Each step of its charge sent tremors across the shallow hills, rattling loose stones and flaring Listern's instincts like fire in his veins. The three-headed hound came barreling forward again—faster than its size should allow, each snarl a discordant howl of rage and hunger.
Listern sidestepped the first impact, boots sliding in the churned earth. The monster crashed past him like a boulder loosed from a cliff, flattening a thicket in its path.
Too slow, Listern thought. Again.
The air vibrated. Another charge. He leapt aside again—this time toward a small rise behind him.
Boom!
The beast collided with the hill, its three skulls buried in soil and stone. Its claws raked at the earth, trying to dislodge itself.
Listern didn't wait.
He ran up the slope, vaulted, and landed squarely on the beast's back. His blade was already raised when the central head let out a confused grunt.
CRACK!
A clean strike plunged into the soft meat at the base of its spine.
[CRITICAL HIT – 2667 DAMAGE]
The monster howled in unison across three mouths, bucking and thrashing. One head twisted, teeth snapping toward Listern's shoulder.
He didn't flinch.
SLASH!
[Hit – 607 Damage]
It wasn't enough. The strike landed shallow, glancing off reinforced muscle.
He cursed and leapt back as the creature began to spin, wild and stumbling, blood spraying in arcs across the rocks. Its rage now matched only by its confusion.
Then—
[Status Effect: Weakened – Agility -2]
Listern's body staggered slightly—his limbs sluggish, as if running through thick water.
So it has control effects too. Great.
It wasn't lethal, not yet. Just annoying. Enough to dull his reflexes.
But the blood loss on the beast's side was real.
It reeled, snarling, then charged again. And again.
By the fourth charge, its breath was coming in ragged bursts. One of its heads lolled slightly. Blood gushed in waves from the back of its neck.
Listern waited.
He counted the steps. Watched the twitch of the forelimbs.
Then he moved.
Wham!
The monster crashed forward—and Listern met it with a full-body pivot, using the downward momentum to drive his blade deep into the same wound.
CRUNCH!
The beast slumped. Its limbs failed. One head hit the dirt with a heavy thud.
Listern climbed its collapsing form, driving three more quick, brutal cuts into the already-ruptured spine.
[Enemy Defeated: Cerberic Knight Alpha]
[EXP Gained: 75,641]
He stepped off the steaming corpse and exhaled, chest heaving.
Victory.
Not just survival.
Dominance.
And yet, the system's voice was already drowned beneath the silence that followed.
Two Days Later
Rumors had already begun to fade.
The whispers about a powerful rogue clearing out the Cayas hills had flared hot and fast—but like most tales in the outer city, they burned out just as quickly.
Listern didn't mind. Silence was his ally.
If the people thought the region was cursed instead of cleansed? Better. He didn't need attention. Not yet.
He sipped his tea slowly.
The drawing room of Merrick Keep was quiet, save for the ticking of a wall clock. Across from him sat a rotund man in a deep violet silk coat, his stomach nearly touching the small table between them.
Porter Bell, president of the modest Polley Merchant Guild, was many things—a self-styled connoisseur, a survivor of economic swings, and above all, a man with desperation in his eyes.
"You've heard the proposition, Master Bell," Listern said, swirling his cup. "An exclusive trade route to the Gabriel Viscounty. A rare opportunity, and I believe you'll agree—a mutually beneficial one."
Bell laughed awkwardly, dabbing sweat from his bald crown. "Indeed, my lord. Indeed. I merely wonder… this proposed path… you say it cuts through Cayas?"
"Correct."
The merchant choked.
"Cayas is... that's Cerberic territory! My lord, surely this is jest."
Across the room, old Anker stiffened. The butler's teacup paused mid-air. His eyes widened—he hadn't heard this part either.
Listern leaned back in his chair. Calm. Measured.
"I assure you, Master Bell, it's no jest. That region has been... addressed."
"Addressed?"
"Purged."
Bell blinked. Anker dropped his cup—porcelain cracking.
The merchant's gaze darted to Anker, then back to Listern.
"Forgive me, my lord," Bell said, adjusting his sleeves. "But your… pardon, our noble house, is currently not known for its military strength. Are you saying the Cerberic den was cleared… by Merrick arms?"
Listern said nothing.
He didn't smile. Didn't blink.
Just sipped.
Bell swallowed hard.
He knows, Listern thought. Or he suspects. Good.
That's what Listern wanted. Fear, not proof.
He set the cup down gently.
"The route is clear," he said. "You'll have exclusive rights—under Merrick patronage—to move through Cayas, reaching the Gabriel Viscounty directly. In return, seventy percent of profits come to us."
Bell hesitated.
"Seventy…"
"You'll keep thirty," Listern said. "More than fair, given you're gaining a monopolized route. Think of it, Master Bell. Gabriel is rich in alchemical herbs. Potent, profitable. And no other merchant dares the pass."
"But surely others will follow, once the news spreads—"
"I doubt it," Listern said, his voice cool. "The road is ours. And the predators are gone."
Because I buried them myself.
Bell sat back.
He studied Listern, and for the first time that day, seemed to truly see him.
The lean frame beneath the noble coat. The subtle lines of fatigue and fury beneath the eyes. The hands—too calloused for ink, too steady for lies.
"…My lord," he said finally, "you have yourself a deal."
When the merchant departed, flanked by two nervously polite guards, Anker shut the door behind them and turned to face Listern.
"My lord," he whispered, tone sharp with concern. "The Cerberics. Cayas. That was you, wasn't it?"
Listern didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stood, walked to the tall window overlooking the eastern hills, and stared into the horizon.
"I did what was needed," he said. "The family needed coin. Influence. Leverage. And now… we have all three."
Anker opened his mouth to speak—but said nothing.
Because in that moment, for the first time since the boy had inherited the keep, he didn't look like a reckless, dying noble.
He looked like a Merrick.
And something had returned to his posture that hadn't been seen in decades.
Legacy.