Chapter 20

Wyvern meat was firm and satisfyingly chewy, without being so tough that it was hard to bite through. Every bite was substantial, making it truly first-rate meat. Paired with the seasonings and strong liquor that Duantie the dwarf took pride in, and roasted to perfection, it left everyone licking their lips. Even after they finished eating, the rich, savory flavor lingered at the corners of their mouths. It was a taste to savor.

A serving of roast like this might sell for dozens of gold coins in a prosperous city. It was not only delicious but also nourishing. If people ate food like this regularly, they could grow remarkably strong even without any special training.

That was how the children of the great nobles were raised.

"Delicious! Absolutely delicious!" Gerald exclaimed after taking a bite.

"Duantie's skills really do keep improving!" Old Soth nodded approvingly. "When you're old, that cooking of yours will be the finest family heirloom!"

Duantie was nearly fifty, which was still young for a dwarf. He probably had another century or so ahead of him. Hearing Soth's praise, the dwarf, who had been adventuring with him for thirty years, burst out laughing. "I still remember when we first met. I'd just hunted a wolf and was roasting it when you crept over. I thought you were trying to steal something, but then you said, 'I'll trade you some strong liquor for that roast'..."

"Yeah, almost thirty years have passed in the blink of an eye. Back then, I'd only just started out. I was always dreaming of making it big, earning a fortune, and making a name for myself." Old Soth stroked his beard and smiled. "Now my son's all grown up. Not long ago, he complained to me that young Parker wouldn't stay home and learn the trade. Instead, he wants to follow in his grandfather's footsteps and go out into the world..."

"Thirty years. We've all grown old."

"'All' isn't quite right. Only Soth and I are old. Duantie, you're still young." The half-elf, who had grown a beard of his own, smiled and shook his head. "Soth doesn't have the energy he used to. In a few more years, I won't have the strength to lead a caravan on the road either. When the young ones take over, we'll need you, their uncle, to lend them a hand."

Duantie's face fell. "But I don't know the first thing about business! I could take them adventuring, sure, but run a caravan with them? We'd be asking for losses!"

"Don't worry. We're not going to retire all at once. We'll guide them for a while yet." Soth smiled warmly, his wrinkled face creasing. "Besides... before I die, I want to visit the Ancient Elf Temple we went to all those years ago and have a good chat with that immortal elder."

"I'm all for that! The temple's wine is delicious, and the Frog Elder is a real kind fellow." Duantie perked up. "Let's go mooch some wine together!"

As they spoke, Sui Xiong suddenly sensed a powerful wave of malice in the distance. He hurriedly warned Gerald. Gerald stood up to look and saw a band of orcs racing toward them atop dire wolves.

"Orc Wolf Rider Band! Everyone, take up your defenses!"

The Orc Wolf Rider Band was a notorious gang of bandits in the Four Northwest Towns region. They came from the Northern Wasteland, and there were a great many of them. They were ruthless, leaving no survivors wherever they went. A bounty to wipe them out had long been posted on the Four Towns' boards, but no one had ever managed it. More than once, adventurers had gone looking for trouble with them, only never to return.

For various reasons, the Four Northwest Towns had never formed an army. Perhaps it was to prevent war, but it also left them powerless to restrain large, fast-moving bandit groups like the Orc Wolf Rider Band.

As time went on, the Orc Wolf Rider Band grew stronger and stronger. They even dared attack merchant caravans camped in open ground at the edge of town—and repeatedly got away with it.

This time, they had clearly come to attack a caravan again.

Seeing dozens of green-skinned orcs charging toward them on gray dire wolves, the merchants fell into a panic. The quick-witted and decisive ones dropped their cargo and ran into the village to find somewhere safe to hide, hoping the bandits would leave once they had taken enough and they could make it out alive. The brave ones drew their weapons and tipped over their wagons to form a barricade, determined to fight to the death and at least die with dignity. The cleverest of all ran straight toward the Lucky Coin, hoping to join forces with them and seize whatever slim chance of survival there might be.

The Lucky Coin's leaders were all seasoned adventurers. As soon as they spotted the bandits, they got ready to fight. Old Soth dashed into the distance with astonishing agility and began laying traps. He worked incredibly fast, setting one in just a few breaths and showing off the deft hands of an experienced rogue. The guards calmly put on their full gear and took up defensive positions behind the wagons. The dwarf, who had been busy roasting meat moments earlier, climbed into a wagon. When he emerged a moment later, he was clad in heavy full-body armor like a tortoise shell, transformed into a formidable heavy infantryman. The half-elf stuck a whole quiver's worth of arrows into the ground beside him so he could shoot quickly. Even the caravan hands pulled leather armor and weapons from the wagons and prepared to fight.

"B-Brother White, where's your w-weapon?" This was probably the first time Palin had faced a situation like this, and he looked terrified. Clutching his crystal-inlaid staff, he nervously prepared to cast a spell, but couldn't calm himself down. Perhaps to bolster his courage, he edged over to the hulking Gerald and asked in a low voice.

Since being reborn as a giant, Gerald had never used a weapon again. He had buried the battle-axe he once favored in the ruins of White Leaf Village, along with those memories. Now he stood empty-handed, without a single weapon that suited him.

As the enemies drew closer, he frowned and looked around. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He took a few long strides toward a tree about a foot thick.

A merchant standing beside the tree was trembling as he put on his leather armor. When Gerald suddenly approached, the man jumped and stammered, "W-what are you g-going to do?"

Gerald ignored him and examined the tree from top to bottom.

Its trunk was straight, its wood fine-grained, and its branches full. It would do.

He bent down, steadied the trunk with his left hand, and wrapped his right arm around it. As the merchants nearby stared in disbelief, he gave a low grunt and yanked the tree out of the ground. Soil showered down like rain, some of it landing in the mouth of the fellow beside him, who stood gaping like an idiot.

Gerald hefted the tree, then looked at its tangled roots and shook his head in dissatisfaction.

These roots were a nuisance. In a fight, he could easily injure one of his companions by accident.

So he leaned the roots against the ground and stomped on them a few times. Then he picked the tree up and ran his thick palm along it, clearing away most of the troublesome roots. It finally looked somewhat usable. He swung it twice, then sighed.

"Too light, and the balance is off. It'll have to do."

Everyone stared, dumbfounded. These merchants had traveled far and wide; they'd seen strongmen before, but never anyone this absurdly strong! Folk tales might speak of giants wielding trees as clubs, but seeing it happen right in front of them—though they knew the giant was their ally—still left their instincts screaming. The weaker ones could barely breathe, their legs going soft.

Still, seeing how strong their ally was greatly boosted their confidence in victory. The panicked merchants calmed down, and even those who had been looking for somewhere to hide came out with their weapons, ready to fight alongside the others.

The Orc Wolf Rider Band was certainly strong and dangerous, but could they really be more dangerous than a giant who had uprooted a tree and was using it as a club?

Obviously not!

So what was there to fear?

Gerald sauntered back to the Lucky Coin with his "club," then stood at the very front of the group, facing the oncoming bandits with an easy swagger.

In his past adventures, he had fought bandits more than once. But never before had he felt as confident and fearless as he did today.

He even had time to turn around and wave the tree, which stood taller than four or five people stacked on top of one another, at the uneasy-looking Palin. "See? This is my weapon."

"That's a dependable weapon!" Duantie the dwarf exclaimed. "Being tall sure comes in handy!"

"Honestly, I'd rather use something more conventional, like a hammer or an axe," Gerald said. "But I can't find one that fits me!"

"The next town we're visiting is Gold Rush Town. It's rich in ore. I'll forge you a weapon when we get there," the dwarf said. "I'm only an average weaponsmith, but I should be able to make a big axe."

"Then it's settled!" Gerald smiled. "As for payment... well, here it comes."

As they spoke, the orcs on their dire wolves drew closer. They had clearly noticed Gerald, and now they were reining in their mounts one after another, hesitating to approach.

After all, not many people would have the courage to charge at a giant as tall as a town wall, wielding an entire tree in one hand, and risk being crushed into mincemeat.

Not even bandits.

The leader of the bandits, Blood Hand Luer, was an orc clad in leather armor that shimmered with magical light. His curved blade gleamed with the same enchantment, and he was caught in a quandary.

He knew all too well how terrifying the giant's strength must be. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have led his men around and avoided provoking such an opponent. The danger alone would have been reason enough, but the cost of killing the giant would be impossible to make up for.

To take down someone like that, he would probably have to be prepared to lose half his band.

What would he be in this barren land without his bandits?

But the news he had received through a reliable source had steeled his resolve.

His gaze fell on Gerald's right wrist, fixed on the Bone Bracelet that glimmered faintly with magical light.

If he could get his hands on that treasure, then so what if he lost his entire band?

A legendary treasure would let him rule the Four Towns. Even if he returned to the prosperous lands, it would be enough to secure a comfortable life of indulgence and luxury.

If so, then the Orc Wolf Rider Band had served its purpose. Its history could come to an end!

With that thought, he finally made up his mind. He swung his curved blade and gave the order to attack.