MTM 7

“Ah, did I startle you?”

To the the man’s astonishment, Zed quickly withdrew his hand and stepped back. He raised both hands above his head to show he meant no harm.

“I wasn’t trying to do anything strange. Don’t worry. I was only giving you the blessing of God.”

“What? The blessing of God?”

The mustached man’s eyes turned sharp, as if to say “what kind of nonsense are you talking about?”

“Whoa, wait. Don’t be suspicious and just listen to me first. I’m not doing anything weird. In my hometown… how should I say this. Before going home after a hunt, we always lay a hand on the head and call for God’s blessing. We believe that’s the only way to stop the soul of the beast we killed from following us home.”

Zed spoke shamelessly, acting completely unfazed, and then placed his hand on his own head.

“Like this, we close our eyes and pray to God before entering the house, asking that the beast’s spirit won’t come inside.”

“……”

“Well, you can believe it or not, but I’ve done it for so long it became a habit. Pardon the intrusion.”

As Zed stepped aside to let them pass, the mustached man frowned but entered the cabin anyway. The man with the scar followed and stopped in front of Zed.

“Hmm. It’d be stranger if you only did it to one person.”

Zed gave a gentle smile and raised his hand again, placing it on the man’s head.

“That’s right. May the blessing of God be upon you.”

Clack.

The cabin door closed. The heat from the fireplace filled the room enough to make them forget the cold outside.

The hunters laid the deer carcass on the table where Zed had earlier cleaned the rabbit, then unpacked their gear. The tense atmosphere from moments ago had disappeared once they stepped inside. They no longer looked wary of Zed. Their guard wasn’t completely down. Zed was much larger than either of them.

But they were veteran hunters who had spent decades hunting. No matter how big Zed was, they thought the two of them could easily handle an unarmed man.

‘Ugh… that smell…’

Meanwhile, Harto, who was hiding in the corner, grimaced. The smell of the strangers filled the cabin. If what Zed said was true, they were soaked in blood. The scent hadn’t faded with any so-called divine blessing. Harto crawled under the sofa and curled up tightly in the darkness.

“But your accent isn’t from around here. Where did you come from?”

The mustached man sat near the fireplace, tearing into the leftover rabbit meat Zed had eaten earlier. His behavior was extremely rude, but Zed didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looked pleased.

“You noticed right away. You’re correct. I came from the Regnovar Empire.”

‘The Regnovar Empire…!’

Harto, who had been listening, was startled.

He could never forget that name. The Regnovar Empire was one of the greatest empires in the world, the place where the protagonist had been born and raised. He wondered if Zed had just made it up on the spot to satisfy their curiosity, or if he really had come from Regnovar.

“The Regnovar Empire? Hmm, looking at you now, you do seem like one. If that’s true, you came quite a distance just to hunt rabbits.”

“Haha. That’s right. I didn’t think I’d come all the way here only to catch a few rabbits.”

Zed smiled kindly and picked up the skewer Harto had left behind. The man with the scar, who had been eyeing it for a while, cleared his throat.

“If you’re from the Regnovar Empire, then you must’ve hunted monsters often, huh?”

‘Monster hunting…?’

That was unexpected. If Zed really was from Regnovar, then had he also hunted monsters? Harto didn’t know when Zed had become a mercenary, but if he had fought monsters, that meant he wasn’t much different from a hunter.

‘Is that why he didn’t look surprised when he saw me in monster form…?’

If that was the reason, then it was a heavy thought to bear.

“I used to hunt monsters too. About five years ago, the lands near the Regnovar Empire were crawling with them, remember? You had to pay a 100 Lucian just to join the subjugation, but even the hide of a low-class leftover breed sold for more than ten times that amount.”

The mustached man laughed roughly as he recalled the memory and then turned to the man with the scar to ask him a question.

“Didn’t you make quite a profit back then too?”

“Well… I only caught about a hundred high-grade residual beasts.”

“Hahaha! Listen to this man. What a strange way to brag!”

The two hunters exchanged stories from their hunting days, then rummaged through their packs and pulled out a leather flask. When they opened the stopper, a strong scent of wine spread through the air.

“Ah, did we even introduce ourselves? I’m Harold. This one’s Richter. He handles an axe very well.”

“I’m Zed.”

“Did you also join the monster subjugation?”

Harold offered Zed a drink, but Zed quietly shook his head. Richter snickered, thinking he was just a big-bodied novice.

“If you had joined, it would’ve been a good experience… what a pity. Haa…! Is there nothing else to chew on?”

After drinking, Harold turned to Richter and asked. Richter took out dried jerky and walnuts from his pack. They ate and drank together, they didn’t have the intention to share anything with Zed.

“…I heard the monster subjugations have disappeared recently.”

After a moment of silence, Zed spoke quietly. Harold, chewing the jerky, lifted an eyebrow.

“Yes, these days you can’t even take part in them if you want to. Monsters aren’t like they used to be. They’ve become dangerous. I heard more of them can use magic now.”

“So that’s why you’ve gone back to hunting wild animals?”

When Zed asked, Harold shrugged as if there was no other choice.

“There’s not much work anymore. So today we decided to cross the mountain. The terrain’s rough, but it’s a good place for hunting.”

“You crossed the mountain just to catch one deer?”

“That’s right. It was a strong one.”

Their eyes all turned naturally toward the deer lying on the table.

Crackle crackle.

Sparks leapt from the firewood. Sitting near the fireplace, Harold jabbed the fire with a poker in irritation. The flames rose, then calmed. Silence filled the cabin.

“…You’ve gotten quieter than before.”

The remark caught Zed off guard, but he quickly fixed his expression.

“I must’ve gotten a bit sentimental from talking about my homeland.”

“Hm.”

Richter gulped down another mouthful of liquor. His eyes still on Zed.

“Do you have a continental bulletin with you?”

Zed met his gaze directly and asked.

“The bulletin? Ah, yes.”

Harold, instead of Richter who had been staring Zed down, reached into his pocket. He gladly handed over a folded and wrinkled issue of the continental bulletin. Unlike his companion, he seemed to have taken a liking to Zed.

“But how did you know I had one? I picked it up from a lower village without even reading it.”

“Well? I just thought you might have one.”

Zed replied with a smile and unfolded the paper. He read quickly. On the back page, at the corner, there was a short line about ‘Night Rage.’

[The stars scattered by the wrath of night have gathered again. But their number has decreased.]

It looked like a random phrase, but Zed recognized the hidden code. Unless someone was involved, no one would know it referred to the Night Rage mercenary group.

“…You don’t have any more meat left?”

Richter asked bluntly, glaring at the skewer in Zed’s hand. He had been eyeing it for a while.

“Not rabbit meat, but I have a bit of bread. And some cheese.”

“You have cheese?”

“Real cheese?”

Their eyes sparkled. It had been a long time since they had eaten proper cheese. Zed nodded and kindly handed them his entire leather bag.

“Whoa…!”

While the drunken men dug through the bag with red faces, Zed quietly removed a piece of rabbit meat from the skewer and slipped it under the sofa. Harto, who had been holding his breath, flinched in surprise.

‘Zed…’

Even in this situation, Zed was thinking of him. Harto felt grateful and opened his mouth to take the meat Zed had given him.