Helmut: The Forsaken Child - H.F.C Chapter 40 (Part 2):

For a village so distant from major travel routes, receiving a group of this size was unusual.

The villagers looked at them as if they were a spectacle.

The Pace Mercenary Corps immediately stormed into the only inn in the village and booked rooms.

Even mercenaries hardened by harsh living conditions longed for a comfortable bed during rest periods.

The members of the Pace Mercenary Corps just wanted to rest desperately. After days of not being able to wash properly and smelling from the journey, they craved relaxation.

“Are there any other guests here?”

Asked Phien, to which the innkeeper replied.

“There were two guests who looked like mercenaries, but they packed up and left in a hurry just before you arrived.”

Their arrival stirred the village into a frenzy. It seemed the others fled upon noticing the attention focused on them. Uter clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Those rats really know how to scurry fast.”

“At least now they know they didn’t return to the Tariq Mercenary Corps.”

Deserters and betrayers. The Pace Mercenary Corps planned to spread the word about their actions far and wide. The Butan Company had also promised to do the same.

“Our stock will rise, so we’ll likely receive more commissions in the future.”

The Tariq Mercenary Corps had lost many mercenaries. It would take a long time to recover their diminished reputation and manpower. For competitors, this was welcome news.

“Let’s hope we decline missions like this one.”

Tanya smiled broadly for the first time in days.

Phien, who was a bit stingy, decided to cover that promised tab right away.

As he planned, those who couldn’t drink due to injuries or exhaustion headed straight to bed after sorting the cargo, leaving only a few to come down to the dining hall.

Henry, from the Tariq Mercenary Corps, wouldn’t dare join such an exclusive gathering.

“Hey, Helmut.”

Excluded from chores and brimming with energy, Helmut and Finn, youthful and vigorous, were the only ones to make it to the dining hall.

Phien and Tanya, who had called them down, ended up just eating some pork barbecue before heading upstairs.

“Let’s go to bed early since we’re leaving in the morning!”

Leaving just that message behind.

“This will all go on Phien’s tab. What should we order?”

Finn looked excited. He had experienced every kind of danger on his first mission. From bullying to near-death experiences and even miracles. He was elated.

After ordering practically every available drink and dish from the limited menu, Finn offered Helmut some freshly brewed black beer.

“Here, try this. They brew it themselves.”

After taking a sip, Helmut grimaced.

‘Is this poison?’

The rush of gas made his throat burn and his nose tingle.

However, the pain was minor, and soon a pungent aroma followed by a deep flavor filled his mouth, perfectly complementing the greasy food.

Is this what alcohol is like? He had heard stories, but this was a novel experience. Expelling the impending drunkenness with Vis, Helmut commented.

“It’s good.”

“Right? Their black beer is really something. Let’s order more.”

‘It’s on him?’ wasn’t even a question. Phien was paying anyway.

Finn didn’t hesitate to empty his glass. They ordered until they were full, with Finn visiting the restroom twice, increasingly intoxicated. His speech became slurred and hard to understand, mostly rambling about his fourteen years of life and its harshness and struggles.

During this, Helmut had his first genuine conversation with Finn.

Alcohol supposedly brings out the truth. Though Helmut hadn’t planned on it, Finn’s unexpectedly clear articulation forced him to respond.

“Hey, you think I have some talent for swordsmanship, right? I’ve never seen a demonic beast before this mission, but I managed to fight and swing my sword around. It was my first real battle! Could I possibly make it to rank 2 mercenary or something?”

Most mercenaries, even those with skill, stop at 3rd-rank. Only those who are special advance to 2nd-rank, and only those with skill, experience, and talent reach 1st-tank.

Skill in swordsmanship can improve with effort, but surviving missions and advancing in rank as a mercenary requires more than just effort. Luck and talent are also necessary.

However, Finn had only luck to his name.

Helmut was dumbfounded by such a detachment from reality and bluntly spoke his mind, perhaps due to the alcohol.

“No.”

“Huh?”

“You lack talent as a swordsman. You’re too scared, and your swordsmanship is clumsy.”

Helmut’s cold voice made Finn’s eyes widen.

Heartiness and the size of one’s guts are somewhat innate. If courage was a talent, Finn was severely lacking.

Mercenary work inherently involves risk. Regardless of skill, a coward like Finn would likely collapse from heart strain before long.

Finn blushed and became defensive.

“Hey, isn’t that a bit harsh? I get you’re strong, but to belittle someone like this…”

“But you’re good at cooking. The food you’ve made was all delicious. Maybe you should focus on what you’re good at.”

Helmut spoke earnestly. The food at this inn wasn’t particularly tasty, and Finn’s cooking had been superior.

Considering Finn worked with fewer ingredients and under worse conditions, it was a testament to his skill.

Inventing a slightly different menu each time under those harsh conditions wasn’t easy. Finn seemed to enjoy cooking too.

Helmut had no life outside of being a swordsman.

He didn’t resent this. He had to become strong and wield his sword. And swinging his sword brought him joy. He wanted to be stronger, to surpass even Darien and Elaga, who were stronger than him.

Life in the monotonous Forest of Roots. It was one of the few pleasures and goals he had.

Through the sword, Helmut could achieve everything.

But for those not bound to the sword, those who didn’t find joy in it, perhaps there were other paths to follow.

For the first time, Helmut thought this way. It was a significant development for him, born from observing the diverse lives of humans in the outside world.

It showed he cared enough about someone else to offer such advice.

Finn’s expression turned complex. He stared directly at Helmut. Helmut’s words had struck him hard, sobering him up.

‘I know I lack talent. But still…’

Joining the Pace Mercenary Corps had been a stroke of luck. Living among these renowned mercenaries, Finn naturally wanted to become one of them.

He hadn’t considered any path other than becoming a mercenary.

But Helmut had offered him an alternative, a path Finn had never considered. Finn asked hesitantly.

“You, are you serious about that?”

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