Ugly Merchant

Jasper spurred his horse forward with sharp kicks, the animal's hooves thundering against the packed earth as he trailed Fox toward the site where the others had been captured. The cold air gnawed at his exposed skin, and the wind clawed at his hood, finally tearing it free just as he passed a group of children. The moment they saw him, they shrieked—"Kyaaaa! A monster riding a horse!"—and scattered like a flock of startled chickens. Jasper sighed, watching them flee. "I really hope I don't come back as a Dullahan."

getting out of the city, the air changed carrying the scent of pine and distant woodsmoke. His mind raced—would the barbarians truly fear the fake Phoenix, as Breeze claimed? Or would their bloodlust overpower any superstition, driving them to cut him down without hesitation? Countless scenarios flashed through his thoughts like lightning strikes, each more dire than the last.

The leather reins grew slick with sweat in his trembling hands. Swallowing the bitter taste of unease that coated his throat, Jasper turned to his ArmBrace. "Give me the earpiece," he muttered through gritted teeth, not wanting Fox to overhear.

A small compartment slid open with a soft mechanical whir, and the earpiece emerged like a metallic insect. He secured it in place with fumbling fingers and whispered, "Hey, do you have any combat capabilities? A hidden weapon, anything that could help us if things went south?"

The silence stretched before the response came.

…I do. But you can't access them right now.

"Why not?" Jasper hissed, his breath forming small clouds in the chilled air. "I'm in real danger here. You helped me before with the Phoenix—why not now?"

The hologram won't even be available this time.

The response hit him like a fist to the gut, knocking the wind from his lungs.

I'm not your plot armor, dear user. I can assist occasionally, but you must grow stronger. Be cautious. Relying on me will only weaken you. The game itself is designed to aid you—if you play it right. But if you charge into danger blindly and lose an arm, losing me in consequence, what then?

"I can't abandon Ivar," Jasper argued, his voice cracking with emotion. "He's not just a subordinate—he is family to me."

As I've told you before, I have no emotions. Charging at barbarians is your mistake. Some system features unlock as you level up—the Phoenix is one of them yet I broke the rule and used it. But right now? You face this with your own strength. The world is full of schemes, backstabbing and strong opponents, you have to measure every step you take.

Jasper exhaled sharply. 'Ever since the bandit attack, this system's mood has shifted. I really miss its funny side. Nevertheless, what it said is true—when I was a mercenary, I was more cautious than I am right now.'

Silence fell like a heavy blanket. The ArmBrace had spoken its piece, leaving only the rhythmic clatter of hooves on stone and the whisper of wind through the surrounding pines.

Jasper's thoughts churned. Azm had been reasonable, dispelling the worst rumors about the barbarians. That should have been reassuring—yet what if Azm was the exception? Worse, Jasper realized that his mindset started to corrupt by leaning on the ArmBrace too much, expecting it to make an exception each time he fell into a dilemma.

"Boss," Fox interrupted his thoughts, his voice tight with barely contained panic. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cool air. "What if the barbarians have already killed them?"

Jasper forced iron steadiness into his tone, though his knuckles were white where they gripped the reins. "They won't be harmed. Despite the stories, barbarians aren't mindless savages." He clung to that thin hope.

Fox blinked rapidly, his eyes darting between the shadows. "Huh?" Everything he'd heard painted a different picture—that barbarians were beasts who bathed in blood and enjoyed the screams of their victims.

Once Jasper reached the site where Ivar and the others had been captured, an oppressive silence pressed down on him like a burial shroud. He was an expert at detecting threats; his years as a mercenary had honed his instincts until they were sharp as a blade's edge. Every fiber of his being screamed danger. The forest was too quiet—no birdsong, no rustling of small creatures, even the wind seemed muted.

"I know you are watching behind the bushes," he called out, his voice cutting through the stillness. "Reveal yourselves. We are not following you for anything suspicious. We ask peacefully to talk."

Fox flinched as if struck, his head whipping left and right like a cornered animal. His horse pranced nervously beneath him, sensing the tension.

Whoosh-shush! Tick-tick! Whoosh-shush!

The sounds came from all directions—leather scraping against bark, metal clicking against stone, the soft whisper of displaced air. Then, pushing through the dense undergrowth with the force of avalanches, barbarians emerged. They were titans among men—as massive as polar bears standing on their hind legs, their shoulders broad enough to block out the sun. Dirt and leaves cascaded from their hulking forms as they brushed themselves clean with hands the size of dinner plates.

Their eyes burned with barely contained violence, yet they held themselves in check. The largest among them, clearly their leader, stepped forward. His every movement was controlled power, probably a mid tier Predator.

"Which clan are you from?" Jasper asked, fighting to keep his voice steady despite the way his heart hammered against his ribs.

"We are from the Jabr Clan. I expect you have a good reason to follow us?" The barbarian's voice was a bit rough.

"We really mean no harm, but before we continue speaking, where are my subordinates?" Jasper's throat felt dry as sand.

"Haa haa haa haa haa haa! Would you look at that—their leader came in person for his subordinates. This is really something unusual for the people of the cities. I like how brave you are. Your subordinates are still unconscious; we were waiting for either another batch to come or for them to wake up. We like strong and fearless people. So, let's hear your reason for following us."

Jasper and Fox released breaths they hadn't realized they were holding, the tension leaving their shoulders like sweat. "I'm friends with another clan. So, I sent my subordinates to scout the area when I heard that barbarians were around here. I was hoping you would be them."

The barbarian leader's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Do you think it's an easy feat to befriend any clan?"

Jasper dismounted from his horse slowly, his boots hitting the leaf-strewn ground with soft thuds. The barbarians tensed ready for action, hands drifting toward weapon hilts. He began walking forward, each step was a gamble.

One step. The crunch of leaves beneath his boots seemed clear in the silence. "It's by no means an easy thing."

Two steps. A twig snapped like a bone breaking. "All I did was—"

Three steps. a bead of sweat dropped from his temple. "Help a barbarian save his wife."

Four steps. He could feel the heat radiating from the giant's body now. "Afterwards, we became brothers."

Five steps. The barbarian's breathing was audible—deep, controlled, dangerous. "It's probably hard to believe."

Six steps. Jasper was close enough to spot the stains and scars marring the barbarian's furs. "But what can I do?"

Seven steps. The other barbarians had moved closer, forming a semicircle of towering menace. "That's the truth."

Eight steps. He could smell the barbarian's breath now—meat and something earthy. "Whether you accept it or reject it."

"Halt!"

The command cracked like a whip. The barbarian looked down at Jasper's comparatively tiny frame, muscles coiled but unmoving. When the hooded figure stopped within arm's reach, the giant extended one massive hand, fingers splayed. His palm covered Jasper's entire skull like a helmet, the rough calluses scraping against the fabric of his hood.

Jasper stood stone-still, his breathing shallow but controlled. Strange calm settled over him like a shroud.

"I'm going to be polite and ask—is it okay for me to take off your hood? I want to see the face of the person claiming to be friends with our kin." The barbarian's voice was softer now, almost gentle despite its rumbling depth.

"I don't mind, but my face isn't pleasant to the eye. Just so you aren't surprised." Jasper's words came out steady.

The barbarian's fingers, thick as tree branches, carefully lifted the hood away. What they revealed was a nightmarish appearance.

The barbarian leader's muscles tensed for a heartbeat, then relaxed like a bow releasing its string. The same wave of tension and release rippled through his warriors. Their expressions shifted from shock to something deeper—pity, perhaps even reverence.

"The Thousand Piercing Needles," he said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "How pitiful."

"Huh? What is that?"

"It's a deadly kind of poison. We don't know where it came from. There is no cure for it yet. All we can do is give tonics to the poisoned and let them struggle against it. You share the same signs as our kin who died fighting against it. I'm not sure how long you'll survive."

Jasper was shocked. He didn't know what to say or do. Then, in a moment of realization, he asked, "What's the longest duration a poisoned person has ever lived in your clan?"

"About a year and a half."

"What?!" Jasper exclaimed. clearly confused

"What?" The barbarian questioned the sudden reaction.

"But…" Jasper stopped and grabbed the barbarian's hand, asking him to follow a bit farther so Fox wouldn't hear. Fox was already some distance away, but Jasper wanted to be sure.

The barbarian followed, gesturing to the others to stay still. It was like a father following his baby boy—the height difference was almost comical.

After walking away, Jasper turned. "You said the longest survival was a year and a half, right?"

"Yes?"The barbarian's voice was quieter now, more intimate.

"But I've lived for fifteen years now." The words hung in the air, trying its best to enter the barbarians' ears.

"What?!" Now it was the barbarian's turn to be confused. "But how?"

"I don't know. I was just a kid, unaware of anything around me at the time. All I know is that my father searched for all kinds of medicine to heal me, but found nothing in the end. The doctors' last choice was only some tonics to help the body defend against the poison—the same thing you did for your patients."

The barbarian sighed, a sound like wind through mountain passes. "I thought for a second I'd found a way to cure that horrific poison." He paused, studying Jasper's ravaged features with new interest. "Oh, by the way, you didn't tell me which clan you're friends with."

"Well… Are you on good terms with other clans?" Jasper's voice carried a note of caution, like a man testing thin ice.

"You don't need to be cautious. We intermarry, share blood and bone and breath. All the clans are considered one big family

"In that case, my brother's name is Azm, son of Akizol from the Taniri clan. His wife was kidnapped while fetching water, and he searched for her for two years."

The barbarian's veins bulged like ropes beneath his skin at the mention of a barbarian's wife being kidnapped. His hands clenched into fists that could crush stone, and the temperature around them seemed to rise several degrees, as if the barbarian's blood was boiling.

"I helped him find her. He saved her and killed the slaver—tore his head from his body brutally, he also killed the subordinates and a few knights as a reward."

Jasper watched the barbarian's rage cool like lava meeting water upon hearing the revenge being served. The massive shoulders relaxed, and something like satisfaction flickered in those dark eyes.

"Azm's mother is from our tribe, so saving her son's wife is like saving us. You are welcome in our Jabr clan anytime. And if you ever find yourself in trouble, call us—we'll help with all our strength."

"If that's the case, let me share critical information. You and all your clans are unaware of what's happening in the kingdoms. You travel the continent without knowing what others are scheming behind your backs. The kingdoms announced that monsters' cores are the reason for the barbarians' strength—"

"What?!" the barbarian interrupted, his roar echoing through the forest. "How did they know about that?!"

Jasper sighed deeply. "That's why I said you're unaware. The royal families and others have known for over fifteen years. The only problem is they don't know the purification technique."

"You speak as if you know the technique yourself."

"Well, I do. Not just the technique—the core tiers and many other things related to it."

The barbarian's expression darkened. His voice dropped to a whisper more dangerous than any shout. "The purification technique is a top secret of our clans, punishable by death. Did Azm tell you?"

"Absolutely not. I already knew more about it than your clans do, so it's impossible for Azm to have told me. The only problem is I can't get my hands on cores yet."

"I believe your warning is for us to be cautious of sudden attacks from the kingdoms. But don't worry—we're not weak enough for them to trample us."

Jasper stared at the barbarian, then took a deep breath. "Let me give you advice. You and your clans are strong—I get that. But others are growing at a fast pace. If you don't stay cautious, I fear you'll regret it. As someone once said, 'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained, you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.' You still don't know how the kingdoms are developing their strength or what they are scheming."

The barbarian hummed. "I think you're right. We're blinded by our strength, like eagles who fly too high and forget the hunters below. You have my thanks, small brother."

They walked back through dappled shadows, their boots crunching on fallen leaves as their conversation wove a new thread of trust between them.

"Oh, sorry—I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Kadi, son of Sami, from the Jabr Clan. My father's axe carved the heads of a hundred enemies, and his father's before him." The barbarian's voice carried pride older than memory.

"Oh, I'm Jasper. It's a pleasure to know you, Kadi." The name felt strange on his tongue, but somehow right.

Returning to Fox and the other barbarians, Kadi's voice boomed across the clearing like a war horn. "Release the captives! This man is one of us—his blood calls to our blood!"

Fox listened in disbelief, his mouth hanging open like a landed fish. The other barbarians, however, accepted the pronouncement with nods and grunts of approval. They began untying Jasper's unconscious subordinates with surprising gentleness for such massive hands.

"Hey, Jasper," Kadi called, his voice carrying across the clearing like rolling thunder.

"Hmm?"

"This is for you!" Kadi's arm drew back like a siege engine, then launched forward. A black object arced through the air, landing in Jasper's outstretched palm with a solid thunk. His hand trembled—it was a Blackheart core. A Tier 10, Stage 5 core.

Jasper's eyes darted between the core and Kadi, unable to believe what he held. "This is—"

Before he could finish, a "Shh" came from the huge barbarian. The others gasped. "What are you doing, leader?!"

"I'll explain later," Kadi said, then turned to Jasper. "That's my gratitude for your information."

The barbarians left, leaving Jasper, Fox, and the unconscious scouts. Jasper began slapping Ivar awake, while Fox gleefully slapped the others.

Once Ivar woke, his eyes widened at the sight of Jasper. He jumped up, looking around frantically.

"Where are the barbarians?"

"They left. They apologized for attacking you all. They're also kin to Azm's mother."

Ivar felt relief, but sadness and anger filled his expression. Jasper noticed but knew it was better not to speak until his mood stabilized.

"Let's go. You'll face nightmarish training once we're back. I can't save you every time you get into trouble."

On the ride back, Jasper approached Ivar. "Hey, Ivar—train hard. I got you something to help you grow stronger." He sneakily showed Ivar the core.

Ivar turned to Jasper, eyes wide, then turned his face his head with complicated feelings. "Thank you, Master. I'm truly grateful beyond words."

Jasper clenched his fist and patted Ivar's shoulder. "I got you, brother."