Chapter 050
Ran had a sound sleep. He had a dream for the first time in a while.
His unconscious mind climbed back through memories.
Cyrano slung a pole over one shoulder as he looked back. The small bundle hanging from the end of the pole dangled back and forth.
"Go. Before we get too attached."
Iscarang was standing there. One corner of his mouth curled up slyly.
"Hey, come on, this might be the last time, you're being a bit too cold, aren't you?"
"Cold or not, just go. The Lord will watch over you."
"I think I've called Asriel a bastard hundreds of times—will that really be fine?"
"The Lord is a god of mercy."
"Amen."
Cyrano turned around again. He blew out a heavy snort. He took a big step forward. Two steps, three steps.
He stopped again and turned his head.
"Ah, damn it. Are you gonna keep acting dense?"
"Tsk, what was his name again?"
"Zima. Dog seller Zima."
"How am I supposed to find someone named Zima in all that land? I'll get worn out before I even get started."
"It's easy. Just take out everyone who raises a sword in front of you one by one. With some luck, you'll find him fast enough."
Cyrano licked his dry lips. He glanced up at the sky, which was as clear as always. Who knows when he'll bask in this sunlight again.
"So what I mean is, why do I have to use such violent methods?"
"Because he's the one at the top of their kind. If you can't find him in the end, that means you're only worth that much."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't have what it takes to be an apostle."
Cyrano spat on the ground.
"I'm off, then."
"Cyrano."
Their eyes met again, and this time, Cyrano wore a friendly smile.
"Live."
Cyrano waved half-heartedly. He hid his smile so it wouldn't show.
And so, the ninety-ninth.
Thud!
A huge man collapsed after taking a punch from Ran.
'Iscarang, that bastard.'
Ran exhaled heavily.
Inside a cramped tavern, several men were sprawled out across the floor, beaten to a pulp.
"Ugh."
Ran picked out a burly man and sat down on his back.
Right in front of him, a scrawny man was kneeling, his lips trembling uncontrollably.
Ran grabbed a long broom and snapped it in half. He held out the jagged end of the stick to the skinny man.
"You're not moving a single step until that dog seller Zima shows up here. Got it? I'm tired too now."
"??."
"If you understand, nod—or else. Damn it."
Only then did the skinny man nod his head.
Ran tossed the stick away and glanced around. There was no time to waste anymore. It had been over a month since he arrived on the mainland. Zima hadn't shown a trace. He was starting to get nervous. The man he'd knocked down just moments ago had boldly declared himself one of Zima's subordinates, raising Ran's hopes.
Ding-a-ling.
The bell on the door rang. Four men entered, chatting amongst themselves.
Their faces stiffened instantly. The tavern was a complete mess.
"What the hell happened here?"
All their gazes focused on one spot.
Ran stared them down, one by one.
In order, a big, rough-looking man; a blond man with an air of nobility; a handsome but slovenly man who carried himself with a cocky swagger; and finally, a particularly small, dark-skinned boy.
Ran let out a "hoh" of interest and asked,
"Which one of you is Zima?"
The group blinked as if they couldn't believe their ears.
Then, they all broke out into laughter at once.
The third man, the one with the cocky swagger, swaggered up to Ran.
"Wow, we have an honored guest here. What's your name, then?"
"I asked first. Are you Zima?"
"No, I'm Armand. And that man is our patron. He's also close with the owner here, by the way."
"Finally found you. Bring him here. Now."
"Wow. Still don't get the situation, do you?"
Armand swung his right foot at Ran with all his might. Ran caught his foot easily with just one hand.
'His strength?!'
For a brief moment, shock flickered across Armand's eyes. The foot he had caught didn't budge at all.
Ran tucked Armand's foot under his arm and stood up. All four of them stared, wide-eyed. Armand was tall himself, but his opponent was half a head taller. He'd thought, while Ran was sitting, that the boy would be small, just judging by his youthful face.
"Let go, you bastard!"
Armand twisted his body, aiming his other foot at the opposite side of Ran's face.
Ran blocked it with ease, then slammed Armand down onto the floor. He kicked him in the ribcage.
"Guh!"
Ran headed toward the other three.
It was them who were slow to assess the situation. They hurriedly fell into stances of their own.
"Hraaaagh!"
The big man charged. He managed to grab at Ran's waist, but Ran easily brought him down with a joint technique.
"H-Hey, wait just a minute."
The blond man with the noble air tried to read the room, but Ran's fist showed no mercy. He went down with a single blow as well.
Ran's cold gaze fell on the smallest, dark-skinned boy.
"M-me?!"
The boy shrank back. Ran raised his fist, then put it down.
Smack!
"Aagh!"
The boy crumpled to the floor, clutching his forehead where Ran had flicked him.
Ran let out a sigh.
'Was it another miss?'
Zima was rather infamous. People either had no idea who he was, or went pale at the mere mention of his name. There were even those who boasted falsely, claiming to be him.
'Easy, my ass.'
Ran resented Iscarang. Still, this time he had a bit of hope. This was the first group to call Zima their patron.
The four latecomers groaned in pain. Ran kicked the dark-skinned boy in the butt, who was the least roughed up.
"Patron? Cut the crap and go get him, quick. If you're lying to me, all your friends here die."
His patience had already reached its limit. Just as he was about to shout once more, the dark-skinned boy dashed out in a hurry.
More time passed.
Ran sat at a table, sipping beer. It was savory with a sharp kick—truly a fine taste.
'Mainland people sure are clever at making odd things delicious.'
Ding-a-ling.
Ran turned his head.
"They said there was someone here desperately looking for me."
A beast-like man draped in fur appeared alone.
Ran knew at once that he was Zima. And Zima saw it too.
The two stood apart, staring at each other for a long moment.
"You've grown well."
"Like you'd know. When did you ever see me?"
"You've got a sharp tongue. Must've been spoiled growing up?"
"Save the pointless talk. Anyway, it was hell trying to find you. Don't expect me to be all polite."
"So why were you looking for me?"
"Word is, you're the broker who puts people in the Special Unit? I've got business with the Special Unit."
Ran pointed a thumb at himself. Zima swept back his dangling bangs, bursting into laughter.
"All right, fine. First, let's start by teaching you some manners."
That day, Ran was beaten to a pulp.
It was the first time since Iscarang that he'd been hit that badly.
* * *
"Mmm."
Sunlight settled on his eyelids. Ran opened his eyes, bleary.
'Did I have nightmares because I slept so well for once?'
Just as he stretched, a chill ran down his spine. He belatedly felt an unfamiliar sensation at the back of his head. Ran's trembling eyes drifted sideways slowly.
"Waaah!"
"Kyaaaah!"
The servant girl had dozed off, sitting and stretching her legs, and woke with a jolt. Both of them hugged their chests with their arms, wary of each other.
"I—I told you, you had to leave the moment I fell asleep!"
The servant's eyes filled with tears. Ran's face crumpled too. He stuttered, trying to soothe her.
"What are you two up to?!"
The door swung open. It was Toby. The servant ran out crying as soon as she saw him.
Toby, staring in a daze at her retreating back, then looked at Ran as if he'd seen something disgusting.
"... Just have breakfast or something."
Ran trudged after Toby, yawning wide even in the midst of it.
'Guess I really let my guard down after dreaming of the old days.'
Back then, he'd been a different person. Humans learn and grow. Learning never ends, even until death. Zima had told him that.
Suddenly, Ran thought how small Quersa, where he'd spent his childhood, once seemed.
'I used to think Quersa was the real truth back then.'
Just as a stalk grows from roots and sprouts leaves and bears fruit, priest Cyrano, too, had come to the mainland, gained many experiences, and grown further.
Now, he was Ran.
"Mercenary, are you heading to breakfast?"
Ran, scratching his head, stopped and turned around.
Standing there was Iel, accompanied by his page.
If it had been when he was an inquisitor, it might be different, but now, he was just a commoner. No matter how young she was, the other party was still a duke's daughter.
Ran stiffly bowed his head.
"Viola said you would take me to Igraine. Is it true?"
Ran approached without a word, then suddenly knelt down to meet her eye level.
Iel flinched. She wasn't very skilled at hiding her emotions.
"That's right. I'll take you. No matter what."
Toby was seeing Ran's genuine smile for the first time.
At that moment, Ran wasn't a mad dog or some kind of pervert.
* * *
There were three people in the underground secret chamber of the imperial palace.
Oscar, Kishin, and Emperor Zigrenz—the latter holding Nelga's head.
Thud.
The emperor tossed Nelga's head to the floor without a second thought. Blood dripped from the cleanly severed neck.
"Your Majesty. They likely haven't made it out of the area yet. Summon the Magic Tower's search mages."
Kishin spoke pleadingly. Though he had no family, the crown prince's death hit him as hard as losing a blood relative.
The emperor slumped into the throne atop the low dais. He covered his face with his palm.
"We'll hold the funeral quietly."
Kishin and Oscar bowed their heads. The two observed the emperor carefully—waiting for instructions.
"Kishin, check over the old outposts and key points of the rebels. As soon as you finish, join the eastern front."
"Your Majesty?! But—!"
"Soon, the news of Pao's death will spread through the land. The rebel remnants will take this chance to rise up. Stopping a full-scale war is more urgent."
Kishin bit his lip. The emperor never reversed an order.
"Oscar."
Oscar, lost in his own thoughts, answered a beat late. Kishin frowned at this.
The emperor, hand pressed to his forehead, spoke on.
"You go and capture him. Bring him back alive, no matter what."
"Yes, but... where, exactly?"
"Oscar!"
Unable to hold back, Kishin shouted. His face turned bright red. He'd been itching to rebuke Oscar for some time.
Oscar poked a finger in his ear.
"Why are you yelling at me all of a sudden?"
"The crown prince has passed away. How long must I tolerate your arrogant attitude?"
"Arrogant? Me?"
Kishin's eyes flashed fiercely. He stepped right up to Oscar.
With a gaze as sharp as his straight nose, Oscar pressed down on Kishin. His face remained as pale and composed as ever.
"His Majesty took in a mere barbarian like you himself. If you're not a beast, at least learn some gratitude."
"Heh, Kishin. Didn't I tell you before? You've got one last warning left. Say one more thing. I'm curious what's inside that head of yours."
A vapor rose from the two men's bodies.
The emperor waved his hand.
"That's enough."
Kishin stepped back.
Wiping his face again and again with hands stained by Nelga's blood, the emperor could not banish the memory of the light of ascension—or perhaps, the light of the second coming—that he'd seen that day.
"Zima is his patron. He'll have the vessel. The only place he would go is the northern Astana mountains. Do whatever it takes—bring him before me."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Oscar bowed his head and tucked his fallen hair behind his ear.
He had once been the strongest barbarian in the Northland. The name Oscar was personally given by the emperor. Oscar utterly loathed his old name—Mukesh.