Chương 148: Reborn as the Dragon — Chapter 148 - Three Heroes — What Was Lost

That was Mier's voice. But there was no one behind him. The "Dara Bengba" still echoing in his ears grew fainter, more distant, more like something he'd imagined. Hah... Dara Bengba remembered now. Everyone was dead. An entire village wiped out in a single monster attack. Uncle Sam, who had taken him in, was dead. The bearded old village chief was dead. Mier, who used to trail after him everywhere, had been torn apart and devoured by a pack of demon wolves. Dara Bengba hated himself for not being there.

He hated those knights too. The ones who showed up every month without fail to collect their taxes. They were supposed to protect the village. That was the arrangement. So why did they pull out without warning? He picked up the demon wolf corpse and dropped heavily onto a large rock nearby.

"Every last monster deserves to die." The words came out low, almost to himself. But his hatred was real, and it had no bottom. Life had to go on. The only way forward was to get stronger, to kill more of them. As a second-tier warrior, he was still too weak. He rested for a while, then hauled the demon wolf corpse to his feet and walked to the market alone. Just alone. No small figure trotting at his side. Dara Bengba wasn't a talker. Mier had always been the talker.

She was bright and restless and completely incapable of staying quiet, and she'd handled every sale with a cheerful ferocity he'd never managed to match.

"Demon wolf meat! Fresh demon wolf meat!" She'd cup her hands around her mouth and shout it across the whole market. And when buyers tried to haggle, she'd plant her hands on her hips and give them a look that could peel bark off a tree.

"Look at this quality. The completeness of the pelt. Show me another one like it in this entire market. Go on. And you still want to argue about the price? Take it or leave it~" Now there was nothing. Just him and the weight in his hand. Dara Bengba clenched his fist, then forced himself to call out the way she used to. His voice came out wrong. Rough and cracked and barely loud enough to carry past the nearest stall. Nothing like her clear, cutting sound that could stop you halfway across the square.

"Demon wolf meat... fresh... demon wolf meat..." Clop. Clop. Clop. Heavy hoofbeats. Two knights came galloping through the market entrance, pulled up hard at the gate, and dismounted. Each reached into his breastplate and drew out a rolled parchment. They posted them side by side on the notice board, one on the left, one on the right. Portrait on the left. Text on the right. Dara Bengba couldn't read. But he could hear just fine.

"What's this, so early in the morning? Anlius have another wanted criminal?"

"Are you blind? You think a girl that pretty ends up on a wanted poster?" Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"That's the princess. The king's calling for warriors to slay a dragon and bring her home. That's her likeness."

"Word is, rescue the princess and you don't just get a reward. You get to marry her. And the king makes you a prince on top of it."

"Tsk... now that's generous. If I weren't just a farmer I'd go take a crack at it myself. Look at her. She's lovely." Dara Bengba listened without expression. Slay a dragon. A princess. He had no interest in princesses. He had no interest in being a prince. What he cared about was the reward. The ruler of an entire kingdom. Surely he wouldn't be stingy with a few Gold Lions. Dara Bengba needed money. That was why he was still here, still hunting, still dragging carcasses to market.

He was trying to save enough to bury the villagers properly. To give them something that looked like a grave. To give Mier something that looked like a grave. He shifted the demon wolf corpse to his other hand and walked over to the notice board. The portrait stopped him. She was young. A beautiful face, delicate featured, nothing harsh about her. Dara Bengba had never seen a princess before, but looking at her, he thought this was probably the ceiling. He couldn't find a single flaw.

"About the same age as Mier..." The thought surfaced before he could stop it.

"She's the one the dragon took?" Anger rose in his chest, fast and hot. Monsters. Always monsters. How many people were they going to keep destroying? Faces moved through his mind. The villagers. The ones he'd known his whole life. One by one they passed, and then they settled, all of them, into a single image: Mier's face. Her smile. Bright as a flower, the kind you don't think about losing until it's gone. Dara Bengba made up his mind. He would slay the dragon. Not for any prince's title. Not for the glory of it.

He would do it to rescue this girl who was about Mier's age, and to take whatever payment the king offered and use it to give the people he loved a proper burial. His hand closed around the rusted iron sword at his side and squeezed until his knuckles ached.

To find the strongest warriors for the task, the King of Anlius held a tournament at the palace. Every applicant fought in one-on-one duels. Three emerged. The first was Dara Bengba, the "Sword Hero," a longsword fighter. The second was Freyja, the "Magic Hero," a specialist in spellwork. The third was Kael, the "Healing Hero," who specialized in recovery. Warrior. Mage. Priest. A proper party. The king was pleased. His queen had suggested the tournament format, and he was glad she had.

He'd never have guessed his small kingdom had this much talent hiding in it. Dara Bengba in particular was a surprise. Second-tier warrior, nothing more on paper. But his physical ability was extraordinary, and his reaction speed was something else entirely. Third-tier warriors couldn't track him. Talent could do what training couldn't.

"Warriors!" The king's voice rang out across the palace hall.

"You are the finest this kingdom has to offer. You now carry the sacred charge of slaying the evil dragon and returning our princess home."

"To help you succeed, I have prepared the finest equipment Anlius can provide." He clapped once. A knight came around the corner pushing a small cart loaded with gear of every kind, all of it gleaming, all of it Fine-grade. The king hadn't overstated it. Fine-grade equipment. The best in all of Anlius. There was nothing in the kingdom that surpassed it. Dara Bengba's eyes went straight to the cart. For a warrior, equipment wasn't optional.

A mage or a priest could still cast without a wand, still heal with nothing in their hands. A warrior without a weapon was half a fighter. His rusted iron sword had bent completely out of shape in the duels. He needed this. He stepped forward without hesitation, selected his armor and weapon, and thanked the king. Freyja and Kael didn't move.

"Thank you for the offer," Freyja said.

"But I already carry a Master-grade wand. Your equipment is excellent — it simply isn't suited to me." Her face was half-hidden by the shadow of her mage's hat, but what showed was striking. Exquisite, even. She wore long, ornate robes, and her pink hair fell in a smooth curtain all the way to her waist. Her tone was flat and perfectly polite. Everyone in the room heard the contempt underneath it anyway. Then again — third-tier mage. She had earned her confidence.

"Ah... same for me." Kael scratched the back of his head.

"I have ancestral equipment. The armor here is a bit heavy for how I fight." There was no pride in the way he said it. He just meant it plainly. Though his gaze kept drifting toward Freyja, and the look in his eyes held something more complicated than he seemed to realize.

"Very well," the king said.

"Then you may depart." He'd taken too many blows lately. Freyja's contempt barely registered.

"I want to remind you — dragons are powerful beyond what their tier suggests. Even a third-tier dragon is nothing like an ordinary monster. Move carefully. Don't be reckless."

"And I wish you all a safe road."

The palace doors opened. A bell rang out somewhere above, its tone clear and unhurried. Three figures stepped out into the light. Each of them carried something different. A different reason. A different want. They turned their faces toward the sun and walked forward, into whatever was waiting for them, and the dragon-slaying journey began. Liu Liu Anna. ➤ Next: Parting Ways — Face to Face