Chapter 76: If You’re Curious, Bring Me Five Million Gold (3)

“I won’t tell you to kill him, but at least chop off a limb or two.”

Cork’s casual tone, as if it were some simple task, left his subordinate mercenaries dumbfounded.

“Sir, are you high? We’re not talking about just anyone’s limbs here—you’re asking us to take out the Solver’s limbs.”

“Why should we risk our lives trying to cripple Keter? Your victory is already a sure thing without doing anything.”

The mercenaries’ arguments were logical and sound. But Cork wasn’t looking for logic or validation. What he wanted was blind obedience.

“Idiots. Have you ever seen Keter start something without a reason? That guy’s definitely up to something. And whatever it is, it’s aimed at getting in my way. If he’s scheming, why the hell should I sit idly by?”

“But didn’t you promise you wouldn’t take action?”

“Why would you believe a crazy bastard like him? Why assume he’ll keep his word? For all we know, he might’ve been telling the truth just to set us up for this moment!”

“Well...”

The mercenaries fell silent. Cork’s reasoning sounded plausible, but it was just a stretch. Still, openly pointing that out would only invite accusations of disloyalty.

Then, Cork began evoking a sense of unease within the mercenaries.

“Listen closely. Do you know what will happen if that guy becomes the branch manager? You and I are as good as dead. Even if Keter spares you, I won’t.”

The mercenaries flinched.

Their relationship with Cork wasn’t built on loyalty or camaraderie. It was purely transactional, based on power and mutual leverage. But they could not back out now. They knew too many of Cork’s secrets, and they had already invested too much time and money into his plans.

“Even so, going against Keter...”

The mercenaries hesitated, knowing Cork wasn’t merciful to traitors. But neither was Keter.

Cork slapped his chest in frustration.

“You morons aren’t knights. Why are you even considering a direct fight? Keter has to let his guard down at some point. Right now, they say he’s napping in the plaza. What’s more vulnerable than that? Surround him and attack from all sides. No matter how skilled he is, he only has two arms. If you all strike at once, he can block three hits, but one will get through. Are you really too scared to pull off something this simple?”

“If ambushes worked on Keter, he wouldn’t still be alive.”

“Do you think we’re the same as those other failures? All of you must not be desperate enough. Don’t you want the chance to leave Liqueur—or, if not, to rule this hellhole instead of just scraping by? How long are you going to keep living like cowards?”

“...”

Despite Cork’s stinging appeals to their harsh reality, no one stepped forward.

It was only natural. Their opponent was Keter. Many had tried to take Keter down before, and every single one of them had met a gruesome end. No matter how much Cork threatened or shouted, his mercenaries were still human. Fear could be confronted, but it couldn’t be eliminated entirely. And Keter was a demon who preyed on that primal fear.

Cork bit his lower lip. The resistance to attacking Keter was stronger than he had anticipated.

Looks like there’s no other way.

Realizing that intimidation alone wouldn’t move them, Cork reached for his last resort.

“In this trial, I made a bet with Keter. We wagered all our assets. Naturally, I plan to distribute everything to you. Why? Because I care about you. You’re my family. Friendship is better than anything. And from the beginning, asking you to ambush Keter wasn’t something I intended to leave you unprepared for.”

Cork pulled out the magic tools hanging from his waist and held them out.

“I’m not just lending these magic tools to the assault team—I’m giving them to you. And for the one who definitively cripples Keter, I’ll throw in an additional magic tool as a reward.”

The mercenaries’ eyes finally lit up with interest at the generous offer.

One of them stepped forward and said, “If you give me the Sword Breaker, I’ll make sure to bring back Keter’s arm.”

The Sword Breaker was a level-two magic tool designed specifically to destroy an opponent’s weapon.

Internally, Cork wrestled with the decision.

Hesitating now would only invite accusations like, “What’s the matter? Feeling stingy? I thought we were family?”

So, he immediately replied, “I’ll trust you with it.”

Cork handed over the Sword Breaker, a weapon with blades resembling shark teeth, to the mercenary. The man gulped and accepted it with both hands.

“I didn’t think you would actually give it to me.”

“I’m in, too. But only if you give me the Snake Chain Sword.”

“Take it.”

𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

The Snake Chain Sword, which appeared to be an ordinary longsword, extended like a whip when imbued with aura. It was a level-one magic tool, and it had now found a new owner.

Five more mercenaries stepped forward, each receiving a magic tool. In the end, Cork had handed out a total of seven magic tools.

He felt a deep pang of regret but managed to mask his emotions as he addressed the group, “I’ll never forget your courage and resolve. You’ll all be duly rewarded.”

With their newfound material confidence, seven mercenaries, now armed with magic tools, headed off to confront Keter.

* * *

Four mercenaries exchanged glances. Keter was lying in the center of the plaza. His right arm propped up his head while his left hung limply. He seemed like an easy target, but every person who had thought that ended up crippled. As such, they carefully devised a plan.

“Keter’s primary weapons are two daggers. Even if he uses both hands, he can only block two attacks at a time.”

“With the Sword Breaker, I’ll take his upper left side. Even if he blocks, I’ll destroy his dagger and create an opening.”

“My Chain Sword is great for getting through defenses. I’ll take the upper right side. The rest of you handle his waist and legs.”

“My axe will be perfect for the waist. With this Frost Axe, I can cleave Keter in half in a single blow.”

“If he tries to stand up, I’ll slice his ankles with my scythe. He won’t go anywhere.”

The mercenaries grinned after finalizing their plan. No matter how they looked at it, it seemed perfect; flawless. They were convinced this time Keter would die.

“This plan is so solid, we could’ve pulled it off even without the magic tools. Don’t you think?”

“Agreed. Maybe we should’ve joined the army and aimed for a general’s position instead.”

“Who knows? The treasures in the labyrinth might just make that dream possible.”

“Heh, heh. Ha ha ha.”

With the confidence of their strategy and their magic tools, they approached Keter.

But as they drew closer, their legs trembled. The nearer they got to Keter, the closer death seemed to creep.

“Urgh, this feeling...”

“Keter is still Keter.”

“Focus! No matter how strong Keter is, he can’t notice our ambush in this crowd.”

“That’s right. Stick to the plan, and victory is ours.”

“Take your positions.”

The mercenaries spread out, each taking a spot to make a simultaneous attack easier.

But they hesitated, waiting far too long. They hadn’t properly discussed when to strike. Being separated, they couldn’t communicate effectively, and gathering together again to talk would have looked suspicious.

Eventually, tired of the stalemate, the mercenary with the Sword Breaker decided to make the first move. As he attacked, the others, who had been merely watching, followed suit. But their actions deviated from the plan. Instead of attacking simultaneously, they ended up striking one after another.

Luckily for them, this didn’t matter. Because even if their ambush had been perfectly coordinated, it wouldn’t have made any difference against Keter.

* * *

Keter’s reaction to the ambush was something no one could have predicted. He rolled over, striking the mercenary with the Sword Breaker in the ankle and toppling him.

Rolling on the ground?!

The mercenary couldn’t believe his eyes, even as he fell. Dodging by rolling was considered disgraceful in their world—a shameful act and the ultimate dishonor among those who lived by their sword. Yet Keter had done it!

“You shameless...”

Those words became his final ones. With a dagger that Keter had drawn in an instant, he stabbed the mercenary’s spine, paralyzing him temporarily from head to toe—and permanently from the waist down.

Then, the mercenary with the Chain Sword charged at Keter, who was half up. Keter snatched the Sword Breaker off the ground and swung it at the Chain Sword.

Clang!!!

The two magic tools clashed, producing a deafening sound. Shattered fragments of the Chain Sword scattered in all directions. Through the chaos, the third mercenary’s Frost Axe came crashing down toward Keter’s head.

Thud!

The axe became embedded deep into the shoulder of the paralyzed mercenary, as Keter had used him as a shield. As he pushed forward, now standing fully upright, Keter’s dagger appeared in his hand again.

He thrust it toward the throat of the mercenary with the Frost Axe mercenary, but it fell just short. At that moment, Keter released his grip. The dagger flew from his hand, landing squarely in the mercenary’s throat.

Now, the mercenary with the Chain Sword and the scythe closed in on Keter from either side.

“You’re using that wrong,” Keter said, grabbing the Chain Sword mid-strike.

Though it looked like he had grabbed the blade with his bare hand, a closer look revealed that he had caught the dull connecting section between the segments. With precise timing, he yanked the chain, redirecting it toward the scythe-wielding mercenary.

He leaped to avoid the incoming Chain Sword, but Keter twisted his fingers, causing the weapon to wrap around the mercenary’s left leg. Realizing his fate, he turned pale.

“N-no, please!”

“Yes!” Keter replied.

Keter struck the flat side of the Chain Sword with his palm. The loose chain snapped tight, severing the mercenary’s leg cleanly.

“Argh!!”

“Scream all you want. Soon, you won’t even be able to do that.”

The Chain Sword-wielding mercenary abandoned his weapon and fled in terror. Keter casually pulled out another dagger and flung it toward him. The dagger shot through the crowd, flying in a straight line.

“Ack!”

A single scream echoed as the sword struck him. Keter whistled as he walked through the crowd, which was now parting to make way for him. At the end of the path, the mercenary was on the floor, face down, with the dagger lodged in the back of his head.

“P-please... have mercy...”

Dragging himself along the ground, the last mercenary begged desperately. Keter grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head.

He leaned close to whisper, “Do you have a god you pray to?”

“D-don’t do this! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything about Cork and all his secrets!”

“I’m not interested.”

Still holding the man by his hair, Keter dragged him to the center of the plaza. The scythe mercenary, the only one still conscious, had managed to crawl a short distance away but couldn’t escape due to his blood loss.

By now, a crowd had gathered to watch.

Keter’s punishments were carried out with an unsettling calmness, as if he were an artisan assembling a doll or a hunter dissecting prey.

The result wasn’t gory or horrific, but what remained of the mercenaries could hardly be called human. All their teeth were pulled out, and the tendons in their wrists and ankles were severed. They didn’t bleed—Keter had carefully cauterized their wounds. In his view, dying from blood loss was a reward.

The people of Liqueur had a term for those punished by Keter.

A human centipede.

The nickname came from how they writhed and squirmed on the ground.

“Kekeke.”

“The centipedes will like these fresh faces.”

The crowd laughed cruelly.

Keter didn’t care what others did to the centipedes he created. Even if someone killed them, he wouldn’t bat an eye. But in Liqueur, there was no one merciful enough to grant these insects death.

Everyone mocked the centipedes, threw stones at them, and toyed with them. Then, they made a promise to themselves that they would never become Keter’s enemy. And if they did, they would make sure to have a way to kill themselves beforehand. Though even suicide couldn’t save them from Keter, who would bring them back anyway, there was no way they could know that.

Leaving the plaza without hesitation, Keter proceeded to sell off the magic tools the mercenaries had brought.

“These are pretty damaged, and the quality isn’t great. I’ll give you three thousand eight hundred gold for them. By the way, I’ve got something better in stock. Interested?”

The shopkeeper subtly tried to pique Keter’s interest.

“Not really... Anything related to bows?”

“Bows? No bows, but I do have some arrows.”

“Show me.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. Honestly, I was planning to show you a dagger instead.”

The shopkeeper led Keter to the basement and brought out two arrows.

“These are both natural, excavated from ancient ruins. This one here is a Splitting Arrow. The moment it’s shot, its tip splits into eight fragments. It also has an automatic retrieval feature. It’s a level two magical tool.”

“And the other one?”

“Hehe, you’ve got an eye for rare finds.”

The shopkeeper handed Keter an arrow that looked as though it was made of glass.

“Try putting aura into it.”

“Done.”

“Now, let me take it back.”

The shopkeeper stepped away, holding the glass arrow. Keter’s eyes gleamed.

“The aura doesn’t dissipate?”

“That’s right! The fundamental issue of archery was that it wasn’t compatible with aura, right? This arrow clears that problem completely. But to be honest, it’s really just decorative. It doesn’t have an automatic retrieval function. If you fire it and can’t recover it, what’s the point?”

Returning the arrows to their display, the shopkeeper leaned against the wall and said, “Keter, I know you’re curious, but you should give up on archery. It’s the least popular and most understocked category in the magic tools market. Anything related to bows is basically a leftover product. Those two arrows I just showed you? I’ll give them both to you for just one thousand gold.”

Considering that the average price of a level two magic tool was three thousand gold, this was a steal.

Keter pulled some bills from his pocket and said, “Deliver them to my office.”

“You’re really only buying those? I told you, I’ve got a dagger to show you! It’s a level three magic tool, way better than the last one you bought!”

“Oh, you mean these?”

Keter showed the two daggers hanging from his waist. They looked identical, but one was incredibly heavy, while the other was remarkably light. Both were durable and had an automatic retrieval feature, making them highly practical. However, Keter no longer felt the need to rely on them.

I’m an archer now.

He considered selling the daggers off entirely since he didn’t need them anymore. He had archery now.

Actually, if I’m going to sell them, I’d rather give them to Dork.

Thinking of Dork shifted Keter’s decision. In his previous life, Dork’s lack of combat ability had caused plenty of headaches as Keter had to protect him constantly. But this time, things could be different. If Dork could be trained to at least defend himself, maybe they could stay together until the end.

“I’ll take the dagger, too.”

“See? I knew you would come around! Swordsmanship is still the best, after all. Haha! Let’s head upstairs. You know how hard it is to find a level three magic tool!”

“No need for a demonstration. How much is it?”

“No demonstration? Then how are you going to accept my price?”

“Don't worry. If I’m not satisfied, I’ll come back for a refund.”

“Fair point. One hundred twenty thousand gold in cash, of course.”

“Wow, fuck? You’re confident, huh?”

The average price for a level three magic tool was fifty thousand gold, but the shopkeeper was asking for almost 2.5 times that amount.

“Planning to make a ton off of me and retire from Liqueur, huh?”

“Do you really think I would scam the Solver of Liqueur? I’m telling you, at least test the dagger’s performance before you decide!”

“Forget it. Too much hassle. I’m not even the one who’ll use it anyway.”

“What do you mean? If not you, then who?”

“None of your business. Just send it to my office. Deduct the cost of the arrows.”

“And the money?”

“Dork will pay when it arrives at the office.”

Dork was seventeen years old, one year younger than Keter. Starting martial arts training at that age was considered ridiculously late. But if magic tools could make up for the delay?

“And if I pour elixirs into him, well, it will work out somehow.”

It was obvious it would cost a fortune. Yet Keter didn’t find the expense bothersome in the slightest. Money existed to be spent, not hoarded for show.

Thinking of Dork, diligently carrying out his orders, Keter muttered to himself, “This is karma from my past life, Dork. You’re stuck with me till the end.”

Meanwhile, Daat, who was searching for portable gear per Keter’s orders, was completely oblivious to what awaited him. He had no idea that his competence in previous life was leading him into an unrelentingly chaotic adventure in this one.

However, he didn’t have to feel unfairly treated; after all, he wasn’t alone: Luke Blendere, the one Keter had marked first, was already enduring what could only be described as the greatest hardship of his life.