Wandering Mercenary in an Open World
Chapter 73:
Chapter 73
If anyone else had said that, Tarwen would have snorted in disbelief. Or maybe she would have scared them off with a simple curse, thinking they were ignorant fools.
She had lived as a member of the ‘Cradle of the Dead’ for the last twenty years, and she knew better than anyone the cruelty and power of that insane group.
She knew they were not the kind of beings that could be brought down by one person’s will.
But she swallowed that thought.
The man who was sitting across the campfire, watching her silently, was not an ignorant fool, but a warrior who had killed a great demon.
And he had said it.
He would kill all the witches of the Cradle.
What should she say? As she tore at her fingertips, hesitating, Tarwen finally opened her mouth slowly.
“Thank you.”
Ruon shrugged his shoulders lightly and rummaged through his backpack for a piece of jerky. He skewered it on a twig and replied as he held it over the fire.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not doing this for your sake.”
“Still, thank you.”
“Then at least pay me handsomely.”
Tarwen burst into laughter at his blunt retort. She laughed so hard that she dabbed at the tears in her eyes with her finger.
“Anything. If this goes well, I’ll gladly give you all my wealth.”
He hoped she had a lot of money stashed away. Ruon pushed the jerky stick into the fire. The surface of the jerky began to curl up in an instant.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m just bored.”
After biting off a piece of the well-cooked jerky, Ruon suddenly remembered that he had something to ask her. He had forgotten about it.
“I have one question too.”
Tarwen’s eyes sparkled at his words.
“What is it?”
Ruon turned his head, licking his lips. He saw the Nightmare, sitting at the edge of the boundary lit by the fire, nodding off.
He asked as he watched the beast’s fine figure.
“Do you know the Thunder King, Imrek?”
“Who?”
Tarwen asked back, but she quickly added, as if she had not really misunderstood.Điscover new chapters at novel35.com
“Why are you looking for an old warrior?”
“Is he famous?”
“He is. Haven’t you heard? There’s a song that the bards often sing, called ‘Thunder Steps’.”
Tarwen hummed softly as she looked at Ruon, who did not respond.
“When the invincible steps strike, the world is covered with thunder, in the midst of the enemies’ foreseen death... Sorry.”
She quickly shut her mouth. Her face turned red, as if she felt embarrassed too late.
Then Ruon asked.
“What kind of person is he?”
Tarwen, who had been fanning her face with her hand, answered.
“He’s a warrior who left his mark clearly in his generation. He also owned an artifact that suited his nickname, the Thunder King. It was probably a hammer.”
She raised her eyebrows as she said that.
“That’s all I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of much help, but he was active a long time ago, more than twenty years for sure, and he wasn’t someone I was interested enough to look into.”
Ruon nodded quietly.
“Is he dead now?”
She shook her head at the following question.
“I never heard that he died. But as with most swordsmen, the fact that the sightings and rumors stopped means he probably died somewhere, right? And there’s no word that he settled down somewhere...”
Yeah, it wasn’t something he had to solve right away.
Entering the village,Ruon first noticed the bustling people, all seemingly radiating happiness.
Then someone approached, waving, “Hey, Bobby! Did you catch anything in your snare?”
Bobby, the young man, shook his head at the middle-aged man’s jesting expression.
I’ve translated and edited the text into a third-person narrative suitable for a web novel, maintaining the essence while ensuring readability and flow in English.
“No.”
“What did I tell you? You’ll never succeed in hunting unless you find a rabbit that’s so pessimistic it chooses suicide.”
Bobby shrugged off his words.
“I didn’t catch a rabbit, but instead I brought a guest who will share our joy.”
The middle-aged man’s eyes widened.
“Really? Wow, you guys are lucky. Yeah. Melba just declared that she won’t charge any money for today.”
He pointed to the two-story building with his finger.
“Go quickly before it’s too late. There are more than a few villagers who have taken over the inn rooms, saying they won’t go home today. I also came out to get permission from my wife... Oh, my, look at me.”
The middle-aged man made a surprised expression and ran off somewhere.
Bobby smiled at his screwy appearance and turned his head toward Ruon.
“You go ahead. I’ll bring my brother and follow you soon.”
Ruon watched him leave without giving him a chance to answer and muttered.
“They’re all too excited.”
Tarwen nodded his head as if he agreed.
“Let’s go to the inn first.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
As they approached the building where the laughter was loud, Ruon turned his body and lightly stroked Nightmare’s neck.
“Wait here.”
Leaving the black horse that was snorting behind them, Ruon and Tarwen went straight into the inn. The noisy interior became quiet for a moment at the appearance of the strangers.
Then someone shouted.
“Ha! What lucky travelers! This inn is free today! Drinks too! Meat too! Beds too!”
At his words, the people in the inn started to laugh loudly. The disorderly laughter soon gathered and began to cheer for someone.
“Melba!”
“Melba!”
“Melba!”
The middle-aged woman who got up in sync with the sound raised her hand to the crowd. She waited for the noise to die down and shouted.
“Cheer for our sons, not me! For the heroes who returned safely after slaughtering the barbarians of the north!”
The people responded to her thunderous cry with applause like thunder.
“Stephan! Thanks to you, your mother is giving me free drinks! Thank you!”
“Beryl! I’m glad you came back safely!”
“Anto, I’d have no wish left if I had a son like you.”
Those guys.
Ruon stared intently at the men sitting around the central table of the inn. They were the ones who received everyone’s applause.
That’s when it happened. Tarwen walked toward them.
The people started to whistle at the sight of the beautiful elf standing in front of one of the men. But Tarwen ignored the blatant stares and noise, and clenched his teeth and said.
“What are you doing here?”
The short-haired man lifted his glass on the table and retorted.
“What do you mean? I’m drinking at my mother’s shop. Having some conversations.”
Tarwen twisted his face as if he hated his calm answer.
“Cut the crap. Hella.”
Chapter 73: 73:
Chapter 73
If anyone else had said that, Tarwen would have snorted in disbelief. Or maybe she would have scared them off with a simple curse, thinking they were ignorant fools.
She had lived as a member of the ‘Cradle of the Dead’ for the last twenty years, and she knew better than anyone the cruelty and power of that insane group.
She knew they were not the kind of beings that could be brought down by one person’s will.
But she swallowed that thought.
The man who was sitting across the campfire, watching her silently, was not an ignorant fool, but a warrior who had killed a great demon.
And he had said it.
He would kill all the witches of the Cradle.
What should she say? As she tore at her fingertips, hesitating, Tarwen finally opened her mouth slowly.
“Thank you.”
Ruon shrugged his shoulders lightly and rummaged through his backpack for a piece of jerky. He skewered it on a twig and replied as he held it over the fire.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not doing this for your sake.”
“Still, thank you.”
“Then at least pay me handsomely.”
Tarwen burst into laughter at his blunt retort. She laughed so hard that she dabbed at the tears in her eyes with her finger.
“Anything. If this goes well, I’ll gladly give you all my wealth.”
He hoped she had a lot of money stashed away. Ruon pushed the jerky stick into the fire. The surface of the jerky began to curl up in an instant.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m just bored.”
“I have one question too.”
Tarwen’s eyes sparkled at his words.
“What is it?”
Ruon turned his head, licking his lips. He saw the Nightmare, sitting at the edge of the boundary lit by the fire, nodding off.
He asked as he watched the beast’s fine figure.
“Do you know the Thunder King, Imrek?”
“Who?”
Tarwen asked back, but she quickly added, as if she had not really misunderstood.Điscover new chapters at novel35.com
“Why are you looking for an old warrior?”
“Is he famous?”
“He is. Haven’t you heard? There’s a song that the bards often sing, called ‘Thunder Steps’.”
Tarwen hummed softly as she looked at Ruon, who did not respond.
“When the invincible steps strike, the world is covered with thunder, in the midst of the enemies’ foreseen death... Sorry.”
She quickly shut her mouth. Her face turned red, as if she felt embarrassed too late.
Then Ruon asked.
“What kind of person is he?”
Tarwen, who had been fanning her face with her hand, answered.
“He’s a warrior who left his mark clearly in his generation. He also owned an artifact that suited his nickname, the Thunder King. It was probably a hammer.”
She raised her eyebrows as she said that.
Ruon nodded quietly.
“Is he dead now?”
She shook her head at the following question.
“I never heard that he died. But as with most swordsmen, the fact that the sightings and rumors stopped means he probably died somewhere, right? And there’s no word that he settled down somewhere...”
Yeah, it wasn’t something he had to solve right away.
You are reading story Wandering Mercenary in an Open World at novel35.com
As they descended the gentle hill, a sizable village came into view, with a slowly turning windmill and a dozen cows leisurely grazing.Entering the village,Ruon first noticed the bustling people, all seemingly radiating happiness.
Then someone approached, waving, “Hey, Bobby! Did you catch anything in your snare?”
Bobby, the young man, shook his head at the middle-aged man’s jesting expression.
I’ve translated and edited the text into a third-person narrative suitable for a web novel, maintaining the essence while ensuring readability and flow in English.
“No.”
“What did I tell you? You’ll never succeed in hunting unless you find a rabbit that’s so pessimistic it chooses suicide.”
Bobby shrugged off his words.
“I didn’t catch a rabbit, but instead I brought a guest who will share our joy.”
The middle-aged man’s eyes widened.
“Really? Wow, you guys are lucky. Yeah. Melba just declared that she won’t charge any money for today.”
He pointed to the two-story building with his finger.
“Go quickly before it’s too late. There are more than a few villagers who have taken over the inn rooms, saying they won’t go home today. I also came out to get permission from my wife... Oh, my, look at me.”
The middle-aged man made a surprised expression and ran off somewhere.
“You go ahead. I’ll bring my brother and follow you soon.”
Ruon watched him leave without giving him a chance to answer and muttered.
“They’re all too excited.”
Tarwen nodded his head as if he agreed.
“Let’s go to the inn first.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
As they approached the building where the laughter was loud, Ruon turned his body and lightly stroked Nightmare’s neck.
“Wait here.”
Leaving the black horse that was snorting behind them, Ruon and Tarwen went straight into the inn. The noisy interior became quiet for a moment at the appearance of the strangers.
Then someone shouted.
“Ha! What lucky travelers! This inn is free today! Drinks too! Meat too! Beds too!”
At his words, the people in the inn started to laugh loudly. The disorderly laughter soon gathered and began to cheer for someone.
“Melba!”
“Melba!”
“Melba!”
The middle-aged woman who got up in sync with the sound raised her hand to the crowd. She waited for the noise to die down and shouted.
“Cheer for our sons, not me! For the heroes who returned safely after slaughtering the barbarians of the north!”
The people responded to her thunderous cry with applause like thunder.
“Stephan! Thanks to you, your mother is giving me free drinks! Thank you!”
“Anto, I’d have no wish left if I had a son like you.”
Those guys.
Ruon stared intently at the men sitting around the central table of the inn. They were the ones who received everyone’s applause.
That’s when it happened. Tarwen walked toward them.
The people started to whistle at the sight of the beautiful elf standing in front of one of the men. But Tarwen ignored the blatant stares and noise, and clenched his teeth and said.
“What are you doing here?”
The short-haired man lifted his glass on the table and retorted.
“What do you mean? I’m drinking at my mother’s shop. Having some conversations.”
Tarwen twisted his face as if he hated his calm answer.
“Cut the crap. Hella.”
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