The border region where the Ajerion Empire at the center of the Ion Continent, the Zephia Republic in the east, and the southern desert region all met.
There, despite the fact that the land was so barren one could not even farm it, a great city of considerable prosperity held sway.
The free city of Drakal.
Belonging to nowhere and no different from a city-state, Drakal served as both a buffer zone between the two great powers and an intermediary hub of trade—.
Above all, it was the headquarters of the Mercenary Guild, which had branches all across the continent.
In truth, to become mayor, one had to be chosen by the guild that had long been rooted in the city, so it would not be an exaggeration to call it a nation of mercenaries.
And the person who occupied a position in that nation no different from a prime minister’s··· no, who had occupied it, if only for a short while, was the current secretary-general, Patrick.
‘What a headache.’
A man in his late thirties with brown hair slicked back with oil and neat attire, Patrick struggled to keep his expression under control.
Looking more like a civil servant than a mercenary, he lightly pressed down with his hand on the corner of his mouth, which was twitching faintly from stress.
‘After everything I did to climb this far··· I can’t give up like this.’
He was an Earthling from Ireland.
One who had been transferred at an especially late age, summoned to another world while in the midst of a busy career as an elite office worker.
Immediately after falling into this land, he had truly done everything he could to survive.
Unfortunately, this place happened to be a newly discovered dimension, so all the materials he had painstakingly researched before being transferred were utterly useless, and the ability he possessed was a support-type that was ill-suited for combat, so he had suffered no small amount of hardship.
‘Even if I go back to Earth now, I won’t be able to live an ordinary life anyway. In that case, I should take as much as I can get from here before I leave.’
It had already been well over ten years since he had clawed his way up in the Mercenary Guild, taking on every kind of dirty work without complaint.
And yet, before he could properly enjoy the fruits of all that effort, he was supposed to step down so emptily?
‘That can’t happen. No! It absolutely can’t.’
He gritted his teeth as he thought of the burly warrior who was his new lifeline.
After the rope known as the former Mercenary King Kanble, who had raised him to his current position, had snapped, this was the backer he had barely managed to find.
It was Harley, who was currently playing a remarkable role in the death squad as one of the Hero’s companions.
Thanks to the connection he had formed with him, Patrick had been able to safely keep his position as secretary-general even now, after quite some time had passed···.
“Are you listening, Secretary-General?”
Apparently, however, the rivals from the other factions could not tolerate that.
“Yes, of course, Sir Claven.”
Patrick politely answered the middle-aged man standing firmly before him.
At the same time, he took in once more the group of people who had suddenly barged into his office while he had been in the middle of work, as if they had conspired to do so.
‘They came fully prepared. Are they trying to settle everything today?’
From the guild’s executives to the heads of large guilds.
Among the dozen or so people, there were as many as four whose presence was particularly extraordinary.
‘Four who have reached the pinnacle··· This is insane. How did he manage to win over this many?’
The aura they were subtly giving off made his mouth go dry.
If he had been an ordinary person, perhaps he would have fainted from that alone, but as someone who could use Karma Points and a Unique Skill, he was no pushover either.
He forced down the sigh that was about to escape without him realizing and once again managed his expression.
“But as I told you last time, Lord Harley is busy accompanying the Saint as a member of the death squad. Ignoring that and proceeding with matters so hastily is···.”
No matter how much he was the secretary-general in charge of the guild’s practical affairs, such authority only held meaning when the Mercenary King, who possessed actual power and could back him, was still firmly in place.
Right now, those who were the guild’s military might itself and practically its face were no different from his superiors, so he always had to watch his conduct.
“Hoo. Do you think we know nothing?”
“···Pardon?”
But his cautious excuse did not last long before being blocked.
As he seemed momentarily flustered, a middle-aged woman who had been watching the situation from the back, an archmage representing a faction centered around mercenary mages, opened her mouth as if it were nothing.
“It seems it’s been quite a while since he separated from them and began roaming here and there in the south. What was it again? The Battle King of Kalkos?”
“···But in Kalkos, which is a tribal confederation, that is a sort of honorary position···.”
Patrick hurriedly replied at her words.
To begin with, it was absurd for the Mercenary Guild, which had to maintain strict neutrality, to enter under someone calling himself the “king” of another country rather than the Mercenary King.
Their logic was that from the moment he became the ruler of another nation, he could no longer even be called a mercenary, and naturally, his qualifications as Mercenary King should be revoked.
“Let’s stop dragging this out and wrap it up already. This is starting to get annoying. Why don’t we just cut off his head and—”
“Talum.”
“···Tsk. I’m saying I’ll help, and this is what I get. Fine, do as you like.”
The muscular warrior with a shaggy bandit beard and a huge build, who had been making a violent threat, clicked his tongue when the middle-aged man at the front stopped him.
He too was surely a powerhouse who had reached the pinnacle, yet now he folded his arms and stepped back, as if he would follow the other man’s will.
‘Claven···.’
At that, Patrick’s gaze turned once more toward the middle-aged man before him.
Toward the master-class knight who had entered the mercenary world as a former wandering knight over twenty years ago, and an ambitious man who had finally gathered even the representatives of other factions in his bid for the position of the next Mercenary King.
“Secretary-General, you already know, don’t you? Dragging things out like this won’t do you any good either. If I had truly made up my mind, there would have been no need for such bothersome procedures.”
Just as he said.
His martial strength was one thing, but he was also equipped with outstanding political ability, making him a powerful candidate who had once contested evenly against the faction of the former Mercenary King Kanble.
Back then, however, he had been forced out after losing in legitimacy to Kanble, who had made a name for himself as a pure-born mercenary.
‘This is troublesome.’
In truth, such pressure had occurred from time to time before as well.
Even so, until now, he had somehow managed to avoid it by using Harley’s name as a shield, but now that the other side had gained a justification, even that was starting to become difficult.
Claven also seemed to be following procedures because of Harley’s reputation, which had soared sky-high, but with the man himself absent, there was a limit to how long a proxy could hold out while selling his name.
“You are not thinking of handing this Drakal over to the southern barbarians, are you?”
“···Of course not.”
“Hmm. Then are you still relying on that so-called Battle King?”
When Patrick showed signs of wavering, Claven pressed him in a forceful tone.
As he was one of the few strongest individuals in the entire Mercenary Guild, he possessed confidence befitting that status. Though he did not say it openly, a sense of looking down on the other party was subtly mixed into his manner of speech.
Of course, he had heard plenty about the famed great warrior named Harley, and it was true that his reputation was burdensome···.
‘What? A legendary dragonkin? A giant over ten meters tall? ···Ha! What nonsense.’
Since it was hardly rare for rumors to become exaggerated, he believed all of it to be nothing but wild tales.
The idea that anyone would believe such absurd nonsense was enough to make him laugh in disbelief.
Perhaps, in the process of scheming to use him as a shield, Patrick had gone too far with such excessive manipulation.
‘I should have entered the death squad instead. If I had, there would have been no need to take such a roundabout path.’
The memory of how he had once held his breath out of fear that he might be called in as a replacement immediately after the former Mercenary King Kanble died had already vanished from his mind.
Contrary to what he had thought at the time, now that the death squad was actually sailing along smoothly, baseless confidence had begun swelling inside him.
He believed that even if he had gone, he would have been able to perform that well.
That was the main reason he had recently begun moving actively and expanding his influence within the guild.
Because if he stayed still like this, it was obvious that the position of Mercenary King would be snatched away from him emptily again.
Naturally, conflict had arisen with Secretary-General Patrick, who supported Harley.
“···Secretary-General, I have something to report···.”
But whether it was some trick of fate.
Things began to flow in a direction different from what Claven had expected.
Rather abruptly.
“Right now··· in the first-floor lobby···.”
The secretary who had cautiously entered the office was crushed by the oppressive presence of the many higher-ups lined up inside, and after swallowing with difficulty, she barely managed to squeeze out the words.
“···Lord Harley has arrived.”
***
‘Let’s at least see his face.’
Claven, the candidate for Mercenary King, strode forward confidently.
He was currently heading to the lobby together with not only Secretary-General Patrick, but also the high-ranking guild members who had barged into the office.
In order to meet that much-talked-about Harley in person.
‘Of course, no matter how exaggerated the rumors are, he likely won’t be an easy opponent.’
Perhaps, if one were to compare only simple martial strength, Claven might be slightly inferior.
After all, the fame of being one of the members of the death squad who had fought alongside the Hero could not be entirely empty.
‘But one cannot become the Mercenary King through martial strength alone.’
Unlike Harley, who had only recently begun to make a name for himself, Claven had lived as a mercenary for over twenty years, and for more than ten of those years, he had acted as one of the powerful figures representing the Mercenary Guild.
That intangible asset was not something that could ever be ignored.
Besides, he was not alone right now, was he?
‘The interests I conceded to the others don’t matter. As long as I first get my hands on the position of Mercenary King···.’
Thus, he headed confidently toward the lobby together with the powerhouses who had promised to support him.
The moment he arrived there, however, he sensed the unusual air pervading the entire space and frowned.
“Mm?”
As expected of the headquarters of the Mercenary Guild, which was practically the ruler of Drakal, the lobby was enormous.
From the numerous counters and desks to various convenience facilities.
The lobby was usually always bustling with people making use of them···.
“······.”
“···Ahem.”
Right now, however, a strange silence hovered over that space.
Even though it was not as if there were no people there.
And those who had just arrived at the lobby naturally came to know what the cause was.
‘That man is···.’
A man was sunk into a sofa placed beside a pillar, almost lying down, with both hands resting over the backrest.
At that moment, the gaze of the man who had been leisurely sprawled like a full lion turned toward them—.
‘Ah.’
···And merely with that, those who had come down here with such confidence stiffened like everyone else present.
“Oh! Well, isn’t it good to see you again, Patrick! Have you been well? Wahahahah!”
But as if he did not care about their reaction at all, the person in question spotted Patrick among the group, laughed heartily, and slowly rose from the sofa.
Creeeeak.
—At that action, the sofa, which had already sunk deeply, let out its final death throes.
He had used his energy to reduce his body weight, measured in tons, as much as possible, but even that much was not enough for an object designed with the weight of a normal human in mind to withstand.
“Ah, sorry about this! Looks like the sofa broke.”
“···Ah, it must have been defective. It’s all right, Lord Harley. We were planning to replace it soon anyway.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. For something calling itself the guild headquarters, you should put out some good furniture.”
“Hahaha, my apologies. We will pay more attention from now on.”
The muscular giant clicked his tongue as he sauntered over, while Patrick had already stepped forward and was bowing obsequiously as he responded to him.
Even in that situation, however, Claven and the other high-ranking figures could not say a word.
‘He’s huge.’
That was the first thought that arose in everyone’s mind.
The bandit-bearded man among them, who had the largest build, was also a giant over two meters tall, but even that was not enough to compare to this man.
···No, it was not simply a matter of size.
The density of his existence.
The very rank of him as a living being was different.
It was to the point that they felt the illusion that even the surrounding space was being crushed beneath him, like a boulder placed on a bed.
‘Damn it, what the hell is that?’
At that, Claven barely managed to swallow.
The man had not done anything in particular, yet his breathing was gradually becoming labored.
The closer that being, who was approaching leisurely like a full beast, came to him, the more his body began reacting strangely all on its own.
‘No way.’
Because this was the first time it had happened since he had reached the pinnacle, it took him a little while to realize it, but he soon understood what this reaction meant.
‘···It was to this extent?’
It was a warning sent by instinct.
A desperate scream let out by a body that had recognized its life was hanging by a thread.
Yet the other party himself was not even paying attention to him, merely laughing and conversing with Patrick.
“Oh! Who are these fellows? They’re quite skilled, aren’t they?”
Just then, that being turned his gaze and looked toward where they were.
And Claven, whose eyes met that incomprehensible something, immediately understood.
‘···I’ll die.’
Opposing him was impossible.
The rumors were exaggerated? They were false stories manipulated by Patrick? That man had no qualifications to be Mercenary King?
It was all bullshit, plain and simple.
Before that monster, such things held no meaning.
The shallow tricks he had prepared were all meaningless as well.
Whether he concentrated public opinion, gathered factions, or brought together numerous powerhouses.
What use would any of that be against a being who could tear all of them apart by himself right here and now?
“Ah, they are people who are practically executives of our guild. We were just having a discussion together about the guild’s future direction.”
“Aaah! Is that so! But why are these fellows so stiff? I’m not going to eat them, so loosen up a little! Kahahahah!”
At Patrick’s answer, Harley burst into refreshing laughter once again.
Only then did Claven, who was able to properly perceive his surroundings, realize that he was not the only one reacting strangely.
No wonder it had been oddly quiet since earlier.
Regardless of whether they had reached the pinnacle or not, every single person who had come with him was sweating coldly with a face full of tension.
Seeing that, he swiftly decided how he should conduct himself.
“···It seems I have been rude. I have heard much of your fame, Lord Harley. It is an honor to meet you like this. I am Claven, commander of the Golden Crow Mercenary Corps.”
With a courteous greeting, his waist slowly bent.
It was a clear expression of submission.
“Oh! I’ll be counting on you from now on!”
Then Harley, who had somehow come beside him, laughed boisterously and lightly patted him on the back.
···It was undoubtedly a light touch, yet Claven struggled to steady his staggering body and wore an awkward smile.
A servile smile that followed only his survival instinct.
“Fortunately, it looks like I’ll be able to stay friends with you from now on! Wahahahah!”
“Ha, haha···. That is fortunate indeed···.”
And that was, without question, the correct judgment.