Vick called out desperately, but no one responded.
If they truly had the courage, they wouldn't have fallen to such straits.
"The Mire Gang has thirty-odd mbers."
"I'm not going to throw my life away."
"It feels like it's better to..."
Looking at their numb expressions, Vick felt an impulse to grab a weapon and cut them down too. A bunch of worthless trash! But then he suddenly felt a sense of release, for he realized he had once been much like them. It was My Lord who had saved him.
"I'll go." At this mont, a man, beaten so badly he could barely stand, apathetically picked up a small knife from the ground and struggled to his feet.
Although surprised, Vick seized the opening and shouted to the others, "Do you want to rot here, get strung up and beaten to death for going down to the river, or co with and overthrow the Mire Gang? Make your choice!"
As he spoke, he bent down, pulled a money pouch from the corpse of the gang underling, and raised it above his head. "Take back what belongs to you!"
"Count in!" A ragged, sallow-faced man stood up.
"Damn it! I've had enough of this life."
"Let's do it!"
More and more people stood up. Whatever their reasons, at this mont, they stood.
Vick encouraged them to arm themselves, which ant grabbing harpoons, binding sharp fish-killing knives to sticks, or finding various other distinctive makeshift weapons nearby.
"Let's go!" Vick shouted, leading the crowd towards the Mire Gang's den. But before they had gone far, a companion called out to him.
"Big Brother! They've run off."
Vick looked back and saw that the crowd that had just been swarming behind him was now reduced to only the man covered in cuts and bruises. This sentence surfaced uncontrollably in Vick's mind: I get it. They just back whoever is winning.
At this mont, he understood he was not like My Lord, lacking that radiance which inspires awe and unconditional loyalty. Likewise, they weren't Hamlet's People. Expecting these n to risk their lives for him was unrealistic, even naive.
Vick handed the money pouch back to the man. "You go back. Take your parents with you."
"Take this money. I have no use for it anymore." The man's courage had deflated, powerlessness flooding his entire being.
"How could money be useless?" Vick seed to sense sothing and questioned the man further until he broke down.
Listening to the story the man poured out made Vick and the few who had remained feel a suffocating despair, but Vick keenly perceived sothing important.
"Ovando City doesn't just have one conglorate. If one doesn't want you, go to another. I've escorted ships for quite a few conglorates. I heard that the Walter Conglorate is hiring, and they don't just pay money; they also provide grain."
In these tis, money might not be that useful, but grain was different.
Vick quickly sent the man on his way, then gathered his team of ten.
"What do we do now?"
"It's only thirty or forty thugs. Five or six are already gone, and not all the rest are even present. They'll go down with a couple of slashes each."
Vick wasn't worried. If My Lord had entrusted him with this important mission, his strength was naturally not to be underestimated, and he had been blessed by My Lord. These riffraff didn't scare him. His original plan was just to build so montum and find an excuse; whether people actually ca or not wasn't important.
"Should we spare those who surrender?"
"No survivors." Vick looked coldly ahead. "Scum like that deserve to die!"
As Vick led his n to raid the Mire Gang's den, a decrepit fisherman's hut, one that had stubbornly stood for who knows how many years, erupted in fierce flas and collapsed into ashes.
「...」
The ecosystem within the Beast Lair was more troubleso than Lance had anticipated. After venturing deeper, those fat pigs weren't as common, confirming their higher place in the ecosystem. As a relatively more perfect creation among the Pign, their numbers were naturally rarer.
Because of their violent strength, Lance temporarily nad them "Pigman Mob" to facilitate recording and describing this monster. In contrast, another kind of small Pigman was recorded as "Pigman Concealer," based on its stealthy traits, to remind those who read the records of this Pigman's special abilities.
Lance intended to make written records, so the nas he ca up with sounded sowhat like ga monsters, rather out of place. Boudica, on the other hand, habitually referred to them by their features, calling those that used hamrs "Hamr Pigs," or by their physique, "Big Fatty Pigs."
Similarly, when describing Pigman Concealers, Boudica preferred to use the term "Mushroom." These nicknas, along with "Knife Pig," "Hook Pig," or calling the slender ones "Sprout," the tall and thin "Bamboo Pole," the short ones "Mushroom," and the stout ones "Fatty" or "Big Guy," all possessed Boudica's characteristic earthy simplicity.
However, the small numbers of the Pigman Mob didn't an the pressure in the Beast Lair lessened. This was because Pigman assassins appeared with alarming frequency, like cockroaches; who knew how many were hiding in the darkness.
They would use all sorts of ways to sneak up and launch attacks. Fortunately, Lance had the foresight to place the two Spellcasters in the middle of the formation. His position at the rear of the group also cut off so of their attacks. In this dark environnt, the Pigman Concealers were like fish in water. Their swift movents still caused trouble for Lance and his team, and the pressure they exuded was imnse, especially when their numbers increased.
Like the fierce battle currently unfolding within the Beast Lair.
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