Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.
He had long silver hair and sharp, elfin ears, yet he wore a black uniform. Lying on the sofa and drinking straight from a bottle, he looked somewhat out of place.
Mewheru wasn't drinking to drown his sorrows. As the logistics officer and commander of the blocking force left behind by Beyond's expedition team, he needed some way to pass the time.
Waiting and enduring always seemed to stretch on forever, just like the saying went: a day felt like a year.
He propped his long-booted legs on a nearby table and took another swig, his eyes fixed on a map of the surrounding sea hanging on the gray-white wall.
The core members of Beyond's expedition team had left Transfer Base Island several days ago, heading for the Gate of Limit, where the Gatekeeper lived.
The mission of the mercenary force led by Mewheru, put simply, was to stand by and ensure Beyond's expedition team had support and a safe retreat.
At the same time, Pariston had smiled and predicted that Hunter Association pursuers might show up before long.
Mewheru's mercenaries were to rely on the island's strategic positions, which they had already occupied, and the many weapons left behind to hold off the pursuers.
Ideally, they would sink the pursuers' ships at sea and drown most of their crew. That would be the safest way.
He didn't want the enemy to land and force his mercenaries into fierce battles over every strategic position on the island. That would cost his unit dearly.
Beyond and Pariston had paid a substantial deposit. They had also promised that the remaining payment would make the troops and their families wealthy enough to live without a care for the rest of their lives...
But when all was said and done, they