Chapter 53: The Toll
Elsewhere...
Hans the Merchant wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, squinting into the distance.
Iron Fortress. The city known for its iron production was his final destination. Recently, rumors had been flying that something was happening in the territory—the price of iron ore was fluctuating wildly by the hour. To a man like Hans, that didn't sound like trouble; it sounded like a golden opportunity.
He had brought his entire life's savings, hired nine guards, and formed a ten-man caravan. All of this just to get to Iron Fortress ahead of the competition and strike it rich.
His Guard Captain spoke up, sounding wary. "Boss, the road ahead... it doesn't look right."
Hans snapped out of his golden daydreams and peered forward. The familiar dirt path he had traveled for years was gone. In its place was a vast, bubbling marshland.
The caravan ground to a halt. The horses blew air through their nostrils, backing away and refusing to take another step. One of the guards stared at the disgusting mire and groaned. "Hell's bells, since when was there a swamp here?"
The Guard Captain turned to Hans. "We should detour, Boss. This place looks... cursed."
Hans's face twitched. Detour? A detour meant at least two extra days of travel. That was two days of rations and two days of guard wages. Every gold coin he owned was a coin he had scraped together through sheer grit.
"What's the rush?" Hans cleared his throat. "It's probably just some weird natural phenomenon. Take two men and see if there's a path through."
The Captain cursed him in his heart, but since he was being paid, he had to bite the bullet. He tapped two guards, and the three of them crept toward the edge of the marsh. They tested the ground with their boots.
"Boss! It's solid! The ground is hard as a rock!"
Hans's eyes lit up. "I knew it! Just a bit of mud on top to scare the faint-hearted! Move it! We're crossing now to save time!"
He urged the caravan forward, leading his carriage onto the "swamp."
The moment the last man's heel crossed the threshold of the marsh, the world changed.
The Guard Captain found himself tied to a wooden stake. He was in a damp, pitch-black cave that reeked of the pungent stench of Goblins. Dozens of the green-skinned runts surrounded him, snickering with high-pitched, guttural glee.
A particularly large Goblin stepped forward, using a wooden stick to poke at his trousers. "Let me have a look!" it shrieked.
Another Goblin chimed in, "Open wide for us~!"
The Captain's mind went blank. He began to thrash frantically, but the ropes were impossibly tight. The Goblins swarmed him.
"No! NO! Get away from me, you green-skinned freaks!"
His screams echoed through the cave, only to be drowned out by wet, squelching sounds. He felt as though his body no longer belonged to him.
Guard A found himself in a meadow of vibrant wildflowers. A beautiful Elf girl in a white dress, her pointed ears twitching, was waving to him from a distance.
"Come and catch me, brave Hero of humanity," she sang, her voice like silver bells.
He felt his heart melt. He took off running, a grin plastered on his face. "Baby, don't run! I'm coming for you!"
It was a romantic game of tag. Sun, grass, and a beauty. He was the luckiest man in the world. He finally caught up to her, spinning her around in his arms. The girl looked at him with huge, watery eyes.
"You caught me."
"I did, my sweetheart."
He leaned in for a kiss. The next second, the Elf girl began to swell. Her skin turned a rough, warty green, her frame expanded into a massive, muscular hulk, and tusks erupted from her jaw. A seven-foot-tall Orc was now looking at him with terrifying possessiveness.
The Orc split its mouth open, revealing yellowed fangs, and rumbled in a baritone voice: "You won't be getting any sleep tonight."
His smile froze. "You... GET AWAY FROM ME! AAAAAAAUGH!"
Hans the Merchant found himself lying atop a mountain of gold. Countless coins, stacked higher than any castle, glittered under a brilliant sun.
"I'm rich! I'm finally rich! Hahaha!" Hans rolled in the sea of gold, frantically stuffing coins into his shirt.
Suddenly, a piece of parchment drifted from the sky, landing in front of his nose. Written in blood-red ink was a curse.
[The Golden Curse]: You possess infinite wealth, but you must follow the rules.
Your gold can ONLY be used to purchase "Wandering Bard Services" for your subordinates.
Every male employee must receive ten Bard Services per day.
If the daily quota is not met, your gold turns to stone.
Hans froze. As a merchant, he understood the "Bard Service" subtext perfectly. Do you have any idea how much that costs?! Even with infinite gold, the thought of his money flowing like water into someone else's pocket made his heart bleed. Worst of all—he couldn't spend a cent on himself!
"No! This is my money! MINE!" He tried to hide the coins, but they lost their luster in his hands, turning into dull, grey pebbles.
"NOOOOO! MY GOLD!"
The Real World.
By the side of the Great Road outside Iron Fortress, a ten-man caravan was writhing on the ground like maggots sprinkled with salt.
A burly man was clutching his backside, his expression flickering between agony and a daze, mumbling about "cream puffs." Another man was spinning in circles, alternating between a creepy giggle and a terrified scream. The rest were either clucking like chickens or "swimming" through the dirt, screaming about sharks.
The scene was pure, unadulterated madness.
A Skeleton Knight (Officer-9527), mounted on a skeletal warhorse, trotted past. It was on a routine patrol of its designated sector. The Knight reined in its horse, its empty eye sockets staring at the group of bumbling humans.
It raised a bony hand. A ripple of energy expanded outward.
Hum.
The influence of the [Realm of Death Illusion] was temporarily shielded for the ten humans. They snapped back to reality.
Then, they saw what was standing in their midst. A crushing sense of dread radiated from the Skeleton Knight. This was the aura of a Tier 3 entity. The Guard Captain, a Tier 2 Warrior, could feel the gap instantly—the sheer, immovable power of it.
"U-U-Undead!" someone shrieked.
The entire caravan turned as white as sheets. They wanted to run, but the mental aftereffects of the illusion were still lingering. The Captain felt a phantom pain in his backside, and his legs were like jelly.
The Skeleton Knight ignored their terror. It rode up to Hans and extended its right hand, clad in black metal gauntlets. It turned its palm upward.
Hans squeezed his eyes shut, expecting his head to be crushed like a grape. However, the attack never came. Instead, a flat, emotionless voice rang out.
"Pay up."
Hans opened one eye cautiously. He saw the Knight simply holding its hand out in a "give me" gesture.
"Money?" Hans asked subconsciously. "H-h-how much?"
The Knight's skull tilted, as if it were performing a complex calculation. The Master had said to collect a fee, but hadn't specified a price. Then, the Knight remembered a conversation it had overheard from the Bone Village refugees: "If someone gave me ten gold to sell my backside, I might just consider it."
The Knight spoke: "Ten gold coins. Per person."
One hundred gold coins total!
Hans felt like a hand had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. That was more than half of his operating capital for this trip!
"L-L-Lord Undead! Have mercy!" Hans's tears began to flow, looking remarkably sincere. "That's my wedding fund! Please, have pity and let us pass!"
The Skeleton Knight offered no response. Its parameters were set. It leaned down, preparing to take the coin purse from Hans's belt itself.
The moment the Knight leaned over, Hans's inner monologue turned into a cackle. Heh heh heh, fell for it! You stupid bone-rack! No one takes a coin from my pocket!
A murderous glint flashed in his eyes. He roared: "AN OPENING!"
He whipped a dagger from his sleeve, stabbing like lightning at the Knight's lowered skull, aiming straight for the eye socket!
The Skeleton Knight was faster. It didn't even lift its head. It simply flicked its left hand in a casual backhand.
CLACK!
The dagger was sent spinning twenty meters away. Immediately after, the Knight's right hand followed through with a swing of its own.
SLAP!!!
A thunderous slap connected squarely with Hans's face. His body spun two-and-a-half times in the air before he slammed onto his backside. Half of his face swelled up into a red knot instantly. He felt his molars rattling in his gums.
Dizzily, he turned his head back to the emotionless Skeleton Knight. He immediately forced a smile that looked worse than a corpse's grin.
"Now, now... no need to get touchy. I... I was just making a little joke to lighten the mood! Hahaha!" He tremblingly unbuckled his coin purse and offered it with both hands. "Here, My Lord. For real this time. Please, count it."
He comforted himself: As long as there's life in the hills, there's wood to burn. I can make the money back later.
The Skeleton Knight took the bag and weighed it. It reached into its own storage space and pulled out a small bone plate, tossing it to Hans.
"Drip blood onto it."
Hans dared not refuse. He pricked his finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the plate. The others followed suit. When the last drop merged with the bone, the plate emitted a faint glow.
The world before Hans and his men shifted again. The dangerous, reeking swamp vanished. In its place was a magnificent, impossibly wide highway, clean and flat, stretching all the way to the horizon.
The entire caravan stood with their mouths hanging open, unable to believe their eyes.
"Go," the Skeleton Knight's voice rumbled. "You are authorized to pass. Remember to pay again if you return tomorrow."
With that, it ignored the humans, turned its skeletal warhorse around, and resumed its patrol along the highway.
Hans stood there, dazed, staring at the miracle of engineering before him, rubbing his swollen cheek. Iron Fortress was going to be... very different from what he expected.
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