Chapter 8: 4.2 – Mountain

The day had finally dawned and the morning was still cold and damp from yesterday’s rain. People were waking up to begin their day while the city guards were already eager to end their shifts.

But the streets of the early morning when the sun had just dawned seemed more crowded than usual. Carriages, wagons carrying supplies, and people is adventuring attires, wielding weapons and carrying rucksacks, were seen heading towards the eastern gate of the city. Where at least a hundred had already gathered.

They were a mix of adventurers, mercenaries and porters who had gathered to depart for an expedition into the deeper floors of the Ruin Dungeon of Krast. Though their destination was the 100^th floor of one of the most dangerous dungeon in Kryoria, and casualties were anything but certain, those present here clearly considered the pay to be worth the risk.

And by the time for departure drew near, more than four hundred had already gathered near the eastern gate, and wagons and carriages were neatly lined up ready to depart.

“Hey, look at them over there.” An adventurer said to his party, his finger pointing towards a group of two men and three women a few distance away. A handsome youth was holding a spear and happily chatting away with two beauties, while a well-built man with a large frame was busy cleaning his claymore and a girl in a witch’s attire was busy reading her grimoire. They looked like a diverse bunch, but their adventurer’s guild insignia clearly indicated that they were anything but weak.

“Never seen them before, maybe from another branch?”

“Idiot, look at their insignia, they’re S Ranks!” The adventurer exclaimed in a suppressed tone. The other’s showed surprised expressions.

“See? Told you there was nothing to worry about. With so many high-ranking adventurers and mercenaries, floor 100 should be a breeze to get through.”

One adventurer sighed inwardly, perhaps his friend was right he thought, even though no one would personally babysit them. With so many high-ranking adventurers and well-known mercenary groups, some famous, some infamous, joining the expedition, their success seemed quite probable. Though they were promoted to B-Rank just last month, making them barely eligible and just in time for this expedition, they were still too weak to be of any productive help in the dungeon. It wasn’t the prospect of being useless that bothered him though, it was the prospect of getting instantly killed by a high-leveled monster.

“Who cares if we get to the 100^th floor or not? We’re getting paid either way. If things go bad, we’ll just tuck our tails and run away, just like we planned.” The third adventurer commented.

“Get ready to depart!! We’re moving in 10 minutes!” Someone near the gate shouted, they couldn’t see who it was from their location but that wasn’t really important. They began getting into the empty carriages while the other groups did the same.

***

“Looks like you’ll have to find some other carriage Youra, all the one’s here looks full. Go ask the adventurers up ahead if they have a space left for ya.” The coarse voice of the mercenary leader suggested.

“Agghh I really don’t want to sit next to those whining bastards.” Youra complained as she rubbed her temples.

Mercenaries had a bad reputation among many groups, especially with the adventurer’s guild who took their rules and ethics very seriously. Both sides actually looked down on each other. Adventurers considered them to be dishonorable and vile opportunist, those akin to brigands. While the other considered adventurers to be pampered pansy fools, who ought to come down from their moral high ground for a day or two.

Youra knew that she’d get to hear a lot of derisive and underhanded comments made about her if she sat with a party of adventurers.

“I can switch.” A voice inside the carriage suggested.

“Ahh new guy, I owe you one for this.” Youra quickly replied, joyfully accepting his suggestion before there could be any chance for rebuttals.

The new guy came out of the carriage, he wore a dirty dark attire with the end of his robes tattered. Despite his shabby appearance, he did not look like someone to be trifled with. When he finally stood upright, he towered over 7ft. His height, added with the scar on his right eye, gave him a menacing look of a battle-hardened warrior.

“You sure Marcel?” The mercenary leader asked, “They can be pretty provocative and you look like some who wouldn’t take things lying down.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m not as hot-blooded as you think.” Marcel casually replied as Youra threw him his belongings. Youra then got in the carriage and Marcel simply left and began towering towards the front where the most of the adventurers were congregated to look for a vacant seat.

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Many adventurers and mercenaries alike glanced at him as he passed by. Due to his abnormally tall height, he stood out like a pole. Though no one dared to approached him.

He walked all the way to the front, but still couldn’t find a vacant carriage. For a second, he thought he’d have to go back and squeeze in in one of the previous carriages lest he be left behind. But then he finally found one.

He quickened his pace towards the vacant carriage and took a good look at the passengers inside. They were adventurers, and looked like a diverse bunch. A handsome youth wielding a spear, a large man who wielded a claymore, and a priestess, an archer and a witch, who were all stunning beauties.

For a second, Marcel forgot what to say, but he snapped back when he saw them looking at him.

“Um, mind if I sit here.”

“Ah…”

“Sure, we don’t mind.” The archer girl tried to say something but was quickly interrupted by the spear fellow. She gave an angry look at him, but the latter smiled back in return.

Marcel could tell he wasn’t really invited here and guessed that the youth was just amusing himself. Though he didn’t really have much choice so he decided to be shameless and get in.

He’ll have to spent a few weeks riding with them too.

____________________

Marcel Vanhel, the 4^th son of Duke Valence, and a miserable failure at everything. It was the past he had been trying to run away from for the past 8 years, and yet those annoying memories always came up every night, reminding him of his foolishness. The beer didn’t help as much as it did back then years ago but he didn’t have any other better alternatives.

8 years ago, he had lost a duel against his eldest brother and in a rage, he declared that he would prove all of them wrong by becoming an S rank adventurer, one of great eminence. The decision he made that faithful day still haunts him after all these years, where he declared he would surpass them all in wealth, fame, power, anything he could think of in the head of moment, he declared it. His brothers mocked him for his foolishness and did not believe he could do it, and they were right. He spoke big words yet the first thing he did after leaving his house was get swindled into paying 10 times the price for hitching a ride by a travelling merchant who was heading towards a neighboring kingdom.

The 15-year-old Marcel witnessed the real cruelty of the real world from there on, one that mercilessly preyed on those unprepared, waiting to crush their dreams and ambitions.

The young Marcel who was the son of a Duke just weeks ago, did not have the same logic of money as the commoners he now was, and it did not take long before his pockets quickly dwindled in weight. His skill in swordsmanship and academics was mediocre at best, and thus had a hard time doing missions. His communication and negotiation skills were also subpar and was frequently swindled by merchants and wooing women because of it.

Everything became too much for the young Marcel and he finally broke at age 17, just 2 years after he left his home. He gave up on his naïve ambitions and became a Mercenary instead, where most of the members he joined were shady people, those akin to brigands that walked on the grey line of the law.

Life was cruel to those unprepared, and even crueler to those at the bottom. People like him who were broken had long lost their spark that gave them hunger to change their lives, and were now living just to rot. Marcel was one of such people, but he wasn’t the worst ones despite his stupid past.

Unlike others, Marcel received a powerful weapon at the age of 20. It was his looks. His 7-foot tall stature, the chiseled body he worked on every day, the scar he received from an F rank goblin that took away his right eye’s vision and the five-year-old great sword he bought for cheap years ago, that looked like he picked it up from a battlefield after all scarred from all these years of improper use. All of these traits worked together to give Marcel an aura of a veteran mercenary that could singlehandedly fight against a dragon. He became an F rank mercenary that had the looks of an S rank.

His looks with his piercing gaze made thieves and pick pocketers think twice, women wooed her more thinking he had deep pockets, and merchants dared not swindle him. But most important of all, he had an easier time getting hired. For mercenary groups, Marcel looked like a very powerful swordsman and a great asset to have, but that would be until they found out how mediocre he was at swordsmanship. And for this reason, Marcel never stayed with one group for no more than two missions and thus, was never caught. For the past 3 years, Marcel had been joining various mercenary groups and leaving soon afterwards, being very careful as to not get caught.

Because of this he had self-esteem issue, and was very prone to anxiety, but that was the price.

Which brings Marcel to the Kirrith Empire to look for new means of income after leaving his previous group.

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