Translator: CinderTL
Roland's eyes narrowed slightly as he saw the greedy glint in the burly man's eyes.
Before setting out for Pine Wood Town, he had heard rumors about these mercenaries and adventurers from others.
Driven by fame and profit, they were ruthless, brutal, and violent.
Amidst the conflicting accounts, one point stood out: they were all bullies who preyed on the weak.
If you showed the slightest sign of fear, they would swarm you like wolves drawn to blood.
Roland had anticipated this situation and already devised a plan.
"Hey, kid, new around here? Let me tell you..."
The bald, muscular man advanced with a sinister grin, his scarred face twisted into a terrifying grimace.
Just as his rough hand was about to land on Roland's shoulder, Roland shifted his weight.
His right fist shot out like a venomous snake striking.
Bang!
The burly man's unfinished sentence was abruptly cut off by the dull thud of impact.
While the man doubled over in pain, Roland's whip kick landed squarely on the side of his knee.
With a sharp crack, the burly man stumbled and knelt on the ground.
Gazing at the vulnerable neck now exposed before him, Roland's right hand instinctively reached for the dagger at his waist.
At that moment, heavy footsteps approached from the distance.
Roland's eyes flickered, and he withdrew his hand from his weapon.
Instead, he curled his fingers into a cone and struck directly at the burly man's throat with lightning speed.
"Cough... cough!"
Before the onlookers could react, the burly man's eyes bulged, he staggered back several steps, and finally collapsed heavily into the mud.
He happened to fall right beside the tall man who had been beaten.
Mud splattered everywhere, staining their already disheveled figures even more disgracefully.
Just then, a thunderous roar suddenly erupted.
"Stop this at once!"
A squad of fully armed guards marched forward in perfect formation.
The man leading them had short brown hair and a burly build. His gleaming armor glinted coldly in the dim light.
His sharp gaze swept across the chaotic scene, ready to deliver a stern reprimand.
"Blue Scar Hayden! I warned you..."
His words abruptly cut off.
The short-haired man's pupils narrowed in disbelief as he stared at the bald burly man sprawled on the ground.
The once arrogant and domineering "Blue Scar" was now writhing in agony.
His hands clawed weakly at his throat, his face swollen to a terrifying purplish-red.
With a few hoarse coughs, the notorious mercenary finally rolled his eyes and collapsed unconscious into the mud.
The short-haired man's brow twitched violently.
Blue Scar Hayden.
The infamous bully of Pine Wood Town, who had terrorized the area with his hulking physique and vicious tactics.
His habit of preying on the weak, combined with his bestial savagery, had made this mercenary the most troublesome scoundrel in Pine Wood Town.
But now...
The clatter of armor filled the air as the short-haired man's sharp gaze locked onto the only stranger still standing in the clearing.
As he stepped forward, his tall frame cast a shadow that nearly enveloped Roland entirely.
"I am Sheriff Whitman," he announced, his voice as cold and hard as his armor.
He pushed his thumb against the hilt of his sword.
"Did you do this?" he asked, kicking the unconscious bald brute with his boot.
Upon hearing the man's self-introduction, Roland merely raised an eyebrow slightly. In silence, he lifted a corner of his linen robe, revealing the dagger Darco had given him at his waist.
The silver sheath of the dagger flashed with a cold gleam in the dim light.
Sheriff Whitman's expression froze instantly, and he immediately lowered his gaze respectfully.
"You?"
"Here on personal business."
Roland's tone was flat.
"My apologies for the intrusion."
Whitman immediately bowed low, his voice barely a whisper.
"Leave this to me."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he straightened abruptly and barked at the guards behind him.
"What are you waiting for?"
His thick finger pointed at the two men struggling in the mud.
"Throw these fools into the dungeon and let them reflect on their actions!"
"Yes, sir!"
At the command, the guards scrambled to drag the unconscious brute away.
Just then, another commotion erupted in the distance.
Whitman rubbed his temples wearily and hesitated before speaking.
"Forgive me, uh... sir... how should I address you?"
"Roland."
Roland tied his reins to a wooden post as he spoke.
"No need for honorifics."
"Very well, Mr. Roland."
Seeing Roland's easygoing demeanor, Whitman visibly relaxed.
"I still have some official duties to attend to. If you require assistance..."
He gestured toward the northern edge of the town.
A towering watchtower stood nearby.
"You can find me there."
"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Whitman."
"No need to thank me, no need at all."
Whitman waved his hand dismissively, bowed hastily, and then rushed toward the source of the commotion with his guards.
The clatter of armor gradually faded into the cacophony of voices.
Meanwhile, whispers rippled through the surrounding mercenaries.
"Who is this kid? Even Whitman, that mad dog, is bowing and scraping to him."
A mercenary with a face full of scars lowered his voice.
"Who cares about his background!"
His tall, lean companion took a swig of ale, his eyes gleaming.
"Didn't you see how he fought just now? That bastard Hayden didn't even have a chance to retaliate!"
"Tsk, he looks so refined, but his attacks are vicious."
Roland paid no heed to the chatter.
He raised his hand and gently stroked Black Wind's forehead, using the Animal Companion ability to whisper a few words into the warhorse's ear.
Black Wind snorted softly and nuzzled Roland's palm affectionately.
After making sure his mount was properly settled, Roland straightened his robes and, under the curious gazes of the crowd, entered the Adventurer's Guild.
In an instant, a wave of noise crashed over him.
The stale smell of murky ale mixed with the stench of sweat fermented in the air, while greasy torches cast flickering shadows across the hall.
Rusted armor and worn weapons lay piled in a corner, and half-eaten meals were scattered across several worm-eaten wooden tables.
This place resembled a tavern more than an adventurer's guild.
Behind the counter, a burly bartender with a face full of scars wiped down a grimy wooden mug.
Several drunken adventurers slumped over tables, snoring loudly, while more figures lurked in the shadows.
Some sharpened daggers, others counted coins, but every eye had been glued to Roland the moment he stepped inside. They quickly averted their gazes when he looked up.
Clearly, Roland's victory over Hayden had left a deep impression on this crowd of mercenaries and adventurers.
"New here?"
The bartender lazily glanced Roland up and down, then gestured toward a wall plastered with wanted posters.
"Take a look over there."
His rough fingers left a water stain on the grimy wine glass.
"If you find one you like, bring it over to register."
Roland nodded slightly and walked slowly toward the mottled oak wall.
Yellowed papers, stained with dried wine, were densely pinned across the entire surface.
He ran his slender fingers over the surface, noticing that each commission had a red dot stamped in vermilion ink in the lower right corner.
These must be difficulty level indicators.
In addition, each commission detailed the deadline, required number of participants, and specific location of the task.
Surprisingly, there were few commissions for hunting demonic beasts. Roland had to read each line carefully.
"Escort a merchant caravan to the Dawn Territory. Deadline: 20 days. Reward: 60 copper coins. Difficulty: 1"
"Recover stolen property. Deadline: 3 days. Reward: 30 copper coins. Difficulty: 1"
"Requirement: 5 complete deer hides. Deadline: 5 days. Reward: 50 copper coins. Difficulty: 1"
After browsing for half a day, Roland finally found the commissions he was looking for.
"Exterminate a goblin camp. Deadline: 15 days. Reward: Based on the number of goblins. Difficulty: 3"
"Exterminate a kobold nest. Deadline: 15 days. Reward: Based on the number of kobolds. Difficulty: 3"
"Investigate demonic beast activity around Pine Wood Town. Deadline: 30 days. Reward: 2 silver coins and 15 copper coins. Difficulty: 5"
The last, slightly curled commission notice stood out with five crimson dots that were strikingly fresh, the ink still much brighter than the others.
"Demonic beast activity in the southeast?"
Roland silently filed this information away, then carefully read the first two commission notices.
After confirming that neither mentioned kobolds with full scales nor goblins with non-green skin, he assessed his own abilities.
Satisfied that he was capable and had ample time, he reached out and peeled the first two notices from the wall.
Turning toward the counter, he gently placed the parchment in his hand on the surface and pushed it toward the yawning bartender.
The bartender squinted, scrutinizing Roland with a frown.
"Two commissions, and you're alone?" he asked gruffly, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the counter.
Roland nodded calmly.
"Another one who doesn't know his limits," the bartender muttered under his breath, yet his hand moved swiftly, copying the commission details.
As the ink bled into the paper, he continued without looking up. "Listen, kid, there's a penalty for missing the deadline—assuming you make it back alive, of course."
With a thud, he pushed the copied notices and the ink pad toward Roland. "Sign here, press your thumbprint, and the job's yours."
"Thank you."
After a brief reply, Roland picked up his quill and began writing in elegant script on the parchment.
He folded one copy and tucked it into his pocket, then turned toward the door.
Just as he was about to push it open, a figure cloaked in a wide black robe walked in against the light.
The newcomer was slender, with only a pair of piercing blue eyes visible beneath the hood, and a hint of pale skin could be seen beneath the mask.
As the two brushed past each other, a heavy stench of blood washed over Roland.
The smell was so thick it was almost tangible, causing him to involuntarily wrinkle his nose.
"It's the 'Executioner'! Why is that madman back now?"
"Damn it, this is bad luck! Let's get out of here!"
The once-noisy Adventurer's Guild hall fell silent instantly. Adventurers scrambled for the door, knocking over tables and chairs in their haste.
Within moments, the vast hall was left empty except for Roland and the mysterious figure known as the Executioner.
The Executioner... Roland thought, but he didn't linger.
He pushed open the door and walked toward Black Wind, who was munching on hay.
After untying the reins, he led the warhorse around the town before finally settling on a relatively clean inn.
At dawn the next day, before the morning mist had fully lifted, Roland was already riding toward the location mentioned in the commission.
Black Wind's hooves pounded through the dew-soaked mud, leaving a clear trail of prints behind them.
(End of the Chapter)