountain pen across his desktop.

That object, too, was a direct import from Earth.

After all, being native to Earth himself, he naturally favored the superior comfort and structural engineering of modern writing tools.

“Are you a wanderer from Earth?”

It became glaringly obvious that his uninvited guest had independent pieces of evidence that pointed toward the exact same deduction.

‘…In all seriousness, why is it that Hubert always winds up as the lightning rod for these situations? I am going to have to architect a foolproof defensive system.’

Hubert maintained absolute silence, deliberately offering zero validation to the absolute conviction echoing in the stranger’s statement.

He was intentionally dragging out the seconds, meticulously constructing the framework for an immediate, devastating retaliation.

「Analysis」, the most devastating analytical asset in his possession.

Paired with 「Limit Break」, an auxiliary function that would forcefully multiply its raw processing power.

In the next instant—,

…a cataclysmic deluge of raw data, a volume that vastly exceeded the physical threshold of a standard human brain, tore into his consciousness. The intricate pathways of cause and effect, the literal foundational codes of physical reality, were stripped entirely bare before his eyes.

A agonizing, white-hot sensation, comparable to his very grey matter being liquefied, tore into his 「Mind Hub」, but…

…he absolutely could not afford to lose his concentration for even a millisecond.

‘…What in the name of creation is that?’

An anomaly that should have been physically impossible for human sight to register, an existence that completely defied mortal logic, manifested right before his vision.

An entity taking the structural shape of a man… yet bearing a pair of sharp, distinct horns splitting through the skin of its forehead…

…The visage mirrored that of… a true demon.