Chapter 159
Chapter 159. Sylvek
Traveling east through the forested region, I turned south at the right time.
Then, on the third day since leaving Selene, I entered the highway connecting Jutel and Sylvek.
Adjusting the backpack digging into my shoulder, I surveyed my surroundings.
No people were in sight, but fresh footprints and wheel tracks marked the road.
Thanks to easily obtaining Eslard's research materials, I had plenty of time to spare.
I figured I could spend the extra days hunting to secure some quick funds—but things didn't go as planned.
Though [Presence Detection] let me pinpoint monsters, whether they were worth money was another matter. Magic stones were hit-or-miss, and pelts were too bulky to carry in large quantities.
In the end, all I got was one orc magic stone, two goblin magic stones, two nudrook pelts, and five orc tendons.
I also managed to obtain a small magic stone from a mosquito-like monster called a Veegin, but it was even smaller than a goblin's, so it'd barely fetch any coin. Its wings were brittle, and [Appraisal] revealed no usable parts. I collected the whole thing just in case, but it'd probably end up discarded. A rather disappointing haul, but there was good news too.
I secured a large amount of Lanim grass. Now, all I needed was Soglio fruit and alchemy equipment to brew the solution. As planned, I'd head to Sylvek first.
After that, I continued down the highway and arrived in Sylvek without incident.
Lines of pedestrians and carriages stretched before the gate.
Their main trade likely restricted free entry and exit, but from a distance, it seemed they'd let people through after a brief interrogation. Probably easy enough to get in.
Incidentally, surprisingly few towns collected tolls.
Doing so would drive adventurers away, forcing soldiers to handle monster subjugation alone. That's why adventurers' guilds held sway over lords, and adventurers moving for monster hunts were tacitly allowed free passage.
Still, while adventurer licenses were convenient, they had downsides.
In places like Sylvek, identity checks made it easy to track where you operated—unsuitable for criminals or people like me.
Either way, I wouldn't know what they'd ask until I tried.
Joining the adventurers' line, my turn soon came.
The guard frowned openly as I stepped forward.
I thought it was immediate beastman discrimination, but his gaze was fixed on my cheek.
"You injured?"
"Huh? Oh, this? Orc blood. Ran into one in the northern woods."
Wiping the blood with a cloth hanging from my waist, I answered.
The guard watched silently, his skeptical look unchanged.
Probably couldn't believe a beastman boy took down an orc alone.
I set down my backpack and pulled out a long, bloodied strip of meat.
"That… an orc tendon? How many?"
"Five. Ruined one."
Orc Achilles tendons were used for bowstrings. The bow I carried now had one made of dried orc tendons twisted together.
The most valuable orc parts were magic stones, then hides, with tendons far behind.
Tendons fetched so little that adventurers who could kill orcs usually didn't bother collecting them. Normally, I'd prioritize hides too, but cheap loot meant fewer suspicious encounters—and proof of combat ability.
As expected, the guard's expression shifted to admiration.
"Took down three orcs alone? Impressive for a kid. Show me your adventurer's license."
"Not an adventurer."
"You're not?"
"Thought about registering once, but realized taking orders doesn't suit me."
To the puzzled guard, I added:
"Just here to sell and restock. I'll leave town soon, no trouble."
"Don't care either way. You know what kind of place Sylvek is. Cause trouble, and you're in a cage. And hey, register as an adventurer already. Makes travel easier."
"Heard that in Jutel too. I'll think about it."
With permission granted, I started walking—only for the guard to call out as we passed.
"Don't stay at cheap inns. Even if you don't cause trouble…"
The guard placed both hands on his neck, forming a noose with a smile.
◇◇◇◇
Though Count Sylvek's domain was small, he was infamous among nobles.
"So-and-so is under Count Sylvek's care," "May you end up like Count Sylvek," and so on.
Of course, it was an insult—meaning downfall.
Yet Count Sylvek remained neutral. Likely because his industry kept him unaligned. Whatever the reason, his land stayed clear of power struggles, relatively peaceful aside from monsters and ruthless slavers.
Passing through the outer gate, I crossed farmland and entered the inner wall.
My first impression of Sylvek? There are a lot of slaves.
Slaves loaded onto carts, slaves carrying heavy loads for their masters, slaves calling out at market stalls.
Sure, Liedwald and Selene had slaves too, but not this many.
Watching them, I noticed differences.
Slaves on carts looked grim, but those in town seemed less miserable.
Unless they were serious criminals or born into slavery, they'd be freed after a set term. Some masters might mistreat them or ignore contracts, but functionally, it wasn't far from wage advances or penal labor.
Sylvek was the heart of the slave trade. Ironically, treatment here might be stricter than in rural areas.
"Hey, beastie boy! Want some souvenirs? Our rock salt's top quality!"
A middle-aged slave called out, holding up a translucent crystal.
Clear rock salt was premium—not something you'd see at a stall. Probably just salt.
Scanning the wares, I pointed at a small pouch.
"Let me see that."
Taking it, I checked inside.
Pink salt. High in impurities, but versatile—great for meat dishes, commonly used in Selene.
After hearing the price, I handed over a silver coin.
"I'll take it. How long have you been in this town?"
"About two years."
As he gave me change, I discreetly returned a large copper to his hand.
"Just got here. Need to sell materials and restock potions. Know any good shops?"
"Materials and potions… Hmm…"
Pretending to think, he pocketed the copper while his master worked behind him.
"Looking for fair deals. Hence this."
I pointed to my ear. The slave gave a wry smile and nodded.
After getting directions, I left the stall, its calls now livelier.
The main road from the gate bustled with activity.
Slave trader mansions were plentiful, but regular shops operated normally too. The forest monsters weren't too strong, and merchant escort missions were as abundant as in Selene. The Eslard weren't far either, so—slave traders aside—this might be a decent base for any adventurer.
Meeting that demand, a ruggedly decorated large shop caught my eye.
Peeking inside as I passed, I saw weapons and tools neatly displayed, even a magic sword at the back. Tempting, but high-end gear was beyond my budget, and I could craft decent magic tools myself.
Besides, I had the Swift Wind Scimitar now.
Touching the curved sword at my hip, I recalled the orc fight.
The borrowed Swift Wind Scimitar was a finicky magic tool.
The Phantom Blade I gave Ted had [Sword Speed Boost], which assisted swing speed. But the Simitar's [Wind Blade] forced the blade to move on its own upon activation—like the difference between an e-bike and a motorcycle.
It did respond to the user's intent for wind direction, but at my sword speed, it couldn't keep up.
Frankly, it was awkward to use.
Still, it was a unique skill.
After testing, I found it somewhat usable if I toggled activation frequently.
Constant activation for slow swings, or timed with [Heavy Strike] for faster ones. The Simitar demanded skill-adjusted finesse.
Mulling this over, I walked the main road, turning at a landmark.
The surroundings gradually shifted, with brothels and bars growing more prominent.
Ignoring a beckoning prostitute, I dodged a red-faced passerby and hurried on.
Soon, the townscape changed again—smaller general stores and residences stood out. Continuing further, I found my destination minutes later.
A modest shop, its door bearing a sign: Dudley's Goods.
A slightly open window released familiar scents—Seron grass, Actini fruit, Kungs grass, Bescea bark. The faint sweetness? Probably Ackroo fruit. Common but fragrant, mainly used in perfumes for prostitutes.
Relieved it matched my needs, I opened the door—then froze.
Shelves crammed with potions and sundries reached the ceiling. Even in Selene, few shops were this extreme.
Leaning to avoid knocking anything over, I approached the counter—but the old man inside spoke first.
"Healing potions are on that shelf."
"Here for something else. Need to sell magic stones and materials."
Dudley curled his lips, gesturing impatiently.
I laid out the stones, pelts, and orc tendons on the counter.
"Also brought a Veegin—"
"Toss it."
"Ah, right."
As I stuffed the giant mosquito back into my bag, Dudley held a stone to a lantern, inspecting the pelts and tendons.
"Three gold and nine silver. Take it or leave."
"Fine by me. Also, do you carry alchemy equipment?"
"Got some, but…"
Dudley trailed off, eyeing me suspiciously.
"You using it?"
"No. A friend's apprenticing to an alchemist. It's a gift."
"A gift, huh… Whatever. But this won't cover it. Know how much alchemy gear costs?"
"Not an issue."
As Dudley motioned to the materials, I jingled a small pouch.
Annoyed by the gesture, he scowled and stood.
From the back, he returned with a wooden crate.
"This is a masterwork from the imperial capital's workshop. If you want cheap—"
"Mind if I look?"
Cutting him off, I reached for it.
This old man seemed to have a habit of driving customers away. Yet his shop thrived—likely because, attitude aside, his deals were fair.
With permission, I opened the crate.
True to his word, the contents were exquisite. The glassware's clarity far surpassed what I'd used in Selene—top-tier gear for professionals.
Brushing dust from my fingers, I noted the crate itself was filthy.
Most alchemy could be done with cheaper tools. Few needed—or expected—imperial-grade equipment in a backwater shop. This had probably sat in storage for years.
"Price?"
"Ten gold. Like I said, bought it ages ago. Just taking up space."
A steal. I'd have expected double.
Noticing my reaction, Dudley studied me.
My handling likely gave me away. A beastman alchemist was rare, but my lie about a gift was flimsy anyway.
Carefully repacking the crate, I closed the lid.
"I'll take it. Also need Soglio fruit and—do you carry general goods? Parchment, pens, rope…"
"Got those."
"Tools?"
"Go elsewhere."
No tools, unsurprisingly.
Paying up, I wrapped the alchemy set in cloth and packed it into my backpack.
Dudley watched sullenly—then suddenly reached under the counter.
"Planning to carry that on your travels?"
"Yeah, why—"
"Selling this cheap."
What he pulled out was a scroll.
"[Preserve Item] scroll. Won't make it unbreakable, but should handle minor bumps."
"Generous, but…"
"Don't care. Both are leftovers."
He asked for five silver—a bargain, as even beginner spell scrolls usually cost one to three gold. And this one looked fresh, hardly a leftover. Clearly a recommendation.
Paying, I stored it with the alchemy set.
As I turned to leave, Dudley called out.
"Tell your 'friend'—if they brew potions, I'll buy."
"What sells?"
"Stamina recovery."
"Fits the area. I'll pass it on. Oh, know any tool shops?"
The place he grudgingly named was nearby.
Leaving Dudley's, I visited the small tool shop. At the mention of Dudley, the owner chuckled, "Crotchety old man, huh?"
After selecting tools with his advice, I stepped out into the cooling evening air.
Under a dimming blue sky, I wandered Sylvek aimlessly.
The guard had been unexpectedly kind, and I'd found a good shop.
Its wide selection of general goods, plus buying materials and potions, was a huge help.
If Sylvek or Fasden weren't options, I'd have had to go all the way to Jutel Fort south of Selene—a hassle.
At any rate, my trip's goals were complete.
All that remained was returning to the labyrinth—but then, I spotted an adventurer being led into a brothel by a prostitute.
Other prostitutes scanned the sparse crowds for targets. This area, off the main road, had few passersby. They had it rough.
My idle staring made me a target too, so I quickly left.
This too was Sylvek.
Many prostitutes here were likely slaves. Judging based on one or two decent encounters would be hasty.
With three days left until my promise with Phil, I had time.
Recalling the guard's warning, I absently touched my neck.
Maybe I'd experience the town a little longer.
◇◇◇◇
The inn I chose was decent, not far from the main road.
The guard had warned against cheap inns, but slums being dangerous was universal. Not helpful.
Opening the door, the laughter inside cut off abruptly.
The first-floor tavern held the counter's owner and three men at a table.
Regulars, interrupted—but more so, a beastman drew attention. Under their stares, I approached the counter.
"Need a room."
"Just you?"
At my nod, the owner raised a brow.
"Private rooms are full. Dorm's three large copper, meals extra."
"Fine."
"End of the hall."
Taking my payment, he jerked a thumb upstairs.
Ignoring the lingering stares, I entered the dorm—and paused.
"Sylvek folks got a thing for stuffing rooms, huh?"
The moderately sized space held six bunk beds, leaving barely any walking space.
The beds had dirty sheets and thin pelts. Beneath the sheets, straw—blackened and likely bug-infested—served as bedding.
Even a mid-tier inn's dorms were brutal.
"Well, at least rain won't be an issue."
With no other guests, I opened the wooden window wide.
Then, using [Multicast], I activated [Flint] and [Breeze], sterilizing the straw with hot air (careful not to cause a fire). Finally sitting, I unloaded my gear.
Pulling out the alchemy set and [Preserve Item] scroll, I set them beside Eslard's research notes.
Grateful as I was for Dudley's kindness—
There was no question which mattered more.
After some thought, I repacked the scroll and alchemy set.
No need to decide now. I had time before leaving.
Shifting focus, I turned to the notes.
By the window's light, I began reading Ruckendale's memos.
Back when I'd skimmed the original, my [Alchemy] was rank 6 or 7.
Not Eslard's level, but enough to grasp his intent.
Understanding and identifying issues, however, were different.
From a quick read, even Ruckendale seemed unsure.
I couldn't follow some of the memo's reasoning either—likely due to lack of experience with these materials. High [Alchemy] couldn't compensate for imagination alone.
Frowning, I reread as the sun set, cold night air seeping in.
Pausing, I gazed at the moon outside.
Still beyond my reach.
Even with the materials, forbidden potions might be my limit.
Shaking my head, I muttered:
"No, that's wrong. Failure's expected—Eslard failed too. No rushing. Steady progress is the fastest path."
Packing the notes away, raucous laughter erupted downstairs.
Right, I hadn't eaten.
Grabbing my backpack, I left the dorm.
The tavern below was now packed.
The trio from earlier still occupied their table, drinking. Most patrons were similar, though a few adventurers and merchants mixed in.
Spotting an empty counter seat, I took it—prompting the owner to bring stew, jerky, and rock-hard bread.
"Dinner. So, you an adventurer?"
"No. Just passing through."
At my answer, he nodded disinterestedly—then flicked his gaze behind me.
The rowdiness continued, but one corner was oddly quiet.
Ignoring the stares prickling my back, I ate quickly and left.
The tavern was busy, and some adventurers looked broke.
Yet I was the only one in the dorms.
Planned from the start? More slavers meant more scum. This inn probably worked with them.
Setting my backpack by the wall, I waited for an ambush.
But no one came.
The noise downstairs faded, leaving only distant street sounds and crickets.
Moonlight framed the window, creeping across the floor.
Watching it, my focus wavered—until a chilling dread jolted me awake.
In an instant, I drew the Simitar, pressing its blade to a man's throat as [Wind Blade] deactivated, slapping his face.
The other two froze mid-motion.
"You need something?"
The man, choking on my killing intent, couldn't answer.
Finally, one managed:
"W-wrong room…"
"Then leave."
Sheathing the Simitar, I watched them scramble out—soon followed by the owner's shouts as they fled the inn.
Silence returned. I exhaled.
That was close…
The moon had long passed.
Over six hours since dinner. They'd aimed for predawn—experienced.
No focus lasts that long, and this was my first roofed rest since leaving Selene.
Understandable, but—complacency was complacency.
Reflecting, I recalled that dread.
Was that [Danger Sense]? Far sharper than [Presence Detection].
I'd worried [Danger Sense] might become a dead skill.
Against roadside monsters, it barely reacted—my combat speed made threats negligible. The Eslard had deadlier monsters, but seeking danger was foolish. Hard to train.
But now I knew: defenseless, even town thugs could trigger it. Less EXP than real peril, but every bit helped.
Rising, I walked to the window.
The moon drifted over Sylvek's silhouette.
Dawn approached.
In the cold night breeze, I surveyed the sleeping town.
A lone beastman, yet targeted at a normal inn.
More than bad luck. The guard and Dudley were decent, but many here were like those thugs. Human towns demanded vigilance.
If the labyrinth was my base, contact with beastman villages was essential.
Gazing southeast along the horizon, I fixed on a location.
Fasden Viscounty, Lasmano Fort.
The soldiers there guarded where Yunek was supposed to be sent.
The adventurer who freed Yunek might know the village's location.
For maximum safety, I should return, regroup, and prepare thoroughly.
But the mining slaves had no time.
Harsh labor and accidents killed them in weeks—a few months at most. A month had passed since Yunek's escape. Even if the adventurer lived, time was short.
"A few days left…"
Torpas Salt Mines—worth a look.