Chapter 85: How Many Shields Do I Even Make A Month? Why Risk My Life?
"Disappear among the sea of butterflies..."
A cold, sharp voice sliced through the cavernous air.
A series of brilliant blue, quantum-laced phantoms blurred across the rocky terrain. Seele moved like a scythe through wheat, rapidly sweeping toward the group. From a distance, she had spotted a strange man seemingly bullying the local children, and her protective instincts flared instantly.
Leon didn't flinch. He watched the charging Underworld enforcer with a lazy, amused smile. As the quantum blur closed the distance, he simply raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.
Snap.
The sharp sound echoed.
Mid-dash, Seele's foot caught on absolutely nothing. Her momentum betrayed her. The fearsome butterfly of the Underworld pitched forward and slammed face-first into the dirt, sliding to a halt right at the tips of Leon's boots.
Leon stared down at her. 'Her figure was already a bit flat to begin with,'he mused inwardly.'Is a fall like that going to make her even flatter?'
He cleared his throat, suppressing a laugh. "Ahem... for our first meeting, there's really no need for such a grand gesture."
He scratched the back of his head, flashing a perfectly harmless, sunny smile. "You're going to make me embarrassed."
"Who the hell is making a gesture to you?!" Seele's muffled voice exploded from the dirt. She pushed herself up, spitting out a mouthful of dust, her violet eyes glaring daggers at him. "I fell! I tripped! Do you understand?!"
How could anyone look at an obvious face-plant and call it a formal greeting?
"Big Sister Seele, are you okay?" Hook and the other children crowded around, their voices hushed with concern.
"I'm fine..." Seele grumbled. She stood up to her full height, aggressively patting the dust off her shorts and knees. She finally took a good look at the man standing before her. "Who are you?"
Her anger cooled slightly, replaced by wary curiosity. At the very least, she realized she might have misunderstood the situation. The kids weren't crying. More, this guy's clean, stylish attire absolutely did not belong to anyone born in the soot-choked Underworld.
"He's a Trailblazer who came here for sightseeing!" Hook proudly declared, puffing out her chest before Leon could even open his mouth.
Leon just smiled and offered Seele a polite nod. Seeing this fierce, scythe-wielding girl in person brought a wave of nostalgia washing over him. A classic launch-era carry.
"Hook, it's time for you all to head back," Seele ordered, her tone softening as she addressed the children.
"Oh... goodbye, Trailblazer!" Hook waved enthusiastically. "We'll come find you to play again later!"
As the little boss led her companions in a chaotic sprint back toward the clinic, Leon's gaze drifted past them. In the distance, standing near the entrance, was Natasha.
A deep sense of familiarity warmed Leon's chest. This free, four-star healer from the game's launch had carried his team through countless desperate, low-HP moments. It was no exaggeration to say his early account had practically grown up on Natasha's healing.
Noticing his lingering gaze, Natasha offered a gentle, knowing smile and a polite nod.
Leon didn't approach. There was no rush, and nothing pressing to discuss with either the doctor or the butterfly right now. He simply returned the nod, offered a casual wave, and turned to walk away.
Seele stood in place, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully at his retreating back. She didn't pursue him.
Back inside the warm, medicine-scented walls of the clinic, Natasha sat Hook down and carefully asked for the details of what had just transpired.
Hook's eyes lit up. She threw her arms wide, gesturing wildly as she recounted the epic tale Leon had spun for them.
When the little girl proudly announced that the terrifying Lord Ravager was actually 'Pitch-Dark Hook the Great,' a heavy, deadpan silence fell over the room.
Natasha and Seele exchanged completely speechless glances.
Listening to the dramatic buildup, both women had genuinely believed this mysterious outsider was recounting some grim, historical tragedy from the Overworld. They hadn't expected him to be spinning absolute nonsense just to entertain a child!
"What a nasty adult!" Seele finally groaned, crossing her arms. How could a pint-sized menace like Hook possibly be a Lord Ravager?
While Natasha didn't know the exact cosmic definition of a 'Lord Ravager,' the sheer weight of the title made it obvious it wasn't a force for good.
"I don't know who he is either, but he should be quite powerful," Seele muttered, her brow furrowing as she recalled the encounter. "I don't usually fall down."
She replayed the moment in her head. With her agility and combat experience, tripping over her own feet on flat ground was practically impossible. Yet, her face-plant was an indisputable reality.
Combine that with the perfectly timed snap of his fingers... the conclusion was obvious. He had manipulated her.
"Alright, Hook," Natasha sighed softly, gently patting the girl's hat. "Just... don't run around randomly in the future."
Meanwhile, far above the soot and rust, the biting wind of the Overworld howled.
Bronya gripped her rifle, her breathing slightly elevated. Following the strange script etched into her mind, she had led the Silvermane Guards to encircle the Astral Express Crew once again.
"Is this kid really that tough?" March 7th clicked her tongue, her pink hair whipping in the icy wind. She nudged the archivist beside her. "Hey, Dan Heng, hurry up and use your hidden power!"
"...After you," Dan Heng replied, his voice a flat, helpless drawl. He didn't even glance at her.
"Tch, no fun." March 7th crossed her arms, doing her signature little bear shrug.
"Surrender, intruders," Bronya commanded, her voice ringing out across the snow-dusted plaza. "I will ensure you receive a fair trial."
Despite her stern facade, Bronya felt a strange knot in her chest. Because of the script she possessed, she could clearly see that these 'intruders' had been holding back their true strength the entire time.
"Uh, forgive me for interrupting this incredibly tense atmosphere—"
A frivolous, theatrical male voice suddenly echoed from the shadows.
Before anyone could react, three metallic cylinders clattered onto the cobblestones, landing perfectly in the open space between Bronya's forces and the Express Crew.
"Who's there?!"
"So much smoke!"
Hiss—
Thick, acrid purple smoke violently erupted, swallowing the plaza in an instant. Coughs hacked through the haze. One by one, the Silvermane Guards swayed on their feet before collapsing into the snow. Even Bronya and the Express Crew found their vision swimming before darkness claimed them.
From within the swirling fog, a tall, smirking figure casually strolled out.
"I just want to say, Sampo Koski never lets friends who've helped him lose out," Sampo boasted proudly, adjusting his jacket. "See? I, Sampo, always keep my word..."
"What did you say?"
The cold, measured voice came from directly beside his ear.
Before Sampo could even finish his triumphant monologue, the heavy, metallic tip of Welt's cane was pressed flush against his throat.
"Hi... let's not be hasty! I mean no harm!" Sampo squeaked, his hands shooting straight up into the air. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
He hadn't expected anyone to stay conscious. To guarantee everyone went down, he had used a seriously heavy dosage of his special knockout gas.
"I just want to take you guys to the Underworld!" Sampo babbled, speaking as fast as humanly possible. "The surface is way too dangerous right now. We're all wanted criminals by the Silvermane Guards! Sure, the conditions down below are a bit rougher, but the Guards will never chase us down there. It's a safe haven, I swear!"
Welt's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He studied the trembling mercenary for a long second before slowly lowering his cane.
"Is that so?" Welt adjusted his glasses. "Please don't use knock-out gas next time."
As the thick smoke finally began to thin and dissipate, the unconscious Silvermane Guards remained scattered across the ground.
The power gap between ordinary soldiers and the Astral Express Crew was simply too massive. Had Welt, Dan Heng, and March 7th not actively held back during the skirmish, the resulting casualties would have been catastrophic.
Of course, in every chaotic battlefield, there was always someone fishing in troubled waters.
Take Bronya's intelligence officer, Pela, for example.
As a military civil servant, her primary duty was to collect battlefield intelligence, not cross blades with super-powered aliens. Therefore, the absolute second the battle had commenced, Pela had very sensibly crouched behind a solid stone barricade, wrapping her arms securely around her head.
Thanks to this flawless survival strategy, she hadn't suffered a single scratch. And while she had eventually inhaled enough of Sampo's gas to feel dizzy, she was far from unconscious.
As a top-tier intelligence officer, Pela possessed an extraordinary sensitivity to shifting battlefield dynamics. She instantly analyzed the current situation, weighed her options, and made the most tactically sound choice available.
She continued to lie face-down in the snow, faking unconsciousness.
'How many Shields do I even make a month? Why risk my life for this?' Pela grumbled in her mind, keeping her breathing perfectly slow and steady.
Through her half-lidded eyes, she had seen the truth. The Express Crew had clearly pulled their punches. They had no desire to make enemies out of Belobog.
Given how these political misunderstandings usually played out, Pela figured both sides would probably be sitting down for tea and biscuits in a few days. If she jumped up and fought to the death right now, wouldn't she look like an absolute clown when peace was declared?
Although she hadn't received any magical script like Bronya, Pela's razor-sharp intuition screamed that this entire situation was far more complex than a simple invasion. She couldn't detect a single ounce of malice from the Express Crew. Perhaps they truly were here to save Belobog.
And despite Bronya's fierce vows to capture them, Pela felt a subtle hesitation in her superior's commands.
If anyone asked why she was so confident in this feeling... well, they clearly underestimated a manga artist's ability to deduce plot development!
Pela felt a surge of smug confidence.
Her artistic skills were legendary—at least, in secret. When the order came to draw wanted posters for the Express Crew, she and Gepard had split the work. The horrifying, abstract scribbles plastered on the walls were naturally Gepard's doing. The gorgeous, highly detailed shoujo-manga-style portraits? Those were all Pela.
Secretly, the strict intelligence officer was a master manga artist. It was just a shame so few people knew it.
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]