Volume 2 Chapter 48: So Close
"What? You want twenty percent of my goods? No way! Absolutely not!"
Inside the caravan, as soon as Garde stated his terms, the caravan leader—a portly Forte middle-aged man—immediately objected.
"Sir, you must understand, in our line of business, the profit margins are razor-thin. We're just making an honest living! If those damned bandits take twenty percent of my cargo, I'll be running this trip at a loss!"
Now that he was sure Garde wasn't part of the bandit crew, the caravan leader decided to change his approach.
"Sir, how about this—if you can convince those bandits to let us go, I'll give you 500,000 Minoan stater. That kind of money could buy you a decent house in Corinnia."
—Even if it was in the lower districts.
As a businessman, the caravan leader had a sharp eye for people. One glance at Garde, and he could tell—whether or not Garde was officially part of the bandits, he definitely held some sway over them.
In fact, there was a real chance he was one of them!
If he could buy off Garde, then he'd essentially be buying off the entire bandit crew!
"No." Garde shook his head. "They only want twenty percent of your goods. That's their final offer. They're calling it a 'toll fee.' As long as you pay, they'll guarantee your safety for the rest of your journey. From now on, your caravan will be their 'business partner.' If you keep traveling this route, you'll never have to worry about bandit attacks again."
Garde didn't need the money. What was 500,000 Minoan stater worth? In Columbia currency, it barely amounted to 100,000 Columbian dollar.
His goal was to implant an idea: paying the toll ensures safety.
Caravans traveling through the wilds faced more than just bandits—they had to contend with natural disasters and Originium creatures as well. Having a bandit crew familiar with the terrain as an escort was much safer.
The caravan really had no choice. Losing twenty percent of their cargo was far better than losing everything. At least they'd still make a profit.
And as for the caravan leader's claim about barely making ends meet—he could save that nonsense for the gullible.
In the wilds, as long as a caravan reached a town with even ten percent of its goods intact, they'd still turn a profit.
Around every mobile city, there were countless small towns and villages. For these remote settlements, there were only two ways to buy products from the city:
Travel the vast distance to the city themselves.
Buy from passing caravans.
And when city-made goods reached the countryside, the prices would multiply several times over.
In the face of profit, even personal safety became secondary.
With a pained expression, the caravan leader reluctantly set aside a portion of his goods for the bandits. Even at the last moment, he made one final attempt—offering Garde ten percent of the cargo as a bribe.
Unfortunately, Garde wasn't even remotely interested in such a small sum.
The caravan incident was just a minor detour in his journey.
Garde was heading to a nearby town to buy a set of clothes for the child on his shoulder—who was no longer just a child, but the manifested will of the Seaborn's god.
He could feel it. The god's other body was now very close to him.
Suddenly, the young voice of the Seaborn's god spoke:
"Hunter, do you… wish to mate?"
"I do not wish to mate."
By now, Garde had almost gotten used to the god's dangerous tendency to bring up mating at every opportunity.
Even if he were completely ruled by lust, there was no way he'd ever entertain the thought of feeding sugar to a Seaborn.
Even without Ascension Power, if the Seaborn managed to decipher his physiology… the thought of millions of Crocodile-Seaborn hybrids storming the land was terrifying.
But mating wasn't actually what the god meant.
"Hunter, you saw… a female land-dweller. Lowly. Weak. You wish to mate."
Garde glanced over his shoulder.
He had already walked quite a distance, but with his sharp eyesight, he could still see where the Seaborn girl's gaze was directed.
Her eyes were locked onto a Forte girl in the caravan—a girl whose body wasn't exactly voluptuous, yet somehow still overwhelmingly full.
Garde fell silent.
A retort was on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated.
Finally, he muttered, "I'm not some kind of breeding crocodile. It's not like I go into heat every time I see a woman. Alright, alright, let's drop it. I need to buy some clothes for your kin anyway—you're close enough now, aren't you?"
Bluntly steering the conversation away, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
Honestly, he had thought Ho'olheyak was the most… impressive he'd ever seen. But clearly, there was always a bigger mountain.
Were all Forte women built like that?
An image popped into his mind.
He swore he hadn't meant to look.
#======#
Character: ——
Codename: Sideroca
Gender: Female
Combat Experience: Six months
Birthday: March 17th
Race: Forte
Height: 164 cm
Upper Bust: 102.98 cm
Under Bust: 76.66 cm
Waist: 61.45 cm
Hips: 96.33 cm
Oripathy Status: Non-infected
Physical Strength: Standard
Battlefield Mobility: Standard
Physiological Endurance: Excellent
Tactical Planning: Ordinary
Combat Skills: Standard
Originium Arts Adaptation: Ordinary
Evaluation: A rookie mercenary from Minos. But let's be honest—what caught your attention wasn't her credentials. It was the fact that her chest is bigger than her ass.
#======#
Garde recalled reading somewhere that human breasts evolved to mimic the shape of hips—compensating for a lack of roundness in the lower body by exaggerating the upper.
But even after countless generations of evolutionary attempts, the idea that a woman's chest could surpass her hips in sheer volume was supposed to be impossible.
And yet, today, he had seen it.
Huge.
The thought crossed his mind, utterly free of impurity.
Men were simple creatures.
For Sideroca, however, her chest was nothing more than two lumps of useless fat.
They were a constant hindrance in combat—never an advantage, always a burden.
She had spent years training to overcome the inconvenience, determined not to let them slow her down.
But neither Garde nor Sideroca had expected what would happen next.
Now that the bandits had taken over escort duties, the caravan leader—looking to cut costs—dismissed a portion of the hired mercenaries as soon as they reached the next town.
Sideroca was among them.
The promised double payment never arrived.
Instead, the caravan leader berated them for their supposed incompetence, blaming them for the loss of his cargo.
In the end, their pay was slashed in half.
It was just another day for a freelance mercenary. Sideroca had no choice but to look for work in the next town, as she always did.
Nearby, Ishar-mla watched Garde's reaction through her own eyes—and his.
She placed a hand on her chest, contemplating whether she should increase its size.
But how big should she make it?
She didn't fully understand Garde's preferences.
What other species considered an advantage wasn't necessarily an advantage for her.
And more importantly…
She was already far from the ocean.
If not for the sake of evolution, she would never have strayed so far from her kind.
She was close now.
Hunter.
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