Chapter 54
So the news has already reached this far.
Theron's steps toward the stone wall stopped just before the alarm bell began ringing.
More precisely...
He noticed the change in the air before the sound came.
Hurried footsteps from the direction of the guard post.
Torches being lit one after another.
Low, urgent voices spreading into each alley.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Only then did the emergency bell ring.
It confirmed Theron's suspicion.
The shopkeeper.
Theron had left nothing obviously suspicious behind.
If the guards were already moving this quickly...
Something must have been circulating beforehand.
Perhaps wanted posters.
Perhaps rumors.
Perhaps something even more detailed.
One thing was certain.
His enemies were reaching much farther...
And much faster...
Than expected.
Good thing I'm on the opposite side from the checkpoint.
When an emergency bell rang...
The guards would lock the gates and checkpoints first.
Then the search would spread outward from the location where the suspect had been seen.
Even if they hurried...
It would take time for a search beginning in the eastern alleys to reach the western wall.
I'll be gone before then.
Theron tightened his robe and pressed himself into the darkness beside the buildings.
Rustle.
His footsteps vanished.
Wandering Wind.
Incomplete or not...
It was more than sufficient for a place like this.
His steps flowed like air.
His weight seemed to rest nowhere.
"This way!"
"Pairs! Spread out!"
As torch-bearing guards ran through the alley across from him...
Theron's figure slipped through the gaps between all of them.
"...Haaah."
Once he escaped...
Theron released a small breath.
He had believed he was being cautious.
Yet something like this had still happened.
But...
He had gained something from tonight as well.
He had now personally seen how far their net had spread...
And how they were tightening it.
I'll need a different approach from the next village onward.
Theron's figure disappeared deeper into the darkness.
Creeeak.
A thick rope wrapped around a dock post...
And the ship slowly came to a stop.
At the center of the activity...
Kren stood with a hardened expression.
The men stepping off the ship hurried toward him.
"Sir Kren!"
"Are you all right?"
Kren did not answer.
He simply gritted his teeth and stared at the ruined training grounds.
Was he all right?
Of course not.
The system of Hell Island...
A system that had existed for years...
Had collapsed in a single night.
Hundreds of trainees had escaped.
Countless instructors and soldiers had died in the process.
And most importantly...
That brat.
Kren's gaze turned icy.
"How is the search going?"
"We're tracking them."
"We've confirmed traces showing they escaped onto the continent as well."
"And?"
"...It's proving more difficult than expected."
Kren's eyebrow twitched.
"What does that mean?"
"They're moving far too systematically for a group of children."
"They know how to avoid tracking."
"Some have even turned around and attacked the men pursuing them."
Kren's face twisted viciously.
It made sense.
Hundreds of hunting dogs hardened by Hell Island had just been released into the world.
Of course they would not be easy to catch.
But...
"You will catch them."
"If any of them cross into another kingdom..."
"Things could spiral out of control."
Especially...
"That brat."
Kren's voice became colder.
"You will catch that one no matter what."
"That brat...?"
"Theron."
Kren remembered the name perfectly.
The insane child who had landed a strike on Valtz, his own escort.
He clenched his jaw while thinking about Theron.
Leading inspection parties for years...
Kren had seen countless people.
Strong people.
Cruel people.
Talented people.
Because of that experience...
He trusted his instincts.
And those instincts kept warning him about one thing.
Theron could not be allowed to escape.
If we don't catch him now...
Kren remembered the boy's final expression.
Eyes with no fear.
No hesitation.
Eyes that almost seemed to look down at Kren...
As though the boy stood above him.
A deep crease formed between Kren's brows.
He will become a serious problem.
This was not simply about the secrets of Hell Island leaking out.
There was something much more dangerous about the boy.
A terrible sense that if they failed to cut down this sprout now...
It would someday grow into a blade aimed directly at their throats.
"Increase the number of trackers."
Kren spoke.
"If necessary, mobilize every nearby organization."
"Search every village and city where they could hide."
"Yes, sir."
"And remember this."
His voice hardened.
"That boy must never escape."
"If capturing him alive is impossible..."
"Execute him immediately."
"Just make certain we recover the corpse."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll repeat the order personally to the others."
"Now, Sir Kren..."
"You should return to the ship."
Kren did not move immediately.
He turned and looked behind him.
Hell Island.
A place that once seemed as though it would never change...
Was now a blackened ruin.
"..."
Complicated emotions passed through him.
But...
We can rebuild it.
Hell Island itself did not matter.
There were plenty of places that could replace it.
As Kren finally stepped onto the ship...
There was only one person filling his thoughts.
Theron.
Fwoosh.
Deep inside the forest...
In a depression surrounded by rock walls...
A tiny light appeared.
An oil lamp.
The wick had been lowered until the flame was so small...
A single palm could hide it.
Theron had walked for more than an hour after leaving Hollen before finding this place.
The rocks blocked the wind and hid the light.
There was a cliff behind him...
Meaning there was only one direction from which anyone could approach.
Theron glanced back.
He focused silently for a moment.
No one followed me.
Only then did he pull the leather case from his clothes.
He had been waiting since leaving the village.
Under the tiny light...
Theron spread the parchment.
Rustle.
A map covered in dense grids unfolded over the rock.
832.
179.
Theron's finger moved across the grid.
Adventurer coordinates could not be found by simply matching horizontal and vertical numbers.
They used a special calculation system.
Theron recalled the formula taught to him by a former adventurer in his previous life.
He applied the numbers.
Then...
"..."
He stared at the point beneath his finger.
Closer than I expected.
That was fortunate.
But...
The road ended halfway there.
Village and city markings also completely disappeared beyond a certain point.
The real problem was the destination itself.
The coordinates pointed deep into a mountainous region where countless ridges overlapped.
And that area...
Was famous for being one of the most treacherous regions in the kingdom.
Of course.
It was exactly the kind of place a wanderer sick of the world would disappear into.
If it had been somewhere easy for people to reach...
Someone would have found it long ago.
"West..."
Theron needed supplies.
Food.
Equipment.
And above all...
Someone capable of guiding him through that terrain.
Clink.
He checked his money pouch.
Fortunately...
"I have enough money to buy what I need."
Theron silently thanked the dead pursuers for their contribution.
Then...
He began heading toward a settlement where he might find a guide.
Delkena.
A village at the entrance to the Makerdiran Mountain Range.
It was not large.
But adventurers and mercenaries heading into the mountains regularly passed through.
So it had everything such people needed.
Equipment stores.
Herbalists.
Inns.
Even a Mercenary Guild.
Hides and medicinal herbs from the mountains became money here.
That money became alcohol and equipment...
Then returned to the mountains.
That cycle was what kept Delkena alive.
Theron stopped on a hill overlooking the village.
People come and go constantly.
That meant an unfamiliar face would not stand out.
Theron slowly walked toward the village entrance.
He looked different from when he had entered Hollen.
He had thrown away his old robe.
A light mixture of plant juice and soil darkened and roughened the skin on his cheeks and jaw.
His eyebrows had been drawn thicker.
But the greatest difference...
Was his walk.
His back was slightly hunched.
His right leg dragged subtly.
One shoulder rested lower than the other.
Changing the entire impression a person gave...
Was often more effective than simply hiding the face.
Even if they spread wanted posters...
It would not be easy to connect the face on the notice with his current appearance.
Especially since nobody would expect a fugitive to walk openly through the front gate without even covering his head.
"What business do you have here?"
A guard at the entrance looked at Theron.
Theron lowered his head slightly.
"I need supplies before going into the mountains to gather herbs."
"A herbalist."
The soldier glanced over him.
Then shrugged.
"Don't start trouble with the other herb gatherers."
"If you do, we'll throw you out immediately."
"Understood."
"Next."
The guard lost interest and looked toward the next traveler.
Theron entered.
The village was livelier than expected.
Mercenaries repaired equipment.
Merchants loaded bundles of herbs onto carts.
Children ran between them.
Theron passed the notice board without breaking stride.
A quick glance revealed several old wanted notices.
Nothing about him yet.
Yet.
After what happened in Hollen...
It was only a matter of time.
He needed to finish his business...
And enter the mountains before his wanted notice arrived.
Mercenary Guild... over there.
A building from which the smells of alcohol and metal drifted together.
Above the door hung an old sign showing a crossed axe and sword.
Theron pushed the door open.
Several men drinking in broad daylight briefly looked his way.
Then immediately lost interest.
A child gathering herbs.
Nothing more.
Theron crossed the noisy hall and approached the reception desk.
A middle-aged receptionist with a thick beard raised his eyes from a ledger.
"What is it, kid?"
"If you're running an errand, check the board over there."
"I'm looking for a guide who knows the Makerdiran region well."
The receptionist's eyebrow rose.
It clearly was not what he expected to hear from a child.
"Makerdiran?"
"How deep are you planning to go?"
"Pretty deep."
"...It won't be easy."
"This time of year, food is scarce in the mountains."
"The creatures inside become aggressive."
Even while speaking...
The receptionist looked Theron over.
His expression clearly said this was not something a child could handle.
Then...
Clink.
Theron placed several silver coins on the counter.
The receptionist stared at them.
It was a sizable amount for a child.
And judging by the pouch...
Theron had more.
The man looked between the coins and Theron's face.
Then lowered his voice.
"...There's one decent guide."
"Want to meet him?"
