Leaving behind the smell of damp earth, the stench of rotting undead, and the residual chill from the Shield of the Sky’s mage, we finally stepped out onto the surface.
We were deep in a quiet forest, far enough from the Cradle of the Dead to be safe.
Count Bradley and his two young guards inhaled deeply, over and over, as if quenching a parching thirst. It wasn’t just fresh air they were taking in; it was the breath of freedom they had so desperately craved.
"What’s your plan now?" I asked.
Count Bradley stripped away the mask of exhaustion in an instant, his expression turning resolute once more.
"We head for the Eastern City-states. Remaining in this kingdom is no longer an option."
There was neither hesitation nor regret in his voice.
"And how will you get there?"
"We’ll walk. I’ve still got some life in me yet," he said with a brave laugh.
I could easily imagine his pace slowing down before long, however. His physical strength was already near its limit after the tension and flight through the dungeon. From here on, it was time for my [Negotiation Arts]—a [Merchant] skill—to shine once more.
"Members of the Dark Guild should be lurking nearby. Depending on the negotiations, they might be able to transport you to the City-states safely and quickly, you know?"
When I suggested that, the faces of the Count and his two guards lit up.
"That would be a godsend. Walt-kun, I’m sorry to ask more of you, but may I leave the negotiations in your hands?"
"Of course. I’m actually a bit of an expert at negotiations, despite how I look. Please wait here; I’ll go speak with them."
I turned my back to my clients and headed toward the rendezvous point away from the dungeon. After a short walk, I spotted a docile-looking Earth Dragon tied to its reins behind a rocky outcrop. Sasha was there, clad in her black cloak and leaning against the stone.
As I approached, she looked up sharply.
"Sasha, we need to talk."
"Hmm...? Don't tell me the mission was a failure?"
"No. I delivered the letter and picked up the package."
"Then what is it?" she asked suspiciously.
"Actually, I brought Count Bradley up to the surface with me."
"What? You didn't get caught by the Royal Guard?"
"It’s fine. I handled it."
Sasha stared at me with an expression of utter exasperation. "And what do you plan to do with them? You can't exactly bring them back to the Royal Capital."
"They don't want to go back. They’re heading for the Eastern City-states. We’d get a handsome reward just for taking them part of the way. What do you think? Putting a man like that in our debt wouldn't be a bad move, right?"
Sasha tapped her chin, considering the proposal. "All right. If you’re pushing it this hard, Walt, there must be value in it beyond a simple transport fee. I’ll take the job."
At her signal, the [Tamer] pulled the Earth Dragon’s reins and brought the Dragon Carriage around.
Thus, a single request ended up forging a significant new connection.
Meanwhile, on the highway leading back to the Royal Capital.
Fiona and Clyde were traveling by carriage alongside the Royal Guards, none of whom could hide their exhaustion. Their ten-day search had been a total waste.
"Clyde, your thoughts?"
"We should give up. You saw the state of the dungeon yourself. The Cradle of the Dead was completely ruined by that [Berserker], Walt. Count Bradley was likely killed, buried alive, or starved to death."
"I suppose you're right."
Their expressions were grim. The mission to capture Count Bradley had ended in a complete failure.
Fiona watched the scenery shift through the carriage window, but the feeling in her chest remained static. A cold hatred for Walt had taken firm root in her heart.
Upon returning to the capital, Fiona and Clyde were forced to report immediately to the Vice-Guildmaster at the Guild Headquarters.
The Vice-Guildmaster, a portly, middle-aged man, looked up from the map spread across his desk.
"...So, in the end, you failed to secure Count Bradley?"
His voice was quiet, but the underlying irritation made their skin crawl.
"Our deepest apologies."
"Give me the details."
The Vice-Guildmaster tapped the desk with his index finger, prompting Fiona to explain. She recounted the events bit by bit, her face twisted in a scowl.
"So that lowlife wasn't a [Swordsman] but a [Berserker]?"
"Yes... Walt left nothing but destruction in his wake with his [Frenzied Strike]."
The Vice-Guildmaster massaged his temples. "So we have a [Berserker] out there who holds a grudge against us. We can't make this public, but I’ll have to warn our members to be on high alert."
"Yes, sir..." Fiona and Clyde’s expressions grew even darker.
"This was a top-secret mission for the Kingdom. You won't be officially punished for the failure, but there is no denying that you’ve tarnished the reputation of the Shield of the Sky. Keep that in mind as you move forward with your duties."
"Yes... I will carve it into my heart."
As she left the office, Fiona’s face was hideously distorted with her loathing for Walt.
In the back alley of the Royal Capital stood a bar called "Blue Eyes," a place that shunned the public gaze. In a private room at the back, reserved for a select few, Sasha sat with a hooded figure.
They sat on leather sofas across a small round table.
"I have the letter and the items you requested," Sasha announced.
The hooded figure nodded silently. Sasha placed a velvet-wrapped package on the table and slowly unwrapped it, revealing a letter and a round crystal.
"Here you are."
"...Thank you..."
Ignoring the crystal, the hooded figure grabbed the letter with trembling hands. As they read through the pages, the shaking stopped. Eventually, a single tear escaped the shadow of the hood and rolled down their cheek, reflecting the dim light.
Once they finished reading, the figure clutched the papers tightly and bowed their head. Low sobs echoed through the quiet room—tears of deep sorrow and resignation, accepting the Count’s resolve and the fact that he wouldn't be coming home.
Sasha watched the client’s grief for a moment before speaking up.
"My lady, you’ve misunderstood one thing."
The hooded figure snapped their head up, eyes red and wet. "What?"
"What do you think happened to Count Bradley?"
Sasha had been waiting for this moment. She was about to deliver the grand finale—a conclusion far better than the client could have imagined.
"But... the letter says... he intended to go down fighting the Royal Guard..."
Sasha offered a faint smile. It wasn't the smile of a cynical Dark Guild member, but one of genuine human kindness.
"Count Bradley and his men are alive. They are already on their way to the City-states."
Upon hearing those words, the figure covered their face again and began to weep. These were no longer tears of grief; they were tears of pure, soul-deep joy.
"I... I don't know how to thank you..."
"Just keep us in mind for future business."
"Of course! Without fail!"
A light of hope now shone in the client's swollen eyes. The figure straightened their back and left "Blue Eyes" with a firm, steady stride.