I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 82: This is Compensation for My Commotion (2)

The mercenary guild served as both a haven for mercenaries and a hub for assigning requests.

Clients paid fees to request missions, while mercenaries paid brokerage fees when accepting tasks. All these payments are stored in the guild's most secure location: the Mercenary Vault.

This vault didn’t just hold cash; it also housed records of past and current requests, along with confidential information. It was an extremely important place, guarded round-the-clock by thirty mercenaries and protected with magic to restrict access. The labyrinth Cork discovered could only be accessed through this vault.

It wasn’t naturally there. Cork had dug a tunnel to connect it, sealing off the original entrance in the process.

“Sir, did everything go well outside?”

Inside the labyrinth, two mercenaries stood guard—Cork’s last remaining subordinates. Unaware of the events outside, they questioned Cork, who snapped at them irritably.

“Out of the way! I need to awaken the demon.”

“What? All of a sudden?”

“Keter, that bastard, knew everything! How else would a council member appear at just the right moment?”

“I don’t understand. A council member? What happened out there?”

“Our entire plan is about to go up in smoke. Keter and the council member—hell, I’ll have to kill them all!”

The mercenaries fell silent, unable to ask further questions. Cork’s expression was already unhinged.

The labyrinth had two doors. One led to a treasure room where Cork had poured blood offerings. The other was the door sealing the demon.

Arriving before the sealed door, Cork rolled up his sleeves.

“I’ll make a deal with the demon. Stay back.”

“Are you serious, sir? Please reconsider! You’re going to awaken a vampire?”

One subordinate pointed to the inscription on the stone slab. It kindly explained what was sealed within.

—The First Vampire, Elise. Here I await the return of the Blood King. To those who wish to awaken me, prove your worth with blood and soul.

Vampires were one of the primordial races, closest to gods. They were believed to be extinct now, but their existence was well-documented. Accounts consistently described them as humanity’s natural predators, once treating humans as mere livestock.

And if this was Elise, the First Vampire herself...

She would surely see humans as less than cattle—no, as insects.

Knowing those risks, Cork never dared approach the sealed door since first discovering it—until now. It was only natural for his subordinates to try to stop him.

“Yes, I’ve gone mad. But I’m no fool.”

Cork had long since resolved to stake his life on his ambitions.

He placed the center of his palm against the spike at the top of the slab.

“Huff, huff...”

All he needed to do was push his hand forward into the spike. Blood would flow from his pierced palm, serving as the medium to awaken Elise.

But as the moment came, fear welled up. He knew well the fates of those who made deals with demons: destruction. Without exception, destruction awaited them all—even so-called heroes with unshakable resolve.

Even if I’m destroyed, I won’t fall alone.

If he could drag Keter, the one who had ruined everything, down with him, Cork was willing to accept his own destruction.

Steeling his resolve, Cork prepared to pierce his hand. That was when...

“Yaaaawn. If you’re going to do it, hurry up. How long are you planning to make me wait?”

... Keter’s voice echoed from a place where he shouldn’t have been.

Startled, Cork and his subordinates turned around to see Keter, leaning against the wall and yawning as if bored.

“Want me to help if it’s too hard for you?”

“K-Keter! How did you get here?”

“That’s your last will? How pathetic.”

“Ha...ha...what an insolent fool.”

Cork withdrew his hand from the spike and drew his sword.

Though it wasn’t a magic tool, he was confident it was more than enough to kill Keter.

“I don’t know how you got here, but you’ve clearly come to die. I’ll grant your wish.”

Cork’s decision to retreat from the mercenary guild earlier had been because of Joyray. He knew he couldn’t defeat an Orichalcum-class mercenary, but his confidence in defeating Keter had never wavered.

And now, Keter had shown up right in front of him?

How Keter got here didn’t matter—he just had to kill him. Cork’s mercenaries, sensing the mood, drew their swords and pointed them at Keter.

Cork shouted, “Block the entrance so Keter can’t escape!”

“Yes, sir!”

Two mercenaries guarded the entrance, keeping a wary eye on Keter. Keter waved dismissively.

“Whoa, whoa. You’re just going to fight me like this? You’ve already used up most of your magic tools. Why not go ahead and make a deal with the demon?”

“I don’t need magic tools to handle the likes of you!”

Cork, confident that Keter was just an annoyance but not a real threat, leaped forward and swung his sword. The blade flashed, slicing the air near Keter and making his hair flutter.

At that moment, a sharp, resounding sound echoed.

Smack!!

Cork, who had lunged with full confidence, was sent sprawling to the ground. Keter’s uppercut had hit him in the chin.

Fallen to the ground, Cork struggled to move, his eyes blinking in a daze.

Keter, blowing on his fist, replied nonchalantly, “The early bird gets punched in the face first.”

* * *

Cork quickly got up from the ground.

Wait, what happened?

He had barely seen Keter’s arm move, but that was it. That was all Cork saw before the world flipped upside down, and he found himself rolling across the ground.

A metallic tang filled his mouth. He spat onto the floor, expelling two teeth, bright red with blood.

“Grrrrk!”

Swallowing a groan, Cork discarded the sword in his hand and reached for the dagger strapped to his thigh. He had finally admitted Keter was faster and decided to fight speed with speed.

Cork approached cautiously, step by step, then lunged with a swift stab.

Shwish, shwish!

His dagger was no ordinary weapon but a magic tool imbued with the power of wind, accelerating each thrust. Cork aimed relentlessly at Keter’s face, and Keter dodged, narrowly avoiding each strike. The blade grazed Keter’s cheek, drawing blood, and it sliced his hair clean, sending it flying to the floor.

Seeing this, Cork smirked. He thought his attacks were landing.

Then Keter said, “You’re not even using that thing right.”

Keter caught Cork’s retreating wrist. With a sharp twist, his wrist bent unnaturally. Fitting for a Diamond-class mercenary, he tried to twist the other way to offset Keter’s attack, but he couldn’t overcome Keter’s overwhelming strength. His grip failed, and the dagger slipped from his fingers.

Keter snatched the falling dagger, spinning it deftly in his hand to reverse the grip.

“This is how it’s supposed to be used.”

With the dagger held in reverse, Keter lunged at Cork, his entire body driving the attack.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

The relentless assault left Cork no room to breathe. He was forced to defend his vital points with both arms, but the speed disparity was staggering.

It wasn’t just because Keter was faster—he was using the dagger’s power of wind better than Cork ever had.

“What do you know about magic tools?!” Cork screamed in a mix of pain and humiliation.

With his outburst, flames erupted from his cloak.

This was a level two magic tool: the Cloak of Flame. It unleashed searing flames capable of melting steel. Fire was the bane of all living things. Even a brief touch could induce excruciating pain and primal fear. Most people would have retreated immediately, but Keter wasn’t most people.

He threw the dagger at Cork’s face. As Cork instinctively dodged, Keter grabbed him by the torso.

“You fool. Burn to death.”

Keter didn’t care if Cork was sneering; he still drove him up against the wall. Cork couldn’t stop Keter, but it didn’t matter, as the fire was burning Keter. However...

“What?! No way!”

...the flames didn’t burn Keter. The only thing that seemed to dry up was the blood covering him.

He would still feel the burning pain? He’s enduring that?!

Thud!

Cork hit the wall, which triggered the cloak to overload and erupt in a violent inferno.

“Ahh! Aaagh!”

The Cloak of Flame was supposed to protect its wearer from fire. But in its overloaded state, even Cork wasn’t spared.

The fire consumed him, searing his back to a crisp. Keter, though feeling the heat, suffered only minor burns.

Stepping back, Keter dusted off the charred remains of dried blood.

“Didn’t anyone tell you? Flame-based magic tools are notoriously unstable. I guess the only reason you’ve survived this long was because you’ve only fought people who didn’t know that.”

Cork didn’t have the energy to reply. Instead, he ripped off the burning cloak and tossed it aside. It was relatively quick, but his back was already scorched. Without the fire-resistance ring he wore, he would have been dead. freēnovelkiss.com

“What else you got, Cork? Come on, show me. I believe in you!”

Keter cheered Cork on instead of attacking.

Cork clenched his teeth and utilized all the magic tools he had: Thunder Crow, a whip with the power of thunder; Ogre Gauntlet, a gauntlet that granted immense strength; Green Mace, a mace that released poisonous gas; and Frost Edge, boots that summoned icy spikes.

But none of it mattered. Before the icy spikes created by the boots could even fully form, Keter crushed them underfoot and leaned his face forward.

"Rawr!"

"Gah!"

Cork recoiled in fear at even the simplest display of intimidation. He was gasping for his breath.

There was nothing left within reach. He had used all his magical tools, every single one. Not a single one worked against Keter. Worse yet, Keter had seized some of them and demonstrated their proper use in a way that Cork could physically feel.

He was utterly crushed, both his dreams of becoming the Mercenary King and his pride as the expert of magic tools.

"Is that all you've got?"

Keter wasn’t entirely unaffected, having endured a variety of attacks. His appearance was a mess, but he remained unharmed.

Cork, on the other hand, was ruined both inside and out.

He turned to his stunned subordinates, who were just standing there watching, and roared, "What are you waiting for? Attack! Surround him and strike from all sides!"

Cork's men, who had accompanied him into countless dungeons, were greedy but not fools.

"Sir... it's pointless. Keter hasn’t even used his weapon yet."

"There's no chance of winning. I’m not risking my life for this."

They had watched the fight unfold. The gap between Keter and Cork was unmistakable.

Keter wasn’t even seriously fighting. He was toying with Cork, a mercenary of the illustrious Diamond class. What difference could they, mere Platinum-class mercenaries, make?

As Keter approached Cork, he taunted him.

"Well, this is awkward. Seems your men are smarter than you."

"Ugh... guh..."

Cork frantically glanced around, searching for anything he could use or anyone who could help him.

But who, or what, could possibly be in the labyrinth he himself had designed? The musty scent of damp earth and the stifling air were all that surrounded him.

A sudden chill crept over his skin, seeping into his bones.

Cork knew the truth. Mercenaries like him—the kind who lived and died by the sword—could never hope to die peacefully in their beds. However, he didn’t want, or even expect, this kind of end.

Did I really do something wrong?

All Cork had done was work hard toward his dream, something everyone had. Like a man, he was determined to finish what he started—he had the ambition to stand at the top. He had killed a lot of people in the process, so he knew that he would face retaliation someday. But this... this wasn’t even revenge for the people he killed. All this was because Cork didn’t acknowledge a little kid as a mercenary—because he crushed his dreams?

“Agh!!! I won’t accept this! I can’t let it end like this! It’s so unfair!” Cork shouted at the ceiling, then began running.

Seeing the direction he was heading, one of Cork's subordinates shouted urgently, "We have to stop him! He's trying to wake the demon!"

But Keter calmly pressed a finger to his lips and said, "Shh, I’ve been waiting for this moment."

"...!?"

"A-are you insane? A vampire is about to awaken! No matter how strong you are, you can’t beat a vampire!"

Fearing their own deaths at the hands of the vampire, Cork’s subordinates dashed forward instead of Keter.

Keter scoffed and watched without interference.

Maybe I would worry if it were a pureblood vampire. But there’s no way a vampire revived through a contract would be pureblood.

Killing Cork now would feel immensely satisfying, but not one hundred percent. There was still something missing, about two percent. He had already crushed Cork’s plans and pride, but there was still one thing left intact.

I’ll shatter even your last shred of hope.

Cork's last hope was that by selling his soul to the demon, he could kill Keter. But Keter intended to stomp that hope into dust as well. That wasn’t all; it wasn’t every day Keter had the chance to fight a vampire.

I wonder what kind of vampire will emerge? It won’t be a pureblood, but I’m still intrigued.

He had warmed up during the fight with the Red Comet earlier. Facing a vampire would be an exciting battle.

Whether Cork understood Keter's anticipation or not, he showed no hesitation as he plunged his palm onto the spike of the stone altar. When the altar was drenched in blood, a thunderous roar erupted.

Boom!

The entire labyrinth trembled. Cork's former mercenaries shivered in terror at the ominous atmosphere.

"No... it’s awakened."

"Keter, you crazy bastard! Do you even realize what you’ve unleashed? It’s the first vampire!"

"The end of Liqueur has come. There’s no escape..."

Behind the altar, a massive, pitch-black door began to rumble.

Cork laughed maniacally.

"Kyahahahaha! Keter! Even if I die, I’ll drag you down with me! You’ll never achieve anything, just like me!"

As the door slowly swung open, revealing the sealed demon, a figure began to emerge.

It was...

“...Squeak?”

...a tiny, fluffy, white bat that was previously nestled snugly in Keter’s arms.