Chapter Eighteen
"Twelve! Thirteen! Fourteen!"
The once quiet tavern suddenly became noisy as a crowd surrounded two men at the center table.
Sitting in the middle was Huck, whose face was flushed red from gulping down large amounts of alcohol.
After finishing the drink, he coughed violently and then slammed the glass down on the table.
"What's wrong? You can't even handle sixteen cups?" Across from him, a girl in loose-fitting clothes stood with one foot on a chair, also gulping down her cup. Then she tossed the cup behind her, and the hotel owner rushed over to catch it. Just as he was about to give her a good scolding, he was surprised and his mouth dropped open.
Because the girl picked up the barrel next to her, which was less than half full, and poured the wine down her throat directly from the barrel.
At the same time, her skin turned slightly red, hot white steam began to rise from her head, and her already fluffy clothes began to swell, with hot white steam shooting out from the pores.
Half a barrel of wine, which should have been the entire tavern's daily sales, was emptied in just a few minutes by this girl who didn't look very old.
Huck was completely convinced, raised his hands, and then slumped onto the table.
The girl put down the barrel of liquor, laughed mockingly at Huck a few times, then took out some money from her pocket and tossed it to the owner. She sat down again, propped her head up, and looked at Huck. Playing with the strange necklace around her neck, she smiled and said:
"You think you can hunt monsters? I bet even a wild boar is stronger than you." She stuck out her tongue and launched into a series of sarcastic remarks at Hack.
Then she stood up, waved to the people in the hotel, as if to say goodbye.
"What a damn weather!" The girl cursed as she stepped outside. She was indeed a bit drunk, and she took out a scabbard from her waist to use as a cane to support herself as she moved forward.
As she left, she slung the large sword, wrapped in layers of bandages and leaning against the wall, over her back. The weapon that had dented the wooden planks when laid down seemed weightless on her. The ropes used to secure it even accentuated her shapely figure beneath her loose clothing.
She trudged through the snow, her skin slowly returning from red to pale, but only briefly. In the cold, she regained her reason and clarity.
Oh, I completely forgot to mention the goat horns on her head; that was a mistake. Let me explain. They were a pair of reddish-brown goat horns, growing on a very beautiful head.
Her hair was simply tied back, but it grew to her shoulders. She had red hair and deep yellow eyes. From her neck down, it was tightly wrapped in bandages.
Because there was little coverage under her loose-fitting clothes, and due to her unique physical condition, she couldn't wear too many layers. Besides the loose fabric, there were also significant openings at the shoulders and other areas. Often, people with restless eyes would glance at her in those areas.
This is a monster, but from the moment we started until now, no human has shown any sign of rejection towards her.
After all, no one can gather a girl who is braver than anyone else in a charge, more ruthless in a fight, and better at drinking than anyone else, while also having a slim waist, long legs, and a pretty face. Besides, she is far from being just a pretty face; she is a real person who has fought her way through life and death.
Dedeline the Dragon Slayer is a monster from a tribe of fire goats. That tribe is on friendly terms with humans, having controlled their offspring to resemble humans since the great war a thousand years ago. By this generation, they are largely indistinguishable from humans, except for their pointed ears and goat horns.
She has reason to be proud because she has an outstanding track record over her 30-year career.
Oh, and I should add something here. Fire goats are around three hundred years old, reaching adulthood at thirty. However, before the age of one hundred, they are practically children in this race. She's only around sixty now, quite young for this group, although not considered young by human standards.
"It's so cold~" she yawned, dragging out the sound, as she moved forward on the snow, carrying the short knife in her hand.
During her leisurely trip without any missions, the city inexplicably became bustling. All sorts of people were gathering here. Just now in the tavern, when that tall guy boasted that he was a better witcher than a mercenary, Deedri got so angry that she used arm wrestling and drinking to make him realize he was still a novice.
She habitually walked to the large bulletin board in the city and stopped to look at the reward offered.
However, a few minutes later, she suddenly realized that she no longer needed to take on such small tasks. She had been promoted to the highest rank among mercenaries, wearing a specially made badge to highlight her unique status.
Once she reached this level, she no longer needed to find missions herself. Instead, mercenaries in major cities would receive orders from important figures and assign them to her.
If there were no such assignments, she would be paid regularly. When she received her first month's salary, she excitedly bought a whole case of fine wine.
Even without missions, this salary was enough for her to live comfortably. Not to mention the bounties from the large-scale missions that took about six months. Those big shots really did have a lot of power; they never skimped on her.
Dedeline, with a toothpick in her mouth, looked at the small tasks listed, which were mostly minor things like hunting monsters or escorting goods.
Some of them offer excellent value for money, meaning you can earn the money yourself without much effort.
If this had happened seven years ago, before I hunted that dragon, I would have been very happy to see these little quests.
But now, I have absolutely no need to do these things for money.
"How boring." She exhaled a long puff of white air, turned around, and sat down next to him.
Her travels began a year ago when she realized that if she only used the money in her bag to buy alcohol, she wouldn't even be able to afford it all herself. Suddenly, she wanted to start traveling.
Unlike other mercenaries, Deedris didn't need money because she had always been alone. She had never had a home and was always on the move.
With just a backpack containing basic necessities, a weapon, and a purse, she could travel to any part of the world. In each place, she simply needed to visit a quest marker, accept a simple task, and earn her living expenses.
Dedeline pulled a blade of grass from her pocket. She realized she was still a sheep; when things got tough, nibbling on leaves or other plants would calm her down.
Looking back, it was the most fun at the beginning. Although I always ended up with all sorts of wounds, big and small, during missions back then, it was at least quite interesting.
How long has it been since I last experienced the feeling of passing by the gates of hell?
I don't know, but ever since I got this knife, I haven't encountered any battles that have bothered me.
Dedeline looked at the knife; when she first got it, she was so excited she couldn't sleep. She wanted to stay up all night looking at the patterns on it.
This knife was made from the dragon itself, including its most precious core.
Dedeline selected the best materials from the dragon to upgrade her equipment to the highest level. She sold the rest and bought several cases of fine wine.
Dedeline looked around at the buildings.
It's such a small city. After getting used to living in big cities, it's strange to suddenly come back to a place like this to drink. I was worried that my spoiled palate wouldn't be able to handle this kind of cheap ale.
However, she realized she had misunderstood, because while drinking, she briefly reminisced about her past.
Even this short knife was used back then, the very first weapon I used. The scars and meticulous care on it represent all the hardships I went through back then.
And every time she sees this knife, she is reminded of her early days, when she was a child who was taken in.
The man who took her in was a mercenary, who is now the King of Mercenaries. He's probably sitting in a castle in some big city right now.
Dedeline twitched her nose and casually swung her knife.
It was almost an instinctive reaction, without any thought whatsoever.
In a mere instant, she had already swung her short knife dozens of times. Each strike was executed at an angle that wouldn't damage the blade, deflecting the darts flying through the air.
"An assassin?" Dedeline twisted her wrist, abruptly stopping the knife she was holding as she slashed.
Because just one more inch and she could have sliced the creature's head off. A short-handled axe suddenly appeared in its hand, but before it could strike, the blade was clamped against its neck.
It bounced off as if it had been electrocuted, leaving a long trail on the ground.
The sound of something cutting through the air reached him, and he involuntarily let out a short groan.
His wrist had been pierced by a toothpick. It was the toothpick that Deedris had been holding in her mouth, and the two of them were now more than ten meters apart.
The toothpick was stuck in the bone, grazing the major artery, so it's best not to move it. Moving it will cause trouble. If you don't move it, at least you can keep your hand.
He had just tried to take out a new dart from his person. But Deedri didn't even give him that chance.
“You’d better explain something to me.” Dedeline snatched the axe from his hand and threw it aside, then grabbed it by the collar, lifted it up, and slammed it against the wall.
Her fist landed directly on his chest, and if he hesitated even a second, he would hear the cracking sound of bones breaking.
Dedeline was in no good mood at all towards this sneak attacker. She was just feeling nostalgic when this guy suddenly appeared and completely ruined the atmosphere.
This guy attacked me first, so I have a reason to kill him, right? But if he could answer some questions honestly, maybe I wouldn't be in such a hurry to take another life.
He began to struggle, and Deedri loosened her grip, taking advantage of his strength. Before he could react, he fell to the ground. Before he could even turn around, he was trampled to the ground.
“He’s got a tight tongue.” Dedeline gave up on the idea of interrogating him; at least the assassin hadn’t said a word from beginning to end. She didn’t dislike guys like him; at least he was adhering to his professional code of conduct.
Because essentially, both of them were doing their jobs for money. He was paid to assassinate me; that was just his job.
But then again, the church must be closed by now, right? This is a problem; where does the priest live again?
Thinking this, Deedris dragged him along the ground. She pulled him forward; after all, it was snow, so there was no need to worry about dragging someone to death.
Dedeline found it rather strange that there was a priest here. After all, even in the large city she frequented, there was only one priest. She hadn't expected that such a small place would have such a high-ranking staff.
"Oh, maybe asking him will yield results." Dedeline nodded slightly, roughly deciding on the next route.
What's going on today? Three people have attacked me already. Do I look like someone who's easy to deal with?
What kind of offer did that person behind me make that made him think he could beat me after I've been drinking? Even if you're stupid, you can't lose your mind. Think carefully about what you're holding in your hand, okay? Please, I'm begging you, can you use something that can break through my defenses? What difference would it make if that axe actually hit me?
The more Dedeline thought about these things, the angrier she became; she was annoyed by the feeling of being watched.
Although I'm not afraid, it's still quite scary when a guy with a weapon occasionally jumps out from a corner.
Half an hour later, after getting lost twice, she finally found Carl's door.
She kicked open the two wooden planks and threw the unconscious man into them.
"Is anyone there?" Dedeline shouted, until the man in the priest's robes came out of the inner room with a displeased look on his face.
"Is something wrong?" Karl asked instinctively, then saw the unconscious guy lying on the ground and roughly understood what was going on based on his attire.
“He attacked me first, and I only dragged him here out of kindness. If we can save him, we will; if not, we’ll just cook him.” Deedri looked at Karl: “That’s it.”
The cooking described here is no joke. Due to food shortages, cannibalism was never a novelty. Basically, as long as the body hadn't decomposed after death, it would be eaten. After prayers, people would divide the deceased's flesh and eat it with gratitude and the will to live.
This is a sacred thing, a continuation of life. There is nothing to be ashamed of; every step is taken with respect for the deceased.
“These are very fresh wounds; treating them shouldn’t be difficult.” Carl nodded. This kind of work was simple, and he could handle it without being too busy.
"That's good. Also, I wanted to ask if anything's happened in this city?" Dedeline asked casually. "I see a lot of guys who shouldn't be here."
"Madam, don't worry. Nothing has happened here. Everything is normal."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com