Anagin Chronicles Chapter 4

Chapter 004. The Serpent (2)

“…Well, I suppose?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question, the man hesitated before replying.

Hearing the answer he wanted, Anagin imdiately walked toward the rchant.

Startled by his sudden movent, the old man flinched, and the people who had sat down after the road was blocked began turning their eyes toward Anagin one by one.

When Anagin reached the rchant, the rchant and his ard guards looked at him.

“Are you a volunteer?”

The rchant—who had been loudly promising gold coins to whoever could slay the serpent—pointed at Anagin and shouted. His voice struck like a hamr.

“If you can just slay the serpent blocking the road—”

“Do I just go straight this way?”

Anagin cut him off, ending the rchant’s useless rambling.

The rchant frowned in irritation for a mont, but soon, like any trader, rearranged his expression into a practiced smile.

“Yes, indeed! It’s a single path; you can’t miss it!”

“Ah.”

As soon as he got the answer he wanted, Anagin gave a short reply and walked off in the direction the rchant had pointed.

His steps were calm—so calm they seed almost indifferent. It made others wonder if he truly understood the situation.

The old man reached out and grabbed Anagin’s arm.

“What is it?”

“Shouldn’t you think for a mont before you move?”

It was a stranger he had t only today, speaking out of concern.

“I’ve thought enough.”

All eyes were now on them—especially the rchant’s.

The old man glanced around, then leaned closer to whisper in Anagin’s ear.

“That rchant may not actually want you to kill the serpent.”

Ah, I see. Yet Anagin wasn’t surprised. He’d already heard the faint grinding of scheming thoughts. Still, he was curious what the real motive was.

“Then what does he want?”

“Perhaps he wants the serpent to eat you. Feeding a monster that blocks the road so it’ll let people pass—well, that’s an old trick on the road.”

“Oh, clever. But it’s fine. A serpent’s still just a serpent, no matter how dangerous.”

Having satisfied his curiosity, Anagin released the old man’s hand from his arm.

Watching carefully, the rchant took a sword from his luggage and stepped in.

“Take this. You seem to be unard.”

Anagin accepted the sword and inspected it.

It was an ordinary blade—not old or rusty, but nothing special either.

Well, no sane rchant would hand out a magic sword for free, so that made sense.

However, a few of the people stranded on the road clicked their tongues when they saw the weapon.

They had seen the serpent themselves, and they knew that against such a massive creature, that sword would be no better than a toothpick.

The serpent’s scales were as large and thick as its size; a blade like that couldn’t even leave a scratch.

Only Anagin showed any interest in the sword, swinging it lazily through the air.

“Well, this will do.”

He murmured an ambiguous remark, slung the sword over his shoulder, and continued forward—completely ignoring the stares around him.

The people looked at him with eyes that said another fool rushing to his death.

All except one—the old man.

Because he alone had seen that Anagin’s swordsmanship was far from ordinary.

* * *

Step. Step...

Anagin walked forward with the sword resting on his shoulder.

His steps were calm—so calm they seed indifferent. He didn’t look like soone heading off to slay a giant monster serpent.

Was he being careless? Not entirely. After all, he’d caught so many serpents as a child that he was sick of them. There was nothing to fear.

Even before the rchant offered him the sword, he had planned to go barehanded—because he honestly thought he could just grab it that way.

Well, since it seed convenient enough, he took the sword anyway.

“Now, where exactly is this thing?”

Ssshhh—

A few steps ahead, a sharp hiss reached his ears—the unmistakable cry of a serpent.

Judging by the sound, it was quite large. And sure enough, from the brush, a massive serpent slithered out.

Gray and brown scales interwoven, a head the size of a pig, and a body as thick as a tree trunk.

Because of its size, its outer hide looked like an impenetrable armor.

The serpent seed confident in that armor; it moved slowly, eyes fixed on Anagin.

Ssshhh—

It circled him in a wide ring.

Before long, the enormous body had surrounded him on all sides.

Any ordinary person would have frozen on the spot, but Anagin rely watched it, calm and steady.

He’d seen serpents this large back ho, so it wasn’t anything new.

Though... it felt different sohow. Sa size, but the atmosphere it gave off—the emotion glinting in its eyes—was sothing else entirely.

“Ah, so you’re what they call a monster? The kind that eats people to grow stronger?”

Anagin recalled what his master once said about such monsters—beasts that devoured humans to escape the bounds of re animals. They were said to share a strange kinship with practitioners. Seeing one in person was... oddly fascinating.

Shaaah!

Perhaps annoyed by Anagin’s attitude, the serpent hissed sharply, lifting its massive head from the ground.

A huge shadow swallowed him whole, and then that shadow opened wide—ready to devour him in one bite.

Thud!

At that mont, a dull sound pierced the air.

Anagin had hurled the sword from his shoulder straight into the serpent’s gaping mouth. The creature’s eyes bulged in pain; it writhed violently, head thrashing from side to side.

It didn’t die, though—not with that massive body.

Unbothered, Anagin rushed forward and wrapped both arms around the serpent’s neck. It was thick, yes, but still sothing he could grasp in one go.

The serpent, shocked by this turn of events, thrashed wildly, trying to shake him off despite the pain from its pierced mouth. But Anagin tightened his arms, just as he had with all those serpents he’d crushed since childhood.

Crunch...!

A grisly sound of bones and flesh breaking filled the air. The serpent’s neck visibly began to cave under the pressure.

The monster struggled madly—trees cracked, the ground sank under its weight—but Anagin’s arms only tightened, silent and unyielding.

Snap!

At last, a sharp break rang out, and the serpent went limp.

Its neck had been completely crushed. It had all happened in an instant.

Anagin released the neck, letting the massive head collapse onto the ground without resistance. Then, as if nothing had happened, he grabbed the serpent’s neck and walked back the way he ca.

As though it really was nothing at all.

“Wha... what...?”

When Anagin returned, the crowd’s reaction was nearly the sa across the board.

They stared in disbelief, unable to trust their eyes. Which was understandable.

A man who had suddenly appeared claid he’d go slay a serpent, and then—just a short while later—dragged back a monster the size of a house... who wouldn’t be stunned?

Anagin himself remained indifferent, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“This is the one?”

He tossed the serpent he’d caught onto the ground before them.

When the limp body hit the dirt, several people scread and stumbled backward.

Only a few, driven by curiosity, dared to approach for a closer look.

“Y-yes... Ah, no, yes! It is!”

The rchant’s tone changed instantly, as though addressing a superior.

He’d realized this wasn’t soone to speak to carelessly.

Creak, creak. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head before he carefully asked—

“W-what is your na, if I may ask?”

“Anagin.”

Anagin answered curtly, his tone laced with clear disinterest.

Sensing his impatience, the rchant quickly cut to the point.

“If you wouldn’t mind, might you consider selling this serpent? I would most certainly—”

“You’re a rchant, right?”

“Pardon?”

“I asked if you’re a rchant. Soone who buys and sells for profit.”

“Ah, yes. Yes, I am. But why do you ask…?”

“I heard there are two kinds of rchants. Those who value profit, and those who value trust. Is that right?”

Both mattered, depending on the situation—but the rchant nodded all the sa.

Anagin asked again.

“So, which one are you? The kind who values profit, or the kind who values trust?”

“O-of course, trust!”

It depended on the mont, but the rchant’s instincts told him that was the right answer here.

Anagin pointed to the serpent lying on the ground.

“This is a monster, right?”

The rchant nodded. Monsters that devoured humans were terrifying, but they were also extrely valuable.

“Which part’s worth the most?”

“...The head.”

The rchant hesitated for a mont before answering honestly.

The man before him looked sowhat rough around the edges, but sothing told him that trying to pull a trick here would be a very bad idea.

Hearing his reply, Anagin gave a short nod, grabbed the serpent’s head from the ground, pressed a foot on its body, and tore it clean off.

Crunch!

Without even using a blade, Anagin separated the serpent’s head from its body with sheer strength.

The crowd recoiled in horror once again. The rchant, especially, silently congratulated himself for not trying any funny business.

“Would you like this?”

Anagin, still holding the serpent’s severed head in his bare hands, turned to the old man who had given him a ride.

“You said you wouldn’t take paynt. This isn’t money.”

The offer was as shocking as his action.

The head of such a monster was worth its weight in gold—no, perhaps even more, since such materials were rare beyond asure.

The old man paused for a mont, speechless. Then, he nodded.

“I’ll accept it, gratefully.”

Anagin gave a small shrug, satisfied. It felt awkward riding for free—this way, he was paying his due.

“Got a sack?”

He asked, needing sothing to carry the serpent’s head in.

The rchant brought out the largest, thickest sack he had, and Anagin placed the head inside.

“Ah. You can have the body. Think you can pay for it?”

The rchant answered smoothly, almost reflexively.

“I can’t pay imdiately, but once we reach the city, I can sell it there and give you the full amount.”

“Alright.”

Since the city was his destination anyway, Anagin agreed.

“I’ll need to assess its value, so if you could just—”

“—Handle it however you want. You gave the sword and didn’t lie. So take your fair share.”

In other words: You can keep a good cut. The rchant bowed deeply in gratitude, exhaling in relief.

If he had tried to deceive this man earlier, he didn’t even want to imagine how that might’ve ended.

“Ah! And here—please, take this! The promised reward!”

The rchant hastily handed him three gold coins.

A pitiful price for slaying a monster serpent—but since Anagin hadn’t done it for money, he didn’t complain and simply accepted it.

He tucked the now-heavier coin pouch into his coat and climbed back onto the wagon.

The woman holding a child looked at him nervously, but Anagin ignored her, setting the serpent’s head in a corner before sitting where he had before.

“Woooow...”

The old man’s grandson stared at him with shining eyes, already forgetting how he’d called him a liar earlier.

Even the older sister, though a little frightened, looked at him with awe.

But Anagin’s attention wasn’t on them—his gaze drifted to the old man instead.

“...Thank you for the generous gift.”

“It was just extra baggage anyway.”

“Still, far too generous.”

“Then, could you help with sothing?”

“...”

“As you can see, I don’t know much about the world outside. I’d appreciate it if you could teach a little.”

The old man’s expression shifted; the softness in his eyes sharpened.

“I’m an ignorant man myself.”

“For soone ignorant, you seem to know quite a bit about how things work on the road.”

“That’s only from traveling here and there. Nothing special.”

“I don’t think so…”

Dragging out the end of his words, Anagin gave the old man a sidelong glance. The old man asked quietly,

“...And if I refuse?”

“Well, that’d be disappointing.”

Anagin shrugged. Sure, it’d be a sha—but what could he do? It wasn’t as if he could force soone who didn’t want to help.

The sharpness in the old man’s eyes softened.

“You said you ca here to beco a practitioner, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly. I ca to beco a god.”

“A god... That sounds like quite an impossible dream, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s my decision.”

“Can you tell why?”

“...Huh?”

“I’m asking why you want to beco a god. For a practitioner, the reason is important.”

A reason, huh...

Images flickered through Anagin’s mind—his family, his villagers, all dead from the plague... and the prayer he’d once whispered. Explaining all that felt exhausting. In fact, very exhausting.

How could he sum that up in a single line...?

“Because sothing shitty happened.”

“What was that?”

“Sothing shitty happened, so I’m going to beco a god.”