'Am I crazy? The difference between having regeneration magic and not having it is massive—why would I let you go? Besides, you already know too much about me, and your status among the Nagas isn't high enough to justify setting you free.'
Regeneration magic, which could heal injuries, held immense value.
Furthermore, Shati didn't hold a particularly high rank among the Nagas. Even if Azadin let her go, she wouldn't have any significant influence on them.
Instead, she'd just suck out information about Azadin, and the Nagas would undoubtedly use that to relentlessly attack the one who had acquired numerous copies of the Book of the Divine King.
For Shati's own sake, Azadin had no intention of releasing her.
"That Naga Raja may seem like a good person, but that's only because he's currently traveling. Once he returns to his kingdom, he'll never leave you be, Shati."
"I was prepared to be punished to some degree. A few lashes, having my eyes and tongue ripped out, a couple limbs cut off… that's nothing…."
That much was bearable. It would be a horrific punishment for a human, but Nagas had regenerative abilities, so such torture wouldn't cause permanent damage.
"Do you still not get it, Shati? I don't want to let you go."
"..."
"I want to be with you."
'I want to travel with a regeneration mage.'
That's what he meant—but everyone who heard him would inevitably interpret it differently.
"Th-then, travel safely."
Dehares bid Azadin farewell and set sail on his ship.
***
"Truly, that Naga was remarkably civil."
Zebeck was quietly impressed by the refinement Dehares displayed. At that, Scott puffed up proudly.
"But still, he's a Naga. He eats humans, right? Those guys include humans in their diet. I've been eating everything else since I'm not human, so now we're at the point where they'd have to eat human flesh. He let us off the ship so he wouldn't have to show that in front of humans."
'Wait a minute—wasn't it because you ate all the food meant for the guests? And you're bragging about it?'
It was hard enough to defend the man-eating monsters known as Nagas, but thinking about Dehares' consideration, Scott's attitude came off as especially obnoxious.
"Anyway, this place is all sea cliffs—how are we supposed to climb up?"
They were at a spot below a coastal cliff, with only a bit of sandy shore. There were no signs of settlements nearby, not even animal trails.
"Sure, they let us off, but to drop us off somewhere like this…."
"With a Kerim mountain goat, it shouldn't be too much trouble."
Azadin said that and examined the cliffs. After a short while, he discovered a path.
"You want us to climb that?"
"Hold on. I'll go up first."
Azadin lightened the saddlebag on the Kerim mountain goat and mounted it. The goat, with practiced ease, climbed the steep slope that was nearly vertical.
"Wow."
"Alright, now…."
From the top, Azadin lowered a rope, secured it to a nearby rock, and connected it to the goat's saddle.
"Alright! Tie the horse!"
"T-the horse? It's way too heavy!"
Zebeck was doubtful but did as Azadin instructed and tied the warhorse to the rope. Then….
"Hrgh!"
Azadin began pulling up the rope from above, hoisting the warhorse up. The startled horse pushed against the cliff with its hooves and, without colliding into the wall, managed to climb up smoothly.
"Next!"
Azadin then pulled up Zebeck, Scott, and Shati in the same way.
"Phew. Impressive, Captain. That's some insane strength. Has the Kazas Haeseo version of the Book of the Divine King boosted you again?"
"That's part of it, but obviously I didn't pull them up alone. I was doing it with my goat."
"Still, that's some amazing strength. At this rate, I could just have you build me a new wheelchair. Or how about a carrying frame? You make it out of wood, and you carry it on your back while I ride on top."
"You call me Captain but treat me like a porter."
"It's about using the right person for the right job. You're the muscle, I'm the brain."
"If you're the brain, why'd you eat all the supplies and get us kicked off the ship? If you'd just eaten a little less, we could've had a peaceful boat ride."
"Alright, alright. What matters now is restocking our food and horse feed. As for food…."
Zebeck pulled out some dried fish. While they were on the ship, Zebeck had busied himself fishing, handing some to the Nagas and drying the rest in the sea breeze.
But the amount he had was barely enough to last Scott a single day.
"The real problem is the feed."
Scott shamelessly said that. He wasn't entirely wrong. The substitute feed—beans and oats—had run out, leaving the sacks completely empty.
"We'll have to find the nearest village."
***
Young men with blue head scarves were raiding merchants and warehouses in a village, loading valuables onto carts.
"We are the Blue Sky Order!"
"We're requisitioning goods because of a shortage of supplies! This is not theft!"
"You all live safely thanks to us defeating monsters and bandits on the roads! You should consider this a kind of tax!"
While looting food and supplies from the villagers, they handed out slips of paper called requisition notes.
In wartime, when the military urgently needed to procure local goods, they would issue these notes—receipts promising later repayment. But what authority did these people have to issue them?
A dumbfounded merchant stepped forward and protested.
"This requisition note doesn't even say when or where repayment will happen!"
"Ahem. Once peace returns to the land, come to the Blue Sky Order headquarters and we'll pay you back!"
"Where is this headquarters located?"
"Well, when the Blue Sky Order world arrives, our headquarters will pop up all over the place!"
"What's with all this distrust? Are you, by any chance, a Kurt cultist?!"
The self-proclaimed Blue Sky Order members raised their spears and blades, threatening the protesting merchant.
"F-food is one thing, fine. But why are you taking our silverware?!"
"We're short on utensils while camping, that's all."
"Then wouldn't wooden utensils be enough? I've served in the army too, so I know. Taking pots and kettles, I can understand—that's necessary for field cooking. But silverware, why…."
As the merchant continued to argue, the scribe handing out the requisition notes let out a small chuckle.
"Hey, old man."
The merchant flinched at being called an old man.
The tone had suddenly shifted—dark and oppressive, as if each breath carried poison laced on his tongue.
"What exactly do you want to hear from us? That we're just a band of thieves? You want us to say that? If that happens, it'll be the end for all of you, you know that? Is that your daughter over there? Or your concubine?"
"M-my daughter."
"She's quite the looker. What do you think would happen if we really were just bandits? We're doing our best to maintain military discipline here. Do you want to see what happens if we lose control?"
"..."
"Just take the requisition note quietly and hope the Blue Sky Order rises to greatness. Then you'll get everything back in the end."
"But it only lists half the supplies taken…"
"That's tax. Even now, we're fighting off bandits and monsters in this Adirof region. Don't you think you should pay a bit of tax to support our hard work?"
"..."
"You should be grateful, actually. Leaving out half the goods on the note shows we intend to repay. Isn't that reassuring?"
The scribe smiled thinly as he subtly threatened the merchant.
Then, a voice called out from behind him.
"But if your world takes half in tax, I doubt merchants would be too happy about it."
"What?"
The scribe turned to see a young man wearing a helmet sitting on top of one of the carts filled with loot—or rather, taxes.
'Huh?'
'When did he get there?'
They looked around in confusion. No one else was there—just this lone young man.
"So what exactly is your endgame? Planning to become lord of Adirof?"
"What are you?"
"Just a passing traveler."
"A traveler?"
"Hah. This bastard."
The Blue Sky Order soldiers reversed their spears and tried to club the masked youth who called himself a traveler. But their spears only sliced through empty air.
The youth had already stepped down from the cart, causing the attacks to miss naturally.
"Huh?"
"Looks like you're not going to answer nicely. Fine. Let's create a proper atmosphere for conversation."
The youth said this as he picked up a stone from the ground.
"Still not putting those down?"
The Blue Sky Order soldiers tensed, but the youth merely flicked the stone lightly using just his elbow and wrist.
And then—
Crack!
One soldier's helmet caved in, and his body was hurled backward. The destructive power didn't match the casual throwing motion at all.
"Y-you bastard!"
"Is he a mage?!"
As the startled soldiers faltered, the masked youth asked them,
"What exactly is Blue Sky Order fighting for, and what's your objective? Is your lord Baron of Adirof, or Count Guillaumevalt of Lantarik?"
"You little—!"
"Still not ready to talk, huh?"
Another soldier was sent tumbling backward.
"G-get him!"
The soldiers charged at him, but the so-called traveler circled around the cart, easily evading them.
"Split up! Flank him, you idiots!"
At the scribe's order, the soldiers with spears tried to flank him from both sides—but since only two were left, dividing didn't make them any more threatening. On top of that…
—Thud!
Another soldier collapsed from a stone strike.
"Damn it!"
The last remaining Blue Sky Order soldier lunged with his spear, but the traveler casually grabbed the shaft with one hand. The spear stopped dead, as if wedged between rocks.
"You handed out requisition notes and didn't kill anyone, so I won't cause any permanent damage. But if you'd harmed people, I would've castrated you."
With those words, the masked youth chopped the shaft with the edge of his hand. The spear, soaked in oil and known for its elasticity and toughness, snapped cleanly in half.
"Huh?"
—Whoosh!
The blade end of the broken spear flew between the scribe's legs.
Just as the traveler had said, it didn't hit the scribe's groin, but had it flown just an inch higher, his reproductive functions would've been in serious jeopardy.
"U-urgh… y-you bastard…"
Cold sweat trickled down the scribe's cheek. The projectile had come too fast to dodge, block—or even perceive.
The moment the spearhead passed between his legs, the scribe realized one thing clearly:
If this traveler wanted to, he could kill every last one of them without effort.