My Demons

‘Raid Chief Pageno’ presents a formidable challenge for melee characters.

Pageno himself poses a significant threat, thanks to his exceptional mobility and formidable attack prowess. However, the true hurdle lies in the mounted archers.

These archers dart about, releasing volleys of arrows before swiftly retreating, causing considerable frustration.

Furthermore, when you approach Pageno, his minions’ attack speed escalates, exacerbating the situation.

Typically, it’s necessary to eliminate all the archers before engaging Pageno…

“Ahhhh!”

The scenario changes if you possess the ‘Wind Curtain Shoulder Tattoo’.

Utequais charged at Pageno, deflecting incoming arrows with the power of his tattoo.

Pageno attempted to evade, but Ellen’s flaming arrow took down his horse first.

The horse collapsed, and as Pageno tumbled down, he encountered a colossal hammer.

“You rascal!”

The hammer, or rather the rare item ‘Sloane’s Maul,’ turned Pageno’s upper body into a pulp.

The power was truly terrifying. I was fortunate to escape with only minor injuries.

Unlike the Blood Knight with a rigid and limited skill set, the Berserker offered various builds.

There were ‘Strike Berserkers’ who specialized in the ‘Tribe Battle Art’ skill series, ‘Rage Berserkers’ who focused on the ‘Ecstasy’ skill from the ‘Rage’ series, and ‘Stonehead Berserkers’ who optimized defense with ‘Iron Skin’ and ‘Iron Seal’ while dealing damage based on their defense.

I enjoyed playing all the builds and rotated among them.

My most recently created Berserker, ‘Deep 公 DarkSFantasy,’ specialized in tattoo skills.

“Athar-Marta!”

Utequais charged at the archers, shouting an incomprehensible battle cry.

His long feather ornaments and braided hair danced splendidly in the wind, but that wasn’t all.

Tattoos of arrows, shields, hammers, and other symbols glowed when he performed corresponding actions.

The archers stood no chance against his Maul, and Utequais’s fierce movements were highly intimidating.

The tattoos had intriguing features, such as body-part specificity, inter-tattoo synergy, and conditional activation.

However, armor interfered with tattoo effects, which was why high-level Berserkers often only wore weapons, accessories, and undergarments.

So, one might ask, ‘Isn’t he just a pervert and not a Berserker?’

“The monster, what is it!”

“The leader is down!”

Indeed, even at first glance, he didn’t look ordinary. Is this what being a Berserker was like?

Even without armor, he was that powerful. If he were to remove his pants—ugh, even the thought was horrifying.

Anyway, the reason Utequais was topless was to activate the tattoo effects.

He had the ‘Armament of Blunt Weapons’ tattoo on his arm, the ‘Wind Curtain Tattoo’ on his shoulder, and the ‘Blessing of the Star Cluster Tattoo’ on his back, rendering him unable to wear armor.

Despite the lack of armor affecting his defense, the powerful effects of the tattoos more than compensated, granting him robust survivability.

In fact, his appearance without cumbersome armor was strikingly bold.

Watching Utequais skirmish, I efficiently cut through the horse archers.

Had I already grown accustomed to fighting on horseback?

Without hesitation, I lunged at one, dragging him down to the ground, and finished him off by stabbing him in the neck.

My movements might have resembled those of a beast or a cat rather than a human… well, as long as it was effective.

Ellen targeted the horses’ legs with Wind Fist.

Those who were thrown off were decapitated by Grania Randel and others who swooped in like vultures.

With Pageno dead and half their crew down, the horse archers began to retreat.

“Hatanca, stop! There’s no need to chase them!”

After killing Pageno, Utequais hadn’t managed to capture a single horse archer, which left him quite agitated.

He screamed incoherently until the archers disappeared from sight.

“Arak tark’ya qun-talil! Erpen Th-ral!”

I have no idea what he’s saying, but he looks pretty angry.

Doesn’t this kid know about ‘noise discipline’?

I’m worried that his loud voice might attract all the bandits in the area.

“Hey, get back here!”

It was only after I yelled that Utequais turned back, spat on the ground.

With Pageno, the local bandit leader, now flattened, the resistance from the bandits had significantly weakened.

Although there were about fifty bandits left at the old camp, they appeared unable to halt Utequais’s charge.

“Gua lune’telil!”

“Ah!”

“What’s with that guy! Even arrows don’t work!”

His cries and movements as he deflected arrows and swung his maul looked more like tidying up than fighting. Is this what they mean by ‘cleaning house’?

In any case, after I joined the fray, the bandits scattered and fled.

Upon closer inspection, these bandit ruffians were weaker than I had thought.

If Prince Ulkar led the army and launched a full-on assault, we could sweep them away… but that might be challenging.

After all, the ‘Baron’ who had organized these bandits into a nearly military-like force was not to be underestimated.

Considering the final battle of Chapter 2, he’s undoubtedly formidable.

We managed to break through their encirclement, likely thanks to the prince’s forces drawing their attention at the front.

Fortunately, the secret passageway remained intact, and we safely returned to South Harbor through the sewer.

By the time we emerged and met the astonished soldiers, it was already the dead of night.

Normally, the entire city would be asleep, but South Harbor was surprisingly lively.

Is it because of us?

I discreetly asked a familiar guard, “What’s going on?”

“Well,”

A talkative guard who had once overwhelmed us with excessive guidance grinned.

“Don’t be surprised. A big commotion happened a couple of hours ago. Look at those lights, one would think there’s a riot or something. You’re surprised too, right?”

My ears are on the verge of bleeding.

“But that’s not it. What actually happened is,”

“The Third Prince has arrived.”

“Yes, the Third Prince has- huh?”

Interrupting the guard was the bulldog, no, the captain of the guard, covered in a thick cloak over his checkered insignia.

Disregarding the stiff, chatty guards behind him, the captain of the guard stepped forward and assessed the group with a trembling expression.

“You all came back alive. Impressive, you too.”

…What’s with that tone, acting like it’s unbelievable? Did they anticipate that this would be a challenging mission?

“We’ve had a few close calls, but we managed to survive.”

“… Follow me.”

“Where to?”

“To the Salt Castle. His Majesty wishes to see you.” 

Every time I passed by the castle’s workshops, I always found the Salt Castle’s shape peculiar. It lacked defensive walls or a moat to be considered a fortress, and it was too stout to be called a tower.

The four-story building resembled a box, with archer towers at each of its corners, each adorned with beautiful white tiles. It’s astonishing that such pristine white could exist in a world without paint.

Nevertheless, this was the residence of the Count who governed a vast territory, including South Harbor. It was undoubtedly fortified.

The outer walls were constructed from large boulders bound together with lime, making it far more resilient than other city buildings made of bricks or wood.

The ground floor lacked even a single window, let alone a door. The only path to the second floor was via a wooden staircase.

The soldiers who passed us were all clad in chainmail, adorned with breastplates, and carried large round shields. They were imposing figures, likely the personal guards of the Count.

Luke and Utequais were unable to enter the Salt Castle, as they were outsiders with unverified identities, which was understandable.

Even Ellen and I were outsiders, but… well, we were the contractors.

Arnal had to be rushed to a doctor due to her severe arrow wound.

Others had injuries too, but they were not severe enough to prevent them from meeting the Count.

After traversing several dim corridors and staircases, we finally arrived in a less dimly lit room.

Several individuals had assembled in the room, some of whom I recognized.

The military commander who led the battle at the dock, the steward who purchased the crocodile skin, Sir Ankir, and then-

“Your Highness, you are saying something that I can’t possibly accept.”

“What can’t you accept? It’s been a tradition since my ancestors established this kingdom that those with ability bear responsibility.”

Seated in a chair and responding confidently was Prince Ulkar.

His silver hair shone as brilliantly as ever, thanks to the candles scattered around the room, but his golden lion armor was smeared with blood and dirt.

…Wow, he really came?

Did he truly break through the frontline and the horde of bandits?

“…So are you suggesting that I, who have assumed this responsibility, lack ability?”

“I’m not questioning your valor, Count. What’s required now is an experienced military commander like myself.”

“Isn’t that essentially the same thing?”

“Well, if you see it that way, there’s little I can do.”

As the prince crossed his arms, maintaining a neutral expression, the Count’s face grew stern.

The man who held the title of Count of Seiben and also served as the lord of the Salt Castle appeared to be in his early thirties and of relatively small stature.

He occupied a wooden chair engraved with a circled cross, and his plump cheeks were more distinctive than his well-groomed beard.

When the conversation momentarily halted, the captain of the guard who had escorted us forward stepped up and offered a bow.

“Your Majesty, the mercenaries have arrived.”

“Oh, is that so!”

The Count, who had been wearing a frown, brightened upon seeing us.

Ah, but whom should I greet first? The owner of the castle or the higher-ranking prince?

Resolving my momentary indecision, the Count dramatically extended his arms wide.

“Ah, the proud warriors of South Harbor have arrived!”

Randel and Aibo, who had been standing with me, swiftly moved aside to bow to the prince before positioning themselves behind him.

Nonetheless, the Count approached with a hearty laugh and delivered a friendly slap on my shoulder.

“Bravo, well done!”

…What’s happening? Why is he acting as if we’re old friends? We’ve never met before, sir.

“Steward, provide them with a generous sum of gold coins! These four have accomplished what even the esteemed Third Prince, could not!”

Upon the Count’s words, the prince’s expression hardened.

“People will sing the Prince’s praises. They’ll chatter about his courage in leading just a handful of cavalry to break through the encirclement and reach the castle gates. Fools are easily swayed by appearances.”

‘Leading just a few cavalry’? Did this guy actually pull off such a crazy stunt?

While the army dealt with the bandits, the prince himself led a small elite force to break through? That audacious plan?

Whether the Count couldn’t perceive the astonishment on my face or simply didn’t care, he continued to chatter with enthusiasm.

“But you, warriors, are exceptional! Whether you crawled through the underground like rats or serpents, the fact that you’ve returned unscathed is a testament to your wisdom and battlefield valor, isn’t it?”

What nonsense is this? Who didn’t get injured? And this… is he mocking the prince?

I stole a sideways glance and observed the prince, whose demeanor seemed ready to explode with anger, being restrained by a hand from Ankir.

Nevertheless, the Count gazed at the prince with a smirking countenance.

“Isn’t that so, Your Highness?”

“…Indeed, Count, remarkable valor and wisdom.”

Despite his words, the prince’s deep blue eyes appeared as though they could shoot flames. His attempt at ‘expression management’ had clearly failed, and his anger was palpable.

.. Uh, this seems like a precarious situation.

Suddenly, the phrase ‘a shrimp’s back being broken in a whale fight’ flashed through my mind.

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