Mercenary camp, temporary campsite. Ileil stood inside Gro’s tent.
Under Gro’s serious questioning, Ileil recounted everything she had experienced that day in full detail.
It was rather ironic. Ileil had originally returned to the camp intending to use the opportunity to settle scores with Gro harshly. What she hadn’t expected was that Kaze and Alyssa would go missing on their way back.
Considering the fate of the previously missing mercenaries—Cole and his group—Ileil couldn’t help but start worrying about Kaze and Alyssa.
Although Ileil outwardly didn’t care much about her interpersonal relationships within the mercenary group, it was hard to truly remain indifferent when familiar faces who had treated her well suddenly vanished into thin air.
Especially Gro—that guy. Ileil looked at the face that usually wore a frivolous smile, now filled with anxiety. He seemed to be genuinely worried about the missing Kaze and Alyssa.
…….
Was Gro truly such a cold-blooded, profit-driven person?
Although Gro had always called himself a ‘profit-first’ merchant, and Ileil had consistently viewed him as a heartless bastard to strengthen her resolve for revenge, the facts didn’t lie. Gro’s character was far from that terrible.
This wasn’t an attempt to excuse Gro’s crimes. Eight years ago, on the day Gro personally killed Isende, after taking the ‘Blade Ghost’s’ head, he had kept his word and left Ileil’s hometown without causing any unnecessary destruction.
Over the eight years she had followed Gro, Ileil had personally witnessed how ‘Black Edge’ conducted himself. Gro had taken in many homeless people—northern refugees, escaped slaves, abandoned believers… He managed to keep the people around him fed and alive in this not-so-peaceful world.
This left Ileil feeling conflicted.
Whether it was the memories of the ‘Black Feather’ that the witches had cast or the ‘truth’ Dorias had spoken of, both painted Gro as a heartless bastard. That man had even killed her father—yet when it came time for Ileil to pass judgment on Gro’s character, her reason left her hesitant.
Ileil didn’t understand.
She couldn’t comprehend why she was still dwelling on these matters.
……
“Hey? Kid, what are you spacing out for? Keep talking—”
Gro’s urging voice pulled the girl back from her complicated thoughts. Ileil composed herself, her golden eyes refocusing on Gro’s clouded face.
“I was recalling the details from when we were investigating.”
Ileil defended herself with an unchanged expression.
“Good. Take your time and think. Make sure you don’t miss any details.”
Gro looked at her with a complicated expression and let out a heavy sigh.
…
And so, Ileil continued from where she had left off, telling him about the ambush they encountered while investigating Cole’s cabin and their subsequent fight against the transformed Cole.
“So—Cole ultimately turned into that kind of monster?”
“Yeah, just like the living corpses created by witch flames last week.” Ileil nodded. The wound on her shoulder throbbed faintly with each breath.
“Also, it seemed like Cole was specifically targeting the princess.”
“Let me calm down for a moment and sort my thoughts.”
Gro stood up. The wooden chair scraped loudly against the ground. He walked over to the liquor cabinet in the corner of the tent, roughly yanked open the door, pulled out a bottle of strong liquor, and tilted his head back to take a large swig. The scent of alcohol filled the small space.
“Don’t start drinking yet,” Ileil said with some dissatisfaction, her golden eyes fixed on Gro’s back.
“You still haven’t told me what you discovered during the time you and Dorias were out until late tonight.”
“You’re asking about my side? I’m sorry, but I found nothing.”
Gro paused, then slowly turned around, swirling the bottle in his hand. “I went to Grey Rock Town. The saint sensed the presence of a witch there.” He let out a cold laugh. “In the end, aside from a few phony Mor Believers putting on an act, we found jack shit.”
Ileil keenly noticed the fresh wounds on the back of Gro’s right hand—three new scratches. She pointed them out:
“But you’re injured.”
Gro subconsciously pulled his hand back, looking at the marks and muttering, “Just minor scratches. Don’t tell me you’re actually starting to worry about me, you little brat.” He walked back to the table and slammed the bottle down heavily.
“Continue. Did Cole show any unusual behavior when he attacked you?”
“He kept muttering… something like ‘death is new life.’” Ileil recalled the terrifying scene. “And the wound on his chest was covered in the witch’s black-gold flames.”
The girl let out a soft sigh. “So, are you still unwilling to tell me what actually happened on your end?”
Sudden hurried footsteps came from outside the tent. Old mercenary Marcus burst in, covered in sweat. “Gro! I asked around, and there really is something strange—Hank said he heard wolf howls coming from the north two hours ago!”
“Wolf howls?”
Gro’s expression froze. He shot to his feet, knocking over the bottle. Amber liquid spread across the table. His voice turned unusually sharp.
“Are you sure it was wolf howls?”
Marcus was startled by Gro’s reaction and stammered, “Y-yeah. Hank grew up hunting in the forest. He definitely wouldn’t mishear…”
Gro had already grabbed the coat hanging on the back of the chair, moving so fast he created a gust of wind. “We can’t wait any longer!” He turned to face Ileil and barked at her.
“Ileil, come with me!”
Under the effect of the contract, Ileil had no choice but to obediently follow Gro’s orders.
The night was as dark as ink, with only scattered torches lighting the paths in the camp. Ileil jogged to keep up with Gro as he moved busily around the campsite. Cold wind poured into her collar.
“What exactly is going on? Why did you react so strongly when you heard the words ‘wolf howls’?”
Gro’s footsteps didn’t slow in the slightest. “Stupid kid. You really thought those were wolves?” His voice sounded exceptionally cold and hard in the night wind.
“—That was ‘Blood Axe’ Regnar.”
“What did you say?” Ileil suddenly grabbed Gro’s arm, forcing him to stop. “That ‘Blood Axe’ Regnar? Wasn’t he already—”
“You really thought he was dead for good?” Gro sneered. “Yeah, I personally chopped off his head. That’s correct. But now it looks like someone doesn’t want to let him rest in peace.”
In the stable, two warhorses had already been saddled. Gro nimbly mounted one, moving as agile as a black panther. Ileil followed closely behind, her silver hair gleaming coldly under the moonlight.
“Aren’t we going to call Dorias?” she asked, gripping the reins tightly.
Gro squeezed his horse’s flanks. The warhorse neighed and charged forward. “I’ve already sent someone to find him!”
His voice drifted in the night wind.
“But we can’t rely on that bastard Dorias for everything—I’m still one of the ones who can fight!”
The two steeds galloped along the stone path, their hooves thundering. Ileil rode closely behind Gro. The cold wind stung her cheeks. The shadows of the trees beside the road flew past rapidly, like a horde of snarling monsters.
After riding roughly one mile, Gro suddenly pulled the reins. The warhorse reared up on its front legs and came to a stop. “Here.” He jumped down from the horse and looked back, signaling for Ileil to follow.
Ileil dismounted as well and saw that they were standing at a fork in the road. Gro crouched down, his fingers tracing the marks on the ground—several deep gashes, clearly left by a great axe.