Little Tyrant Doesn't Want to Meet with a Bad End

Chapter 222: The Assault Under the Silver Moon

On the carriage, Roel lay on a soft bed as he gazed at the sky like a lonely old man.

Charlotte had specially modified a luxurious carriage for Roel for this expedition. The exterior design of the carriage was simplistic since they were supposed to be a group of merchants, but it was an entirely different story on the inside. The ceiling had been altered ‘Rosa-style’, allowing him to control its opacity like an electrochromic window. That was the reason why he could see the night sky clearly even within the carriage.

In truth, Charlotte had her own secret motives for doing that. On one hand, it was to relieve Roel’s boredom, but on the other, she was hoping to use the beautiful night sky to spur his memories of the time they had spent together on the Worun Mountain Range, stoking his feelings for her.

She was actually relieved when she saw Roel sending Alicia off, but she knew that there was nothing she could do if Roel were to start missing his little sister. It was normal for one’s mind to wander when traveling quietly in the middle of the night, so she was hoping that this sky window could distract his thoughts.

However, the reality was that the sky window wasn’t very effective.

Even though his time in Rosa City was quite rowdy, he did enjoy his time there. He had good accommodations, delicious food, and he even got to model for Charlotte’s new clothes too. Other than that, he got to meet Nora and Carter, whom he hadn’t seen for quite a while now. Admittedly, the atmosphere was less than harmonious, but overall, it was still welcomed by him.

Reunions are joyful whereas partings are sorrowful; the feeling of emptiness was only amplified when the city bustle had been replaced by the quiet wilderness.

It had been several hours since Roel had left Rosa City, and it was gradually approaching midnight now. The convention of merchant convoys was to retire for the night and rest a little. It was too dangerous to travel in the night since there was the risk of plundering bandits and demonic creatures.

Naturally, Merchant Roel didn’t want to get into any trouble, so he ordered the convoy to stop by the main road. He looked at the cloaked figure standing right outside his carriage and instructed.

“Cynthia, there’s no need to guard me. There should be no dangers tonight.”

“But milord...”

“It’s fine. Rosa’s roads are known for their safety, and we aren’t too far away from the capital yet. Besides, you shouldn’t forget that I’m not a helpless merchant either.”

“I understand. Pardon me for my offense, Lord Holy Son.”

Cynthia nodded in response to Roel’s words deferentially.

When the Ironwall Mercenaries learned that Roel was under the direct protection of the Earth Goddess, their Holy Son, their first reaction was to cast doubt on the authenticity of the matter. Their doubts were swiftly dispelled though after Cynthia brought ten of the mercenary band’s upper echelon to meet Roel.

Roel didn’t have Peytra bestow her blessing to them—he intended the blessings to be a reward, not an entitlement—choosing to demonstrate his ability to them instead. In the courtyard of the Hundred Birds Gallery, Roel used the Nine-headed Serpent Staff in unison with Peytra’s power to manifest her body into reality, forming a humongous serpent tens of meters in length.

Before the golden divine avatar of their god, the mercenaries swiftly fell to their knees and kowtowed deferentially, not even daring to raise their gaze to look at the latter directly. According to Peytra, this seemed to be a normal reaction resulting from the origin suppression. Only Cynthia, who boasted the highest Origin Level of the group, could barely resist it.

“Wait a moment, what about me?”

“How could you be the same as them?”

Peytra’s voice was overflowing with doting, maternal love as she said those words, leaving Roel’s face reddening in embarrassment. Technically speaking, Roel was just the Holy Son in name, but it seemed like Peytra was really intending to become his mother here.

After a short decree, Peytra’s avatar finally vanished, and the target of the mercenaries’ reverence changed from her to Roel. Roel felt rather awkward being worshiped by others, so he quickly told Cynthia to stop them.

One must know most of these upper echelon members, with the exception of the extremely talented Cynthia, were mostly old people in their seventies and eighties. For someone who had memories of the modern world, it was deeply stressful for Roel to have the elderly kneeling before him in rows, kowtowing to him.

It took a while before everyone finally calmed down a little... though the moment they heard that Roel intended to bring them back to the Ascart Fiefdom, they ended up breaking into tears once more. It was inevitable that they would feel agitated over this matter. Most heretics spent their lives wandering all over the continent, unable to find a place where they could call home.

No one who hadn’t been in their place could begin to imagine just how much they desired to find a place to settle down in. Roel’s gesture meant a lot to them.

First the kowtowing, and now the collective crying; the commotion was too much for the younger Roel and Cynthia to bear. It wasn’t that bad for Roel, but Cynthia, as the leader of the mercenary band, was getting flustered by how they were acting before their Holy Son. Fortunately for her, Roel lent her a helping hand by diverting the topic elsewhere, raising the subject of him needing some guards for the expedition.

That proved to be an effective tactic to stop the crying.

The elders immediately stowed away their tears and put on their professional business faces to endorse their respective teams, hoping to get some slots in the expedition. Soon, it turned into an argument over their loyalty, equipment, the strength of their team members, and all sorts of things.

The first time was always the most important, and the same applied to mercenaries too. Humans tended to be resistant to change, so they usually stuck whatever worked. These sly old men understood this logic, which was why they were arguing vehemently with one another, refusing to back down at all.

If they could get the opportunity to join the expedition and do a good job in it, they could very well become the Holy Son’s close aides. That would be a huge honor, and more importantly, there were great benefits that could come out of that—Cynthia was a good example of that.

Ever since she recovered from her previous physical trauma from the Earth Goddess’ blessing, she had been looking more spirited than ever. On top of that, she said that the speed of her mana channeling had increased significantly, which signified faster growth too. Given her young age, there was a good chance that she could make another breakthrough in the future, becoming an Origin Level 2 transcendent!

There was no one who wouldn’t be moved by such a great incentive!

It was just that there wasn’t a huge disparity in the fighting prowess of the teams, so they weren’t able to come to a conclusion as to who was the best. In the end, Roel couldn’t stand their argument anymore and opted to simply pick the strongest mercenaries, resulting in the formation of a 30-man super-elite team.

This platoon consisted of 1 Origin Level 3, 20 Origin level 4, and 9 Origin Level 5 transcendents. It was worth noting that the Origin Level 5 transcendents either possessed unique bloodline abilities or exceptional skills... such as culinary skills.

Yes, that’s right! Even the cook of this team was at Origin Level 5!

This was truly extravagant, considering how Origin Level 5 transcendents were usually squad leaders in any other army. This platoon had already far surpassed what people of this world would consider as ‘strong’. In fact, Roel suspected that even his father’s personal guards weren’t this frightening.

Becoming a high-level transcendent was really dependent on luck and talent, but it was still possible for most decent transcendents to be nurtured to Origin Level 4. Knowing that the core of their business lay in their manpower, the Ironwall Mercenaries invested great time and effort into developing their own training system so as to maximize the potential of their members. It was due to their competency that the Sorofya House offered them a long-term partnership.

That being said, the Earth Goddess’ Unyielding Origin Attribute had its weakness too, namely its passive nature. Its strong defensive prowess brought about lowered risks, but at the same time, it made it much harder for them to make a breakthrough too. In so many years, the only one who overcame the bottleneck to become a high-level transcendent was Cynthia.

However, things were different now that Peytra had returned.

...

With such powerful transcendents in his vicinity, Roel wasn’t too worried about anything happening, and Cynthia shared his sentiments too. However, during the onset of the night earlier, when the silver moon rose into the sky, her sharp senses suddenly caught the scent of an anomaly for a brief instant. Not wanting to worry Roel before anything was confirmed, she ordered her men to check the area around the convoy thrice, but it was to no avail.

Faced with the confused looks from her fellow mercenaries, Cynthia started doubting her senses too. After all, this was the first time she was escorting the Holy Son, and she was feeling quite nervous despite her composed appearance. On top of that, Roel was persuading her to take a rest too, so after a slight moment of hesitation, she finally walked away from the carriage doors to the campfire, where she could still keep a close eye on the carriage.

“No matter what, I can’t allow anything to happen on the first night of the expedition,” murmured Cynthia under her breath as she insisted on taking the night sentry.

Little did she know that a figure had manifested from the silver moonlight basking the carriage.

“Good night, Lord Brother.”

Beneath the night sky, a silver-haired girl gazed at the black-haired boy sleeping on a bed as she murmured softly with a gentle look in her eyes.

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