WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Abood

Editor: Ryuu

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Saviour Embarks on a Nameless Journey

Chapter 23: Hasty

"You're damn strong for someone so young."

The merc remarked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Maybe so?"

Not that I'm actually young.

"So... we just leave it like this?"

The merc eyed the twitching monster warily.

"Same as dealing with any animal of this class."

"Easier said than done. A normal ape, I could've taken its head clean off."

"Some monsters keep moving even after decapitation. Some even have limbs that keep fighting after being severed."

"Ugh. Thought that was just exaggeration. But damn that was impressive."

He poked the now-still monster with his sword, examining the wounds I'd left.

"That kick to the slash was too fast for me to copy. And these claws arenasty pieces of work."

The merc began inspecting the monster's body, testing the claws, fangs, and potential weak points.

Good. When your life depends on it, studying your enemy is just common sense. His willingness to learn was commendable.

"Can't eat ape monsters. What's the protocol here? Burn it? Bury it? Maybe salvage the hide?"

With that, he stepped back from the carcass.

"You can eat ape monsters. The hide makes decent armor, and the gallbladder and head can be used for medicine probably."

"The charred ape-head powder, what folks call Frost-Ape Powder, should help with headaches and brain ailments... in theory."

I know the basics, but Marius is the real expert here. That said, butchering was always my job, so I’ve got practice.

I’d handle the dissection; Marius would find buyers, people who actually knew how to use the parts and would pay well. Most butchers either ruined good materials or threw them out, clueless about their value.

"Some of these things got magic stones, right?"

"They do, but something this weak? Doubt it."

I walked the merc through the process. Some monsters go soft after death, but that’s usually the ones wrapped in magic like Marius’s body-enhancement tricks.

"Damn, cutting angle makes a huge difference. Still tough as hell, though…"

"Think of it as premium armor material. You know how to tan hides, yeah?"

"Uh, hey—"

A hesitant voice cut in as I supervised.

"Whoops, almost forgot! We’re done here. Go tell the others."

The merc called out cheerfully to the farmer, who’d been peeking nervously through the door crack.

"Oh! Thank ye kindly, I’ll fetch ’em straight away!"

The farmer flung the door open and bolted, likely heading for the militia’s outpost where the local watch gathered.

"Might’ve jumped the gun butcherin’ this thing before inspection."

The merc mused, watching him run.

"Doesn’t matter. Dawdle any longer and we’ll be here till dawn."

"Y’know, I’m startin’ to think you’re the impatient type."

"...Tch."

...He’s not wrong. This journey was supposed to be leisurely. So what if we pulled an all-nighter? I’d just nap tomorrow. ...Then again, all-nighters do suck.

"Handle the cleanup crew. Keep the carcass too, do what you want with it."

"What about you?"

"I’ve got stew to finish."

I waved him off without turning back, already striding toward the house.

“Right, easy does it.”

No need to fuss over inspections. Hope the stew hasn’t gone cold.

Back inside, I grabbed my half-finished bowl and ladled a fresh helping from the pot still hanging over the hearth.

Pya squirmed against my back, no doubt lured by the smell. This glutton. After playing dead earlier, now it’s all appetite.

"Here. Eat quick ‘fore anyone sees."

"Pya~!"

It plunged face-first into the bowl.

Should’ve gotten my own serving first. Why must I play waiter while starving? Watching it devour my food so enthusiastically just made it worse.

"Pya~"

Finally satisfied, it crawled back up to my shoulders.

At last. I served myself properly. No point holding back when the merc said to help myself.

The first bite hit me with herbal notes. The meat was a tad tough, but the more I chewed, the richer the flavor grew. This farmer’s wife knows her craft.

Outside, voices erupted. The farmer must’ve returned with the troops, or more likely some officious clerk. The merc cracked the door open.

"They want a situation report."

"That’s your job. You faced the thing longer anyway. I’m not on payroll so I’m going to bed."

I stood and headed for the guest room they’d offered.

Paperwork. Negotiations. Nothing more tedious, especially with nobles.

"I mean technically you’re right, but—"

The merc shot me a resigned look, sighed, then shut the door and trudged toward the commotion.

Work hard for your pay, kid.

The ‘guest room’ was clearly unused with a bed frame without bedding. I burrowed into a borrowed blanket likely from the village head’s stash and tried to mold my spine to the wooden slab masquerading as a mattress.

Pya wriggled into the crook of my arm.

Right. Tomorrow, I’m getting those damn boiled eggs.

Footnotes:

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