Savage Ascension: Starting with God-Tier Plunder Ability-Chapter 61: No Honor Among the Desperate

Rowan pretended to run away, but he didn’t actually flee. He remembered that Sen was sprawled on the rocks, his wrists and one ankle severed, given emergency treatment by the orc with white powder.

He pulled out the leather covering his bow and arrows on his back. The inside was soaked with filtered waste oil. Of course, there wasn’t a ton of it. Even waste oil like that was precious, so it was just enough to keep out moisture while not being too slippery to handle.

He took out his bow and arrows, the familiar weight settling into his hands like an old friend. Since they’d been treated with oil to keep moisture out, he had to wipe them down with a rag several times before they stuck properly to his hands. The oil left a sheen on his palms that he methodically removed, knowing that even the smallest slip could mean the difference between a clean kill and a warning shot that alerted enemies to his position.

This world with its four distinct seasons was a real pain in the ass. People who ate well and lived comfortably might enjoy all the variety, but not Rowan.

’A desert would be better.’

If he was too lazy to maintain his bow, he had to use oil, and if he used oil, he had to wipe it off like this right before battle. If he didn’t want that hassle, he’d have to maintain it constantly, or else the bowstring would snap mid-fight.

Thwack!

It wasn’t hard to kill the unconscious youngest Sen where the orcs had left him. No matter how experienced you were, having your wrists and ankle cut off—the shock must’ve been horrific. Even Rowan couldn’t imagine that kind of pain.

An arrow pierced his throat, and another targeted his side, specifically the lungs.

Having successfully killed Sen, Rowan withdrew.

The Skull Mercenary Group had pathetically lost three members because they’d run into twin orc brothers who stood out even among orc warriors, but that didn’t mean youngest Sen’s abilities were at street thug level. He’d died without even getting to use his specialty—archery.

Rowan wanted Sen’s archery skills.

’Keireon used heavy armor really well.’

He was so skilled with heavy armor that he could sleep in it. Handless Sendabil had provided Rowan with various weapon techniques, but none about armor operation. Everything felt familiar in his hands, but Rowan had never faced a situation where he lost his weapon.

Everyone had their standout qualities, their particular area of excellence that made them valuable. Just being able to walk around in heavy armor with his massive frame and weight made Keireon a rare commodity as a mercenary. Most men that size were clumsy, slow, unable to coordinate their limbs properly. But not Keireon.

That didn’t mean he was naturally suited for the Skull Mercenary Group. It meant he’d be valued anywhere. If his personality had been more sociable, he could’ve even become a knight in some remote territory. That’s how valuable his build was as a physical asset.

Being big didn’t mean being clumsy and slow. If that were true, the world would’ve been conquered by toddlers long ago. A longer reach meant striking enemies first, and a bigger frame meant you could bash opponents shield and all.

’Being that big would be nice.’

Right now, Rowan had a build about the same as Yuval’s. He had more muscle than Yuval, but the difference wasn’t huge. Growing as big as Keireon might be greedy, but considering Rowan’s current age was 15, there was growth potential.

’Dad was pretty big too.’

As a ranch owner who had to work outdoors, he’d had a solid build. There were even rumors that his ancestors were northerners who’d come down from the north. That was supposedly why he grew less facial hair than others.

Thinking about what he wanted from Sen and Keireon’s heavy armor operation skills, Rowan descended the mountain and headed straight for where the cart was. The mercenaries who’d fled would definitely be there.

’With Keireon and Sen dead, three must’ve survived.’

Rowan figured the mercenaries definitely knew more about the orcs. He’d already caught on to that. But he didn’t have enough evidence to confront them directly about it. If it turned into a verbal fight, he’d obviously lose being outnumbered.

That wouldn’t be smart. Unless you were some kind of overlord, powerful enough that people feared to contradict you, you couldn’t just go off on uncertain hunches. It was a choice only someone who wanted to establish clear dominance could make, someone willing to rule through force and intimidation rather than cooperation.

Without a shred of evidence, unless he was in a position to decide everything by force, picking fights with the retreating mercenaries wasn’t something Rowan could do.

’That’d be insane.’

Just because they’d retreated from orcs didn’t mean the mercenary group was weak. They were seasoned fighters who’d survived years in a brutal profession. They’d just had bad luck with their opponents, running into something far beyond what anyone could have reasonably expected. The mercenaries probably hadn’t expected things to turn out this way either, hadn’t anticipated that a simple orc extermination job would turn into a massacre.

Even though his goodwill toward the mercenaries had vanished like smoke, burned away by their deception and the deaths he’d witnessed, Rowan was going to them simply because he had nowhere else to turn. The hard truth was that traveling alone was just one uncertainty after another, a constant gamble with death.

’Even if there’s just a few, traveling together is better.’

If he ran into just three bandits, Rowan was a dead man. Having to rely on Dono’s agility wasn’t good for Rowan. One lucky shot from an enemy could end his life.

Just like these recent deaths.

’As expected.’

Rowan spotted Consensus Yuval and Informant Merein resting at the cart.

They were resting without looking at each other, their faces defeated. They had no choice. Three out of five mercenary group members were dead.