Helmut: The Forsaken Child - H.F.C Chapter 27 (Part 1):

Upon reaching the area where several wagons were lined up, Phien immediately went to report to Miles.

The rank 3 mercenaries of the Pace Mercenary Corps were adjusting their positions, each knowing where they ought to stand.

The front was to be managed by the Tariq Mercenary Corps, while the rear was assigned to the Pace Mercenary Corps, as agreed upon the night before.

Finn and Helmut, awkwardly out of place, were to follow from the very back.

A protection mission. An assignment that involved guarding while transporting. For Helmut, protecting something, whether it be a person or an object, was a foreign concept.

In the Forest of Roots, the only thing Helmut had to protect was himself, having nothing to his name and being the weakest among his peers.

‘It must be something worth stealing,’ Helmut concluded, understanding the situation to that extent. The details of what they were transporting were secretive.

Only Miles and the representatives of the mercenary groups knew the detailed route and the destination, a measure to strictly maintain confidentiality.

The specifics would be shared with the third-rank mercenaries after departing from the village.

That they had hired mercenaries in the double digits suggested that the journey would not be smooth.

The Tariq Mercenary Corps had more than twice the number of people on the other side.

The Tariq mercenaries looked at the other side with displeasure or showed signs of vigilance, though they did not overtly display hostility.

The Butan Trading Company was a large organization. With a high-ranking official like Miles present, they would not cause a conflict.

However, that was a matter for those above the rank of third-rank mercenaries. The Tariq Mercenary Corps had brought four errand boys, essentially fourth-rank mercenaries.

It wasn’t simply because their numbers were more than double that they ended up with four. Normally, errand runners are one or two at most. Miles had forcefully included as many as possible, to the point of grimacing.

One of them was actually a third-rank mercenary but was being treated as a fourth-rank due to a broken arm in recovery.

This mercenary, Kelop, made it abundantly clear with his attitude, “I may be treated as rank 4 because of my injury, but I’m not one of you! I’m not at the same level as you!”

And Kelop had been hostile towards Finn and Helmut from the start, seemingly bearing a grudge against the Pace Mercenary Corps. When he accidentally locked eyes with Finn, Kelop burst out yelling.

“What are you looking at, you little runt! Kid, do you even know how to use a sword?”

Finn seemed upset but remained silent, biting his tongue. Kelop sneered as he walked past.

“Coward, just keep trailing behind.”

It was an overt provocation. Kelop then turned his target to Helmut.

“Is that a girl back there? Such a pretty face, shouldn’t you be wearing a skirt?”

Helmut ignored him cleanly. The provocateur was not worth paying attention to.

“Aaargh! How can such people exist!”

Once out of sight, Finn kicked a stone on the ground in frustration.

“If it weren’t for what Phien said!”

“Don’t mind it.”

Helmut recited the words others would typically say in such situations, having learned from observation.

“Aren’t you angry? After glaring at me for calling me a weakling!”

Helmut was actually unfazed by being called pretty or girly. Why that would be upsetting, he didn’t understand.

But being called weak or frail was different. That was an unbearable insult, something he could never accept.

The memory of Elaga dragging him around by the tail and looking down at him mockingly made his teeth clench.

Suppressing the rising anger, Helmut said, “Ignore it. Do you plan on causing trouble on our first mission?”

“Fine, I get it.”

Finn’s anger subsided, acknowledging Helmut’s point. Truthfully, he didn’t have the courage to confront Kelop, a third-rank mercenary.

Soon, the group set off, and Helmut’s thoughts drifted elsewhere.

With the use of Vis, he became more aware of the presences around him. What was once blurry became clear.

Helmut habitually measured the strength of those around him: their movements, posture, and the amount of Vis they possessed.

This was a natural instinct Helmut had developed, akin to a magical beast’s. It helped determine whether to engage in combat or not.

‘Indeed, humans are different from magical beasts. They can conceal their strength.’

While magical beasts expelled their magic outwardly, Vis was a power that pooled inward.

If Helmut’s Vis had been complete, assessing others would have been easier. But even now, he could vaguely sense who held the upper hand. The provocateur seemed weaker among the third-rank mercenaries, perhaps due to his injury.

‘Definitely seems weaker than Tanya.’

Given his current state, Helmut couldn’t confidently claim victory even in a fight with Finn, so ignoring was the best strategy.

Yet, seeing so many mercenaries gathered stirred eagerness within him. The air was tense and rigid.

Mercenaries lived by their strength. Among them, some used hammers or short swords, but most wielded swords.

Helmut yearned to test his sword skills, honed during his time away, against humans.

‘And Phien.’

Among the humans he had encountered, Phien seemed the strongest, even more so than the second-rank mercenary representative from the Tariq Corps.

‘Ten days.’

Helmut murmured, promising himself the time he needed. After that, he planned to reveal his true abilities.

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