CHAPTER 76: PREDATOR’S SMILE

Chapter 75: Predator’s Smile

"Ethan! On your left!"

Lirael’s voice cut sharp through the forest air. Ethan pivoted instantly, the ground scattering beneath his boots as a tusked blur lunged toward him. The wild boar’s charge carved a trench in the soil, but Ethan’s blade flashed thrice—swift, precise arcs. By the time the beast’s momentum carried it past him, it was already collapsing, lifeless.

"Haah..." Ethan exhaled, running a forearm across his brow. "That makes the third time today—and we’re only on the third day of this gods-forsaken road. Troublesome doesn’t even cover it."

From the cart’s side, Lirael nocked another arrow, loosing it into a rushing boar before it could circle wide. "At least when we reach Iridale," she said with a sly grin, "we’ll be rich."

"Yes, yes!" Ethan chuckled, dragging his sword free from the fresh corpse. "But remember—gold only flows to the strong. Lucky for us..." he spun the blade with a flourish, "we happen to be."

Their laughter was light, almost casual, even as more boars thundered from the undergrowth. The ground trembled beneath the stampede, branches snapping like bones in their wake.

The four summoned soldiers stood unflinching around Darian’s cart, shields braced, spears angled. They moved in flawless unity, intercepting every beast that broke through the foliage. Where the soldiers held the line, Ethan darted between gaps like a shadow, cutting down any that slipped past. Lirael’s voice guided him, sharp and clear above the chaos:

"Two o’clock, behind the oak!"

"Another circling left—fast one!"

"Watch your right flank—go low!"

Her arrows hissed through the air in perfect sync with her warnings, pinning targets or staggering them just long enough for Ethan’s sword to finish the job.

Darian sat hunched on the cart bench, knuckles white around the reins as he watched the battle unfold. His heart pounded—not from fear of the beasts, but from the sheer sight before him. Ethan’s stamina seemed endless, each movement precise and tireless. Lirael’s coordination was uncanny, as if she shared some unspoken rhythm with him. And the soldiers... by the gods, the soldiers. Their defense was absolute, a wall of steel and will, treating his humble cargo as though it were the crown jewels themselves.

One by one, the boars fell. Some with clean slashes that barely slowed Ethan’s momentum, others pierced neatly by arrows or spears. When the last beast gave a pained bellow and crumpled to the dirt, the forest grew still again—save for the ragged snorts of the dying animals.

Ethan rolled his shoulders, exhaling deeply. "That should keep us fed for days if nothing else."

Lirael gave a small laugh, lowering her bow. "If Darian doesn’t faint first."

The merchant startled, realizing he’d been staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "N-no, I... I just..." He shook his head, voice hushed with disbelief. "You two... and those soldiers of yours... it’s as if you were born for this. I’ve hired adventurers before, but—never have I seen anything like this."

Ethan sheathed his sword with a grin, glancing at the horizon where Iridale’s distant spires would one day rise into view. "Get used to it, Darian. This is only the beginning."

---

"Tsk..leave...we have a tight schedule or else I would have personally gave that houseowner a visit." Veyron said in annoyed tone.

"And what more," Veyron’s voice came slow, deliberate, each word dripping with restrained malice, "have you learned about this man?"

The servant shifted uneasily, head bowed low. "There is... one thing, my lord. Suspicious, to say the least."

Veyron’s brows rose slightly, a silent command to continue.

"They say the so-called ’Goblin Slayer’—the man who goes by Ethan—was more than just active in the recent extermination. He... overshadowed even the B-rank adventurer leading the expedition. Always one step ahead, always the first to strike."

The words hung in the air, and the fire popped loudly, as if echoing the weight of them.

Veyron’s lip curled, half amusement, half disdain. "Overshadowing a B-rank while being but a C?"

The servant nodded. "That is not all. He was seen with a silver-haired human archer. Alone, she lacked force, but together... their coordination was said to be flawless. Almost unnatural."

The memory seemed to trouble the servant, who hesitated before adding, "It is also said that he poached her from another C-rank party. In the guildhall itself—he humiliated her leader before all, defeating not one, but two C-rank adventurers single-handedly in the duration of expedition."

Veyron’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, eyes glinting with interest. "Publicly shaming two C-ranks... and walking away with their asset. Bold." His tone made the word sound more like dangerous praise than simple observation.

The servant swallowed, lowering his voice further. "But then, my lord, without warning... the silver-haired girl vanished. And in her place, he appeared with another—this time, a blue-haired woman. A maid, they call her. But those who saw her say she was... strikingly beautiful. Too striking, and too sudden."

For a moment, silence reigned. Veyron’s fingers stilled, then curled into a fist against his jaw as he leaned into thought. The firelight carved sharp lines across his face, turning his smirk into something almost predatory.

"First the archer. Then the maid. Pieces move too neatly around this Ethan." His eyes flicked toward the flames, as if searching for answers within their restless sway. "A man who climbs ranks out of order, humiliates his betters, and plucks companions as though he were selecting weapons from a rack..."

Veyron’s voice trailed off, leaving only the sinister crackle of fire to finish the thought.

"He definitely has backing," Veyron murmured, tapping a finger against his jaw. "No one else would be so bold—or so utterly foolish. Overshadowing B-ranks? Publicly humiliating two C-ranks in the guildhall and then proceed to challenge them and defeat them?" He gave a dry, humorless laugh. "One, perhaps, could be explained. But two?"

His eyes gleamed, predatory, as he leaned forward. "That reeks of arrogance... or privilege. A rich bastard’s son, no doubt. Coddled, protected, throwing his weight about with hidden strings behind him."

Veyron rose slowly, his boots scraping against the stone floor. He paced toward the fire, staring into the restless flames as if they were whispering secrets only he could hear.

"And that maid..." his tone turned soft, almost mocking. "She is no mere servant. She is Lirael. I would wager every coin in my coffers she cloaked herself in illusion to avoid notice. That explains why our search came up empty."

The corner of his lips curled, spreading into a wicked grin. "But why lower herself to such a role? Did he force her? Or perhaps—" he chuckled darkly, "—perhaps he uncovered her true identity. Blackmail, maybe. A threat to expose her to us, her family, unless she bent knee and played at servitude."

He tilted his head, eyes half-lidded, savoring the image as if it were fine wine. "If that is true... then it is laughably simple. Because what happens, hm, when we appear before her?" His grin widened further, teeth catching the firelight. "When her family stands before her eyes... what leverage will he have left? Nothing."

The thought alone seemed to delight him. A soft, sinister laugh broke past his lips, growing into something unrestrained, echoing off the stone walls.

"She will see him for the petty, grasping worm he is. She will see us... and she will weep. Crying, begging... and then she will run straight into my arms for comfort." Veyron’s laughter rose, cruel and triumphant, until it turned into a twisted cackle.

"Eheheheh... ahahahaha!"

The servant kept his head bowed low, not daring to interrupt the lord’s revelry, though the sound of it sent a cold sweat running down his spine.