Chapter 8: Inside the Enemy Camp

The wagon screeched to a halt. A flustered soldier’s voice rang out.

“What the hell? Did a wild animal hit us? Or a monster?”

“Check it. Remember how monsters stole all the supplies the other day and we got chewed out? That’s why we’re coming again.”

“Damn monsters, always causing trouble. Of all times, this had to happen when we’re almost there.”

The soldiers looked around—but they never noticed the intruder on top of the wagon.

In that brief moment, I moved fast and silently, grabbing a soldier from behind. I covered his mouth and slit his throat without hesitation.

His eyes widened, then his body went limp. At the same time, a voice called out from the other side.

“Schumann! Nothing here. What about you?”

“……”

Dead men don’t answer. And answers don’t come from corpses.

“Schumann? Why aren’t you answering?”

Footsteps drew closer.

I held my breath and waited at the corner of the wagon.

“Is something wr—”

Slash.

The dagger sank into his carotid artery. Pure terror filled his eyes.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Not really my place to say that—but I didn’t hate him either. I cut cleanly, ending it in one stroke.

“Haa…”

After putting on the dead soldier’s clothes, I asked Eve about them.

[Scan complete. Names: Schumann and Riven. Supply soldiers of the Empire’s 3rd Unit. Schumann is the only remaining family member—]

I closed the window.

I didn’t want to know their stories.

Everyone has reasons before outcomes—but I was too small to carry all of that.

He probably killed someone too. I’m no different.

This wasn’t about right or wrong. Just logic.

I dragged their bodies under a tree beside the road, then drove the wagon toward the camp.

At the entrance, a guard stopped me.

“Halt. Identify yourself.”

“3rd Supply Unit, Delman. I’m here with supplies.”

The guard frowned at my unfamiliar face.

“Supplies? Never seen you before. Where’s the usual guy?”

“I’m just a low-ranking soldier, so I don’t know much. But I heard he got punished over the last incident.”

My calm acting worked. The guard relaxed.

“Yeah, heard a dumb monster looted the wagon.”

He checked the wagon half-heartedly, then waved me in.

“Nothing special. Go right, straight ahead—you’ll see the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir.”

I entered the camp smoothly.

Tents were scattered everywhere. Soldiers lounged around, chatting casually.

Walking straight into enemy territory… it felt like climbing into the Trojan Horse.

Following the guard’s directions, I reached a larger tent. After parking the wagon, I nodded to the warehouse keeper.

“Hello. Is this the warehouse?”

“Who’re you? Never seen you before.”

“Delman, 3rd Supply Unit. The senior supply soldier got punished, so I was sent instead.”

“Oh? Good timing. I got cursed out nonstop because of those idiots. Tsk.”

Chad spat on the ground and looked me over. His sharp eyes made him look sneaky—like a thieving cat.

“Face says you’d be good at catching rats.”

“…Pardon?”

“Hah. Kid’s ears not working? Whatever. Move it.”

Normally, the warehouse keeper should handle unloading—but I looked easy to boss around.

As expected, when he barked orders, I jumped like a rookie and started working fast.

Way easier to use than that rude bastard from before. Was there rum in this shipment?

Leaving me to work, he casually grabbed some rum and disappeared to slack off.

“Discipline here is completely rotten.”

No one trained. Scouts slacked. Warehouse keepers drank instead of checking supplies.

Everything was rotten to the core.

“Captain! Where’d that bastard Guta go? He chewed my boots to hell!”

“Told him to patrol the forest. Go grab a pair from the warehouse.”

“…Hah. I’ll kill him when he’s back—huh? Aren’t those boots?”

The man stormed over when he spotted the boots in my hands.

“Hey. I need boots. Hand me a pair.”

“I’m not the warehouse keeper.”

“Yeah? These old boots aren’t mine either—but they’re on my feet. You work here, don’t you? So give me new ones.”

What kind of garbage logic was that?

“Does this place have no rules? What if I get beaten for this?”

“I’ll watch—no, cheer. Hell, our unit doesn’t even have rules. Where’re you from, acting so stiff?”

He stared at me suspiciously.

“I’m from the 3rd Supply Unit. Got dragged in less than a week after enlistment.”

His eyes softened immediately. He grinned.

“Ah. Makes sense if you don’t know us.”

“Is this unit special or something? All I see are drunk idiots.”

“That’s what makes it special. The 5th Infantry’s full of conscripted mercenaries.”

Mercenaries.

That word triggered a memory.

Back when I was obsessed with novels about freedom-loving mercenaries… that was actually how I got into this story.

And the Mercenary King’s name…

It was weird. Penguin-like.

Peng… Peng… Penguins? Pengupeng?

No point forcing it.

I widened my eyes, pretending curiosity.

“Mercenaries? Then you’re one too?”

“More like ex-mercenary. Damn nobles too cheap to pay contract fees, so they draft us instead. Bunch of small-minded bastards.”

Yeah. Cheap as hell.

Maybe being stingy is a requirement for nobles. If so, I’d be top-tier.

“Oh… I see.”

“This country’s doomed. I should desert soon. You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“I don’t know anyone here anyway.”

“Yeah, figured.”

That… kind of hurt.

I steadied myself and handed over the boots.

“Please, take them.”

“Huh. Thought you’d whine more. Boring.”

Any longer and the powder hidden inside my clothes might spill. And I still had work to do before the next supply soldier arrived.

I nodded as he turned away—but then he suddenly looked back.

“Oh. And remember this name. I’m Penguirel. The future Mercenary King.”

Penguirel.

Right.

The Mercenary King of this story.

The Man of Awakening.