Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 32

Chapter 32
“Sit,” Khan said and gestured as he led Leon into the hideout.
Unlike the ruined exterior, the inside was surprisingly intact. Aside from the heavy stench of alcohol, the place was decent enough to be called a proper residence.
Leon sat across from Khan. Facing a man nearly two meters tall, the pressure was more intense than he could have imagined. A faint-hearted person wouldn't even dare raise their head. But Leon met his eyes without a flicker of hesitation.
There were no openings. Not a single one.
That was the impression Khan gave him. Every action was bold yet efficient, with no wasted movement. Even though his back was turned, Leon didn’t see it as an opportunity.
He was a man truly fit to sit at the top of the slums. El-Cid, however, had a slightly different take.
—What a waste. He’s got a naturally gifted frame, and his instincts are incredible. If he had walked the path of martial arts properly, he could’ve become a Master long ago. But instead, he cobbled together his own clumsy style and got trapped in it. He’ll need over a decade of hard discipline to break through that wall.”
A Master? This guy’s that strong?
—He is.
El-Cid replied bluntly to Leon’s shocked question.
—When someone reaches the higher stages of Aura Wielder, they’re called an ‘Expert.’ And this guy’s reached the very limit of that level. Right now, even with your Seven Star Sword, the best you’d manage is just dying with him. Don’t fight him.
Seriously...?
Unaware of Leon’s inner turmoil, Khan pulled out a bottle and sprawled onto a massive sofa. Popping the cork without hesitation, he took several gulps of the strong liquor before speaking.
“
Keugh
... so, where should we start?” he asked Leon.
“Start with why you need me specifically.”
“Good, I like how direct you are.”
A flash of bloodlust passed through Khan’s eyes, quickly fading. It seemed Leon’s do-or-die strike earlier had roused his fighting spirit, but he was suppressing it with alcohol. Then, the long story began.
“Those sons of bitches started moving about three or four months ago.”
The slums were wary of outsiders, but they never outright rejected them. External input was always necessary to maintain the system of power and bring in money.
The weak got devoured while the strong feasted. Those who mistook themselves as predators or underestimated that law didn’t last long. Real powerhouses that occasionally wandered in would clash with the ones already here—either taking their place or submitting to them.
Khan had assumed it was the same this time. Just another bunch of fools who didn’t know their place. The reality turned out to be a little different.
“But the moment they stepped into the slums, they attacked Districts Twenty-Three and Twenty-Five. That’s where that damn pig Simon was secretly growing his ‘crops’ there. Over two hundred people died in a single day. The pig took a serious hit and was absolutely livid.”
If the Fang ruled by brute strength, the Golden Pig ruled with his overwhelming wealth. Simon’s capital base was worth several—or even dozens—of top-ranking nobles.
The very next day, mercenaries swarmed in. Even if the Guild didn’t officially accept criminal requests, there were plenty of ways to go around it. Especially when they were offering triple pay, with half paid upfront.
Fifty-six C-rank mercenaries, twelve B-ranks, and more than three hundred D-ranks—the bare minimum—gathered. Nearly every mercenary operating in Blaine had drawn their blades for Simon’s hit job.
Everyone in the slums believed those intruders would be wiped out. With that kind of force, even Khan didn’t want to go up against them head-on.
The fight grew so large even the city guard decided to look the other way, and a small war broke out in a corner of the slums. And then—
“They all died. Every last one of them.”
It was an outcome no one had predicted. Mercenaries were professional fighters who were seasoned in warfare. In one-on-one combat, adventurers might be stronger, but in group battles, mercenaries showed their true worth.
And yet they lost. Not just lost—they were
slaughtered
.
Even now, the area where over five hundred mercenaries had bled out still hadn’t fully lost its crimson color.
“What? Who the hell are these people?” Leon barely managed to ask, at a loss for words.
If there were forces capable of wiping out five hundred mercenaries, that was a threat serious enough to draw national attention. Even if the slums were outside the law’s reach, this had crossed a line that couldn’t be ignored.
Khan only scoffed at the question and replied, “No one knows. Everyone who tried to find out ended up in a coffin. Well, except me.”
Khan threw a bottle and it shattered with a sharp crack. He didn’t even glance that way as he spoke.
“The pig’s out cold and can’t move. The Keeper still seems content to watch, and even my men are avoiding a full-scale war. Not that I blame them—without me, they’d all die.”
“So, they’re practically untouchable,” Leon said.
“As unpleasant as it is, that’s how it turned out.” Khan clenched both fists and bared his teeth. “That’s why I called you in. An adventurer who only seeks honor. I tested you earlier and saw it. A natural instinct to charge forward rather than retreat in the face of danger. With that kind of nerve, I figured you wouldn’t turn me down.”
Leon smiled as if pleased by the flattering remark. A man chasing glory would no doubt appreciate a little sweet talk.
“You’re not going to hire me as a hitman, which means you want to...”
After taking a brief pause, Leon got to his point.
“You’re trying to involve the guild?”
Khan’s twisted smirk confirmed his suspicion.
“You’re sharp. Talking to you is refreshing. My men are so dumb I get a headache trying to explain things. I wish I had someone like you around.”
“Sorry, but I’m not interested in joining a gang.”
“
Keh
, I had to try. But yeah, you’re right. Those guys are too dangerous. There’s nothing to gain from beating them, and if we lose, it’s all over. There’s no reason to throw everything at them unless we’re the ones who get to deliver the killing blow.”
This was why the Fang wanted to borrow outside power. Leon felt a renewed sense of caution toward Khan. He was a man who rose to the top through brute force but knew how to use his head—cunning by nature. If he were just strong, he wouldn’t be this bold.
The real threat now was the Evil, but someday, this man named Khan might become an even greater danger.
“Fine, but what’s your excuse for getting the Guild involved?”
“This.”
At Leon’s question, Khan handed over a stack of papers. Leon took them and began reading slowly. Not long after, his teeth clenched.
“You’re kidding me.”
The contents were shocking.
The documents stated that over five thousand people had died. Not just cheap slaves, but unidentified paupers had been kidnapped and killed. Since they didn’t exist on any official records, no one noticed they were gone.
Slave traders, despite knowing what was happening, still sold large numbers for profit, and some slum gangs had abducted vagrants to make a quick buck. The evidence was solid—names of ringleaders, IOUs, AND even human remains collected from the sewers.
“Can’t you just submit this as is?”
“No. The Guild’s upper brass are more stuck up than you think. If they suspect the source, they’ll never buy it.”
“So that’s why you needed me.”
Leon’s nickname, the Sweeper, was a testament to how little he cared about money. He had the favor of powerful figures like the city lord and the defense captain, giving him considerable credibility.
Khan clapped his hands together and continued, “Exactly. You’re going to be the proof. A living, breathing witness they’ll believe when you expose those bastards for what they are!”
Leon, seeing right through Khan’s true intentions behind his sweet talk, replied, “
Hah
. Shameless. I could survive this job and it to the Guild, or die at your enemy’s hands and give the Guild a reason to join in this fight. You’re fine either way, isn’t that right?”
Khan burst into laughter. Trading fists was fun, but this kind of back-and-forth to figure each other out was just as entertaining. In a place like the slums, where fists talked louder than words, this kind of exchange was a rare delight.
After a while, he grinned and asked, “So what, you’re turning me down?”
Leon smirked back and replied, “Nope. I’ll do it.”
It was something he had to do anyway. Even if Khan’s intentions were underhanded, his influence in the slums was absolute.
Besides, the information and evidence about Districts Twenty-Three and Twenty-Five were things Leon couldn’t uncover alone. It was better to play along and save hundreds of lives than let pride get in the way.
“Here. Take these,” Khan said, tossing a pouch and a dagger.
“What’s this?”
When Leon asked, Khan pointed to each as he explained, “The dagger bears my mark. If anyone gives you trouble, show it. Unless it’s the Keeper, no one will dare mess with you. And there’s some magic scrolls I threw together in that pouch. Sell them or use them, I don’t care. Consider it a deposit.”
“Got it.
Oh
, and one last thing.” Leon rose from his seat and asked, “That punch earlier—were you planning to stop it from the start?”
Khan’s expression went blank. Only his eyes moved like a predator sizing up fearless prey. Then, he smiled like nothing had happened.
“Absolutely not.”
***
The air was different leaving the slums than it had been entering. Maybe it was because he had come face-to-face with the monster known as Khan. Compared to that man, the smell of blood in the back alleys and the scowls of the thugs all felt faint and insignificant.
The name “Fang” made sense. He was the kind of man who could bite into someone’s throat anywhere, anytime. The dried blood on Leon’s palm crackled faintly.
“All I managed was a single exchange,
huh
?”
Even with a full-powered strike, all he’d managed was to graze Khan’s skin. And the follow-up blow had been impossible to counter. It was absurd strength.
However, more pressing than Khan’s power was another issue. As Leon tucked the bundle of documents into his pack, he spoke.
“El-Cid,” Leon called. “Anything come to mind while you were reading this?”
El-Cid replied in a grim voice.
—A few things. But at this stage, it’s hard to say anything for sure. We need to investigate more. If we handle the Evil the wrong way, the consequences could be catastrophic.
“You’re saying we need to see it for ourselves,
huh
?”
—Exactly.
It was much, much easier said than done. Infiltrating the area where five hundred mercenaries were massacred to gather intel—this was a job for top-tier assassins or elite rangers. Khan probably wasn’t expecting Leon to survive either.
“I’ll need an ally.”
His conclusion was simple. Rather than charge recklessly with half-baked strength, it was safer to go with someone he could trust. However, deciding who to bring was a whole other problem.
It had to be someone skilled enough to watch his back, someone he could confide in completely, especially since they were heading into a death trap. And with all those conditions laid out, the list became impossibly short.
Even if he spent all the money he had saved, it wouldn’t be enough to hire an A-rank adventurer or mercenary. More importantly, if he tried to commission an investigation into Districts Twenty-Three and Twenty-Five, it would almost certainly be rejected.
Leon and El-Cid spoke almost at the same time. There was only one way left to find a companion who met all the requirements.
—There’s really only one place we can go to,
huh
.
“Yeah.”
The Church. If there was anywhere that wouldn’t tolerate even a speck of evil, it was there.
“Prima District, thirteenth street, wasn’t it?” He repeated the address Lize had given him earlier.
It wasn’t too far from his lodging. A twenty-minute walk, maybe. He had no prior experience meeting a clergyman, so he couldn’t help feeling a little nervous. They wouldn’t be as lighthearted as this half-crazy Holy Sword. It would be ideal to settle things without revealing the Holy Sword, but if talking didn’t work, he’d have to consider using it.
—Hey, don’t worry about it. Even back in my day, they were all softies. How much could really change in just three hundred years?
“Three hundred years is more than enough time for things to change.”
—Come on! I’m a Holy Sword!
“And what does that have to do with anything in this discussion...?”
In the end, Leon nodded with a reluctant look. Going along with El-Cid’s optimism was probably for the best, and either way, he’d find out tomorrow.
And just like that, another day passed by.