Chapter 126: [126] Mercenary Boss

“ARGHHHHH!” The mercenary screamed, clutching tightly onto his bleeding arm.

His colleagues stared at his bleeding hand in shock, still trying to understand what had just happened.

They had barely seen Eliron move, and yet his blade was covered with blood.

The lively buzz of the tavern died down immediately, the room growing deathly quiet as they watched him.

Although they wanted to run, no one dared to move, each person trying to appear invisible.

“Y-you bastard!! You cut off my fucking hand! I swear, you are going to pay for this you fucke—”

Squelsh!

Blood poured out of his head as a great sword plunged into his skull, splitting his head in half.

His body twitched once, his eyes wide open in death as he slipped off the sword—

Thump!

“Ahhhhhh!”

The serving screamed, immediately running to hide behind Eliron, trembling all over.

At the same time, Ash, Artie and even the drunken Yen sprang up to their feet, their weapons drawn.

They could sense it…

The sinister aura that had suddenly appeared.

“Tch—!”

“I always tell you fuckers, if you’re going to talk big, make sure you live up to your words. Yet, here you are destroying the reputation I spent many years building.”

Standing over the body was a man with greying beards, a muscular figure and sharp eyes filled with experience.

There was a thick scar that circled his neck, a deep cut that should have been fatal…

One glance was enough for Eliron to know he was the leader of the mercenaries.

And from the way he held his sword, Eliron could tell—

He is strong.

The man’s face hardened as he spat on the dead man’s corpse.

The leader of the mercenary group let out a long sigh then smiled, resting his blood-stained greatsword on his shoulder.

“Ah, good day ladies and gentlemen! I am Balak, the leader of these unruly chumps, haha!”

Eliron raised a brow.

Balak scratched his head a little too furiously then pulled out a rag to wipe his sword, whistling as he stared at his reflection on the black blade.

“I think we have a little problem don’t we?”

Thump!

Balak drove his sword into the floor then leaned down…

He grabbed the hand of the dead man and hoisted him up to his feet.

Then a crazed look flashed on his face and his bloodlust seeped out, causing the mercenaries behind him to shake with fear.

“Tsk tsk… It seems you’ve cut off the hand of one of my guys. We are mercenaries, how is he going to hold a sword like this?”

Eliron glanced at Ash, both of them sharing a look before he turned back to the man.

“I think he has bigger problems than a missing hand.”

“You might want to check that head of his…” Eliron smiled. “…and yours as well, something is definitely wrong upstairs.”

“How dare you insult the boss!” One of the mercenaries banter, his face contorted with rage.

Swish!

The mercenaries all glared at Eliron, every single one of them unsheathing their swords simultaneously.

At the same time, Ash’s mana flared in warning.

Even in the face of overwhelming numbers, there was not a flicker of fear in his steely grey eyes.

Balak dropped the corpse and pulled his weapon out of the floor, his eyes locked on Eliron, and then—

“Bwahahahahaha! Good one, good one! This little elf is pretty funny is he?” He said, turning to his group.

“Alright, enough talk.” he continued, the mirth still in his voice. “This is how this is going to go, it is either you compensate me for my loss—”

“Or I’ll slaughter every last person in this dump.”

The customers in the tavern were sweating buckets as they watched the exchange, praying to their gods that they would somehow survive.

Their collective prayer was… “Please, God, don’t let that elf upset him further!”

But Eliron tilted his head to the side and said, “Are you an idiot?”

A thick cloud of gloom surrounded the customers.

“Why would I compensate you when I saved that man’s life?!” Eliron asked in a matter of fact way.

If he had not acted at the time he did, then Artie would have killed him right on the spot, his intervention had been mercy.

But there was no way to explain it to the block head in front of him.

Eliron kicked his table to the side, creating a path to Balak, then with one hand supporting his belly, he waddled towards the mercenary leader with a frown on his face.

“Why do I have to compensate you when you are the one in the wrong?”

Balak smiled.

’I like this guy!’

He mused as he watched him.

It had been a long time since anyone had the guts to walk up to his face like this…

From the moment he unleashed his bloodlust, the elf should have been begging on his knees, but he had not even phased one bit.

It was either he had absolutely no sense of self preservation—an absolute fool, or he thought he was strong.

Balak felt his blood pressure increasing as his heart tingled with excitement.

He could have killed the lousy elf right there and then, but it would be a waste, this type of prey was best served slowly cooked…

First, he would break his spirit, then his mind and finally his body.

Balak had a thousand and one creative ways to do so.

He could start with the girls, have his way with them while he watched, unable to move a muscle.

Or maybe he could take him apart, nerve by nerve, muscle by muscle, bone from bone…

But first, he had to set the stage.

“I see we are at an impasse. You believe you have been wronged, and I maintain my stance that it is I who have been wronged…” Balak spoke calmly.

“I see only one way to settle this…”

Eliron raised a brow, picking his teeth as he stared at Balak.

“Uhun, and what is that?”

“A honour duel.”

“Honour duel?”

An honour duel was a sacred battle between warriors often used to prove innocence, or defend one’s honour in the case of an accusation.

It was said that an honour due was influenced by heaven itself, with the angels as a witness to the sacred bout.

It was also believed that only the truly innocent person could win one.

Of course, that part was bullshit…

God took no joy in witnessing the violence of mortals, why would his angels care about such a single affair?

There was no honour in bloodshed.

Only death, pain and suffering.

Balak smiled. “One of your people vs one of mine. If we win…”

Swooosh!

A gale of wind blew past Eliron’s face, sending his long hair billowing back as Balak swung his great sword down, the tip stopping a few inches from Eliron’s chest.

…Right at the pure gold necklace hanging on his neck.

“I’ll take that with me…”

Then Balak licked his lips.

“And a hand from one of your women. Your choice of course…”

’Alright, how will you react to this?!’ Balak thought, a dark grin painting his lips.

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