Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 215: The Wandering Merchant’s Quest (4)

“Why am I even taking part in this childish farce?” Fiego could not comprehend the situation it found itself in.

The spirit felt like an adult forced to play along with a group of children, watching from the sidelines as they took their pretend games far too seriously. To it, this entire quest seemed little more than a mockery. Yet, Ketal seemed completely unbothered. The barbarian’s calm voice broke through Fiego’s thoughts.

“There’s no need to rush,” Ketal said, sounding utterly at ease as he walked at the group’s rear, his arms folded. “We have plenty of time. It’s better to enjoy things slowly and steadily than to push ourselves for no reason.”

His words were accompanied by a relaxed smile as he watched the others moving ahead, embroiled in their own small arguments and worries. There was genuine enjoyment in Ketal’s gaze, an appreciation for the journey and the company, rather than just the outcome.

“You monster...,” Fiego muttered. Fiego wasn’t thinking of Ketal’s strength, but of the man’s mindset. To the fire spirit, Ketal’s way of approaching the world was unfathomable, alien even to a being older than most nations. Fiego’s thoughts swirled as it lashed out with a sweep of pure flame, incinerating an ogre that had dared to charge them. The monster didn’t even have time to scream before it was reduced to ash, not a single bone left behind.

“So this is a dragon’s lair. How did we even get here?” Fiego looked around, the ancient magic in the air prickling against its essence. As far as it knew, the dragons had long since hidden their lairs from the surface, cloaking them in secrecy to avoid unwanted attention.

“You’re right,” Ketal replied as if reading Fiego’s mind. “We came here through the Wandering Merchant.”

“You mean that monster? I suppose there’s no other way. If not for them, you’d never have found this place.”

Ketal glanced at the spirit, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “You know the Merchant?”

“Of course. That creature has existed on the surface since before I even came into being.” Fiego’s tone was uncharacteristically flat, almost grudging in its respect. “No one knows what they want, or where they rest. They’re a being of pure mystery. I can’t imagine why a human would choose to deal with them. Humans are impossible to understand sometimes...”

Ketal smiled at that. “If our interests align, I see no reason to refuse. Is it different for spirits?”

“The Merchant is not a creature of nature. They’re closer to an enemy, to us.”

“Is that so?” Ketal’s voice held a spark of intrigue. The spirit’s response made it clear that the Wandering Merchant was no friend to beings like Fiego.

“Still, I suppose with you, there’s nothing to worry about. You’re... an exception,” Fiego continued. Its attention shifted, its fiery gaze drifting to the rest of the party. “But what about the others? Who are they supposed to be?”

“They’re the party for this dragon hunt,” Ketal said, unhurried as ever.

“A party...? You’re saying those people are supposed to hunt a dragon at your side?” For a rare moment, Fiego was genuinely caught off guard. “With just that much strength? Well... it’s probably not a problem, if you’re involved...”

For a moment, it seemed Fiego would voice more doubts, but it quickly remembered the futility of trying to apply common sense to Ketal. The spirit simply fell silent.

“Do whatever you like,” Fiego finally said.

“I intend to. Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“That boy... what do you think about him?”

The group pressed further into the mountain. The deeper they went, the more dangerous it became. Ogres and wild beasts roamed freely, and only the strongest monsters could survive in such a territory. For the party with Transcendents, these threats were little more than distractions, but for the lone boy following them, it was a different story entirely.

Ian trailed behind, his breath ragged, face pale with exhaustion and fear. His legs trembled with every step, but he kept going, his eyes fixed on the others for support.

“He’s just a normal boy with no strength at all. It must be torture for him just to keep up,” Fiego replied.

“Is that all?” Ketal pressed, as if prompting Fiego to look deeper, to see if there was anything more unusual about the boy.

“Is there something else? He doesn’t have any particular power. I don’t know why he’s following, but since the Merchant brought him, there’s nothing to be done.”

“Interesting.” Ketal’s expression grew thoughtful. “So, that’s all you sense from him.”

To Fiego, there was nothing odd about the boy; he didn’t see the strange presence Ketal suspected, nor did he sense any hidden power. The fire spirit simply shrugged off the matter.

“Why even ask?” it grumbled.

Up ahead, Seraphina had noticed Ian’s struggling and called out, “Let’s take a break here. He needs to rest.”

Night was beginning to fall, shadows lengthening beneath the trees.

Bloodedge nodded in agreement. “That’s fine. We’ll need time to prepare anyway.”

The group found a clearing near the edge of the woods, and Seraphina offered a brief prayer, her voice low and steady. “O Sun God, protect us beneath your light.”

A gentle, golden radiance shimmered in the air, forming a protective barrier around them.

Ian collapsed onto the ground, clutching at his knees, his entire body shaking. Seraphina knelt beside him, whispering another prayer. Warmth washed over the boy, easing his fatigue.

“Thank you...” he stammered.

“How much further is it?” Spellweaver asked as they gathered around the fire.

“At this pace, we should reach the lair in two days,” Seraphina answered. He sounded less than thrilled.

“Not as quick as I’d hoped. If it weren’t for the boy, we’d be moving at twice this speed,” Spellweaver muttered. He didn’t bother hiding his annoyance. He was a mage, a scholar, and believed in efficiency above all else.

Ian shrank further at the mage’s stare, clutching his knees.

Ketal decided to change the subject. “You’re all probably hungry. Why don’t I cook for us tonight?”

The others blinked in surprise.

“You can cook?” Ian asked.

Bloodedge grunted, “Let’s see it then.”

Instead of boasting, Ketal got right to work. He pulled out a battered pot and a pouch of supplies from his bag, assembling a meal with brisk efficiency. “Fiego, give me a little flame.”

“Fine...” The fire spirit, resigned to being used as a glorified campfire, breathed a steady stream of controlled flame onto the pot, cooking the meat and vegetables perfectly.

“You’re quite useful,” Ketal said, grinning.

Fiego’s flames flickered, betraying a hint of annoyance.

The others watched in silence as Ketal cooked, their expressions a mix of curiosity and discomfort.

“Is it really alright to treat a spirit like that...?” Seraphina wondered aloud.

“I thought spirits at that level wouldn’t tolerate it,” Spellweaver mused. “It’s not as if anyone else could get away with that.”

“Apparently, it’s fine,” Ketal replied simply.

No one could dispute it, not when the meal turned out so well. Soon, Ketal served out hearty bowls of stew to everyone, the scent alone lifting the group’s spirits.

Bloodedge tasted his serving, and his eyes widened in genuine surprise. “This is good.”

Seraphina smiled. “You’re amazing, Ketal. You can fight, use magic, and cook? That’s impressive.”

Ketal accepted the praise with a humble nod.

As everyone ate, the atmosphere softened. The tension of the road eased as they found a rhythm as they shared a meal under the strange twilight of the dragon’s domain.

Bloodedge let his gaze sweep the group. “Who would have guessed so many elites would be gathered like this?”

“I doubt it’ll ever happen again,” Seraphina said. “A Chief Inquisitor, a School Master, the Mercenary King, a spirit contractor... This is almost like a legend in the making.”

“With this much strength, we can take down a dragon,” Bloodedge declared, confidence radiating from him.

However, Spellweaver was less certain. “We’re strong, yes, but our opponent is a dragon. Even four at our level can’t compare to a true Hero, and only Heroes have been able to defeat dragons before. I wonder if it’s truly possible...”

Bloodedge dismissed the concern with a shake of his head. “The Merchant wouldn’t have given us this quest if it were impossible. If we weren’t strong enough, they’d never have made the offer.”

“True, but we don’t know what condition the dragon’s in. It’s supposedly newly matured, maybe it’s not at full strength, or perhaps it’s been wounded. If it tried summoning demons, it might have lost some of its power,” Bloodedge reasoned.

Spellweaver nodded, mulling it over. “If we succeed, we’ll be called the Dragon Slayers. That’s not a title many can claim.”

Bloodedge’s eyes shone with anticipation. “There are only a handful of Dragon Slayers on the continent, and every one of them is a Hero. If we succeed, we’ll be the first at our rank to achieve it.”

Spellweaver smiled. “If I earn the title, the name of my school will rise as well. I could brag to the Tower Master about it for decades.”

Seraphina broke in, curiosity in her eyes. “Speaking of the Wandering Merchant, what did each of you offer them as payment for this quest? I’m curious.”

Bloodedge grimaced. “A third of all the treasure I’ve gathered in my career.”

“I paid with ten of my school’s artifacts. My apprentices weren’t happy,” Spellweaver admitted.

Seraphina looked wistful. “I offered up a holy shield passed down through my church for centuries. It wasn’t easy parting with it.”

Bloodedge grumbled, “They took so much from us, and yet all we got was information about the lair. It feels unfair, being told to handle the dragon ourselves.”

Seraphina forced a smile, understanding all too well. Still, if the hunt succeeded, the rewards would outweigh any loss. They all knew it.

Ketal listened quietly to the conversation, mulling over the reality that the others had all paid steep prices for their participation. Unlike them, he had simply arrived, owing nothing.

So this is what it means to pay the price for opportunity... Ketal thought.

Spellweaver’s gaze shifted to Ian, who was quietly eating. “So, what did you offer, Ian? To even get this chance, you must have paid more than all of us combined.”

“Who knows?” Bloodedge said, “Maybe he’s the prince of the Empire.”

Seraphina shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me, too.”

The boy seemed to shrink under their attention, focusing on his food.

Bloodedge waved a hand. “Enough of that. What matters is the dragon. Let’s focus on the plan.”

The others agreed, shifting the conversation to strategy. Ian let out a breath of relief. Ketal watched him, eyes unreadable.

“Come to think of it,” Spellweaver asked, “Ketal, what did you pay?”

Ketal smiled softly. “Something similar to what you did.”

***

The next day, they resumed their journey. The path was just as perilous, but the group pressed on, dispatching monsters as they came.

As before, Ian lagged behind, sweat pouring down his face. Spellweaver watched him, irritation simmering beneath the surface. He couldn’t fathom why the party was forced to slow down for someone so seemingly ordinary.

Yet Seraphina did what she could to support Ian, offering encouragement and healing. Though less obvious about it, Bloodedge also helped, making small adjustments so the boy could keep up.

Spellweaver sighed, feeling like the villain.

“So I’m the only one being mean,” he grumbled, earning a wry smile from Seraphina.

That night, the group made camp again, their goal now within reach. As before, Ketal handled the cooking, and the meal brought comfort to everyone. Soon, most drifted off to sleep, trusting in the safety of the magical barrier.

Later that night, when all was quiet, Ian rose from his spot and slipped away into the darkness, moving with uncertain steps toward the edge of the woods.

“Where are you going?” a calm voice called out from the shadows.

Ian froze, turning to see Ketal sitting against a tree, watching him with steady eyes.

“I-I just needed to relieve myself,” Ian stammered.

“It’s dangerous alone. I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you.”

Ketal followed him, keeping a respectful distance as Ian finished his business. When Ian was done, Ketal turned back toward camp. “Let’s go back.”

Ian hesitated, then blurted out, “Thank you... for letting me come along. I know I’m a burden.”

Ketal’s expression softened. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Ian felt a little more at ease and spoke again, “You all dispatched those monsters so easily... I wish I could be strong, too.”

Ketal considered that, then answered quietly, “To me, you seem stronger than you think.”

Ian stared in disbelief. “I’m just a powerless boy. That can’t be true.”

“If that’s what you believe,” Ketal said with a faint smile, “then so be it.”

He turned, disappearing into the darkness as if he’d never been there at all. Ian stood for a moment, confusion warring with something deeper, then narrowed his eyes.

Who is he, really? Ian wondered, the night silent around him.