TRAIGS - Chapter 751

*Fwoosh!*

Amid the gently flickering campfire, dozens of sword lights shimmered and danced.

Raon, having just finished dinner, watched the swordsmen of the Light Wind Division train with a faint smile.

“They’ve started training on their own now.”

Previously, the Light Wind Division would rest after dinner, requiring direct orders to practice. Now, they swung their swords voluntarily, showing a complete change in mindset toward training.

-These fools have finally learned their weakness through the last war.

Wrath landed on Raon’s head, wagging a finger.

-They’ve been recognized by the King of Wrath! It’s only natural for them to stake their lives on training to grow stronger.

Wrath nodded confidently, his tone filled with pride.

-As I said before, the King’s subordinates will become strong!

“That’s true,” Raon replied with a small laugh, following Wrath’s gaze to the training swordsmen. “But more than their strength, I’m impressed by their change in attitude.”

The Light Wind Division had always been passive. Without orders, they wouldn’t train individually, and they would flee in terror at the mere suggestion of sparring.

Now, things were different. They sought out sparring partners and didn’t miss morning or evening training.

Not only had their strength grown, but their discipline and mindset had reached new heights.

“Maybe I should lend them a hand.”

-Where are you going!

Just as Raon stood to offer advice, Wrath blocked his path.

-There’s still food left!

Wrath wagged his tail, urging Raon to finish the stew.

“You’re a real nuisance sometimes,” Raon muttered, sighing as he finished the rest of the stew.

-Hah!

Wrath cheered, his arms flailing.

-The smoky flavor is perfect! This is the true taste of camping!

Wrath wagged his tail contentedly.

“While the others are changing, you stay the same,” Raon quipped.

-What’s that supposed to mean?

“It means your life must be incredibly simple.”

-Of course! The King enjoys life wherever and whenever!

“Not a compliment,” Raon muttered, shaking his head as he approached Runaan, who was bathed in silver sword light.

“Are you managing alright?”

He hadn’t seen Runaan eating her beloved ice cream balls lately. Considering how much she adored them, it worried him.

“I’m fine,” Runaan replied calmly, shaking her head as if it were nothing.

“I actually like it.”

Her face flushed as she explained how she could feel herself improving with each swing of her sword.

Raon squinted at her glowing expression, hiding her excitement behind her typically blank eyes.

“She’s definitely improving,” he thought.

Thanks to absorbing the power of the Baphomet Helmet, Runaan’s martial talents had grown significantly. Among the Light Wind Division, her rate of progress was second only to Raon himself.

Runaan seemed poised to surpass the walls of the Master level and reach Grand Master before anyone else.

“And I have something I need to do,” Runaan added, exhaling lightly as if bracing herself.

“Something you need to do?”

“I need to defeat my brother so that my parents won’t worry anymore.”

Her lips pressed into a determined line as she declared her intention to defeat Syria Sullion without relying on anyone else.

“Syria Sullion…”

Raon recalled the leech-like man who had once targeted him after coming back from the dead.

Rimmer had mentioned Syria had grown even stronger, but Runaan seemed undeterred.

“Even for you, it won’t be easy to beat him alone,” Raon cautioned.

“I still have to do it,” she replied firmly, shaking her head with unusual resolve.

“It’s my fault he changed like that.”

“Your fault?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Runaan bit her lip, recalling the times when she had been paralyzed by fear of Syria.

“If I had stepped up and faced him back then, things might have turned out differently. I can’t change the past, but I can bring it to an end myself.”

Her eyes, once filled with fear, now held responsibility and determination. The change was striking.

-Sniff…

Wrath rubbed his eyes, moved.

-She’s grown so much! The girl who loved ice cream has become so admirable!

“She’s matured in more than just strength,” Raon admitted.

-No, no, no!

“Hm?”

-It’s not just that! This is the first time she’s ever spoken this much!

Wrath marveled at her voice, even rubbing his snout as if savoring a memory.

“She’s definitely unique,” Raon muttered, brushing Wrath aside and raising a hand.

“Runaan.”

He stepped in front of her, meeting her gaze.

“If you need help, just let me know.”

Even if she wanted to defeat Syria alone, Raon planned to support her in any way he could until then.

“Then, about this technique…”

Runaan began explaining her current struggles, and Raon offered guidance, not by simply answering but by helping her think and grow on her own.

This interaction wasn’t limited to just the two of them. The entire Light Wind Division moved and breathed as one cohesive entity, almost like a living organism.

—

Near the barren mountains outside Holam, Raon observed the desolate city from the shadow of a withered tree.

The city rose like a mirage in the desert’s center. The outer slums seemed ready to collapse at a gust of wind, while the inner buildings stood tall and opulent, resembling the trade city of Camelun.

“Still the same,” Raon muttered.

The city’s glaring disparity between wealth and poverty hadn’t changed.

Holam was a barren wasteland, abandoned by humans and monsters alike. Refugees and outlaws had made it their home, turning it into a haven for criminals.

With no laws, compassion, or trust, Holam was ruled solely by power and wealth, making it the most extreme example of survival of the fittest.

-The survival of the fittest…

Wrath gazed down at Holam, his expression sour.

-It’s just as it appears. There was a place like this in the Demon Realm too.

Wrath swung a small fist disdainfully.

“Someone’s enjoying himself,” Burren quipped, watching Wrath squirm and writhe.

“Enjoying?”

“Isn’t he dancing?”

Burren chuckled, cautiously patting Wrath’s head.

-Dancing? The King does not dance!

Wrath’s indignant roar echoed as he lunged at Burren.

-The insolent eyeball dares to touch the Demon King!

“Sure, sure. Nice to see you too,” Burren teased, waving dismissively.

-Kyaaa!

Wrath clutched his head in agony.

-Summon me now! I will teach this eyeball a lesson!

“Yep, definitely enjoying himself,” Burren concluded with a smirk.

—

“How do we get in there?” Burren eventually asked, turning his gaze back to the city.

“If we enter openly, they’ll know right away.”

He frowned, clearly worried about being detected.

“We’ll disguise ourselves and split into groups. But before that…”

Raon’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the base of the mountain.

“There’s someone we need to meet first.”

“Someone to meet?”

Rimmer tilted his head, puzzled.

“You wouldn’t know since you missed the meeting,” Raon sighed, shooting him a withering look.

The other swordsmen followed suit, glancing at Rimmer with exasperation.

“D-Don’t look at me like that! I’ve been through a lot!”

Rimmer waved his hands, claiming his months of recovery as an excuse.

“Anyway, we need to wait for our contact here.”

Raon leaned back against the tree, preparing to wait. Chad had mentioned that someone would deliver the necessary information once they reached the mountain.

—

As night fell and Holam’s center came alive with light, a presence stirred at the base of the mountain.

It was a familiar energy—a disciple of the Black Market’s leader and one of its regional heads, Denning Rose.

“Long time no see, Lord Raon.”

Denning Rose removed her black hat and bowed gracefully.

“The branch master herself?”

“Of course. You are my responsibility.”

She flashed an elegant smile as though it were only natural for her to follow her guest.

“This is everyone’s first time in Holam, I assume?”

Denning Rose glanced down at the lawless city with a wry grin.

“Holam is a land that rejects no one—not con artists, murderers, or even demons. Anyone can enter, but that doesn’t mean there’s no inspection. Because it’s filled with criminals, the scrutiny here is sharper than anywhere else.”

She shook her head.

“If you enter as you are, your true identities will be exposed immediately. That’s why you’ll need disguises and convincing performances.”

Extending her hand, Denning Rose’s escorts brought out tattered, worn clothes.

“I’ll have more suitable outfits delivered by tomorrow, but for now, put these on and play the part of drifters or petty criminals.”

“I’ve got clothes already!”

Dorian enthusiastically rummaged through his pouch, pulling out a pile of sandy, threadbare garments.

“W-Why do you have so many of these?”

Krein gaped as Dorian produced more clothes than the entire Light Wind Division could possibly wear.

“Essential supplies!”

Dorian chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

-*Ah! How nostalgic!*

Wrath let out a delighted noise.

-*I haven’t heard those words in ages!*

The demon king’s round face lit up with pride.

“This should do just fine,” Denning Rose said, nodding approvingly. “Well prepared.”

“However,” she added, raising a finger, “there’s another problem even disguises won’t solve.”

“What is it?”

“Your overwhelming strength. Holam has Grand Masters residing within it, and the moment you step inside, you’ll be detected. That’s why…”

Denning Rose pulled out two vials from her pouch.

“The first contains a poison that suppresses your aura, reducing it to one-tenth of its strength. The second is the antidote.”

She explained that unless someone was at the transcendent level, they wouldn’t be able to sense the concealed aura.

“Ugh, I hate both poisons and antidotes,” Rimmer grumbled, grimacing. “I’ve had enough medicine to last a lifetime.”

“I’ll go first,” Raon said, ignoring Rimmer as he handed the first vial to Krein.

“Uh… me?”

Krein blinked at the vial in his hand, wide-eyed.

“Yes, you.”

“Why me? Surely someone else—”

“Drink.”

Raon’s unyielding tone silenced any further objections.

“Ugh, why did I ever pick a fight with him back then…”

Muttering regrets from their trainee days, Krein drank the contents of the first vial. Smoke rose faintly from his body, and his aura visibly diminished to a mere fraction of its original strength.

Krein’s jaw trembled as he felt his power wane.

“This is incredible…”

Raon could only faintly sense Krein’s aura, even when focusing his strongest perception techniques.

“Now take this.”

Raon handed Krein the antidote, who reluctantly drank it. Exactly one minute later, his aura returned to its full strength.

“It lasts one minute. Remember that.”

Raon instructed the rest of the division, ensuring they all understood the time limit before distributing the poison and antidote to everyone.

“Where exactly do we need to infiltrate?”

Once all the Light Wind Division’s auras were suppressed, Raon turned back to Denning Rose.

“The arena,” she replied, pointing to the heart of Holam.

Raon clicked his tongue. Of course. For people like those from the Black Tower and the Sacred Sword Alliance, human lives were just pawns. They likely chose the arena as a backup escape route.

“And the main reason is…”

Denning Rose gestured toward the arena.

“There’s a fighter known as *The Gladiator Demon*.”

“The Gladiator Demon?”

“He’s a former knight of Owen, someone obsessed with money and combat. He abandoned his knighthood and turned to crime, all for gold.”

Her expression twisted in disdain.

“He’s a disgusting individual, but he’ll likely mediate the transaction between the Black Tower and the Sacred Sword Alliance.”

“And take a cut for himself, no doubt.”

“Exactly. He’s the type who only cares about profit. It doesn’t matter who or what is involved—he’ll do anything for money.”

Denning Rose pointed to the largest, most extravagant building at Holam’s center.

“Past transactions have also occurred there.”

“The arena? Why there?”

Martha frowned in disbelief, her eyes narrowing.

“Why choose the arena…” Mark Gorton trailed off, shaking his head.

“Because it’s at the center of Holam. It has countless secret passages leading in every direction. Perfect for escape routes.”

Denning Rose smirked.

“And it’s always crowded. If something goes wrong, they can throw the audience into chaos and escape.”

She nodded, clearly impressed by the practicality of the venue for secret deals.

“This time will likely be no different.”

“In that case, we should scout the participants,” Raon said, clicking his tongue.

“It’s always easier talking with you, Lord Raon.”

Denning Rose smiled, nodding in agreement.

“The arena bans aura usage. Matches are fought using only raw physical strength, so it’ll be easy to blend in. However, we should limit the number of participants to avoid suspicion. Two or three would be ideal.”

“I’ll participate, and…”

Raon’s gaze swept over the division as Denning Rose added, “The more attention we attract, the better. It’ll distract them during the transaction.”

Their eyes landed on the same person.

“Why are you both looking at me?”

Martha’s brow furrowed as their gazes fixed on her.

—

Holam’s arena thrived on raw, brutal combat. It was a stage for beastly strength, attracting mostly rugged men with weathered, violent pasts.

When a young woman with flowing red hair stepped into the waiting area, the crowd erupted in laughter and jeers.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Hah, this arena’s standards have really dropped.”

“She’s so tiny! Not even worth a bite!”

“You lost, sweetheart? The bar’s that way!”

The fighters, their bodies scarred and hulking, mocked and ridiculed the crimson-haired intruder.

Step.

Ignoring the insults, Martha walked confidently toward the inner room.

“Hey.”

A middle-aged brute with deep scars across his chest blocked her path.

“This isn’t a place for women. Go play barmaid or something.”

He shoved his bony fist toward her face, grinning maliciously.

The other fighters roared with laughter, watching the spectacle unfold.

“Barmaid?” Martha smirked, tilting her head.

“Will this do for an appetizer?”

She bit down on the man’s fist with a snap.

*Crunch!*

The sheer force of her jaw shattered the bones in his hand, tearing flesh and sending blood gushing.

“Arghhh!”

The brute screamed, clutching his mangled hand as he writhed on the floor.

*Ptui!*

Martha spat out a piece of bone and glared at the silent room with piercing golden eyes.

“Move. Or I’ll take your eyes next.”

The man scrambled away, trembling.

“Pathetic worms.”

Martha sneered at the stunned fighters and claimed the most prominent seat in the waiting room.

“I set this up, but…”

Watching from a hidden vantage point, Raon couldn’t stop his lips from trembling.

“She’s too good at this.”

-*S-Scary…* whispered Wrath.