Chapter 61

Chapter 61
## Chapter 61

### The Calm Before the Storm (2)

“Bwahahaha—! This is incredible! I absolutely love it!”

Harley erupted into a booming, satisfied laugh as he gently ran his hand over his brand-new headgear.

-A piece of protective gear crafted by a master artisan who meticulously processed the head of a Gray Bear beast. The interior cavity is packed with shock-absorbing material, providing exceptional defense against blunt force trauma. It is constructed as a unified piece with durable, heavy leather designed to shield the wearer’s shoulders and back.

This was a custom-tailored piece created from the beast’s skull he had set aside just before rescuing Cecily and making his way back to the settlement. It served as a replacement for his shattered Black Panther helmet.

The craftsmanship of the metalworkers and leatherworkers in Tarak, a city where the mercenary trade flourished, was truly top-tier, resulting in a magnificent piece of equipment.

This successful acquisition was entirely thanks to Hubert’s dedication, as he had spent considerable effort tracking down a highly renowned craftsman and placing the special order.

Furthermore, he had purchased fresh animal tooth decorations, fully restoring his appearance to that of a quintessential primeval fighter.

“The only issue is that the blacksmith refuses to part with the weapon unless the actual wielder comes to fetch it. Craftspeople can be so incredibly stubborn.”

The sole piece of equipment Harley still lacked was his primary weapon.

Hubert had actually spotted an excellent blade while surveying the forge district, but the artisan who forged it stubbornly declined to sell the item unless the warrior destined to swing it showed up in person.

‘Well, taking a short trip down there myself isn’t really an issue. I’m actually quite pleased with how things are turning out.’

Thus, Harley found himself strolling through the bustling thoroughfares of Tarak once more, drawing the gaze of every single passerby.

People everywhere were muttering under their breath, yet not a single soul dared to confront him directly; they simply averted their eyes as he drew near.

However, that peaceful walk was short-lived.

“Ugh, look at that incredibly gaudy outfit. He is single-handedly degrading the reputation of every true southerner.”

The critical remark was spoken loudly, entirely without filtering, clearly intended to reach his ears.

Harley’s boots came to a sudden halt.

His gaze shifted with deliberate slowness toward the origin of the voice.

‘Now this is a refreshing turn of events.’

To think someone would actually speak so boldly after witnessing such an aggressive and intimidating presence.

Just who possessed the reckless bravery to utter those words?

Standing near the edge of the cobblestone road were three men, all glaring in his direction with deep scowls, which was exactly where Harley’s eyes locked.

Every single one of them possessed a massive build, broad shoulders, and dense, tightly packed muscle fibers, radiating the undeniable aura of veteran combatants.

The one defining feature they shared was the array of distinct tattoos etched across their skin.

Judging by their words and appearance, they seemed to be genuine warriors hailing from the southern territories.

It wasn’t unusual to cross paths with individuals from distant regions here in Tarak, given how deeply entrenched the mercenary industry was in this city.

He had carefully altered his facial features to mirror those of the southern people using the intelligence he had gathered beforehand, but it seemed the actual natives could still sense a subtle hint of artificiality.

‘When dealing with a situation like this, absolute brazenness is the best weapon.’

Squaring his massive shoulders, he marched directly toward the trio with powerful, unyielding strides.

Harley, being a man of action, never backed away from a potential confrontation.

“Are you directing your insults at me? I carry myself with the absolute pride of a warrior! You men also appear to be warriors of the south, so what exactly drives you to look down upon this magnificent attire?”

He smoothly brushed past any potential accusations regarding his heritage and shifted the entire argument onto the style of his clothing, looming over the trio as he stood directly before them.

While these men were by no means short, standing in front of Harley revealed a stark height disadvantage, as he towered over them by more than half a head.

“Hah! It’s precisely because of clowns like you that people from other regions look down on southerners!”

“Save those ceremonial rags for ancestral festivals! Stop parading around the public streets looking like that!”

“There is absolutely no way you can move or defend yourself efficiently in such a ridiculous outfit. Looking at how your skin doesn’t have a single battle scar, are you just some theatrical performer with bloated muscles?”

The trio themselves were outfitted in standard mercenary gear—practical leather armor reinforced with strategically placed metal plating, which was the norm for soldiers of fortune.

It was a rather melancholy realization for him.

‘I already suspected as much, but it’s still deeply disheartening. To think the glorious era of the traditional barbarian warrior’s aesthetic has truly faded away.’

The massive divide in their perspectives showed absolutely no signs of narrowing, even after exchanging a few more heated words.

“Words clearly won’t settle this! In that case, there is only a single traditional method to resolve our differences! Hahaha!”

There was one particular piece of cultural lore regarding the southern lands that had stood out to him during his research.

It was a time-honored tradition where warriors, when faced with a deadlock, validated their arguments through a raw, bare-knuckle brawl.

It was a brutal test of dominance relying strictly on physical conditioning and raw power, completely forbidding the use of handheld weapons or internal energy flows.

“If my words don’t convince you, then stop flapping your jaws and prove your point through physical dominance.”

“You arrogant bastard, you don’t even bear a single warrior’s mark on your skin…!”

One of the men bared his teeth in sheer anger at the blatant insult.

He tossed his primary weapon to his comrade and stepped into the clearing, and an improvised fighting circle materialized around Harley and the challenger in the blink of an eye.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if all three of you stepped forward at the exact same time.”

“Do you honestly believe a true warrior’s pride is some sort of joke! I am more than enough to handle you alone!”

“Oh? Is that so?”

A menacing, savage grin split Harley’s face, and his physical frame began to expand as his muscles corded tightly.

His physical form, left fully exposed by his minimal attire, began to twitch and throb with intense vitality, looking as though every individual muscle fiber possessed a mind of its own.

Flinch!

The southern fighter standing across from him involuntarily shuddered for a fraction of a second, but he refused to take a step back, clearly holding immense pride in his personal combat skills.

Regrettably for him, that self-assurance shattered almost instantly.

Thud!

“Guh.”

“Next victim—!”

One opponent neutralized.

“Argh—!”

“Next!”

Two opponents neutralized.

Crack!

“Gah… You, there is no way you are a normal southerner! To possess that level of overwhelming physical power without a single warrior’s tattoo marking your skin is impossible!”

And with that, the final challenger collapsed.

There was simply no mathematical possibility for normal humans to best him using nothing but raw muscular force.

Their strikes failed to register any meaningful impact against Harley’s dense, iron-like muscle tissue, and the sheer disparity in their physical strength was so astronomical that it defied comparison…

‘This match was completely lopsided from the very moment it began.’

His physical vessel, which was fundamentally on par with a mythical beast, was continuously and automatically enhanced by the primordial life energy circulating through his veins, completely independent of any active aura manipulation.

‘Then again, this turn of events might actually present a fantastic opening for me.’

He cast his gaze down at the trio of southern fighters groaning upon the dirt road.

He had quite literally stumbled upon authentic southern warriors completely by chance in the middle of a public thoroughfare.

It was an unexpected encounter between Harley, the disguised outsider, and the genuine article.

‘These individuals… I think I can find a very good use for them…’

Instantly shifting his demeanor, his harsh expression melted away into a booming, jovial laugh.

“Hahaha! My brothers, your physical conditioning and combat skills are truly commendable!”

“B-brothers?”

“We may have started our acquaintance with a brief physical misunderstanding, but crossing paths with fellow kinsmen who share the exact same heritage in a distant territory like this is nothing short of destiny! Surely we can look past the brawl and call each other brothers! Haha!”

“What kind of ridiculous nonsense is—”

“Ahem!”

He directed a sharp, heavy glare toward the disrespectful individual who kept cutting off his sentences, causing the man to quickly avert his eyes in submission.

“Ahem! As you sharp-witted gentlemen have likely deduced by now, I am not a purely bred native of the southern tribes.”

“Then why on earth are you parading around in that ancestral gear…”

“Shh—!”

He engaged in another very brief, physical educational session with the individuals who kept disrupting his narrative, leaving their physical forms far more receptive and disciplined.

After herding the now completely cooperative men into a secluded side street, he was finally able to resume their profound conversation in earnest.

“There is an incredibly profound and tragic history behind all of this. I scarcely know where to begin unfolding the tale…”

With that, he began weaving a elaborate narrative, carefully planting the conceptual seeds to validate his background and win over their complete trust.

“From what I was told, my father was a warrior of immense renown within the southern territories. Ah, please do not press me for his true name. The details were passed down to me second-hand, so the specifics remain a mystery. Regardless…”

A sudden, vulnerable revelation regarding his lineage.

The warriors harbored natural doubts, yet they maintained absolute silence, listening intently because the dominant hierarchy had already been ruthlessly established through fists.

And thus, a winding, emotionally gripping tale of forbidden romance began to unfold.

It was a narrative that commenced with a chance encounter between a proud southern combatant and a beautiful woman from an exotic, foreign territory.

Their initial impressions of one another were utterly catastrophic, yet the invisible strings of destiny continuously forced their paths to cross…

Inevitable friction and misunderstandings arose from their vastly different cultural perspectives, followed eventually by a deep, emotional reconciliation.

They survived countless perils together and eventually fell profoundly in love, shattering the societal boundaries of their respective social stations.

Yet, their arduous tribulations were far from over…

The daughter of a powerful tribal chieftain, who had desperately coveted the warrior for herself, began to actively sabotage their budding romance.

Ultimately, the warrior utterly spurned the chieftain’s daughter’s desperate advances, choosing instead to abandon his homeland and flee into the unknown with his true soulmate.

The rejected woman, consumed by bitter humiliation and wrath, dispatched relentless hunting parties to track them down…

After enduring unimaginable hardships and narrow escapes, the lovers finally discovered a peaceful sanctuary within a small, quiet agrarian settlement located far to the west.

By that point in time, the beautiful fruit of their profound love had already been conceived within the womb…

“Indeed, that very child was none other than myself.”

Harley paused his narrative, letting his gaze drift over his audience.

Gulp—

“…S-so what happened next?”

“Hey, brother, please don’t stop now, tell us the rest.”

The southern men, who had initially listened with deep scowls of skepticism, were now completely spellbound by the unfolding drama.

‘It’s literally just a generic story I patched together by combining a bunch of classic dramatic tropes. But it’s proving to be far more effective than I ever anticipated.’

Granted, while such a plotline might be considered an overused cliché back on Earth, to the people of this world, it was an incredibly fresh and thrilling saga.

Furthermore, considering the southern region was a massive conglomeration of hundreds of independent tribes, it stood as a highly plausible scenario.

“Ahem… Regrettably, the cruel hand of fate was not yet finished with them. That obsessive, vengeful villainess—the chieftain’s daughter—eventually tracked them down even to that remote haven. The peaceful family of three, who desired nothing more than a quiet, harmonious existence…”

Naturally, the raw emotional essence of classic tragic melodrama was absolutely vital to cement the tale.

Harley closed his eyes with profound sorrow, continuing his recitation with deep, resonant emotion.

He painted a vivid picture of the relentless tracking parties closing their net, and the father’s agonizing, desperate struggle to shield his beloved wife and newborn infant.

Through a brutal cycle of desperate flight and bloody skirmishes, they eventually annihilated every last pursuer, but the heroic warrior ultimately succumbed to a fatal, catastrophic wound.

The innocent infant, giggling happily within his mother’s protective embrace, remained entirely oblivious to the tragedy unfolding around him.

The dying warrior… the father, utilizing the absolute last remnants of his fading strength, unclasped the beast tooth necklace from his own neck and placed it gently over his child’s head.

‘If I am to pass from this world, you must become the shield that protects your mother. I… shall eternally watch over your steps, bound to you through this sacred token…’

The father drew his final breath before he could fully articulate his wishes, leaving the mother to wail in absolute despair.

And thus… the unyielding spirit of the warrior was passed down to the young child.

While no further hunting parties disturbed their peace after that day, it was an immense, grueling struggle for a solitary foreigner to raise a child in an unfamiliar land.

Yet, she endured every hardship, raising her son to be strong and proud.

She found her solace every evening by gazing at the stars, recounting fond memories of her departed husband and painting vivid pictures of his homeland for her growing boy.

‘Mother! What sort of man was my father?’

‘He was a magnificent individual. A true, peerless warrior. I remember a time when…’

The young boy would listen to his mother’s words with shimmering, awe-filled eyes, tightly gripping his father’s remaining keepsake, dreaming of the day he would grow into a legendary combatant himself.

And then… tragedy struck their lives once more.

“…In the end, I chose to bury that sacred ornament alongside my mother when she passed. I believed she required its presence far more than I, as she had cherished him with her entire soul and yearned for him until her very last breath. For myself, I was entirely satisfied simply carrying my father’s unyielding conviction within my heart.”

And that is the sole reason I present myself in this traditional garb, despite never having set foot upon the soil of the southern lands…

Harley closed his eyelids once more, his voice dropping to a heavy, somber register, brimming with manufactured sorrow.

The lengthy, elaborate tale finally concluded, leaving a profound, heavy silence hanging in the narrow alleyway.

And then…

“Ugh… Wahhhh!”

“Brother… oh, dear brother! You are, without a shadow of a doubt, a true and noble child of the south!”

“Absolutely! So long as that sacred warrior spirit flows within your heart, you are already a genuine southerner. We shall personally instruct you in all the tribal traditions and combat arts you missed out on, stepping in to fill the void left by your brave father… *sniff*…!”

The warriors, completely incapable of holding back their tears, found themselves entirely overwhelmed by the intense emotional impact of the tragic melodrama, which possessed a long history of manipulating human hearts.

They desperately attempted to recompose themselves, but the moment they looked back up at Harley’s rugged countenance, they burst into loud sobs all over again.

‘Did I layout the emotional bait a bit too thick? This is turning into a slight complication.’

“Hahaha! There is absolutely no reason for such profound grief, my friends! This physical form has already developed into a formidable warrior!”

Harley let loose a roaring laugh in an attempt to alleviate the heavy atmosphere, but…

“You have… grown up so beautifully. You truly turned out magnificent.”

“Of course he did! What does the absence of tribal ink matter? His physical prowess alone proves he is a legendary warrior!”

The men looked up at him with expressions of immense pride and warmth.

True to their straightforward nature as warriors, they appeared to have completely wiped the memory of the brutal beating they had received from him just minutes prior from their minds.

‘These fellas have immersed themselves far too deeply into the fiction.’

They were genuinely gazing upon him as though they were proud parental figures.

These youthful combatants, who appeared to be in their early thirties at the very absolute oldest…

“Ahem, at any rate. Because of my heritage, I harbor immense admiration for the southern territories, but I lack practical knowledge regarding our traditions. I am residing here temporarily because I feel my training is incomplete, but I fully intend to journey to the south, my true ancestral home, when the time is right.”

The southern fighters all nodded their heads in solemn, unified agreement with his statement.

“It is entirely natural that you faced difficulties, seeing as you lacked a proper mentor to guide your path.”

“But harbor no worries from this day forth, brother! Our meeting was orchestrated by the gods of fate, so we shall personally instill the true, unyielding essence of the south within you!”

“Indeed, we shall forge you into a warrior that your father will look down upon from the ancestral halls with absolute pride.”

‘Perfect. I’ve successfully secured high-quality, personalized tutoring from native instructors.’

He had originally been prepared to coerce them into cooperation through raw physical intimidation if they rejected his narrative, but they turned out to be far more straightforward and easily manipulated than he anticipated.

Harley let out a silent, satisfied chuckle and nodded his approval.

“Hahaha! I would be deeply honored by your guidance! Come to think of it, we have completely neglected our formal introductions. You may call me Harley!”

And just like that, he had successfully acquired a group of dedicated new underlings… or rather, companions.

He could also easily arrange for them to assist Hubert, who would be introduced as ‘Harley’s closest companion’, with his various logistical tasks whenever they had free time.

After all, a companion of a companion was naturally a companion!

‘I also need to meticulously map out the specific sequence of events for when Hubert eventually crosses paths with Harley during his travels.’

Harley operating within Tarak, Hubert entirely consumed by commercial preparations, and Heinz directly overseeing the operations of Heterosis back on Earth.

The personal timelines of all his distinct bodies were progressing at an identical, synchronized rate.

The individual narratives of the remaining two vessels were rapidly approaching a critical juncture.

—

Hans carefully packed away the various instruments and materials inside the subterranean laboratory where he had resided for several consecutive months, a place he had grown quite fond of.

The impending sweeping investigation by the High Elf throughout this territory was scheduled to commence shortly.

He possessed the capability to entirely evade the search parameters by preemptively clearing the surrounding forestry or simply choosing to temporarily dissolve his physical manifestation at the critical hour, but he had made absolutely no preparations to flee the area.

[Hehehe, there is absolutely no practical reason to resort to such measures anymore.]

Yet, even as the anticipated hour of the search safely lapsed, his senses failed to register any unusual disturbances in the surrounding environment.

By all accounts, he should have detected some form of magical or physical signature by now…

‘Did their operational timeline get delayed? Or perhaps they opted to thoroughly scour a different sector first?’

It was entirely possible that the dense concealment arrays surrounding the cavern were successfully masking his presence from their detection methods.

Though his nerves had been tightly wound, a wave of relief washed over him.

However…

Arriving at such a comforting conclusion was entirely premature.

At that exact same hour,

Deep within the grand walls of the Roselia Cathedral.

The esteemed High Elf Rapori assembled all the primary figures involved in the ongoing military mobilization.

“I have successfully pinpointed his location.”

The eyes of every single Church official present widened in sheer astonishment.

Naturally, Heinrich, who was observing the proceedings with intense focus, was no exception to the shock.

‘I didn’t detect even a single ripple of divine or magical energy, despite keeping my senses strained to their absolute limits. Exactly when did this happen?’

He had not perceived the slightest indication of active tracking magic, implying that the scouting phase had already been flawlessly executed without anyone noticing.

‘His mystical capabilities are far more terrifying than I originally estimated.’

Rapori broke the stunned silence, speaking in a deeply grave, resonant tone as he locked eyes with the eager assembly.

“The western territory of the mainland, deep within the monster forest. The distinct magical signature of the Immortal King has been explicitly verified within that sector.”

Hans’s hidden sanctuary had finally been laid bare to the world.