Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 013. The Trap (1)

The ponytailed man had called him insane.

Anagin didn’t care and kept walking forward.

Whatever others said didn’t matter to him.

He pushed aside the barrier stretched across the entrance and followed the winding mountain path upward.

“Huh? What the—?”

Not far up the slope, he encountered another group of armed men stationed halfway along the trail.

They hadn’t received any signal from the entrance, so when they saw Anagin, they were startled, but once they noticed their fallen comrades lying by the gate, they immediately grasped the situation.

“You bastard!”

A bearded man wearing a cuirass and helmet tried to shout as he drew his sword.

But before he could even finish his sentence, Anagin closed the distance in an instant and blocked the man’s hand before the blade was fully unsheathed.

The bearded man froze in shock, words caught in his throat.

Anagin ripped off his helmet, grabbed both shoulders, and hurled him straight down the steep slope.

“Wh-what—?!”

Too shocked to even scream properly, the bearded man tumbled helplessly down the mountainside.

It all happened in a single breath.

Of the two remaining soldiers behind him, one thrust his spear toward Anagin.

Anagin yanked the incoming spear, breaking the man’s balance, then hooked his leg and sent him tumbling down the slope as well.

The last one realized something was terribly wrong and tried to shout, but Anagin swung the helmet he had just seized, silencing him before he could make a sound.

Clang!

The crisp ring of colliding helmets echoed as the man lost consciousness and rolled down the slope.

“What was that?”

The sharp sound drew the attention of the armed men stationed at the end of the path, guarding the entrance to the Ruin.

He had hit a little too hard with the helmet. Not that it bothered him.

From the start, the plan had been simple—straight ahead, boldly, by force.

Whether he got spotted or not wasn’t even a concern.

“You bastard, who the hell are you?! Do you want to die?!”

The guards lounging at the entrance, killing time, quickly armed themselves and shouted toward Anagin.

They grabbed their helmets, shields, swords, and spears—some took up slings and bows.

Thwack!

Whiz!

Those armed with bows and slings attacked first, firing at Anagin as he calmly approached from below.

But there weren’t many projectiles, and their aim was poor. They posed little threat.

Most of the shots missed even as he walked, and the few that flew straight were easily sidestepped.

“You useless idiots!”

Cursing their incompetent comrades, the guys armed with melee weapons began to move.

They pushed their shield-bearers to the front and charged downhill in a group.

For all of them to leave their post and rush down together, it looked foolish at first glance.

But since there was only one path leading up, it wasn’t entirely a bad decision.

Sending men one by one against the same Anagin who had already wiped out their mid-sentry squad would have been far more dangerous.

It was their version of strategy.

“You bastard, do you even know whose territory this is?!”

But before they could even finish their angry shouts, Anagin placed a hand on the slope and kicked off the ground without hesitation.

In an instant, his body shot upward, light as a feather, scaling the cliff straight toward the entrance of the Ruin.

“Huh?!”

Completely unprepared for such a turn of events, the armed men charging down stopped mid-stride, gawking as Anagin soared past them.

“You useless idiots!”

The ranged guards at the entrance, returning the same insult they’d just heard, hastily nocked their arrows and loaded their slings.

Just as arrows and stones were about to fly, Anagin hurled the helmet he had taken earlier upward.

Thud!

With a sharp whoosh, the helmet struck two of the ranged men in succession, first bouncing off an archer’s head, then ricocheting into a slinger’s skull.

Both collapsed on the spot.

The throw traced a cunning arc through the air, taking out two men at once.

The display of uncanny skill left the remaining guards frozen in astonishment.

Anagin didn’t waste the opening—he leapt upward like a shadow and reached the ledge just below the entrance in an instant.

“Eek!”

The ranged fighters screamed shrilly as Anagin’s head rose up over the ledge before them.

Instinctively, they tried to back away and run, but Anagin reached out and grabbed their ankles.

Whoosh!

And he flung them down the slope.

“Uwaaaah!”

Their screams echoed as they tumbled down the mountainside.

Anagin pulled himself fully up and stood before the entrance of the Ruin.

His position had changed in an instant.

He glanced around, spotting a sling and some pebbles scattered on the ground.

“Get up there! Hurry!”

The armed men who had lost sight of Anagin below were now scrambling back up the slope.

In their haste, their formation was a mess, nothing like the one they’d kept when coming down.

Anagin loaded a pebble into the sling, spun it a few times, and let it fly.

The curses of the climbing soldiers were cut off mid-word by a sharp whistle through the air, and the stone struck the helmet of the man shouting orders.

The hit was solid. The man dropped instantly, tumbling lifelessly down the steep path.

The shield-bearers behind him panicked, huddling together to form a wall, but their line, shaken and clumsy, was full of gaps.

Anagin exploited those openings, launching more stones that broke their stance and scattered them further.

Finally, realizing they were outmatched, they turned and fled down the slope instead of climbing any higher.

Anagin stopped throwing.

Even after he ceased his assault, the soldiers showed no sign of regrouping. They kept retreating.

Then he noticed one of them.

The man pulled out a fist-sized conch shell from his belt and shouted into it, warning of an intruder.

Anagin hadn’t seen one before, but he could guess what it was. Probably...

“A Communication Conch. A type of magic tool that allows telepathic contact,” said a voice behind him.

Anagin turned and found the ponytailed man standing there.

“What are you doing here?”

“I followed you.”

“No, I mean, how did you follow me?”

He’d climbed a near-vertical cliff. Yet somehow, the man had managed it.

When Anagin asked, the ponytailed man lifted both arms, showing the tattoos that crawled along them.

The markings, shaped like beast claws, wriggled like living things and slid up to his hands, then burst out through the skin, solidifying into metal spikes gripped in his fists.

“Universal Shackles. And these are my surprise spikes.”

He lifted his foot to show his shoes. The front and soles were bristling with thick, sturdy spikes.

“Magic tools?”

“Bingo. And that thing you just saw, the Communication Conch, that’s another magic tool.”

“It lets them talk to others?”

“Yep. Which is why you’re supposed to take out the guy holding it first. Damn, missed our chance.”

The ponytailed man sighed as he watched the retreating armed men vanish into the distance.

“Now that they’ve called it in, everyone here probably knows you’re around. If things go wrong, I might get implicated too."

“Then why’d you follow me in the first place?”

“Well, a madman doing something insane, how could I not watch? You get what I mean?”

It sounded like nonsense, but somehow, Anagin did understand.

Back home, he and his friends had done stupid things like that, too.

There was a certain desire in men to witness madness firsthand.

‘This is completely insane. Let’s do it right now!’ Something like that…

“Anyway, you’ve seen enough. You can go now.”

“Nah, I’ve come this far. Might as well stick around. I want to get a piece of whatever’s in the Ruin, too.”

“Then help yourself. Alone.”

“Oh, come on. I answered your question, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t come here for treasure.”

“That’s fine. I’ll handle that part myself.”

“I’m not planning to protect you.”

“That’s fine too. I can take care of myself.”

The ponytailed man flexed an arm confidently.

It looked like empty bravado, but Anagin neither mocked nor dismissed him.

Even when Anagin had struck him earlier—holding back, yes, but still—he’d taken the blow without much damage. And using those magic tools, he’d scaled that steep cliff with ease.

Just as he claimed, he probably could take care of himself.

When Anagin stayed silent, the ponytailed man grinned.

“I’ll take that as a yes. So what now? If not for treasure, what’d you come here for?”

“I told you. There’s something I want to find out.”

“Yeah? And what exactly is that?”

“The source of my unease and my disgust.”

With that, Anagin stepped into the entrance of the Ruin.

* * *

“You bastards, you’re the ones—!”

Whack!

Before the shouting thug could even finish, Anagin swung the club he’d picked up earlier and struck him down.

He had lost count of how many of these suspected Deodia’s crew he’d taken out so far.

In truth, he wasn’t even sure they were all Deodia’s gang. He’d simply knocked down anyone who attacked him.

Not that it mattered. The important part was that they’d attacked first. Whether they belonged to Deodia or not was irrelevant.

As always, Anagin went through the unconscious man’s belongings.

He took the mace, the dagger, shoes, belt, travel bag, ring, even the man’s clothes—everything except his last shred of dignity: the underwear.

“Didn’t you say you weren’t here for money?”

The ponytailed man raised a brow as Anagin stripped the fallen man of nearly everything.

For someone who claimed he wasn’t after treasure, he sure was thorough.

"There's no reason not to pick up items that have fallen right in front of me."

"You made them fall, though."

The ponytailed man spoke like someone dealing with a lunatic, and honestly, that’s exactly what Anagin looked like.

Anagin ignored him and continued collecting the loot.

As he did, he began to understand why this Ruin Village was so large and why people had started occupying the Ruin for themselves.

Every single one of the unconscious men carried a surprising amount of wealth.

So the rumors were true, this place really was a bottomless well of riches.

And seeing it for himself, he realized the sheer scale was enormous.

‘But still…’

Something didn’t sit right. For a ‘Ruin,’ the items were far too worn by human hands.

Were they deliberately styled to look old?

"I don't think this is an ordinary ruin, no matter how I look at it."

“Why’s that?”

“Because the gods wouldn’t bother stocking it so diligently.”

Anagin said it with certainty.

The very same gods who ignored his prayers would never maintain a Ruin this carefully. Which meant someone else must be doing it.

A third party managing the Ruin.

"Oh-hoho...! That's a bit of a dangerous statement, isn't it? Perhaps, is it the Babaroi Cult?"

“Who the heck are they?”

“Barbarians who worship things like scarecrows, pigs, and fish instead of a true god.”

“Then no. I’m not one of them. I plan to become a god, but I don’t exactly believe in one.”

“Eh?”

The ponytailed man frowned at the contradiction, but Anagin didn’t bother to explain.

“You sure know a lot, though.”

“Travelers have to. It’s how we earn our meals.”

The man puffed himself up proudly.

In any civilized land, it was customary to host travelers, but hospitality wasn’t free.

Guests were expected to repay the courtesy with respect, stories of the world, or bits of useful knowledge. Those who couldn’t offer anything of worth had no right to complain about poor treatment.

“In other words, guys like me need to know a lot just to get by!”

“Heh…”

Anagin let out a small sound of acknowledgment, though he didn’t fully believe it.

It didn’t seem like that was really the reason. Still, he didn’t pry further.

The man didn’t seem like much of a thinker anyway.

So instead, Anagin turned his attention back to the surroundings, scanning for signs—maybe tracks, maybe something beastly.

Pak!

While quietly observing, Anagin suddenly hurled a lock pin he’d picked up from the ground.

It flashed with light, slicing through the air like a streak of lightning before embedding itself with a sharp thunk! in the distance.

Anagin walked toward the spot.

Beyond the darkness stood a wall, and wedged between the cracks was a one-eyed snake, writhing in pain, impaled by the lock pin as it tried to slither away.

“Looks like there’s another sloppy mage hanging around here… or maybe one with a connection to me.”

Anagin grabbed the struggling one-eyed snake and pressed his thumb into its eye.

Pop!

The eyeball burst like a grape, and the snake went limp.

When he withdrew his thumb, blackish-red, sticky blood smeared his skin.

It was fresh, very fresh.

Anagin sniffed the blood, then raised his head and inhaled the surrounding air.

After a moment, he picked out a faint trace of that same scent hidden amid countless others and began following it, as though tracing a thread.

The smell led deep into the Ruin, and without hesitation, Anagin went inside.

He occasionally ran into what looked like practitioners, but there was little real conflict.

They were too busy scavenging treasures to pay him much attention, and he had no interest in them.

Sometimes, groups that looked like Deodia’s men tried to attack him, but Anagin simply clubbed them over the head one by one.

He didn’t bother looting this time—he was tracking the scent—so the ponytailed man collected the fallen men’s belongings instead.

“Wow, you’re making a fortune here. Deodia’s gonna be furious when he finds out his men’s loot’s all gone. But why’s it so quiet? That guy’s the type to jump out of bed if there’s money involved.”

“Really?”

“Of course! He didn’t just occupy the Ruin—he even charges rent to the merchants who set up shop here and runs a loan shark business! He’s completely obsessed with money.”

“Is he also obsessed with offering money to the temple? To receive blessings?"

“…Also?”

The ponytailed man tilted his head. ‘Also’—that implied there was someone else.

He was about to ask who when Anagin suddenly stopped walking.

“Hey… that money-obsessed guy. Is he a round-shouldered, and thick-bellied type?”

“Oh, that’s rude but spot-on. How’d you know?”

“Because he’s right there.”

Anagin pointed straight ahead.

It was pitch-dark since this was the innermost part of the Ruin, but even so, he could clearly see Deodia hiding in the shadows.

Just as Anagin described, he had rounded shoulders and a protruding belly.

“You’ve got good eyes.”

Seeing that Anagin had spotted him, Deodia stepped out. Anagin replied with a bored tone.

“You need something from me?”

“I could ask you that. You barge into my Ruin, beat up my men, and expect me to let that slide?”

“What are you talking about? There’s no such thing as your or my Ruin. They’re public land. Your men attacked first, and I just knocked them down.”

“Back at the entrance, you attacked first, though.”

The ponytail man cautiously pointed out. Anagin replied that they should overlook such trivial matters.

“Anyway, I don’t have any business with you right now. Move aside. I’ll deal with you later.”

Deodia let out a low laugh, half impressed, half amused.

“Unbelievable. I figured anyone who stormed in here like that had to be crazy, but I didn’t expect this level of arrogance.”

“You’re exactly what I expected. Heard you’re famous around here, along with Bender. You live up to the rumor—barely.”

“…You know Bender?”

Deodia’s eyes flicked to the curved blade hanging at Anagin’s waist.

The shape, narrowing toward the tip, was unmistakable. He recognized it instantly.

“That sword—”

“Want it? Here.”

Without hesitation, Anagin tossed the curved sword.

Deodia caught it reflexively.

At that exact moment, Anagin kicked off the ground, closing the distance in an instant, and drove his fist straight into Deodia’s face.

[Face Crusher]

Crack!

The sound of splitting wood echoed through the sealed chamber, booming within the confined stone walls of the Ruin.

“Not bad. For a rookie.”

But Deodia, solid and massive as he was, didn’t fall. He stood his ground, only a thin trickle of blood running from his nose.

Anagin didn’t look surprised. He just shrugged. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ Nove1Fire.net

“I can hit harder. Like this.”

With that, he twisted his hips and struck again. Sending Deodia flying across the chamber and slamming him hard into the far wall.

“Oh, holy hell…”

The ponytailed man stared in shock.

Even if this was the remote western region of Anapik, Deodia was still a well-known figure here, and Anagin had just sent him crashing into a wall like a rag doll.

And Deodia wasn’t an ordinary man. He was a Gigant. Which meant… the one who’d just sent him flying must be a Gigant too.

‘I knew it!’

The ponytailed man’s thoughts rang in his head. He’d suspected it ever since he’d been hit by Anagin’s fist earlier.

Now his curiosity burned hotter. What had driven Anagin to suddenly attack Deodia like that?

Sure, maybe he was just short-tempered, but judging by everything so far, it felt like there was a reason behind it.

Unable to hold back, he finally asked,

"Is something urgent?"

“Didn’t I say?”

“Of course you didn’t!”

“Well, why would I tell you?”

“You son of a—!”

The tone alone was enough to get under his skin, but what Anagin said next froze him solid.

“This Ruin is a trap. A feeding ground for monsters.”

“What…?”

The ponytailed man blinked, not because he doubted it, but because he couldn’t make sense of the words. A trap? For feeding monsters?

He asked again, and Anagin’s answer didn’t change.

“There are artificial monsters all over this place with the same scent. That means this has to be their nest.”

Anagin’s words were calm, but his eyes were cold and sharp.

An excessive number of people for a Ruin.

A Ruin overflowing with treasures.

Too many artificial monsters with matching scent trails.

And above all, that filthy, gut-twisting sense that something wasn’t right.

Put all that together, and there was only one possible answer.

Someone was baiting people here with riches, just to feed them to monsters.

“…Son of a bitch. You’re smarter than you look.”

Deodia stood up, blood dripping from his chin.

Anagin was sure he’d felt the man’s cheekbone crack under his fist, yet Deodia looked fine.

'Is it because of that?'

Anagin narrowed his eyes, watching Deodia chew.

He was grinding some kind of pill, and as he did, the crushed bones in his face began to mend.

"Are you cooperating in exchange for that?"

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Deodia grinned, blood still smeared on his teeth.