"Uaaaaah!" -Keeeeok!
Sanson's powerful horizontal slash cut a long gash across the Troll's side. Of course, being a Troll with strong regenerative powers, even a wound like this would soon heal.
But...
'What if I cut that side one more time?' No matter how strong a Troll's regeneration was, it was limited to bone and muscle. If its head was cut off or its innards spilled out, even for a Troll, it was a fatal wound.
'Just one more strike there!' Sanson aimed for the Troll's wound and rushed forward to deliver the finishing blow. All he had to do was cut that spot.
If he could cut it before the wound regenerated and make all its guts spill out…
Snatch!
"Keuk!"
Blinded by greed, Sanson only stared at his target as he ran, failing to see the Troll's hand reaching for him. As a result, the Troll grabbed Sanson with one hand and lifted him high into the air. -Keeeeok!
"This bastard... Let go!"
Sanson shouted loudly, gripped the longsword in his hand in a reverse grip, and fiercely stabbed the base of the Troll's thumb. The longsword's blade dug deep, and the Troll let out a pained scream. It screamed, but... -Keeeeuh...
It did not loosen its grip on Sanson in the slightest. The Troll's bloodshot, yellow eyes met Sanson's. -Keeeeuh...
"This bastard..."
Though words were not exchanged, he intuitively knew the battle was decided in that moment. The Troll had caught Sanson overextending out of greed, and then it had endured the full-force counterattack Sanson had delivered. Now, Sanson had no means of defense.
The match was over.
"Damn it..."
In the wild, a battle was a fight for survival. The victor eats the loser, and the loser becomes the victor's blood and flesh. There was no good or evil, only pure survival.
The Troll opened its mouth wide to exercise its right as the victor. And Sanson ground his teeth as he watched the Troll's enormous mouth approach, ready to chew his head off. 'Is this how it ends?'
"Brother!"
He could see Oliver shouting and running from a distance, but it was useless. Before he could arrive, his own head would be chewed and crushed in the Troll's mouth. 'Damn it, it was… it was just the beginning.'
He was getting stronger. He had actually become stronger. He would become even stronger in the future.
He was just now realizing what a golden opportunity had come into his life, and now it was ending here before he could even see its fruits. This was too unfair.
"Damn, damn, daaaamn it!"
"Shut up!"
Someone answered Sanson's cry of indignation. A very familiar, yet childish voice. Before Sanson could realize who the owner of the voice was, a tremendous shockwave erupted.
Kwaaaang!
A deafening roar, like a house-sized boulder being shattered, rang out. And what Sanson saw was the head of the Troll that was about to eat him blown away without a trace, and…
"Gooooood job. A reeeeeeal good job. Huh?" ...
Patrick's scowling face looking down at him.
"Young... Young Master?"
How strange.
Was it possible for relief and fear to coexist as emotions?
Sanson.
He had been an exceptional child since he was young. He possessed a superior physique and innate strength compared to his peers, and yet he was also upright in character, so he was never short of friends. Making use of those qualities, he volunteered as a soldier for the fief and immediately stood out among the other soldiers.
To stand out even among the soldiers of the Schneider Fief, famous for its strong troops, his talent was truly outstanding. If not for that trash Brian, he might have already undergone knight training and been knighted by now.
And recently, after Brian's downfall, he was appointed captain of the fief's guards, once again running on the fast track of life. Such a man, Sanson...
"Is it hard?"
"No, sir."
"Why? It's hard. It's not hard? It's normal to find it hard when your head's on the ground, isn't it?"
"..."
"Or what. Do you sleep with your head on the ground?"
"No, sir."
"Be honest. It's hard, isn't it? Right?"
"... Yes."
"You damn brat!"
Patrick kicked the side of Sanson, who still had his head on the ground.
And then...
"Hard? This is hard? Huh? Getting crunched to bits in a Troll's mouth is easy, but this is hard? Huh?"
"..."
He couldn't bring himself to say, "You told me to be honest, you brat." It was truly a strange thing. The savior who had saved his life just thirty minutes ago was right there.
But...
"Aigoo, my insides are boiling, my heart is collapsing, huh? I taught you all that, and you couldn't wait to get yourself killed by some Troll trash?"
His gratitude completely vanished. How could this be? Patrick possessed the strange talent of making even a decent person ungrateful.
"What's the point of doing well at first? In the end, you got greedy and ended up in that mess, didn't you?"
At those words, Sanson grumbled inwardly. 'If you were watching from the beginning, you could have helped a little sooner.'
"..."
"What was that?"
"Did I say that out loud?"
"Yep. Very clearly."
"..."
Wouldn't it have been better to just get eaten by the Troll earlier? Sanson found himself thinking.
"I have some business to attend to, so let's stop here for a moment. We'll continue this later."
Patrick said, dusting off his hands. In front of him was the battered Sanson, and Patrick grumbled as he got up.
Then...
"Hey, Soldier A." "It's Oliver?"
"So what?"
Oliver thought it might be better to just be Soldier A. Patrick said to Oliver.
"First, take this guy and get him treated. Tsk tsk, to get injured like this from fighting a mere Troll."
"..."
He hadn't gotten any injuries from the Troll.
"I have some things to report to my father, so tell the fief's soldiers to gather at the training grounds this evening."
"Yes, I understand."
"Good. See you then."
To Oliver, Patrick's words sounded like, 'I'll kill you then.'
Baron Schneider was greatly surprised.
"This... is all this money really what you earned?"
"Yes. Well, it's not much, but I made a small profit."
"Hahaha. Hahahaha..."
Baron Schneider let out a hollow laugh. He knew his son had left the fief loaded with monster materials. But even if he was going to make money, he never imagined he would bring back this much.
70 gold.
It was a huge sum of money, an amount Baron Schneider had never touched in his life. And even this wasn't all of it.
"I spent about 30 gold. Since I went all that way, I thought it would be good to buy some things needed for the fief here."
When Patrick left, he had started with five cargo wagons. But the returning procession had grown to ten wagons, filled with food and clothing that would help the fief, and weapons for the fief's soldiers. After buying all that, he still returned with a profit of 70 gold.
"Then does that mean the original profit was 100 gold?"
"That's right."
"How could you make such a profit? How on earth..."
The profit Baron Schneider had expected was about 20 gold. He had been looking forward to it, thinking that even that amount would be enough for the fief's people to spend the winter comfortably. But his son had shattered his expectations and brought back results that far exceeded them.
"Hahaha. Amazing. I'm proud of you, Patrick."
"Oh, it's nothing."
Patrick grinned while waving his hands dismissively. In truth, the money he gave Baron Schneider was purely what he had earned from the trade. He had earned even more than that from a single night's side job, but that was a secret from the Baron.
"Ah, and Father, I brought something else besides this."
"Oh, what else did you bring?"
At Baron Schneider's expectant words, Patrick pulled back the canvas cover of the very last wagon. As he lifted the simple tarp that had been placed on the wagon as a windscreen, there were…
"What... What is the meaning of this?"
Baron Schneider was startled. There were many young children there. Skinny children who looked as if they had starved for a long time.
Their eyes, which darted around cautiously, were filled with fear, and if their gazes happened to meet his, they immediately lowered their heads. Servility and fear ingrained in their bodies. Baron Schneider was not so foolish as to not know what that meant.
"Pa... Patrick, you baaaastard!"
"Ah... Please don't shout. I did a good thing, why are you acting like this?"
"A good thing? You call this a good thing?"
"Of course. I..."
"To bring back so many children as slaves! You! You vicious fiend!"
"..."
"No matter how freely I raised you, this time you've crossed the line. Guards! Seize this brat at once and throw him in the dungeon! Do not release him until he repents for his sins!"
"My lord. That's not it."
"My lord. Please listen to what the young master has to say first."
The workers who had gone with him hastily tried to stop the Baron, but Baron Schneider, furious to the tips of his hair, only grew more enraged.
"What are you all doing? Not locking up the sinner? Anyone who commits a crime in my fief must receive just punishment. My son is no exception. Lock that sinner up at once!"
About an hour later.
"Hahaha. I see. So that's what happened."
Baron Schneider, who had been erupting in fury like a mad dog from hell, had softened like a puppy with a treat before it.
"Hahaha. So you brought back the poor children. Hahaha. You are indeed my son. Truly excellent."
"..."
"Truly, I am proud of you, Patrick."
"..."
"Won't you... answer me?"
"..."
"Son? Son?"
Baron Schneider spoke to Patrick awkwardly and cautiously. But Patrick had puffed his cheeks out like a blowfish and was completely ignoring his father. It was an attitude that clearly screamed to anyone watching, 'I am very upset right now.
Therefore, I refuse to converse with you.'
"W-Well, honestly, isn't it a misunderstanding that anyone in my position would make?"
"Misunderstanding?"
"Huh?"
"Position?"
Why, you brat? What is it now? What has gotten on your nerves this time?
Patrick said to the flinching Baron Schneider.
"So what you're saying, Father, is that I am the kind of person who could actually capture poor children. Therefore, from your 'position', you could make such a 'misunderstanding'. Is that what you mean?"
"Wow..."
Is it possible to nitpick to this extent with just two words? Could this be what the world calls political skill? To the speechless Baron Schneider, Patrick now sat on the floor and began to lament, pounding the ground.
"Aigoo! Aigooooo! Woe is me! I can't live in this sorrowful world."
"No, Son. What's this all of a sudden..."
"My one and only father in this world doesn't trust his son, huh? Treating me like a slave trader and a sinner."
"That's why I said it was a misunderstanding, didn't I?"
"I scoured the area around the fief catching monsters. I went all the way to Parmas and suffered to earn money. I worked so hard, and my own father treats me like a slave trader. Aigooo! How sorrowful!"
Baron Schneider was known as such a good person that he could confidently say to the world, "I may not have money, but I have character." But even he became a villain in an instant when faced with Patrick. Especially from Baron Schneider's perspective, what left him most speechless was that everything his son said was true.
His son had indeed accomplished a great deal. He was a proud and grateful son.
But...
'He's really detestable.' How could he be so grateful for him, yet find him so detestable at the same time? Baron Schneider's principle was that there should be no switch in a child's education, but for the first time, a crack began to form in that principle.
"Sorrowful! Sorrowful! People of the town, look at me. My father treats his son..."
"W-Wait a minute. You brat!"
Seeing Patrick now opening the window and starting to shout outside, Baron Schneider was genuinely flustered.
"Mmph~. Mmm~, Mmph~."
"Let's talk. Let's talk it out, you brat!"
He hastily covered his son's mouth, but Patrick, as if believing the world must know the truth, was desperately trying to shout something. Lawrence, watching the scene, smiled warmly and thought. 'What a mess.'
This was the assessment of the old butler who had dedicated his life in loyalty to the House of Schneider.