The Son-In-Law of the Magician Is a Transcendent Sword Master - Chapter 152

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 152
Seila followed the Gray-Haired Man as he strode purposefully through the Mercenary District.
The alley’s atmosphere had grown frigid in the wake of the earlier blade clash, and the stares of passersby cut like daggers. By tomorrow morning, today’s incident would become gossip, spreading like wildfire throughout the entire Mercenary District.
With no choice but to leave, Seila obediently trailed behind the man.
Of course, she wasn’t following mindlessly like a chick seeking feed. Seila intended to exercise her own insight and discern what schemes this man before her harbored.
“You… what’s your name?”
“Reagan.”
Reagan.
A name she’d never heard before. Judging by how he’d subdued the Senior Mercenary moments ago, he was clearly no ordinary man. And in Eltora, the names of skilled mercenaries could not remain unknown.
That meant Reagan was either a complete newcomer to the world, or at the very least, not a mercenary operating in Eltora.
“You said you’d pay off my debt earlier, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Do you actually have that kind of money?”
Seila’s eyes swept across Reagan’s back.
He wore casual clothes that seemed somewhat cared for, with a single longsword at his waist—the appearance of a greenhorn mercenary you could find anywhere.
Meanwhile, Seila’s debt amounted to a staggering one hundred fifty thousand Libres. Considering that typical escort commissions for ordinary mercenaries rarely exceeded tens of thousands of Libres, it was an astronomical sum for an individual to bear.
Even if Reagan possessed such wealth, there was absolutely no reason he would freely hand it over to someone he’d just met today.
Kindness without reason did not exist.
That was the iron law of the world Seila had learned through bitter experience, scraping by at the bottom.
“Well. We’ll find out when we get there.”
Yet Reagan offered only a vague response. Seila frowned and pressed further.
“Fine. Reagan, what exactly do you want from me? Saying you’ll help me means you want something from me, doesn’t it?”
“Well. I haven’t decided yet. Still thinking about it.”
“Still thinking about it?”
“Let’s resolve what’s in front of us first, then think about it.”
Reagan’s footsteps came to a halt.
Before them stood a magnificent three-story marble building. In the Mercenary District, where crude wooden structures dominated, this ornate stone edifice alone proclaimed the power the Stork Mercenary Company wielded in Eltora.
“This is the Stork Mercenary Company Headquarters, right?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
Reagan furrowed his brow in question, and Seila offered an awkward smile.
“I’m affiliated with the Stork Mercenary Company, but I’ve rarely set foot inside headquarters. Only when I was young and when I paid my tribute.”
“So they never saw you as one of their own.”
“…Yeah. Can’t be helped. I’m just a debtor, after all.”
Seila spoke with a bitter smile, but Reagan approached the building’s entrance without hesitation.
The mercenary standing guard examined Reagan’s appearance and frowned.
“Hey, this isn’t a place some greenhorn like you can just waltz into because you want to join our company.”
Seeing Reagan’s ordinary appearance, the guard had mistaken him for a novice mercenary seeking to enlist. Such occurrences were hardly rare.
But Reagan shook his head and produced a silver coin from his pocket.
“I’m not here to enlist. I want to see your boss.”
“…Head?”
The gatekeeper’s expression darkened at the word choice.
His brow furrowed, but the moment Reagan produced more silver coins from his purse and pressed them into the man’s hand, the wrinkles dissolved as if by magic.
“Still, I can’t let you through.”
It wasn’t until Reagan handed over his fifth silver coin that the gatekeeper’s lips curved into a smile and he stepped aside.
“The Captain is on the top floor. Don’t cause any trouble. And don’t mention that I let you in.”
“Of course.”
Just the five silver coins he’d handed over approached ten thousand libres.
So Reagan truly possessed the wealth to forgive a debt of one hundred fifty thousand libres.
Then why would he lavish such resources on an unremarkable woman like me?
My thoughts deepened in that moment.
Click.
We arrived at the third floor of the Stork Mercenary Company Headquarters.
The innermost sanctum of the headquarters—a place even Seila had never visited.
The mercenaries stationed there recognized Reagan and Seila, and their expressions hardened.
“Who are you? Who let you through?”
As elite first-class mercenaries stationed on the third floor—the very pinnacle of the headquarters—they radiated a formidable, menacing aura. Under the weight of their presence, Seila shrank back, her shoulders hunching.
Yet Reagan remained utterly unperturbed. Instead, as though nothing were amiss, his face became an impassive mask as he spoke.
“My apologies, but didn’t the Captain brief you separately?”
“Brief us?”
“Yes. I’ve come to pay the commission fee for the Stork Mercenary Company. It’s a fifty thousand libre contract—surely you remember?”
Of course, Reagan’s words were an outright lie. But since only Seila knew the truth, the elite mercenaries exchanged confused glances.
“…We… well, we haven’t heard anything about that.”
“Haha. Your Captain must be quite the independent operator. No matter. Once I receive the Captain’s seal, the promissory note will be issued immediately. May we proceed inside?”
The mercenaries frowned at Reagan’s smooth, unbroken stream of falsehoods.
Yet they couldn’t very well refuse someone claiming to deliver payment. Especially not fifty thousand libres.
“…Fine. Go ahead.”
In the end, the mercenaries nodded with bewildered expressions, and Reagan and Seila entered the Captain’s office without a shred of suspicion.
Seila thought the entire situation resembled a carefully orchestrated play.
Bribing the gatekeeper, deceiving the elite mercenaries with lies—they had infiltrated the inner sanctum of Eltora’s most formidable mercenary company without a single drop of blood spilled.
Her pure admiration lasted only a moment.
“Who are you? Did those outside let you in?”
The instant Seila laid eyes on Gord, the Captain of the Stork Mercenary Company, seated at his desk and sipping from a goblet, she swallowed hard.
Until now, Seila had seen that man exactly three times. Once at her father’s funeral, twice when she failed to pay her tribute, and now—the third time.
The moment she faced Gord, her fingertips began to tremble. The memories of being beaten and trampled flooded back as terror, constricting her entire body.
Fortunately, Gord seemed not to recognize her face. A man of his station would hardly remember a foot soldier of his own mercenary company.
Oblivious to—or perhaps unconcerned with—Seila’s inner turmoil, Reagan advanced without hesitation and stood before Gord.
“Are you the Captain of the Stork Mercenary Company? I’ve come because I have something to discuss with you.”
“Hmm….”
Seated in his chair, Gord’s expression turned grim.
“Your words are short. Didn’t your parents teach you to show respect to the strong?”
“Yeah. I don’t have parents, you see.”
Reagan answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and Gord blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected the orphan to reveal such a fact so boldly.
Reagan didn’t stop there and added further.
“Besides, you don’t really look that strong to me.”
“What did you just say, you bastard.”
Gord’s face contorted as he hiccupped. Despite being drunk, the Stork Mercenary Company’s captain was a skilled Sword Expert.
In an instant, killing intent flooded the room, and Seila gasped, stumbling backward.
“So the brat came to use our headquarters as his grave, did he? Ha.”
Gord let out a cold laugh as his hand reached for the hilt of his sword.
That was the moment.
Reagan moved first. He lifted his front leg and kicked the table straight away.
Crash!
The table slid backward from the impact and struck Gord’s solar plexus as he sat in the chair across from it.
“Ugh!”
With a gasp of breath knocked from his lungs, Gord spat saliva from his mouth. Reagan didn’t stop there. He grabbed the gasping Gord’s back of the head and began slamming it down onto the table.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Exactly three impacts.
In the next moment, Gord—the Stork Mercenary Company’s captain and a skilled Sword Expert—was subdued without even drawing his blade.
Gord’s eyes rolled back until only the whites showed, and he went limp. Blood streamed from his broken nose, forming a crimson puddle on the table, and his crotch was soaked as if he’d lost control of his bladder.
“….”
Seila wondered what on earth had just happened.
…Her wondering didn’t last long.
“…Y-you… you crazy bastard! What are you doing!”
* * *
In my past life.
Seila and I hadn’t shared a long history together, but after joining Renia’s Resistance, our encounters became more frequent.
Seila was a drinker no less devoted than Renia or Valen, so she always participated in the drinking sessions that happened at night.
There was something I heard there.
– I think you and I are in similar situations.
Seila said that out of the blue.
I couldn’t deny it.
In that we’d both been exploited by mercenary groups and eventually fled.
But there was a difference….
– I formed a group, while you acted like a lone wolf.
– Being alone was more comfortable.
– Yeah, that’s how it looks. To be honest, I had a strong desire to bring you into the mercenary group… but I figured it would only cause internal strife.
– I’ll take that as a compliment.
– It is a compliment. More precisely, it’s a compliment to Renia over there. She turned this untamable wolf into a loyal hound.
– …So you’re saying I’m a dog right now?
– You’re damn right. There’s still a member whose leg you broke back then that hasn’t healed.
– I… regret that.
In the midst of such a conversation, Seila, apparently drunk, sprawled out in front of the Campfire and gazed up at the night sky before sharing this.
– I was nineteen when I committed my first murder. I killed three Mercenaries who shared meals with me. Well, they were bastards who beat me up whenever they got the chance, but still.
– You’ve told me that story before.
– Yeah. It’s funny to bring it up now, but… I heard something recently.
– Something?
– The Mercenary Group I stayed with… apparently colluded with the Black Mages.
– What does that even mean?
– The Mercenary King, Barg. You know him well enough.
I couldn’t possibly not know.
By this point, I had already fought Barg several times and had yet to settle things with him.
Truth be told, the title of Mercenary King that preceded Barg’s name suited the “Captain” Seila standing before me far better.
Seila herself seemed to have little interest in such formalities, continuing her words without concern.
– The Mercenary Group I belonged to apparently colluded with the Mercenary King Barg. Whether they expelled the existing Captain or cooperated willingly, I’m not entirely sure…
– You don’t seem pleased about it.
– Well, of course not. It’s a trauma from my childhood.
Seila drank deeply and gave me a bitter smile.
– I envy you, Reagan.
– What about?
– You have family.
– …Isn’t the Mercenary Group you lead family?
– Hmm… That’s not entirely wrong either. But… the family I’m talking about is… someone you can trust completely, I suppose.
– Hm?
– It’s a somewhat different story…
Seila looked at me intently, as if trying to say something more.
But she never finished. It was because of Renia, who had approached behind me without my notice.
– You two… seem to be having quite an interesting conversation? Hic.
Renia was already quite drunk, her gait unsteady, and she seemed thoroughly displeased that Seila and I were conversing so long.
– Seila?
– No, it’s just… something like that.
In the end, Seila brushed it off, and I never fully understood what she meant.
But I remember clearly what Seila said that day.
The Mercenary Group that had exploited Seila—the Stork Mercenary Company, that is.
In cooperation with the Mercenary King, or rather, Black Fang Barg, they had contributed to the Archmage King.
In other words, they had colluded with the Black Mages.
Depending on the circumstances, they were villains of the worst sort, even worse in quality than Gerkin of the Black Crows mercenary group.
So…
Boom! Boom! Boom!
I had more than enough reason to resort to violence.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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