Chapter 157

“Monsters, huh? You once said becoming a knight was your dream, didn’t you? Then we should go. This is obvious. Cutting down monsters—that’s what a knight does, isn’t it?”

Krys believed that slaying monsters was the essence of knighthood.

To others, however, his words carried a different meaning.

Wasn’t he outright belittling knights?

Knights were living weapons, capable of shifting the tides of battle, yet he reduced them to mere monster hunters.

“Besides, it’s a village built by commoners. Shouldn’t we save them? My sense of justice is burning.”

His tone should have conveyed concern, yet it was laced with unmistakable greed.

His eyes might as well have turned into gold coins.

Everyone watching had similar thoughts.

Krys, however, paid no attention to their gazes.

Only Encrid mattered—the one who held the authority to decide.

“What do you want?”

Arms crossed, Encrid asked.

“That wide-eyed bastard keeps insisting we go somewhere.”

Rem, lounging half-reclined on his bed, lazily commented.

Sharp as ever.

Krys thought, then unleashed his secret weapon—his large, gleaming puppy-dog eyes, full of expectation.

Look at my big eyes.

You see my eyes.

Now, you want to take this mission.

His clear, shimmering gaze was almost hypnotic.

Encrid hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Want me to spit in them?”

Where’d you get those ridiculous eyes from?

Krys understood the silent message in Encrid’s glare.

Ah, this isn’t working. Not falling for it, huh?

Then what next?

Krys usually prided himself on his cunning, but this time, he quickly gave up.

He was intelligent—sharp and quick-witted.

He attributed it to the hardships he endured growing up.

It was thanks to those struggles that he had developed this way.

And right now, his instincts told him—this trick won’t work on the captain.

Then what was left?

A direct attack.

Honesty, boldness, and straightforwardness.

Encrid always dealt with him and the others that way, so he simply needed to return the same treatment.

It was a remarkable display of adaptability—Krys switched tactics as swiftly as a falling meteor.

“That’s right, about a hundred years ago, there was a merchant named Dolph, one of the most renowned on the continent.”

He began his story with history—catching attention first was key.

Was it the strange hobby of a rich man?

Or should it be called an obsession?

One of Dolph’s pastimes was hiding parts of his fortune and creating treasure maps.

This wasn’t just a legend—it was recorded in obscure historical texts.

“But this didn’t just end as a legend. Otherwise, why would I be bringing it up now?”

Krys’ voice gained intensity as he spoke. He had the storytelling skills of a seasoned bard.

Dolph was once the owner of a famous trading company.

But before he died, he diverted all of his wealth and hid it.

Naturally, his rightful heirs went mad with rage.

His six wives were breathing fire, to put it lightly.

“Why on earth would he do that?!”

Dolph never answered.

He silently endured their fury.

He only left behind one cryptic statement:

“If you want my fortune, find the map.”

That was the last recorded entry in the historical accounts.

A chronicler had asked Dolph before his death,

“Why did you create such maps?”

His answer was a masterpiece.

“Because it’s fun.”

More than twenty maps, all encoded with cryptic clues.

The first person to decipher one successfully found treasure.

That person was Dolph’s coachman.

The man became immensely wealthy, then went on to start a trading company—only to squander everything and go bankrupt.

The second person to crack a map was Dolph’s first wife.

She was greedy, hiding the discovery from even her own son.

She went alone to claim the fortune, only to fall into a trap and perish.

Yes—the coachman had been bait. Dolph had planned it all.

Contrary to what the legend claimed, Dolph had no intention of passing down his fortune to anyone.

Especially not to his own family—the very thought disgusted him.

“In truth, he was a barren man. A bee that could not make honey.”

Krys’ words had everyone listening intently. His storytelling was better than most minstrels.

That was right—Dolph was incapable of fathering children.

Yet, somehow, he had six wives and over twenty supposed offspring.

It didn’t add up.

So, he plotted revenge.

He hid his fortune across the land, ensuring that no one in his family would ever find it.

Some of those caches had already been uncovered.

The greatest treasure hunter of the continent, Kirgorn, had proven their existence.

Since Kirgorn had authenticated them—

“The treasures are real.”

This was a hidden chapter of history.

Krys was well-versed in such matters.

Of course—why wouldn’t he be? It was related to Krong.

Rumors had always persisted that if one found and deciphered one of Dolph’s maps, real treasure awaited.

And Kirgorn had proven those rumors to be true.

Now, as if fortune herself had kissed him in his sleep—

Krys had stumbled upon something incredible.

During the previous battlefield campaign, when they had scoured the enemy’s stronghold, he had taken a few items.

One of them had been buried beneath a tree.

“Hmm.”

It reeked as if someone had kept it between their legs, the stench pungent and rotten.

It was a map.

The moment he picked it up, Krys had wanted to throw it away.

But his instincts told him it was no ordinary item.

Treasure maps were common.

Fake ones even more so.

But the Gilpin Guild had a specialist for evaluating such things.

A “treasure appraiser”, if one wanted to use polite terms.

A “fence”, if one preferred back-alley slang.

After all, you needed an expert’s eye to sell real treasure.

“This one looks real.”

That single sentence had been enough.

A map from a hundred years ago.

The language was different, so even the appraiser couldn’t decipher it.

Krys himself couldn’t either, but he had struggled to make sense of it.

Ironically, the solution came from Frok.

Ruagarne had once introduced herself as—

“I am a scholar.”

Frok? A scholar?

Krys had internally doubted her, but outwardly, he hid his skepticism.

Instead, he asked Frok to decode a few random letters.

From there, he pieced together the answer.

Dolph’s Sixth Map.

“There’s treasure. An enormous one.”

Krys passionately declared in the middle of the barracks. His face was flushed red—he hadn’t paused for breath while speaking.

“It’s so old that most of the traps probably don’t even work properly anymore. This is like picking up a gem lying on the ground. Someone just threw some dirt over it, and all we have to do is dust it off and take it.”

The story was intriguing, but Encrid remained unmoved by Krys’ enthusiasm.

Nor did he confirm whether he would visit the place marked on the treasure map.

Simply—

‘Since I’m heading out anyway.’

Be it monsters, beasts, or war, his hands were itching for action.

To test if what he had learned worked, to see if he was on the right path, to confirm whether the training, sparring, and lessons he had received were truly steps toward his destination.

It was human instinct to seek validation of one’s own abilities.

“I accept the request.”

Krys was elated at Encrid’s words.

“But whether we stop there is undecided.”

His follow-up remark left Krys visibly disappointed.

His eyes widened in disbelief, and he mumbled, “How could you do this…?”

Watching this, Rem snickered from the side.

Encrid didn’t know it, but from the moment Krys realized the map was genuine, he had been scheming to cash in on it.

Go treasure hunting alone? That was the same as offering his flesh and blood to the monsters as a feast.

Take some guild members with him?

Then it would turn into a banquet made from his and the guildmates’ corpses.

What he needed was a powerful group, capable of handling not just monsters and beasts but also bandits and other threats.

Hire mercenaries? That would require at least a squad-sized force.

The cost would outweigh the reward.

So his first target had been Rem.

“How about taking on a request?”

“I only accept assassination requests. Three targets only—the sneaky stray cat, the picky glutton, and the god-obsessed lump.”

Rem wasn’t even interested.

Would Ragna or Jaxson be any different?

He didn’t even bother asking Audin.

That guy hardly even stepped onto the battlefield, so treasure hunting was out of the question.

“If Big Eyes here swears to offer everything as a tribute to his god, then maybe.”

That’s the kind of nonsense Audin would say.

Asking the squad leader?

That was tough—Encrid had spent the last three months swinging his sword like a madman.

Even approaching him was difficult.

“I’d even take your help.”

For some reason, he tried asking Esther.

“Kyaaah!”

Esther radiated pure disgust.

If he got any closer, she looked ready to claw his face off.

Ever since the first day he met her—when he had tried to touch her to figure out her gender—Esther had despised him. No, loathed him.

She was a spiritual beast, but how could a leopard express emotions this vividly? It was baffling.

So, was he supposed to give up halfway?

No matter how much he loved Krong, he wouldn’t risk his life for it. That was Krys’ philosophy.

That was why his dream was to run a salon, making enough money to live without ever worrying about Krong.

A safe life in the heart of a city, where he could enjoy the nightlife.

Sure, running a salon had its own risks, but that was just the right amount of thrill to keep life interesting.

Still, he had half given up—until he realized something.

If the squad leader was going…

Lately, how strong was Encrid?

“He’s out of my league. I can’t win.”

That was the official statement of the Border Guard Captain.

“If I had five elite archers and two mages, I might have a shot.”

That was Torres’ take.

With five elite archers and two mages, even Krys might stand a chance against Encrid.

Even without him, the rest would probably be enough.

“This is getting interesting.”

Even Rem had acknowledged it.

“I want him.”

That was something the Elf Commander always said.

What did all of this mean?

It meant that even a horde of ghouls wouldn’t be able to touch the captain’s collar.

Could it be… that their squad leader was actually a genius?

There was no doubt. He had already seen Encrid fight another Frok firsthand.

So—

“Come on, why not? Let’s go. Let’s just go.”

Krys pestered him.

Encrid ignored him.

“I’m coming too.”

Rua joined in.

“Excellent! Fantastic!”

Krys was overjoyed.

“Should I come along too?”

Finn raised her hand.

She was a ranger. A very capable one at that.

Not quite a Pathfinder-level map maker, but still a great tracker and fighter.

“Per-fect!”

Krys cheered again.

Encrid smirked.

There was no need to stop them.

If the battalion commander had personally assigned this mission, that meant—

A dangerous job.

That was exactly why his heart raced and why he had accepted it.

But danger should be minimized. The more people, the better.

A colony of monsters, the protection of a frontier village, temporary command, and a Frok as a companion.

Should he take Rem or another squad member as well?

“Want to come along?”

Encrid asked, not thinking too much—or maybe secretly expecting that he would.

“Don’t you see I’m busy?”

Rem had already wrapped himself in his blanket, lazing around in bed.

Encrid couldn’t help but think, That’s so like him.

He had nothing to do, and yet he claimed to be busy doing nothing.

Then maybe Ragna?

“I’m not interested.”

Not interested? Was he feeling lazy? Had he not had enough lazing around lately?

Ragna was also glued to his bed.

He hadn’t even bothered turning his head when he answered.

“The gods have not given me guidance.”

Audin refused as well.

Jaxson was nowhere to be seen.

He was still on duty, but apparently too busy to even drop by the barracks.

So, in the end, no one else would be coming.

Encrid didn’t mind.

If the mission were truly that dangerous, the battalion would have sent an entire force.

Would they really single him out if it were that bad?

Investigate the monster colony near the frontier village.

If possible, eliminate them.

The orders granted him command over the village’s forces.

‘If the village has a militia…’

Then their numbers wouldn’t be lacking.

All that was left was to prepare thoroughly.

This world was not kind to travelers. Without adequate preparations, even stepping outside was unthinkable.

Ordinarily, the idea of four people setting out alone would be questionable.

But with a ranger and a Frok among them, it was a different story.

Not to mention, in Naurilia’s soldier ranking system, their leader was at the level of an elite soldier-class swordsman.

They were not a group easily overcome by ordinary threats.

Even in a world filled with bandits and monsters, their team was more than enough.

So, it didn’t matter that none of the squad members were joining them.

“We leave in fifteen days.”

Encrid stated.

Krys, still eyeing him carefully, hesitated before speaking.

“Are you really not reconsidering?”

“We’ll see.”

Encrid was always sincere.

He couldn’t be sure how things would unfold—he had to assess the situation on the way.

But for Krys, this was everything.

His treasure cave happened to be in that very area—only a day’s walk from the frontier village.

“Alright. Good. That works.”

Krys knew better than to push further.

And so, the party began preparing.

Traveling in this world was no easy feat.

The bare minimum requirement for a traveling merchant was combat ability.

Even merchants moving between cities traveled in groups of at least ten to ensure their safety.

This was why mercenaries and the soldier-for-hire system in Naurilia were so popular.

And yet, they were only four setting out.

There were no concerns about their strength, but that didn’t mean they could afford to be careless.

Encrid decided to head into town for the first time in a while.

There were a few things he needed to get from the market.