Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 063: Negotiations Broken Down (2)

While exchanging letters with the brats calling themselves the New Argonaut Expedition Team.

The Western Alliance could not help but be taken aback.

It was shocking enough that Anagin—the one known as the Practitioner Killer—was among them, but to be told to actually pick a fight with that man? That was another matter entirely.

People of the world liked to believe that practitioners were those who walked only the righteous path, but that was nothing more than the wishful thinking of ignorant commoners.

Those who could do nothing for themselves always hoped for such things.

That someone would act for them, that someone would walk difficult paths they themselves did not even dare to attempt…….

But reality was cruel, and practitioners were no exception.

If anything, they were often worse.

Think about it.

Practitioners who, depending on their choices, could enjoy long lifespans and youth like nymphs, and wield power that commoners could never even imagine.

Did anyone truly believe such beings could survive by practicing alone with a rigid, upright mindset? When even farmers who tilled the soil and merchants who sold goods had to scheme and think constantly?

The path of a practitioner was like sprinting through a narrow alley crowded with countless competitors, and naturally required constant calculation and awareness.

Fail to do so, and you would be crushed to death or flung aside and killed. And on top of that, you still had to catch the eye of the gods.

A practitioner’s life was no different from living submerged in the waters of pressure and anxiety.

That was why the Western Alliance had no choice but to accept the conditions demanded by the New Argonaut Expedition Team.

The Forest Brotherhood, moving as a collective with the intent of founding a country, was far beyond what they could handle on their own. And they had no desire to clash with the disciples of Chiron Tower, who had been divinely charged with raising heroes.

So they chose to compromise. They would do as instructed and pick a fight with Anagin.

At the very least, it was not a particularly difficult matter.

To begin with, Anagin was a butcher who had smashed the Dolos Family to pieces.

What was more surprising was the fact that he traveled with a monster disguised as a human.

It was astonishing enough that the New Argonaut Expedition Team knew this and still kept her by his side…….

In any case, the Western Alliance, just in case, decided to look into the matter further.

They visited the Dolos Family, which had effectively been ruined by Anagin’s hand, and asked how the fight had come about. They knew the family had fallen after losing to Anagin, but not the precise reason for the conflict.

And there, they received a shocking answer.

Anagin had fought the Dolos Family to protect a monster that had taken human form.

There was no longer any need to hesitate.

* * *

Tramachus’s eyes widened, as if he were hearing this for the first time.

He was not alone.

The New Argonaut Expedition Team, their attendant Sanchonius, the bounty hunters and vigilantes who had joined midway, even those what’s-his-name practitioners—everyone showed shock plainly on their faces. Even Kori and Pais expressed pure astonishment without trying to hide it.

The only one who showed little reaction was the instructor.

Tap—tap—

Grease from the roast dripped down like sweat onto the flames. A sharp sizzling sound rang out.

Aside from the crackling of the fire, there was no sound at all.

That silence lingered for a moment.

“Is it true?”

Tramachus asked Anagin.

“No.”

To such a grave, weighty question, Anagin replied in the same casual tone as always. For a moment, it almost made one wonder if there had been some misunderstanding.

“Are you lying?!”

The Western Alliance’s representative bristled at Anagin’s shameless answer.

He had expected a lie, but Anagin’s blatant confidence only enraged him further. It made it feel as though he were the one lying.

“You’re saying you never helped a monster?”

Even Tramachus, visibly shaken, asked again. After all, he had been the one to push the Western Alliance to press the issue.

“Yeah. If this is about me beating the Dolos Family, that part’s true, but I just beat them because they were idiots.”

“I-Idiots…?”

Someone repeated it in shock without realizing it.

That reaction was understandable. Practitioner families were sometimes mocked as watchdogs guarding estates, but regardless, they were beings who had received mandates and blessings from the gods.

Which meant their founders were individuals who had caught the gods’ attention—people who had earned a certain measure of recognition.

And their descendants strove desperately not to squander the honor and opportunities handed down by their ancestors.

That was their pride.

Because of that, practitioner families could be considered elites among practitioners.

At the very least, they were not in a position to be spoken of like this by a brat who hadn’t even been a practitioner for a few months.

But that was merely common sense.

It did not apply to Anagin.

Because Anagin was Anagin.

“Yeah, idiots. You invite a guest and start talking money, keep pushing for sparring even when they say no, then grab them when they’re trying to leave without causing trouble, and make a nuisance of yourselves. They endure it, patiently even offer a compromise, and you still refuse, then get beaten senseless. If that’s not being an idiot, what is?”

The one-sided, blunt condemnation made people—especially the Western Alliance, composed of practitioner families—gasp in disbelief.

Practitioner families naturally viewed one another as potential rivals, so rivalry and restraint were the norm, but only among themselves.

Being subjected to such abuse by some irrelevant third party sent fury boiling up from the pit of their stomachs.

The Western Alliance’s representative, who had been planning to proceed carefully and even grant opportunities depending on circumstances, abandoned that thought entirely and shouted in accusation.

“According to our investigation, you are still traveling with that monster!”

Every gaze at the gathering turned toward Anagin’s companions.

Kori and Pais. Sphinx.

And Kori and Pais looked at Sphinx.

They themselves were not monsters, and neither was Anagin, so by simple elimination—

Naturally, all eyes converged on Sphinx. Wearing her robe and carrying food, Sphinx froze in place.

“Ah, fuck. Did you boil and eat a horn or something? An old man shouting his lungs out over nothing. What a pain in the ass.”

Anagin dragged over an empty chair nearby and sat down directly in front of the Western Alliance’s representative.

So quickly that no one could stop him.

The distance between Anagin and the representative closed until they were nearly touching.

The sudden move pulled all attention back to Anagin.

He kept talking.

“Well, a useless dog that can’t bite at least has to bark well. If it can’t even bark, it’s truly worthless.”

“You….”

“Ah, ah. I don’t want to hear it. Just tell me, who told you to do this?”

Anagin raised a hand and cut off the representative mid-sentence, asking who was pulling the strings behind the scenes.

Despite the situation, he was treating the chosen representative of the practitioner families of Western Anapik like an errand boy.

All based on nothing more than a gut feeling that he could hear the gears turning in someone’s head.

That rude yet frighteningly sharp insight made the Western Alliance practitioners—who had been laughing and chatting moments ago—draw their weapons.

Once one side drew steel, the other naturally followed suit.

“Everyone’s so jumpy. I’m telling you not to piss yourselves and just talk. Who ordered this? Honestly, I think I already know, but it’s polite to confirm, so say it.”

Anagin cast a sideways glance at the New Argonaut Expedition Team.

For some time now, their looks toward Anagin and Sphinx had subtly changed.

As Sphinx had said, Chiron Tower didn’t seem to teach only how to fight, but it apparently lacked acting lessons. Or else they were just terrible at it.

“I’m not someone who moves on another’s orders—”

“—Yeah, got it. I’m telling you to say it. I’m not asking to hurt you. I just want to know who the idiot is.”

Anagin’s eyes shone with open contempt.

It was absurd to him that the two forces that had come to subjugate the Forest Brotherhood were plotting something like this.

Of course, he didn’t believe for a second that either side was truly fighting bandits for the sake of world peace, safety, or whatever lofty nonsense they spouted, but he had at least expected them to hold it together until the job was done.

“But instead of holding it in, you pull this the moment we meet. How could I not be disappointed? Or what, did you think you could handle it?”

“You insolent little bastard—!”

Someone finally snapped, shouting explosively after enduring Anagin’s tirade.

A practitioner whose face he recognized but whose name he didn’t—what’s-his-name. The one who had joined the Anti-Forest Brotherhood later and kept pestering them to fight.

The man shouted as he pointed his blade at Sphinx.

“Do you think you can handle us all by yourself, spouting that kind of shit?! Is it because of this bitch that you’re pretending to be brave?! Enchanted by a monster?!”

“Sorry, but I have very high standards.”

Anagin answered as if slightly taken aback, making it clear she wasn’t his type, and Sphinx muttered under her breath, “What a lunatic….”

“And I’m not pretending to be brave right now. There’s no reason to do that against idiots like you.”

Surrounded by countless warriors tempered in blood and slaughter, Anagin continued talking with the same arrogant attitude he’d had from the start.

Not a single thing changed—neither the faint tone of his voice, nor his expression, nor his gestures. This wasn’t empty bravado.

As if to drive the nail in, Anagin made a proposal.

“If you weren’t idiots, you wouldn’t just be pointing swords in a situation like this, you’d have already stabbed. So decide quickly. Are you going to attack me, or are you going to talk?”

To attack now, or not.

In other words, he was forcing them to choose: surrender or fight.

Even though he was questioning a number of people large enough to warrant deliberation, his attitude was essentially, If you don’t like it, come at me. That was tantamount to forcing a surrender.

If this many practitioners accepted it, it would be no different from admitting defeat.

An indelible disgrace.

Anagin knew that full well when he said it, and the practitioners present now had no choice but to fight.

At this position, with this many numbers, avoiding a fight would be an even greater humiliation than losing outright.

“Pwahahaha! This is the real deal!”

Just before the fight erupted, amid the air stretched taut to its limit, a man’s laughter burst out.

The voice belonged to Sciron, who had been bound like a dog and sucking on bones.

Despite being gaunt from long captivity, he clapped his hands boldly, full of admiration.

A single practitioner was forcing a far larger group to either attack or submit—how could one not admire that?

Given his line of work, he had seen all kinds of madmen, but even so, this was a spectacle rarely seen.

All except one.

Which made it all the more impressive.

“Now I see why that guy told me to scout you.”

“Periphetes?”

“That’s right.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll tell you later. If I explain now, the conversation will get messy.”

“Fine. Save it for later. They’re going to die soon anyway, so they won’t get to hear it.”

“What the hell are you talking about now?!”

Someone shouted at Sciron’s ominous words.

Normally, it would have been dismissed as the rambling of a defeated captive, but given the circumstances, people were too on edge to ignore it.

Sciron, however, didn’t answer. Why bother replying to people who would soon be corpses? It was a waste of time, a waste of breath.

If he was going to talk, he might as well have a more productive conversation.

“I’ll make the same offer Paia once did. Any interest in coming over to our side? You look like you’d fit in better with us.”

“Shut up!”

Someone shouted to interrupt, but neither Sciron nor Anagin paid any attention.

“No.”

“No interest in the Jacheon cultivation method?”

“I am, but I doubt some bandit trash would know anything about it.”

“Of course, bandit trash wouldn’t. But the one we serve does.”

“I told you to shut up!”

“An elder?”

“Yeah. He might even be coming soon.”

“It’s not a certainty, so I’ll pass.”

“I see. That’s a shame.”

“Didn’t you hear me tell you to shut the fuck up, you bastard!!”

At last, someone who could no longer endure it pressed a gleaming, razor-sharp blade to Sciron’s neck.

Just as he was about to slit it—

Thunk—!

A tree root burst up from the ground, piercing his body straight through from behind.

Sciron smiled.

“Then die. All of you.”

As those words fell, the ground began to tremble, and countless tree roots surged upward, starting to engulf the entire encampment.