The Vagabond Gang (1) Osian and Martinez walked following the young guide who introduced himself as Marco.
Martinez said nothing.
From the moment he heard that Colleo had disappeared from the vagrants' area, all kinds of terrible things had been swirling in his head.
"Oh, the atmosphere is so heavy."
Marco, walking at the front, opened his mouth and made a witty remark.
As a guide, he only needed to show the way, but the momentum emanating from Martinez behind him was far from ordinary.
Like someone continuously poking his back with a well-sharpened sharp needle.
Osian could have brushed it off, but Marco couldn't do that at all.
What would it feel like to guide with a beast that could pounce on you at any moment behind you?
"Hey. Can't you somehow calm down your companion?"Osian shrugged at Marco's words.
"As if I would have a suitable way. It would be better to increase the guiding speed. The faster we arrive at the scene, the shorter these uncomfortable moments will be."
Osian also couldn't do anything specific.
If he had the talent to calm someone's anxiety with a few words, would he be wielding a knife while working as a fixer?
Marco, unable to deny those words, increased his walking speed.
"Still, if we continue like this, I'll give you a warning. The moment we arrive, those vagrant guys will rush at us."
"Is it that serious?"
"They usually test the waters, but one side is wearing what looks like expensive clothes, and the other side looks like an easy target."
When Marco stopped walking, Osian and Martinez also stopped.
"Here it is. Do you see the alley across the street? That kid named Colleo went inside there. My role ends here."
"Right. Thank you for guiding us."
Osian pulled out a coin and casually tossed it to Marco.
Marco, receiving the coin, put it in his pocket with a delighted face.
"Hehe. Thank you. Oh, and even though they're street kids, they're numerous, and their leaders are quite capable, so you should be careful."
"That's not something to worry about."
"Well, anyway, I wish you luck. I hope you find the kid safely."
In Tirna, tips had the power to make one say words they didn't truly mean.
As Marco stepped back, Osian spoke.
"So what are we going to do now?"
"...We should go."
"It seems you're quite worried about that child."
"At the very least...I want to confirm whether he's alive or not."
"Then we can't delay."
Osian and Martinez crossed the street and entered the alley.
The alley was damp, slimy, and even smelled foul. Even the pouring rain couldn't wash away the ingrained stench.
As they went a bit deeper, they felt gazes directed at them.
First, wariness, then interest, then desire.
Like hyenas eyeing prey, no, even less than that, ragged individuals began to drift closer.
They were vagrants, all improperly dressed.
"Oh? You, you."
Someone among the vagrants recognized Osian and called out.
Osian looked to see who it was. Sunken cheeks, protruding front teeth, and a long mustache.
He seemed familiar, and then he remembered - the vagrant who had picked a fight with him before meeting Anor.
"You bastard. You got caught well."
The guy seemed pleased that Osian and Martinez had conveniently approached, having already been eyeing them.
Holding a rusty iron pipe in his hand, he fixed his gleaming gaze on Osian's clothes.
"I'll ask something."
Regardless of the vagrants surrounding them, Osian spoke his piece.
"Has anyone seen a 14-year-old, brown-haired child here?"
That statement, inappropriate for the situation, made the vagrants look at each other before bursting into laughter.
"Puhaha! What did he come for? Looking for someone?"
"Are you crazy? Why look for a kid here?"
"Even if he came, he would have been sold or become a corpse."
The vagrants laughed and mocked among themselves but Osian calmly observed their condition.
Most thought he was joking, but some showed subtly unusual reactions, as if they knew something.
A short vagrant who seemed to be in his early 50s flinched when he met Osian's eyes.
While others would deliberately furrow their brows to intimidate when making eye contact, his reaction was different.
"It's you."
Osian had a feeling that this vagrant was the key holding at least some information.
Thinking they were being ignored, the vagrants who were laughing stopped and distorted their expressions.
"Does this guy think we're funny?"
"Looking at his sturdy body, his organs would sell for money."
"We'll hand over the remaining corpse to that black magician."
They had already calculated how to dispose of Osian.
This was the usual fate of someone who entered such a place.
The buck-toothed guy who had previously fought with Osian approached.
As if to show he had first claimed this prey, he stepped to the front.
"You got caught well this time. Didn't you look down on me?"
He swung the iron pipe at Osian without hesitation.
It was a weapon that could kill if swung incorrectly but his attitude showed no hesitation.
This suggested such actions were familiar to him. The price of abandoning ethics and morality.
Thwack.
Osian grabbed the iron pipe with his bare hand. The buck-toothed guy struggled, but the pipe didn't budge.
"You know nothing, so you're unnecessary."
Squeek.
As Osian applied force, the iron pipe bent with a grotesque sound.
At the superhuman strength of bending an iron pipe barehanded, the vagrants widened their eyes.
Simultaneously, Osian's fist struck the buck-toothed guy's face.
His nose collapsed, and teeth scattered. The guy flew far and slid across the ground, smashing his head into a building wall.
He was still moving, so not dead. Osian had deliberately controlled his strength - if he hadn't, the facial bone collapse would have been much worse.
His future life would be more painful than death.
"What, what is this guy!"
"Damn! Attack all at once!"
Though the vagrants were frightened by Osian's strength, they didn't retreat.
Usually, such a ragtag group would scatter after seeing overwhelming force once but these vagrants were different.
'I heard they exist as an organization, but they seem gutsier than I thought.'
Of course, there was a reason this was District 41. These were people whose lives had already been pushed to the bottom. Anyway, they had nowhere else to retreat, and all that was left to them was their grit.
Osian dodged the flying weapons while throwing punches.
A vagrant who got hit in the abdomen flew away and tangled with another vagrant.
Osian, seizing that gap, kicked another vagrant, slapped his face, and threw him by grabbing his collar.
With just one gesture of Osian's superhuman body, six vagrants rolled on the ground.
It took very little time to subdue over dozens of vagrants.
Most had broken arms and legs and were rolling on the ground, and the only person standing in that place was the suspicious-looking potato-faced vagrant.
"You know why I left only you behind, right?"
"Eek!"
He had even given up on running away. Hadn't he just seen Osian rampaging like a beast with his own two eyes?
"How wise. Even if you tried to escape with those short legs, you would have been caught by me immediately. As a bonus, you would have been beaten for the crime of being insolent."
"...!"
"Your task here is simple. Quickly spill out what you've seen and what facts you know. If you do that, there will be no cause for concern. I'll also promise a tip."
Osian said this while flicking a coin with his fingers.
The vagrant's eyes involuntarily flickered as he received the coin.
"This is an advance. If a satisfactory answer comes, I'll give additional payment. But if you can't do that, or if you try to squeeze out more money with even a slightly clumsy lie..."
Osian lightly stomped on the ground.
The pooled water splashed up with a swish, and an imprint of Osian's footprint was etched on the ground.
"I guarantee that compared to your colleagues who have already fallen, your condition will be the worst."
"Wh-what do you want to know?"
The potato-faced vagrant immediately became submissive.
Osian used an appropriate carrot and whip - a method that effectively worked in the underworld.
"I'll say it again. I'm looking for a 14-year-old boy who passed near here a few days ago. A male child with dark brown hair. And he's from the orphanage on that hill."
"Ah! Y-yes, that's right."
"Do you know that child?"
"Yes, yes. I know him. He boldly came here alone."
"Came? Not forcibly taken by someone?"
"Well, exactly what the situation was at that time..."
Just as the potato-faced vagrant was about to pull out his memory and speak.
"Hey, you dog bastard! Want to die!"
One of the vagrants spat a curse at Osian.
When he turned his gaze, there was a vagrant who had taken Martinez hostage from behind. One arm was broken and dangling, but with the other hand, he held a knife to his neck.
"If you don't want to see the kid you brought get his throat slit, hand over everything you have right now."
"I thought I'd treated you moderately."
Osian frowned. However, the expression was just a slight annoyance, with not a single trace of worry for Martinez.
Puzzled by this, the potato-faced vagrant asked, "Isn't this dangerous? Your companion has been taken hostage."
"Isn't the one who took the hostage your colleague?"
"Well, that's true...we're not really close."
"Let's say that's the case. Anyway, don't worry. If it's dangerous, it's not the child who's in danger, but the guy who took him hostage."
"Huh?"
"You look curious. You'll know soon."
The potato-faced vagrant didn't understand why Osian would say such a thing. Soon? What kind of irresponsible statement was that?
Surprisingly, Osian's words were immediately fulfilled.
Golden holy power began to flow from Martinez's body.
"Huh? Uh-uh-uh?"
The vagrant who tried to take Martinez hostage couldn't come to his senses. His hand holding the knife was so hot that he unknowingly dropped it.
-Chiiiiik.
The knife, now engulfed in golden flames, became intensely hot and then began to melt and droop.
The heat was so intense that it sprayed pure white steam where it touched the pooled water.
"How dare you take someone hostage."
Martinez reached out, looking down at the vagrant who had sat down hard.
At the moment the golden flame at his fingertips was about to burn the vagrant.
"That's enough."
Osian grabbed Martinez's wrist.
Martinez's gaze, with golden flames flickering, turned to Osian.
To the silent question of why he was interfering, Osian answered.
"Trying to burn to death just a vagrant is too excessive. Wasn't that power meant to be used only against heretics?"
"..."
The pointed remark brought Martinez back to his senses.
The golden flames swirling around Martinez's body disappeared in an instant.
"I seem to have been too excited."
Martinez obediently acknowledged his mistake. Perhaps because it was related to Colleo, he had uncharacteristically acted emotionally.
'Though he's the best in talent, is age the problem? Compared to his peers, he's calm, but there are still parts that are not mature.'
He tried to appear calm, but he was still young.
Moreover, for Martinez, what had happened this time would not be easy to handle.
He had never formed a close, deep relationship with anyone before. Even when pursuing heretics, he had always moved alone.
When does one realize misfortune?
Precisely when one has felt happiness.
A person who has lived alone and lonely their entire life does not feel solitude.
But the moment they form a connection and build familiarity with someone.
They begin to feel the absence of happiness.
People adapt, grow stronger, and develop by experiencing misfortune and happiness alternately.
But Martinez was young, and for him, who had lived alone until now, even the slightest absence of happiness would feel significant.
"So what happened next?"
Osian threw the question to the potato-faced vagrant while diverting Martinez's attention.
"That kid, he came into our place on his own."
"Came? Not forcibly taken by someone?"
"No! That child had shown his face several times, so we knew him too."
"Showed his face?"
Osian furrowed his brow.
Colleo was not unaware that these back alleys were dangerous. Yet he came inside of his own will? Moreover, it wasn't just once or twice?
Martinez's expression also grew serious, not knowing this fact.
"Do you know the reason?"
"I, I don't know that much..."
At that moment, an entirely different voice provided the answer.
"How many reasons could a child have to be brave enough to come here? He's trying to find his family."
Osian and Martinez's gazes turned toward the source of the voice.
There stood a person wearing an old fedora, a shabby coat, and carrying a large walking stick on his back, leading over ten beggars.