The Barbarian of the Count’s Family Is Too Strong

Chapter 23: Journey with the Trading Company (2)

The clashing of metal and the screams of people echoed throughout the long caravan.

The situation was dire.

The knights and mercenaries were all clustered at the front, near the caravan master.

Adventurers were scattered throughout, but some were inexperienced in battle and offered little help.

A few areas were safer due to the presence of former mercenaries or wandering swordsmen, but the rest were easy prey for the bandits.

Baekun slowly rose from the mule cart, watching the horde of attackers descend like starving dogs.

“Ugh, I’m not much for close combat.”

“Well, what can you expect from a little whelp like you?”

“……”

Baekun’s face twisted as if he had swallowed something bitter at Elena’s remark.

“Kukheheh! Vice-captain! We got a damn fine-looking bitch over here!”

“Shit, you’re right! Hey, I get first dibs, so bring her over nice and gentle!”

“You heard him! Our vice-captain wants her. Kukheheh, if you come quietly, we won’t kill you. In fact, we’ll make sure you—”

“Jacob.”

Shing—!

Before the bandit could finish his vulgar words, Elena murmured a name.

A pitch-black figure emerged from the shadows, and in the next instant, the bandit’s head hit the ground.

It happened so fast that no one even realized what had transpired.

“W-What the…?”

One of the bandits muttered in confusion.

Shing!

His head split open, blood spraying as he collapsed.

The figure—Jacob—knelt before Elena, his expression rigid.

“Your orders.”

“Kill them all.”

“Yes, my master (Да, мој господару).”

At her command, Jacob bared his razor-sharp fangs and tore through the bandits.

Heads dropped to the ground like ripe fruit, painting the area in blood.

“M-Monster…!”

“No one told us there’d be a freak like that!”

“Shit, run!!”

Both the bandits and onlookers stared in horror at Jacob’s rampage.

“Well… Looks like I’m not needed here.”

“You were never needed in battle, brat. Just keep yourself alive.”

After throwing that remark at Baekun, Elena kicked off the ground and dashed toward the caravan’s center.

It wasn’t because she cared about protecting innocent lives or felt a sense of justice.

If I do this, I can rank up to E-rank alongside Master, right?

Her motivation for fighting was embarrassingly petty, but no one knew that.

“Boss! There’s a hot chick running straight toward us!”

“What? Oh—damn, she’s got a nice—”

Before he could finish, his head was shredded into dozens of pieces and scattered across the ground.

The bandits, who had been laughing while killing merchants and looting supplies, instantly fell silent.

They turned to the woman who had suddenly appeared, their eyes widening.

Their instincts screamed.

Move, and you die.

***

“Hm, the sky is beautiful.”

Agron had gotten lost.

He had set out to gather firewood, yet somehow, he found himself in front of a decrepit, abandoned house.

Scanning his surroundings, he found no sign of people.

It truly seemed deserted.

Hoping to find a map or compass, Agron opened the door and stepped inside.

“……”

Something felt off.

Dust covered everything, and cobwebs filled the corners—except for the door leading to the basement.

That door alone was untouched by dust or cobwebs.

Someone either recently came out of the basement or went in.

Without overthinking it, Agron opened the basement door.

He was simply a man driven by curiosity—if something was unknown, he had to see it for himself.

Fear was unnecessary for a warrior.

Hesitation was for the weak.

Can’t see a damn thing.

Agron wasn’t afraid of the dark.

Like a bat, he could hear.

Like a hound, he could smell.

Like a snake, he could taste the air.

Like a shark, he could feel vibrations through his skin.

A salty tang…

The moment he detected the faint taste of salt on his tongue, a controlled gust of air brushed against his skin.

It was the unmistakable scent of human sweat.

Without hesitation, Agron swung his leg to the side.

His shin struck something solid—a sensation unmistakably human.

Crack!

A sound like thick logs snapping rang out, and suddenly, flames ignited around the basement, illuminating the area.

A dozen figures in black robes turned to face him.

“…Wait, the intruder isn’t down?”

“Kelvin! Kelvin’s back is broken!”

“Damn it, kill him!”

“Before he exposes our secret—eliminate him!”

As the sinister atmosphere burned through the air, Agron coolly scanned the scene.

He instantly assessed the number of enemies, the terrain of the basement, and how many were armed.

Grabbing the arm of the closest enemy, he yanked him forward and delivered a sharp palm strike to his elbow, snapping it backward.

Then, he snatched the torch from the man’s now-useless hand.

“A flimsy weapon, but it’ll do.”

Without another word, Agron charged into their midst, swinging the torch like a club.

With every strike, bones shattered and blood splattered.

Whenever his torch broke, he discarded it and grabbed another from his enemies.

“Gah—!”

Agron seized the last surviving cultist by the collar and hoisted him into the air.

The man kicked and clawed at Agron’s arm, struggling in vain.

Ripping open his captive’s shirt, Agron pressed the smoldering torch to his abdomen.

“Ghh…! Agh…!”

“Answer my questions. If you don’t, I’ll carve pain into your body far worse than this.”

Face turning crimson from lack of air, the cultist frantically nodded.

***

As Agron wandered through the forest path after leaving the abandoned house, Elena found him.

“Master! Are you unharmed?”

“Hm, I’m fine. Did you get into a fight?”

Agron caught the scent of blood lingering on her body and asked.

Elena recounted everything that had happened in his absence, leaving nothing out.

“I see. I also came across an interesting story on my way back.”

“An interesting story?”

Agron decided to explain after regrouping with Baekun.

“But how did you find me?”

“Master, you gave me your blood. I can track your scent from several kilometers away.”

“Oh—what a useful ability.”

“Thank you!”

“Then how do we return to our group? Can you track the old man’s scent?”

“I can’t track that brat’s scent. But Jacob received my blood, so I’ll follow his.”

Even with Agron’s heightened physical abilities, finding someone several kilometers away would have been impossible.

Thanks to Elena, he was able to reunite with the caravan.

***

“The cleanup isn’t finished yet.”

The caravan remained at the same mountain path where Agron had left it.

Corpses and wounded lay scattered throughout, with mercenaries and adventurers gathering the dead into one place.

“Agron, where have you been?”

“I went to gather firewood.”

“…So where is it?”

Agron stood empty-handed.

“That’s not important right now.”

“No, really. Where’s the firewood?”

“I have something more urgent to discuss.”

“Where. Is. The. Firewood—”

“Oh, shut it, brat! Master is speaking!”

“……”

Baekun, raised in the Land of Courtesy, had a hard time being disrespectful to those older than him.

He could only glare at Elena with a sour expression.

“I happened to enter an abandoned house and found over a dozen people in robes gathered in the basement.”

“A strange group. What were they doing?”

Agron shared the information he had extracted from his captives.

“Remember the cultists who tried to resurrect Jacob in the cave with the ‘Herb Tiger’?”

“Ah… those weird fanatics?”

“Yes. It turns out they were the same people.”

He took out a golden necklace he had retrieved from one of them.

It bore the image of a serpent biting its own tail, forming a circle.

“This is… Ouroboros.”

“Correct. It’s their emblem and the foundation of their belief.”

“So their group is called Ouroboros?”

“No. Their organization is called Ananta. It means ‘infinity.’”

Elena asked,

“What is the purpose of this ‘Ananta’ organization?”

“The ones I interrogated were low-ranking members, so they didn’t know much. But they claimed their goal was to summon their master.”

“If their master is Jacob… that would be quite underwhelming.”

“I thought the same.”

Hearing their exchange, Jacob, who had been listening silently, gave an awkward smile.

“But what exactly were they doing in that basement? Were they trying to summon another monster…?”

“No. Their target was this caravan.”

“…Hm?”

Baekun furrowed his brow.

“The caravan? Then that means—”

“Yes. They were the ones who hired the bandits.”

“Hah… That explains why the attack was so coordinated.”

“Master, what was Ananta’s goal with the caravan?”

“I don’t know the details. They simply ordered the bandits to take everything they could.”

Agron wanted to dig deeper, but even the cultists themselves didn’t know the specifics.

All they had been told was that something within the caravan’s cargo was essential to their organization.

At that moment, a knight on horseback rode up from the front of the caravan.

“Are you the adventurers who slaughtered the bandits?”

The knight glanced between Elena and Jacob.

Elena was about to respond, but Jacob beat her to it.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmph. The caravan master wishes to see you. Follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, the knight turned his horse and rode off.

Elena gave Jacob a long, pointed look, making him shift uncomfortably.

“M-Master would have undoubtedly spoken down to that man. But even the lowest-ranking knight is still nobility. I thought it best to avoid causing unnecessary trouble, so I answered in his place. Please forgive me.”

“…Hmph, very well.”

Elena was absurdly stubborn about her personal beliefs.

She had declared she would never use honorifics for anyone except Agron, and she intended to keep that vow no matter what.

Baekun had once told Agron, “You should make her change that.”

But Agron had simply replied, “A true warrior never bends their convictions.”

In the end, he only reinforced her resolve.

The group followed the knight into a temporary tented pavilion where the caravan master was waiting.

***

“Oh, welcome.”

A plump, middle-aged man sat waiting for them.

“Greetings.”

Baekun was the first to step inside and respond.

A caravan master wasn’t a noble—just a wealthy merchant.

But that didn’t mean one could be disrespectful to an employer.

Baekun took the lead in handling the conversation while keeping Agron and Elena in the background.

“You have a distinctive outfit. A mage from the East, I presume?”

“Indeed. The caravan master has a sharp eye.”

“Oh, not at all. I’ve simply traveled enough to see and hear many things. And these young friends must be your companions.”

“Thank you for inviting us, Caravan Master.”

Jacob, quick to catch on, responded before anyone else.

As a Vampir, he disliked bowing to humans.

But he also knew neither Agron nor Elena would do it, so he stepped forward instead.

The caravan master greeted them with a smile—until his gaze landed on Elena.

For a brief moment, a flicker of desire burned in his eyes.

“Oh ho… Even in this dusty road, I’ve stumbled upon a true flower. Not just a beauty—she’d be considered stunning even in the grandest cities.”

“……”

Elena responded with nothing more than a slight nod.

That was the extent of what she was willing to concede.

“How about this? If you work under me as a personal guard, I’ll pay you double… no, triple your current earnings. Rather than struggling as an adventurer, wouldn’t it be better to travel the continent in luxury and dine on the finest cuisine?”

“Haha, unfortunate news, Caravan Master. Those two are engaged.”

Noticing Elena’s darkening expression, Baekun quickly gestured toward her and Agron.

“Engaged? Hmm.”

The caravan master’s gaze swept over Agron in clear displeasure.

‘Taller than me, better-looking… and way more muscular. But wouldn’t a rich man like me be a better choice?’

Clicking his tongue, he decided to back off—for now.

Opportunities are created, after all.

“I have a different matter to discuss. When we arrive in the city, the local nobles and merchants will be hosting a banquet. As a token of appreciation for protecting the caravan, I’d like to invite you all.”

Baekun, Jacob, and Elena naturally turned to Agron.

They would only follow his decision.

“Thank you for the invitation. We’ll attend.”

Agron gave a slight smile, his eyes drifting toward the caravan master’s wrist.

There, glinting faintly, was the unmistakable symbol of Ouroboros.