Volume 8 Chapter 28 A New Bond Born of Unavoidable Fate
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The Sienna district of Barreith, the mining city, buzzed with life. It was the newest part of town, its stone buildings gleaming cleaner than the weathered structures of the old city. Under a clouded sky, the air carried a faint shuffle-shuffle of footsteps on gravel.
”Hey, Boit! Been lookin’ for ya!” Klock’s voice cut through the noise.
”Huh?” Boit grunted, glancing up.
He stood in the small garden of a two-story stone house, decent enough for a family of two. The place looked spacious, almost too big for just him.
”What’s this? You buy a house?” Klock asked, eyeing the building. “Plannin’ to open a shop here or somethin’?”
”Nah, just a temporary place,” Boit replied, brushing off the idea.
Klock smirked, leaning against a low wall. “Nice grab. So, how’s it goin’ since you moved to this town? Settlin’ in?”
”Settle in? Hah!” Boit spat. “The folks in Sienna are garbage. Call me a refugee, tell me to get lost. Some theft happens, and the guards come knockin’, blamin’ me without proof. The kid next door wails sob-sob all night—drives me nuts! And the old hag across the street glares every time I pass. Threatened to punch her face in, and she bolted!”
Klock burst out laughing. “Hahaha! You’re gettin’ shunned already? Hah!”
Boit’s scowl deepened. It seemed he’d found a home, but the neighbors treated him like an outsider. No surprise there. Barreith’s locals blamed refugees like Boit for their struggling lives. With frustrations boiling over, of course they’d take it out on him.
”Stop laughin’, jerk!” Boit snapped.
”Haha, my bad, my bad!” Klock wheezed, wiping a tear. “Oh, wait—saw your cart loaded with goods on the way here. Thought you were settin’ up a weapons shop. Guess not, huh? Tough to run a business in this mess.”
”If I wanted to sell, I’d set up in the south,” Boit said. “But there’s no point right now. The Federation’s got no weapon suppliers. Port routes are cut off. What I’ve got, I’m savin’ to sell high when the time’s right.”
”No suppliers?” Klock frowned. “What’s that mean?”
”You deaf? The Federation’s got no blacksmiths makin’ weapons,” Boit said. “Didn’t you know?”
No blacksmiths? That sounded absurd. If there were none, where did all the tools and blades around here come from?
Klock pressed for details. Boit explained that the Federation used to distribute weapons to its people, supplied through trade with the Theocracy. They’d export fine magic stones and goods, importing swords and gear in return. With monster-filled danger zones like Sekurei Forest and Wicked Noirev, the Federation relied on those imports to stay armed. But over time, this killed their own weapon-making skills.
It made sense. If the government handed out weapons, blacksmiths couldn’t make a living. No profit, no work. Small stuff like knives was still made, but large-scale weapon production had dwindled. Now, with the Federation collapsed, blacksmiths might start up again—eventually. The real issue was rebuilding supply lines and getting new weapons to market. Swords weren’t mass-produced overnight.
”Hold up,” Klock said, eyes narrowing. “That makes your stock crazy valuable, doesn’t it?”
”Not yet,” Boit replied. “It’ll be a goldmine once the country’s weapons dry up. That’s when I’ll cash in.”
”Forget the country!” Klock leaned in. “Sell to me!”
Boit raised an eyebrow. “What’s with you all of a sudden?”
”Okay, we’re old pals. I’ll sell it to you. But you’re a knife guy, yeah? You can grab those anywhere.”
”Nah, it’s bigger than that,” Klock said, grin widening. “We’re buildin’ a private militia with Hero at the head. I’m here to recruit you—and buy your whole stock. We’re short on weapons and gearin’ up.”
”A militia?” Boit’s face soured. “What, like some resistance nonsense?”
”Not quite,” Klock said. “Just a band of fighters. Our goal’s to free the Human Continent. Take down the Demon Lord’s Army general and kick ’em out for good.”
Boit snorted. “Only Hero can pull that off. What are you blabberin’ about?”
”Hero’s just one girl, barely twenty!” Klock shot back. “She can’t do it alone, idiot.”
Boit’s brows twitched. Klock’s point hit hard. True, Cianie might handle a lot on her own—her body was young, but her mind was sharp, like she’d lived twice. Still, expecting her to save the world solo was absurd.
”I’ll sell you the weapons, fine,” Boit said. “But I ain’t joinin’ your crew.”
Weapons were just goods to him—cash for the right price. Getting Boit himself on board was the real challenge.
”Come on, Boit,” Klock urged. “This town won’t last. You wanna build your grave here?”
”Huh?” Boit’s eyes narrowed.
”This town’s already a target for the Demon Lord’s Army,” Klock said. “Two nights ago, a monster horde almost hit us. Cianie drove ’em off, but the town’s soldiers didn’t even notice till they were at the gates. A real attack comes, and Barreith’s done for.”
He paused, then added, “We’re leavin’ in a day or two. Hero’s protection won’t be here anymore.”
Boit’s jaw tightened. “So, what? Stay here and I’m screwed? And why’re you ditchin’ this town? Abandonin’ it?”
”We’re at odds with Barreith,” Klock said. “The governor’s in bed with the Demon Lord’s Army. Come with us, man. I’m tellin’ ya, it’s your best shot.”
He skipped the fine details, exaggerating where it helped. Boit looked stunned.
”For real? The people here suck, and now the government’s trash too?”
”No government’s clean,” Klock said. “We’re gatherin’ in the old town now. About fifty of us. Think it over by tomorrow.”
”Fifty? That’s a crowd,” Boit said. “But what do I do? I know how to sell, not swing a sword.”
”We know,” Klock said, clapping his shoulder. “Just handle the coin. Keep track of the soldiers’ pay.”
Boit rubbed his bearded chin, thinking. After a moment, he nodded. A merchant like him was perfect for managing funds. It wasn’t about running a treasury—just keeping things organized. Suzette would handle audits, making it all smoother.
”Count on me, Boit,” Klock said. “When this fight’s over, you and Nora will live good.”
”Yeah, sure,” Boit said, skeptical but softening. “How big can this crew get?”
”No limit, far as I’m concerned,” Klock replied. Money was the real cap, but they had enough for now—gold and treasures from Fishkin, plus some loot from Kispe’s bandit raids. If things got tight, Primlena had promised aid from the Merfolk queen, Primjune. A solid backup, if needed.
”I’ll talk to the shipyard folks,” Boit said, turning away. “I’ll head over early with the goods. Wait for me.”
Klock grinned. “Shipyard folks? You mean the slaves?”
Boit didn’t answer, just headed inside. Klock chuckled, watching him go. Relief hit him—Boit was coming. If he’d stayed in Barreith, Klock might’ve regretted it later. This city was about to become a battlefield, and without Cianie, the toughest fighter around, it’d be a slaughter. Rushelora had barely survived the last attack. Staying meant certain doom.
Boston was probably meeting with Barreith’s makeshift government by now. If they heard about the Demon Lord’s Army closing in and the governor’s betrayal, they’d have to act. Would the enemy strike first, or would an uprising spark? Either way, this town was bound to go up in flames.
The thought of bodies piling up left a bitter taste. But staying wasn’t an option. They’d clashed with Barreith, and out west, people might be waiting for Hero’s arrival. Their work here was done.
Dwelling on it only soured Klock’s mood. This wasn’t the kind of thing a former bandit should be wrestling with. With a slouch, he trudged back toward the ruins.
* * *
”You look glum.”
At the entrance to the old town, a figure greeted him. Orange hair. A white dress paired with white leggings. No fin-like ears in sight—hidden by flower hairpins. Her sandal boots blended perfectly with the fins peeking out, passing as decoration.
”Job done?” she asked.
”Yeah,” Klock replied. “Got us a dedicated accountant. Weapons and extra hands will show up by tomorrow.”
He gave a quick rundown of the day’s wins. The Merfolk princess, Primlena, nodded with a satisfied air, though her eyes darted slightly, not quite meeting his.
As Klock moved to pass, she fell into step beside him. The sunlight caught her ear fins, shimmering with a rainbow glow.
”You haven’t told anyone about last night, right?” she asked, voice low.
”Nope,” Klock said.
”Wipe that look off your face,” she snapped. “Cianie or that demon maid will catch on in a second.”
They walked down the main street together. From her demeanor, this wasn’t a chance meeting—she’d come to find him. Why? For what? Klock’s nerves prickled as she grabbed his sleeve, tugging him off the path to their ruined base and into a completely different direction.
”Primlena?” he ventured.
”Klock,” she said, her tone soft, almost tender. “I can’t marry you. Not without Hero’s blessing.”
Her voice, gentle as a whisper meant for a bedroom, made him freeze. She’d pulled him into a dim alley, shadowed by buildings. The Merfolk princess stood close, her back against the wall, facing him.
”I knew you wanted a child with me,” she continued. “I thought Hero’s rejection would make you give up. I didn’t expect you to be so… persistent. Thinking back, you’ve always been like that. Asking for intimacy, but never meaning harm.”
What was she talking about? Klock’s mind scrambled. He turned his gaze away, frowning, trying to piece it together while pretending he understood.
That morning, after waking up, Primlena had stirred soon after. They’d both seen each other’s disheveled state, silently agreed to keep quiet, and split to clean up before Cianie could catch them. Getting caught meant death for both. This was their first meeting since dawn.
”I was too hard on you,” Primlena said. “I thought I’d been harsh, but your resolve never faded. I saw you as brash, shameless, selfish. But maybe that’s why you caught my eye.”
Klock squirmed, itching to bolt. She was talking about last night, wasn’t she? Problem was, he couldn’t remember a thing. He almost said it aloud but held back—something told him speaking up would earn him a spear through the chest.
Primlena stepped closer, looking up at him. Their eyes locked, inches apart. Was this… lover’s distance? Another step, and she pressed herself against his chest with a soft thump.
”We Merfolk don’t scorn land-dwellers,” she said. “You can have me as you wish. If you want, I’ll even take you to the Sanctum.”
Her orange eyes met his again. She stood on tiptoe, pressing her lips to his. A flush colored her cheeks before she buried her face in his chest.
Whoa, hold up. Had he seduced her in a drunken haze? How had they gone from her hating him to this? What had he done?
What did “have me as you wish” mean, exactly? He nearly asked but stopped himself. Asking would ruin the moment. If he wanted answers, he’d find out firsthand.
Tentatively, he reached out, wrapping his arms around her back, pulling her close. One hand slid lower, grasping her soft curves with a gentle squeeze. She didn’t resist, nestling closer.
A small gasp escaped her. “Ngh…”
His fingers pressed deeper, kneading her flesh. Primlena looked up, her face tinged with embarrassment.
”What we did last night,” she said, “is something you should save for Hero. Go easy on me. Spend your nights with her when you can. With me… make do with spare moments.”
Last night? Klock’s mind blanked. From that morning’s chaos, it sounded like they’d gone at it hard. Was she saying he needed to dial it back? Probably.
”So, I can… be with you?” he asked, testing the waters.
”You want to fill my belly, don’t you?” Primlena said, dead serious.
A shiver ran down his spine. Was she teasing him on purpose? No, this was Primlena—blunt and earnest to a fault.
”Talk like that, and I might just jump you,” he said, half-joking.
”Are you… excited?” she asked, tilting her head.
She stepped back, turning to face away. Her hands moved to her waist, slipping under her skirt to tug down her leggings.
”Make it quick,” she said. “Hero’s waiting.”
With a soft pop, her hip fins sprang free. Hands braced against the wall, Primlena angled her hips back, lifting her skirt just enough to expose herself, leggings pulled only partway down.
Klock’s jaw dropped. How had things escalated this fast?
Her bare curves waited, inviting. Hesitating felt wrong, but refusing now would shame her. No turning back.
He gripped her hips, and she flinched, tense despite her boldness. Slowly, he moved closer, her body softening under his touch.
”Ngh… hah…” Primlena’s legs trembled.
As he pressed on, she nearly stumbled, her knees weak. Her inexperience showed—raw, unguarded reactions. Her body tensed, holding him close.
”You okay?” he asked, pausing briefly.
No answer. Her slender back arched, her form soft and curved. Each movement drew ragged breaths from her, her body trembling early, already overwhelmed.
This wasn’t just sensitivity—she was thrilled, her body betraying her cool facade. Young and unpracticed, she was losing herself in the moment.
The fix was simple: keep it quick.
”Primlena,” he whispered, leaning close. “Gonna speed up.”
”W-Wait?!” she gasped.
He moved faster, ignoring her squirms. She tried to pull away, but he held her gently against the wall, guiding her through the rhythm. Her body jolted, trembling nonstop—likely caught in a rush of warmth.
This wasn’t the quick moment she’d suggested. Her quivering form met his steady pace, her frail frame tightening with every motion.
”G-Guh?!” she cried out.
At the peak, she froze, tiptoeing as her body shook. Her hands slid down the wall, but Klock steadied her hips, holding her close as she gasped for air.
”Ngh… guh…” Her voice broke, tinged with a faint moan.
He lingered, longer than planned, caught in the heat of the moment. Her soft cries mixed with the raw intensity as they stayed close.
”Beast…” she muttered afterward.
”You started it,” he shot back.
He’d kept it short, as she’d asked, but she still complained. Maybe he’d overdone it a bit—her flushed face and shaky stance showed as she crouched, catching her breath. The Merfolk princess, glowing in the alley’s dim light, was a sight that could stir him again if he looked too long.
”I’m headin’ back,” he said.
”Yeah, go ahead,” she replied, still tending to herself.
He left her there, mind reeling. Things had gotten wild, but he’d save the overthinking for later.
Notes:
• Boit – A merchant involved in human trafficking, with a villainous face and a loud, obnoxious voice. He is pragmatic and willing to help Klock escape the country in exchange for something. His relationship with Klock is business-like, though both are aware of each other’s illicit activities.
• Cianie – A noble girl with a fluffy white and light blue dress, indicating her high status. She has a hesitant and flustered personality but is kind and courteous. Her relationship with Klock begins as an accidental encounter and develops into a romantic interest. She has a fiancé but expresses feelings for Klock, complicating their relationship.
• Suzette – The older maid from Viscount Fennec. The head maid at the Viscount Fennec’s villa. She is confident, clear-spoken, and professional.
• Primjune – She is one of the Four Heavenly Kings, appeared as a scaled and finned figure, known for executing the saint’s kidnapping plan.
• Primlena – Orange-haired merfolk priestess, fierce yet elegant | First v8c3 | Sister of Sea General Primjune, subordinate to Primrity | Once captured and violated by Klock, now obsessed with reclaiming honor | Commands Obsidian Riders on giant fish, fights with trident | Seeks to drag Klock to Seabed Temple for marriage trial or execution | Unique note: revenge-driven siren bride who masks fury under ritual grace
• Rushelora – A port where demons are allowed to stay at embassies under special circumstances. It is a location where humans and demons have trade relations.
• Boston – Adelina’s father, who holds a position of power within the church hierarchy. He has a dark secret regarding the death of his wife, Adelina’s mother.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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