Chapter 76: Power Leveling Party

Someone once said, “The inn is where all legendary tales begin.” While this might sound biased and too clichéd to ears on Earth, in this world of swords and magic, it remained an undeniable truth. Only the strong liquor, the hearth, and the beauties of an inn could attract the protagonists of those legendary stories.

Sailors returned from long voyages sat at tables drinking strong tequila. Merchants stopping by huddled in corners sipping watered-down ale mixed with soda. Women of the night, waiting at the bar to soothe the battered hearts of men, took small sips of sweet cocktails mixed with citrus and apples. Various rumors spread inadvertently, and the chance encounters of heroes formed everyone’s impression of the inn.

However, this clearly did not describe the one in front of the youth.

Every shop on this street seemed the same. Called an inn, it was really just a similarly dilapidated wall with a nearly collapsed rotten wooden door. Only a clumsily drawn mug on the wooden signboard at the entrance barely indicated its identity. The light from oil lamps seeped through the half-rolled felt door curtain, casting long shadows of the occasional passerby. Black vines had already crawled over half the house. Even though the early winter air carried a hint of chill, they still possessed vigorous vitality.

“What do you want? This isn’t a place for little punks…” The moment they approached the door, a burly man with a fierce face stepped forward. He glared ferociously at the two figures shrouded in cloaks and shouted, reaching out to grab Constantine’s shoulder as if ready to throw him out.

But in the next instant, a faint glimmer accompanied a muffled grunt. A shallow cross-shaped cut appeared on the big man’s hand. The intersecting wounds spurted a fair amount of blood. The poor fellow immediately backed away several steps, seemingly wanting to yell something. However, the small, gleaming blade revealed from within the other’s cloak made him stop the thought.

“A place like the Mercenary Guild, as long as you have strength, you can do whatever you want, just don’t cause any deaths.” In response to Constantine’s somewhat puzzled look, the Blood Elf casually pulled him inside the shop door and tossed him an explanation.

Constantine could only habitually rub his nose.

The tavern’s main hall was only slightly larger than a common house. The furnishings were, unsurprisingly, old and dirty. The inn during the day was not yet busy, or perhaps only regulars occasionally chose this time to come. A shirtless bartender slept soundly on the counter, snoring thunderously, his nose bright red. He probably spent the whole night “guarding” while stealing. At another table, two guys stared blankly at each other, looking completely indifferent even if the sky fell.

The pungent smell made Constantine habitually frown… According to the Blood Elf’s description, this tavern was where mercenaries accepted commissions. Usually, just by paying some information fee, you could get details of commission tasks, and then exchange necessary proof of task completion for payment. It was somewhat similar to the so-called Mercenary Guild.

Except here, there were none of those nonsense mercenary ranks familiar to the youth from novels. As long as you could afford the information fee and obtain proof of task completion, even if you were a garbage collector, it didn’t matter. No one would care if your methods involved cheating, swindling, or stealing. Of course, some clients sometimes proactively required qualifications for hiring mercenaries, but such commissions seemed rare.

But could you really find skilled people in such a place?

“We’re looking for some work.” The Blood Elf knocked on the counter. Clearly, this lady was well-versed in various aspects of disguise. Constantine noticed her voice had changed to a neutral, hoarse tone. Nothing sounded off.

The bartender looked up. His drunken, bleary eyes swept over the Elf, then landed on Constantine shrouded in a gray robe behind her. Having seen countless people, he seemed to see right through the simple disguise of this rookie among rookies. “Nothing suitable for newcomers,” he muttered indistinctly. Then he prepared to fall asleep again.

However, his drowsiness was soon dispelled. A shining silver coin made a crisp clinking sound, and its luster was enough to restore the owner’s memory to a decent level. He expressionlessly pocketed the shiny little object, then overturned his previous statement: “Oh… oh, but your luck is good. I remember there’s a team just preparing for a simple job… They might not care about taking along a couple more.”

“We’re looking to hire some…” Constantine paused, but before he could say anything, the Blood Elf beside him interrupted him with a string of meaningless words: “We want to find the most challenging hunting ground… Skip the troublesome stuff, kitten…”

“Challenging? That’s a bit… Lately, hunting grounds need to be scouted first…” The guy hesitated, but soon another shiny little object made him recall some useful information: “Right, there’s a seasonal hunt coming up. They might be gone for just a few days, and they’ve already linked up with one… It’s a small group with some capability, just had some bad luck recently and ran into trouble, so they’re here for hunting. There’s a good archer among them, said to hit flies hundreds of yards away in the dark. Besides, they have a decent Rogue and a Cleric of Tyr Saint Cuthbert. But they don’t much care for kittens…”

“Wasteful.” The Blood Elf gave the youth who just threw the silver coin a displeased look. Constantine simply showed an unimpressed smile, deftly making another silver coin tumble continuously on his fingers. “Problems that can be solved with money are no problems.”

“I might be able to contact them for you… Of course, not for free.” Facts proved him right. The bartender stared at the tumbling silver coin, greedily swallowing his saliva, and said somewhat slurred: “Their task list happens to be with me… They’ll be here soon…”

“I believe I told you, no extra kittens needed!” A voice suddenly came from behind, interrupting the bartender’s mumbling: “Even for a routine little trip, protecting the lives of two such weak and cowardly individuals is equivalent to half a suicide mission.”

Not hiding the disdain in her tone, in fact, she clearly wanted everyone to hear this remark… Constantine turned back in surprise and noticed the speaker had just pushed open that dark wooden door.

It was a rather tall figure; the body covered by a dusty traveling cloak was at least over six feet tall. The reason for using “tall” was because Constantine judged from her slightly high-pitched voice that she seemed to be a female.

But more noticeable than her height was the large longbow she carried on her back. The bow had a simple arc shape, not the complex recurve shape from the youth’s memory. But that obviously wouldn’t affect its power — the nearly six-foot-long bow body was enough to provide the immense kinetic energy to pierce armor. The youth rubbed his nose, guessing this bow could provide at least 120 pounds of force, enough to pierce a human over four hundred yards away!

Without specific training, ordinary people probably couldn’t use such a bow skillfully. Connecting this with the tavern owner’s earlier information, this woman was clearly that quite capable archer. Judging from the tightly wound bowstring, the comment about hitting flies probably wasn’t an exaggeration. As Constantine knew, those who kept their bowstrings extremely taut were usually like snipers; only they demanded that kind of force and speed capable of piercing steel armor!

But there was something even more surprising — the youth’s hearing, though not specially trained, had no impairment, yet he hadn’t heard any footsteps from her. If she were a Rogue or such, it would be normal, but someone carrying such heavy weapons walking without a sound was indeed impressive… though also more eerie. Why would an archer practice silent steps?

“You don’t have a choice… either lead them, or there’s no deal…” In response to this complaint, the bartender showed a careless sneer. He lowered his voice a bit and turned to Constantine, but just enough for his words to be heard by the person opposite: “It’s just one more person. So-called experts are just like this? Useless stuff… I think I should consider introducing you to the Berg brothers, but you’d have to wait…”

Faced with this obvious sarcasm, the archer fell silent for a moment, but the Blood Elf replied briefly: “No need, it’s this one… What’s the price?”

“Five gold for newcomers. Four gold for accompanying the party, one gold for miscellaneous fees, including at least one-fifth of enemy disposal rights. One silver for veterans, safety guaranteed, as long as you don’t interfere with the process… The rest you should know. I won’t waste words.” The red-nosed man said fluently, simultaneously pulling out a scroll from beneath the shabby counter and tossing it to the archer: “Destination is a mine pit fifty miles south of the city. A group of Hobgoblins and other things occupied it as a temporary wintering spot. Local farmers commissioned their elimination.”

“…Hey! Your turn!”

“Me? My what? Oh, hello…” The Blood Elf’s altered voice made the youth turn his head in surprise. He looked bewilderedly at the two people staring at him, somewhat confused and starting to exchange pleasantries, until the latter couldn’t stand it and prompted: “Who asked you that? Pay up!”

“Pay? Pay for what?”

“For the mission fee, of course!”

“I never said I wanted to go complete any mission…?” The youth was still a bit confused. They hadn’t even discussed anything, and now pay? If you want to hire someone, you should at least check their capabilities first, right? And why a mission fee?

“Of course you pay! Did you think someone would bother taking care of a newcomer likely to leave after one mission without incentive? Hmm, I must say that is indeed a mercenary thought…” The Blood Elf obviously relished this chance to mock Constantine. After sharply ridiculing him, she leaned close to his ear and explained: “We’ll follow them to complete the mission next… Don’t look around! You don’t need to complete the mission. The money you spend is for selecting several opponents to increase your combat experience when needed. During this, someone will provide backup, so your safety won’t be threatened at all.”

“I thought you should know why we’re here? I have no interest in running off on adventures…” Constantine stared at the red eyes showing beneath the grime, somewhat suspecting if this woman had been too stimulated lately.

“Idiot! Of course I know! Huh… Talking to you amateurs is exhausting!” The Blood Elf discontentedly moved her face closer. Wisps of warm breath sprayed on Constantine’s ear, making his heart skip a beat: “Generally, those who take these nanny jobs have relatively high skills. Especially since this team doesn’t seem specialized in this and are from out of town… indicates they’re really short on money, and their skills just fit your requirements. Plus, we can use this mission to verify their abilities… Hiring them later will be much easier.”

“Isn’t this a power leveling party? People actually do this kind of work?” The Elf’s description made Constantine recall a somewhat ancient memory from games, where a certain type of character was very active… power leveling groups.

“Power leveling? Hmm, pretty much…” The Blood Elf didn’t hide the sarcasm in her words: “You know among Nobles, there are many who like adventure… Besides training themselves, some do it to show off, others are just bored, seeking thrills… In short, where there’s demand, there’s supply. It’s not strange such groups emerged. I’ve taken this kind of job once or twice… Their pay is good. But with me along, you’re getting a bargain today; otherwise, the price would at least double… No need to take out all of it! First pay is one-fifth as deposit!”

Before the Blood Elf could finish her proud boasting, Constantine let out a slight sigh. He fished out five gold coins from the pouch at his waist and tossed them to the owner. This action immediately provoked a shriek from Lady Nightingale.

“I think there shouldn’t be any problems. I trust my own judgment, just as I trust this gentleman’s ability and character.” Constantine paid no attention to the five shiny little objects now tightly clutched by the bartender. Just a few gold coins. Though a significant sum for farmers and Commoners, it wasn’t too extravagant for him. A good impression now was quite necessary — everyone should be happy to see a generous spender become their employer.

Though he didn’t hold high hopes for the person before him. But if it could leave a good impression, spending this small amount was worth it.

“I am the leader of the Uruz team. You can call me William… Please follow me…”

To the youth’s slight disappointment, his act wasn’t appreciated. After giving the two a clearly impolite once-over, the archer completely unconcernedly tossed out an obviously fake name. Then she took the scroll and turned to leave.

Walking out of the dilapidated little shop, Constantine pulled on the hood of his cloak — only after this seemingly casual action, something shifted in the shadow of a worn wall opposite him. Constantine smiled slightly… In the shadow of the hood, those purple-glinting pupils were enough for him to recognize that all-too-familiar, aged but upright figure.

Passing through several alleys, at a carriage in a corner by the city gate, the archer stopped.

A man approached. He seemed to be the archer’s companion, casually draped in a cloak, revealing a broad face with a thick beard and unkempt, fluffy golden hair like a golden bird’s nest atop his head. It looked somewhat comical.

Yet the weapon he held in one hand completely dispelled that comical impression — a mace made of cast iron… Actually, in most people’s eyes, it more resembled a metal prism with a cross-shaped split design, ominously dark and obviously quite heavy. When his cloak occasionally opened, the silver reflection of Chainmail and a beautiful red emblem worn on his chest seemed to proclaim his identity.

A Cleric of Saint Cubest… and a properly skilled one? That wasn’t common. Generally, a Cleric’s power came from their piety, but it seemed Clerics in Temples were often more powerful; maybe that was related to the offerings?

Next, the youth noticed something interesting — this uncle was followed by a small figure… It was actually that timid little face he had just seen in the alley! Only now the small body was wrapped in a blanket, and she was taking big bites of a piece of bread, yet trying hard to keep up behind the uncle Cleric.

This scene made Constantine’s lips curl into a kind smile. He was just about to say something when the sound of hooves approached from another street. Almost instantly, a rider on horseback charged like a whirlwind right up to the carriage!

The little girl biting bread let out a scream. But at the moment it seemed a tragedy might unfold, the Knight on horseback sharply pulled the reins. The horse neighed, rearing up beautifully on its hind legs, and used the momentum to halt!

“Is this guy brain-dead?” Constantine frowned, uttering a low curse.

He noticed this suddenly appearing Knight wore silk-cotton fabrics typical for Nobles, matched with a suit of gleaming Full Plate Armor and a splendid cloak. He held a lance that shone with metallic luster. It looked impressive, but the youth also clearly saw the armor’s carved patterns were too intricate, the armor itself not very thick, its protective capability obviously not very substantial… This full suit of weaponry formed an imposing appearance, but to discerning eyes, just as the pale complexion and slight dark circles indicated the Knight’s unhealthy lifestyle, this gear was likely an eight out of ten fancy but useless showpiece.

“You’re finally back… If there are no issues, we’d best depart quickly!” The arrogant gaze from beneath the Knight’s helmet swept over the people by the carriage. Then this pillow spoke with a detestable coldness.