Chapter 154. To Pajar Sultanate (3)
The moment Caron grabbed the bald man by the throat, the air thickened with tension, and the atmosphere plunged into chaos.
"A-Are you insane?" the bald man stuttered, staring down at Caron with wide eyes.
It was an undeniable fact that Caron was severely outnumbered. Starting trouble in a situation like this was madness itself.
Caron smirked and replied, "Thanks for the compliment."
"Do you really think you'll make it across the border after this? Do you even know how ruthless those desert rats are? I guarantee you'll get lost without us to guide you," the bald man said.
"Quite a long tongue for a guide dog," Caron muttered as his gaze swept leisurely around the group.
Pluto, Caron called internally.
Meow.
Even in the suffocating darkness, Caron could see everything clearly, thanks to Pluto.
"You must think you're some hotshot," the bald man sneered, his tone dripping with defiance despite having his life in Caron's hands. "But no matter how skilled you are, you can't win this."
He spoke with surprising composure, as if victory was already his. Confidence like that meant only one thing—he had something hidden.
Hmm? Caron thought.
His eyes scanned his opponents quickly, and then he spotted them: Two massive contraptions resembling oversized crossbows. He was able to easily figure out the identity of the weapons.
Knight-Killers? Caron thought.
Knight-Killers were designed specifically for taking down knights; such weapons combined mana stones and gunpowder to devastating effect. They were deadly tools restricted to military use—far beyond the reach of simple smugglers.
"Where did you get those?" Caron asked, lifting the bald man higher by the neck. "Doesn't look Imperial-made... Did you smuggle them in from the Pajar Sultanate?"
The bald man choked, wheezing through his grin, and said, "Heh... Sharp eyes for the dark, aren't they? Now do you understand? The moment you kill me, those bolts will turn you into pulp."
So, that was his hidden play. Knight-Killers truly were formidable against knights. Their sheer power could rip through even armor reinforced by mana.
However, Caron knew the Knight-Killers' fatal flaw: They were terrible at hitting moving targets. Against knights ranked below 6-Star, the speed of the projectiles would be unavoidable. But for anyone at a higher level, they posed little threat. Such knights could just dodge. From 7-Star onward, Knight-Killers only became effective with the assistance of high-level mages.
In other words, as far as Caron was concerned, Knight-Killers alone didn't pose a significant threat to him.
"Smugglers dealing with Knight-Killers? What a world we live in. You must have a real death wish." Caron smirked. "Hey, what's your name?"
"...Bakal," the bald man answered reluctantly.
"Alright, Bakal. How about we make a bet?" Caron asked.
Whoosh.
The blade of Guillotine shimmered with a dark blue glow.
"If you can kill me with those Knight-Killers, you win. I die. But if I win... you die," Caron said.
"Hah, you're full of yourself," Bakal said.
"Do I really sound like I'm bluffing?" Caron retorted.
A sudden warmth streamed down Bakal's leg. The oppressive killing intent pouring from Caron was far beyond what a mere broker could withstand.
But at that moment...
Fwoosh!
Without hesitation, Bakal's men fired both Knight-Killers. Both bolts roared through the air with a deafening blast of mana.
"Well, well," Caron muttered as he tossed Bakal aside like a ragdoll. "Look at these backstabbing bastards."
Without missing a beat, he used Pluto's power. The mountain woods were plunged into suffocating darkness—perfect conditions for his shadowy companion.
Boom!
The bolts struck, unleashing an explosion of blue fire that erupted skyward in a violent inferno. Dust and debris filled the clearing in a suffocating cloud of destruction.
Everyone in the area assumed Caron was dead.
But one of Bakal's men made the fatal mistake of speaking. "Did we get him?"
The moment he said that with an idiotic expression...
Swish.
The man's head thudded to the ground.
"Did you think you got me?" Caron asked as he stepped from the shadows, Guillotine gleaming with fresh blood. He offered a smile sharp enough to cut steel, adding, "You guys are the ones who started this whole mess. I wasn't planning on killing you all."
"You sure put a lot of effort into spewing nonsense. You were planning to kill everyone from the start, weren't you?" Guillotine asked.
"I really wasn't planning to kill everyone," Caron replied.
"Oh really?" Guillotine said doubtfully.
"Hmm, maybe about two-thirds of them?" Caron said.
"That's the same thing," Guillotine replied.
Moonlight began breaking through the darkness, casting a pale glow across the scene. In that soft, silvery light, they finally saw Caron clearly—his sword was dripping with blood.
To the others, it sounded as if Caron had been speaking to himself, and the sight of it made terror claw up their spines.
And yet, despite their fear, none of them moved... No, they couldn't move.
The killing intent that gripped them was as thick as iron chains, paralyzing their bodies and choking their breaths.
Caron took another step forward, his voice soft but cold.
"Judging by how easily you pulled this stunt, it's not your first time. And when you chose this kind of life, weren't you willing to accept the consequences?" he asked.
Like death itself, he walked slowly through the dim moonlight.
"If you shove someone else's life into the gutter, shouldn't you be ready for your own life to end up there too? That's just fair," Caron continued.
They had tried to kill him with Knight-Killers, so there was no hesitation in his steps.
"You have no right to feel wronged," Caron added.
Mercy couldn't be wasted on scum like this.
With a nod to himself, Caron disappeared into the darkness once more.
***
"Ughhh..." Bakal groaned as he regained consciousness, his head pounding from the explosion. He remembered one thing clearly—his men had fired the Knight-Killers.
Those idiotic bastards, Bakal thought.
The Knight-Killers weren't meant to be used. They were for intimidation only. Now that they had actually fired the weapons, the soldiers stationed in the nearby city would undoubtedly notice the commotion.
...I guess this is the end of the job too, Bakal thought.
It wouldn't take long for their entire operation to be exposed. His only option now was to escape to the Pajar Sultanate, no matter the cost.
"You stupid bastards..." he muttered, grimacing as he struggled to stand.
Since the Knight-Killers had been fired, Bakal thought that surely the man who had grabbed him by the collar earlier was now nothing but pulp.
"Is anyone there?" he called out irritably for his men. However, no answer came.
Frowning, Bakal narrowed his eyes and looked around. The sight before him made his stomach churn violently.
" Oop... "
Under the dim light of the moon, hell itself had manifested. Severed heads and mangled bodies littered the ground. The scene looked no different from what Bakal imagined the underworld to be.
"Ah, are you awake?" a man asked as Bakal stepped out from the nightmare—a shabby-looking mercenary.
It was the same man who had grabbed Bakal earlier, and he was smiling as he walked toward the broker.
Bakal's instincts screamed at him to run, but his body refused to move. One step in the wrong direction would seal his fate. He would end up just like the corpses around him. He knew it. He felt it in his bones.
"Did you sleep well? You must have been very tired," the mercenary said, stopping just in front of Bakal. He wiped the blood off his blade with a burst of mana, letting it evaporate into the air. Then, he looked down at Bakal with a grin.
"I've never been to the Pajar Sultanate before. So, here's the deal—I can let you live if you act as my guide dog. Or... You can join your men," Caron offered.
There was no need to think twice. Bakal's forehead slammed into the ground as he cried out, "Please! Leave it to me!"
He had no choice. The man in front of him was a predator. The fact that the man had survived the attack of two Knight-Killers meant he was far beyond a 6-Star knight. Bakal knew he only had one way to survive—pleasing this mercenary.
"I have connections with the border guards of the Pajar Sultanate!" Bakal pleaded. "If you spare me, I'll be of use—I swear it!"
The mercenary nodded, his grin widening; then he said, "I like how desperate you are. Now... Bark."
"W-Woof! Woof!" Bakal barked like a dog.
"Wow, you actually did it?" Caron exclaimed as he smirked in amusement, then struck Bakal's head with the hilt of Guillotine. He turned his gaze away, scanning the area.
Every single one of Bakal's men had already been dealt with. Now, only four people remained. They were none other than the four stowaways from the carriage.
"Hmm," Caron sighed as he walked toward them.
All four were frozen in place, their faces pale. Even the ones who had radiated murderous intent in the carriage were now trembling like lambs before the slaughter.
"I wonder what I should do with you?" Caron remarked.
He felt an itch of hesitation. Unlike Bakal's men, they weren't necessarily guilty. He wouldn't stain his blade with innocent blood. So Caron decided to give them a chance.
"Explain why I should let you live," Caron said.
At Caron's words, an older man at the 4-Star level raised his hand first. His voice was raspy with age and desperation as he said, "If you take me with you, I'll serve you with absolute loyalty. Just spare me—please, have mercy!"
"How many people have you killed?" Caron asked.
The man seemed to have misunderstood his meaning, as he responded with a bright expression, "Countless! I've killed so many I can't even remember. I'll do whatever you ask, no hesitation. You won't regret it."
An idea suddenly formed in Caron's mind. Perhaps it wouldn't be too hard to sort out the trash-like people from the rest. In a calm and inviting tone, he asked, "Do you feel any guilt when you kill people?"
The old man gave a grotesque grin and replied, "Why would I? Killing vermin doesn't need conscience."
Caron chuckled and replied, "You're quite the monster. I like that. You're on hold for now."
He nodded in satisfaction, then turned his attention to another man who had been standing toward the back—the one he had exchanged a silent battle of wills with in the carriage.
This man, sensing the shift, shouted before Caron even had a chance to question him. "I'm a wanted murderer in the empire! A serial killer! I'm far worse than that fool. My name's Barau the Butcher. Surely you've heard of me?"
In an instant, the situation devolved into a competition of depravity. As soon as Barau introduced himself, the other two scrambled to reveal their crimes.
"I'm also wanted! I scammed commoners in the capital—huge-scale fraud!"
"That's nothing! I'm a slave trader! Caught in the middle of illegal trafficking! If you take me, I can help you build influence in the Pajar Sultanate!"
The impromptu contest spiraled into a frenzy of one-upmanship. Each man fought to prove he was the most despicable.
"You think you're worse? You can't hold a candle to me!"
"Who even are you, you nobody?!"
Caron watched with amusement as the four vied for the title of greatest villain.
Even Guillotine let out a dry chuckle, remarking, "The world is vast, and fools are many."
The list of their crimes was endless. There was murder, fraud, robbery, and slave trading. Caron wondered how such a gathering of scum had come to be in one place.
He contemplated his next move, then finally made up his mind.
"All of you, shut up." Caron's command silenced the room. The contestants fell still, fear flashing in their eyes.
"I have a good idea," Caron said.
It wouldn't be long before soldiers from Porta arrived. Knight-Killers going off in the middle of the night wasn't something that went unnoticed.
"From now on," Caron continued, "Kill each other."
A dark mist flowed from his fingertips, creeping toward them and seeping into their bodies like smoke.
It was Rabies.
Caron had used this same power to devastating effect against the pirates he had fought recently. Now, the merciless curse burrowed into their minds, turning their eyes bloodshot and wild.
"Only one of you gets to live," Caron said.
In a world where men like them had no rights, mercy was a luxury they wouldn't receive. Whoever survived this bloody struggle would still be dragged off by Porta's soldiers—a fitting end for human filth.
Caron had no intention of giving them peace.
With a flick of his finger, he set them against each other. The four men lunged into a savage melee, tearing at one another with animalistic fury.
Caron nodded, satisfied.
"Ah..." Bakal reacted, trembling as he watched the carnage; he could feel the terror seeping into his bones.
The devil himself stood before him, smiling as if he was enjoying the spectacle.
"Shall we be on our way?" Caron asked, turning to Bakal with a grin.
Bakal finally understood—his fate would be no different from the others.
But he could do nothing.
Nothing at all.
"Lead the way," Caron commanded.
"Y-Yes..." Bakal replied.
"Your responses will be either a bark or a howl. Understood?" Caron asked.
"W-Woof... Woof," Bakal barked.
"Good boy," Caron said.
That night, the Mad Dog crossed the border.
And the empire's living bomb finally arrived in the Pajar Sultanate.