Chapter 552 - 495: ’Hard-Luck’ Holland

Chapter 552: Chapter 495: ’Hard-Luck’ Holland

Dawn.

Fine threads of rain wove a hazy gray curtain over the border town of Lin Ye Town.

The rain pattered against the wooden sign of the Oak Barrel and Horn tavern, a ceaseless, drowsy drumming.

The air was thick with the earthy smell of the soil, the scent of damp wood, and the faint aroma of ale and stew seeping from beneath the door.

CREAK!

The tavern’s somewhat weathered door swung open, admitting a gust of damp, cold wind and a few stray drops of rain.

A tall figure strode inside, closing the door behind him and shutting out the dreary drone of the rain.

The man appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties, with a sturdy build. He wore a half-worn leather traveling coat spattered with mud and suspicious dark-brown stains, over a scuffed Chain Armor Shirt.

His rain-soaked brown hair was plastered to his scalp, and his chin was covered in unshaven stubble.

He had a square-jawed face, and his features held the lingering dignity of a cleric, though it was now overlaid with a look of practiced, roguish laziness.

Most eye-catching of all was the simple, yet faintly glowing silver Holy Emblem hanging around his neck.

It was undoubtedly the symbol of a Church, though it seemed at odds with his current travel-worn, roguish appearance.

He shook the water from his head like a big, wet dog, then walked straight to the counter. With a CLANG, he leaned his somewhat battered Iron-Wrapped Wooden Shield and a Nail Head Hammer with a simple pattern against the wall.

Behind the counter, a portly, gray-haired old man, who was wiping a mug with a less-than-spotless cloth, lifted his gaze.

"Well, look who’s back?"

Karen put down the mug, a familiar smile spreading across his chubby face, but his eyes quickly scanned the newcomer, lingering for a moment on the dark stains on his coat.

"Our ’former’ Holy Light Walker, Lord Holland. Judging by the look of you... I take it this ’harvest’ wasn’t so wonderful?"

The man named Holland gave a wry twist of his lips, pulled out a high stool, and sat, propping his wet elbows on the counter.

"Wonderful? Karen, my dear old friend, to use ’wonderful’ to describe what I just went through is the greatest insult to the word itself."

He drew out his words, his tone exaggerated, but it couldn’t hide his underlying exhaustion.

He then pointed to a fresh, claw-ripped gash in his coat, and to the crudely wrapped bandage on his arm that was still seeping blood.

"I was this close to becoming fresh fertilizer in a goblin cave."

"Goblins?"

Karen raised his eyebrows, poured a foaming mug of ale, and pushed it over.

"With your skills, how could a few common Green Skins get you into this state? Pulling my leg again, are you?"

"Pulling your leg? I swear on this thing around my neck!"

Holland took a long swig of ale, exhaled in satisfaction, and then rolled his eyes.

"The nest I stumbled upon this time had at least twenty common goblins! Every last one of them was built like a rabid wild pig, with claws sharper than a Dwarf’s skinning knife! I fought like hell just to take down seven or eight of them. If I hadn’t made a run for it..."

He took another deep gulp of the ale Karen had pushed over, exhaling shakily. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes.

"That would have been bad enough on its own, but guess what? Hunkered down right in the middle of that pack of Green Skins were three goblin priests!"

He deliberately emphasized the word "priests," and only after seeing the look of surprise on Karen’s face did he continue, with a mix of pride and lingering fear.

"One of the old ones tapped his Bone Staff on the ground, and the ground in a ten-foot radius immediately sprouted impossibly slick, greasy moss. I almost broke my leg."

"If I hadn’t been quick on my feet, first using Holy Light to blind another one who was trying to conjure a huge fireball, and then taking the third one’s Curse head-on while I smashed the first old guy’s skull with my Nail Head Hammer... heh, you wouldn’t be pouring me a drink right now. You’d be paying respects at my grave."

Karen’s teasing expression vanished, and he frowned.

"Three Casters... That’s certainly not common. It seems the things in the wilderness are getting more and more sinister."

He paused, watching Holland wolf down a piece of black bread he handed him, and couldn’t help but add. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

"But then again, who tells you to always take these nest-clearing jobs alone? If you found a reliable Shield Bearer or Ranger as a partner, you wouldn’t be in such a sorry state."

"Give me a break!"

Holland waved his hand dismissively, his words muffled by a mouthful of bread.

"Get a partner? Trouble! Owing favors, splitting loot, arguing... It’s not as liberating as being alone. If I can’t win, can’t I just run? This time was just bad luck... uh, or rather, those Green Skins got a little ’lucky’."

"Hah! Holland."

Karen scoffed, picking up another mug to polish it slowly, a sly look spreading across his pudgy face.

"’Liberating as being alone’? Stop putting on airs with me. The truth is you can’t find anyone willing to team up with you, right?"

"In the towns around here, is there a single Adventurer who hasn’t heard of ’Unlucky Holland’ or the ’Troublemaker Priest’? Team up with you, and while the profits might not go up, you’re guaranteed a steady supply of bizarre troubles and unexpected ’surprises’."

Holland was hit where it hurt. The roguish expression on his face stiffened for a moment, then melted into a scoundrel’s grin.

He raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender.

"Alright, alright, Karen, my friend, have mercy! It’s not my fault... I have, hmm, a tragic destiny. Yes, a life of challenging adventure! Something your average teammate could never understand."

He deftly avoided any specific topics about his past, clearly not wanting to get entangled in that subject. He took the opportunity to lower his voice and skillfully changed the topic.

"Right, I almost forgot what’s important."

"That tall guy I ’picked up’ a few days ago, the unconscious one who’s pretty handsome, how is he? Is he awake? Or..."

He made a throat-slitting gesture, but his eyes held a hint of genuine concern.

Karen glanced at him, continuing to wipe the mug as he spoke slowly.

"That kid? He’s lucky to be alive."

"He looked a fright, but it was mostly scrapes and minor frostbite. No broken bones, internal organs are fine. Old Tom looked him over and said his constitution is surprisingly good. It’s just..."

He set down the mug and sighed.

"He just won’t wake up. It’s like he’s sleeping. His breathing is steady, he just won’t open his eyes. It’s been four days now."

"Not awake?"

Holland frowned and took another sip of ale.

"Well, as long as he’s alive. How much are the medical fees? Put it on my tab."

"On your tab?"

Karen finally stopped what he was doing, a look of both exasperation and amusement on his chubby face.

"Holland, my ’former’ Lord Holy Light Walker, your tab already has what you owe me for drinks, food, and repairing your armor last time. Now you’re adding a hefty medical bill..."

"Where are you going to get the money to pay it back? Is your little ’harvest’ even enough to cover the medicine for your own injuries?"

He leaned forward, lowering his voice with a chiding tone.

"It’s not my place to say, but when are you going to change this habit of meddling in other people’s business? Last time you insisted on pulling that kid captured by goblins out of the swamp, and you ended up covered in mud and trouble. To buy medicine for his family, you went and borrowed money from ’Scarface’ Ogre! Have you even paid that back yet?"

"Are Ogre and his crew easy to deal with? And now look at you, picking up some random unconscious stranger on the roadside and sinking more money into him! Do you think you’re the Mother of Holy Light’s charity purse, one that never runs dry?"

Holland listened in silence, his gaze falling to the wooden mug in his hands. His fingers traced the rough grain of the rim, and he didn’t argue.

For a moment, the only sounds in the tavern were the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth and the patter of the rain outside.

Looking at him like this, Karen shook his head, sighed heavily, and ultimately didn’t continue his lecture.

He just picked up the cloth again, his tone shifting to a serious warning.

"I can’t be bothered to say anything else, but there’s something you should know."

"Ogre’s men have been sniffing around town the last few days, asking about something. I reckon they’re looking for you. You’d better watch your back. That guy’s patience is about as thin as his wallet."

Hearing the name "Ogre," Holland’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

But he quickly looked up, his face once again breaking into that roguish, devil-may-care smile, this time with a hint of pride.

"Don’t worry, Karen, my friend. Ogre’s money, it’s covered this time."

He patted his bulging backpack, which made a dull thudding sound.

"As I was leaving, I ’took’ a Magic Staff from beside that old priest’s broken skeleton."

He winked.

"A small piece got chipped off by my hammer, and the crystal on its head is cracked, but it’s a proper item for Casting, at least."

"Later I’ll go to Old John’s general store to get it appraised. After I sell it, it should be more than enough to pay back Ogre. I might even be able to settle a part of my bar tab with you."

Karen looked at him, half-believing, half-doubting.

"For real? Don’t get my hopes up for nothing again."

"It’s the real deal this time!"

Holland swore confidently.

"Let me catch my breath. I’ll take care of it this afternoon."

On the second floor of the tavern, in a small but reasonably clean room.

Rain pattered against the window lattice, and the room was dim.

On the simple wooden bed lay a young man with black hair.

It was Roland.

His face was pale, but the rise and fall of his chest was steady and strong.

However, beneath this seemingly calm exterior, the Deep Sea of his consciousness was in violent turmoil.

Countless shattered fragments of light and shadow, like leaves swept up by a gale, flashed rapidly behind his closed eyelids.

A Burning Silver Radiance City, a giant serpent’s shadow, cold, pale-white vertical pupils, a silver torrent traversing Space-Time...

Finally, there was endless Darkness and a sensation of falling.

In this disordered chaos, a thread of sound from the outside world, like a pebble dropped into a still lake, sent out faint ripples.

It was the faint, muffled sound of conversation from downstairs, mixed with the soft clinking of cups and plates.

And...

The sound of rain.

A real, continuous sound of rain, carrying the scent of the earth.

This subtle sound, belonging to the "present" world, was like a tenacious thread that began to wind around and pull at his ever-sinking consciousness.

His eyelashes twitched, ever so slightly.

His fingers, resting on the coarse linen sheet, unconsciously curled into a slight arc.

Then, he slowly opened his eyes.