Chapter Nine: Oran’s Gift

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Olan nodded slowly, deep in thought.

Jorda smiled. As a seasoned veteran who had spent nearly thirty years with the Citadel Guerrilla Force, he deeply understood what concerns a young fellow like Olan might have.

Before Olan could ask, Jorda proactively offered two options. “It’s not like the days when we did volunteer work. Nowadays, the Citadel Guerrilla Force is funded directly by the Lokrak Guild, and there’s even a dedicated logistics support system.”

“In other words, it can be treated as a stable job. Regular salaries, free accommodation, standardized equipment issued as needed—pretty attractive, right?”

Then his tone shifted suddenly. “But I can see you’re not interested in that kind of setup, young man. You’re not thinking of staying long with the Citadel Guerrilla Force, are you?”

“Mm.” Olan nodded without hesitation.

To be honest, at first, he just wanted a place to stay after running away from home. Somehow, it had turned into joining the Citadel Guerrilla Force.

“There are quite a few young people with similar ideas, so we have a strategy for that too. Think of it as a short-term gig—one or two weeks is fine, a few months is okay, and of course, a year would be even better.”

“Although the fixed salary might be a bit lower, you'll have more freedom with your time. I can assign you more hunting and extermination missions, all recognized by the guild and count toward your mission tally, so it won’t affect your promotion to two-star.”

“You’ll get housing and equipment, too—though the gear is on loan and must be returned if you decide to leave.”

Olan was a bit stunned. “Isn’t that too lenient?”

“Ha!” Jorda skewered a large chunk of roasted meat and placed it on Olan’s plate. “Not everyone gets such treatment, but you are a genius after all. A little favor is only natural. Just remember, give us a few days’ notice before quitting, or it might mess up the work schedule.”

At this point, refusing would be a bit rude.

There was no need to worry about being scammed; the Citadel Guerrilla Force had a good reputation and wouldn’t take advantage of a small hunter like him.

Besides, the Citadel Guerrilla Force was directly led by the Lokrak Guild, and he was quite familiar with the mustached guildmaster...

“Then, I look forward to working with you.” Olan stood and bowed to Jorda across the table.

“Hey! We desert folk don’t need all that formal stuff.” Jorda laughed heartily, came over, and embraced him with his greasy, large hand. The steel-needle-like short whiskers scratched Olan’s face painfully.

Retsu and Sandthorn seized the moment to start eating heartily.

The best way to enjoy roasted meat was to devour it greedily, and soon the large plate was cleanly shared among the three humans and one cat.

“Ah! I’m full, I’m full!” Retsu patted his belly with a blissful expression.

Sandthorn yawned, narrowing his eyes. “Meow—”

“You eat the most!” Jorda glared at Retsu. “Skipping work again and mooching meals. But since you brought Olan here, I won’t hold it against you.”

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After speaking, Jorda turned to Olan. “I’ll have Retsu take you to get some gear. Although the guerrilla force outfit isn’t top-tier armor, it’s still better than what you have now.”

“You’ll need a place to stay too, right? Retsu will take care of that. If you have any questions, just ask her.”

“I won’t assign you a fixed patrol area. Your main focus is assassination missions to rack up tasks for your two-star promotion, right?”

“There are plenty of those to go around. I’ll assign you more. When you have free time, you can patrol with Retsu and Sandthorn for a change of pace.”

Olan nodded.

“That’s settled, then. Off you go. I have a lot to do this afternoon. Sandthorn, keep an eye on Retsu—don’t let her wander off and slack.”

“Understood, meow!”

Retsu made a face at Jorda and left with Olan and Sandthorn.

Jorda sat back down, seemingly waiting for someone.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a woman dressed in desert attire—a gauzy skirt and scarf—sat across from him.

“I felt someone following that kid from a distance. So it was you,” Jorda said, folding his arms.

The woman removed the scarf that concealed her face. “Sorry to trouble you with that child.”

Jorda sighed. “Miss Kari, though you are his mentor and sort of a foster mother, isn’t tailing him like that a bit inappropriate?”

Kari’s usually expressionless face showed a hint of embarrassment. “You misunderstand. This is my first time doing something like this. The main reason is…”

After hesitating for several seconds, she continued, “I plan to leave.”

“Oh? That’s good news,” Jorda laughed.

Lokrak was neither too small nor too large. As the leader of the Citadel Guerrilla Force, he couldn’t know everyone.

But as a long-time foreign resident of Lokrak and a fellow dual blade wielder, he knew Kari and was aware of some of her affairs.

He knew Kari’s strength as a hunter was even greater than his own. The reason she was still stuck at five stars was because she begged the guildmaster to refuse the six-star promotion mission.

Five stars and below was considered the “lower tier,” where missions were entirely voluntary and free.

But once one reached six stars or above—the “upper tier”—they had to accept guild assignments, traveling to handle high-difficulty incidents.

But she couldn’t leave...

“Though I haven’t known him long, I can tell he’s a steady child with strength far beyond his peers. He can handle himself alone. I really don’t understand what you’re holding onto.”

After another long silence, Jorda saw Kari was hesitating and didn’t push her.

After nearly a minute, she spoke again. “Olan has exceptional talent as a hunter. Very exceptional.”

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“That I know. Becoming a formal hunter before seventeen—how can his talent not be outstanding?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Kari gathered her thoughts. “His coordination is extraordinary. At first, I thought he would become a dual blade wielder like me.”

“But after some training, I found his strength is also considerable, not the absolute best, but strong enough to wield heavy weapons.”

“At that time, I thought he might be better suited for weapons like the shield axe or the transforming axe.”

Jorda nodded as he listened.

“When Haifa heard about this, he happily came over as a joke and taught him the charging techniques for the greatsword, which he learned quickly.”

“At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Although rare, hunters skilled with multiple weapons do exist.”

“Until one day, I saw him at the training ground, holding dual swords but practicing charging slashes with a single sword.”

Jorda continued nodding. “Hmm... huh?”

Every swordsman knows that charging a greatsword slash isn’t just about tensing muscles. The sword’s weight itself is crucial during the charge.

It’s like forging iron—the weight of the hammer is necessary. Even a master craftsman cannot strike iron barehanded.

Unless someone has honed their martial skills to the extreme, relying solely on muscle tension to achieve the effect is almost impossible. Someone with that level of mastery could even use an umbrella to perform a charged slash.

But Olan clearly doesn’t possess such martial prowess.

This leaves only one explanation: he has a special talent beyond ordinary comprehension.

Kari lowered her voice. “After years of development, the weapons and techniques hunters use have become fixed. Even when new moves are developed, the ‘core’ of each weapon remains unchanged.”

“Like the breathing techniques for the long sword, demon transformation for dual blades, charging for the greatsword, and inertia combos for the hammer.”

“But Olan seems to break these limits through his superhuman coordination and muscle control.”

“If he’s allowed to develop freely, you should understand what that means.”

“Uncontrollable and dangerous,” Jorda pressed his brow. “Every weapon’s form is built on the sacrifices of countless predecessors.”

“The strength of hunters grows because they stand on the shoulders of those who came before.”

“What Olan is doing is like jumping around on those shoulders. One misstep, and he’ll fall to his death.”