Chapter 177 - 176: Stone Crow Fanatics

Chapter 177: Chapter 176: Stone Crow Fanatics

At the Gasp River Pufferfish, you drink like your life depends on it. The next morning, you either head back into the swamp to strike it rich, full of life, or you end up laid up in the Flipped Belly Trout out back. Either way, you’ve found your place.

This saying, originally just a joke among the adventurers who frequented Trout Town, couldn’t be more fitting to describe the Stone Crow Fanatics squad.

This squad, widely acknowledged as the strongest in Shiya Town and renowned for taking on the most difficult missions, had been laid up in the Flipped Belly Trout inn for five whole days.

A strange smell—a mixture of herbal ointment and cheap alcohol—filled a room on the inn’s second floor.

A Dwarf by the name of Doric Stonebeard was lying on a bed, his chest wrapped in thick bandages. One of his feet, also heavily bandaged, was propped up on a pile of quilts at the head of the bed. He looked to be in bad shape.

He had just tipped the last few drops of ale from a small keg into his mouth. Smacking his lips, still wanting more, he looked over at another Dwarf sitting on a stool by the door.

"Brendan, how much longer do I have to keep up this act in this godforsaken place? If I lie here any longer, I’m going to start growing mushrooms on my ass."

Brendan Stonebeard sported a beard so thick it was absurd.

How thick was it?

To put it this way: at this very moment, he was looping his beard up along his cheeks, tucking it behind his ears, and weaving it into his hair to form two thick braids.

The reason he did this was to string the teeth of the demons he defeated—one by one—at every intersecting point of the braids.

This was a custom among the Dwarf tribes of the Southern Continent; each tooth represented a measure of glory and a record of battle.

"Doric, if you ask me, you should just go back home and work in the mines," Brendan said without looking up, securing a Wolf Fang to one of his braids. "Either that, or you listen to me and we teach that Fletcher kid a lesson. Otherwise, next time he might just blow us all sky-high."

Doric reached for his chest. As his muscular arms tensed, the thick bandages strained and shifted.

"This thing is suffocating me, especially after a drink. You know my chest hair is bushier than yours; it feels like I’m wrapped in wet mud." He fanned the air with his hand and lowered his voice. "Besides, are you sure the captain hasn’t figured out I only got a little scrape on my ass? The scar’s almost faded."

Brendan pressed his ear to the door for a moment, but hearing only the sound of footsteps at the top of the stairs, he paid it no mind.

"You should be glad you got to sneak a couple of drinks," he said, glancing at Doric as the teeth in his braids clinked together. "I’d bet this new tooth I’m stringing that Fletcher has no idea. If he did, would he be cooped up in his room so quietly? On the road here, he talked about that barmaid more than he did his precious Magic."

Just then, a knock echoed. The sound was close, as if coming from the room next door—the one belonging to their captain, Fletcher, and Kane.

Brendan’s ears immediately pricked up.

"Hello, excuse me. Are you the Adventurers from Shiya Town? We’re from Rose Town, and we were hoping to ask you about the Blackwater Swamp," a gentle female voice called out.

Brendan shot Doric a look. "Quick! They’re looking for the captain and the others! Hide your things and lie down!"

Startled, Doric scrambled out of bed, stuffed the empty keg into a sack, and kicked it under the bed. He then propped his "grievously wounded" foot back up, letting out a few "Oof... ouch..." groans for good measure and putting on a weak expression.

...

For large-scale extermination quests like this, most adventurers were willing to share some information about the environment or current conditions. After all, the quest wouldn’t be finished in a day or two, and exchanging information could reduce unnecessary casualties.

With any luck, you might get some intel in return the next time you crossed paths. You might even get treated to a drink by the victors after the quest was over and make a few new friends.

But Hayley wasn’t sure what kind of people she was dealing with.

Her original plan was simply to knock once. If they were unwilling to talk or didn’t answer, she would let it be.

However, the response from inside the room was clearly not what she had expected.

First, there was a faint commotion, followed immediately by an overly enthusiastic young man’s voice from behind the door:

"P-Please wait a moment, dear lady! I need some time to prepare for your arrival!"

This was followed by the sounds of a hushed conversation:

"Kane! Did you hear that? A lady! I swear on my new robes, the owner of that voice must be as beautiful as the dawn! Let me handle this, I’m begging you. I feel like my bones are about to go moldy in this room!"

Then, another, raspier voice spoke up. "Mm. But why are you taking out that formal attire and your Magic Wand? You’re not going to use them."

"Shh, keep your voice down! What do you mean, ’not going to use them’...? This is about showing respect to our guest. It’s about creating a sense of occasion, you see? Ladies value a sense of occasion above all else!"

"Suit yourself. But as soon as we leave this inn, you’re putting on the Chain Armor Brendan prepared for you and covering up with that gray cloak."

Hayley breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the response from within. She, Hesia, and the rest of their group waited patiently by the door.

Soon, the door opened with a CREAK.

A handsome man with dazzling, slightly curled golden hair and brilliant blue eyes appeared at the door. He was dressed in a magnificent purple coat.

In his right hand, he elegantly held a Magic Wand set with an emerald-green Gemstone. He placed his left hand over his heart and performed a slight bow toward Hayley.

His mood visibly brightened upon seeing her clearly.

"Good day, my charming lady. I am Fletcher, captain of the Stone Crow Fanatics. To what fortuitous fate do I owe the pleasure of your radiance gracing this place?"

Hayley was clearly not used to this sort of display, but she remained polite. "Hello, Mr. Fletcher. A Mr. Nick mentioned that you were investigating the depths of the swamp?"

"Indeed!" Fletcher’s brilliant blue eyes gleamed. "We encountered an army of Frogmen! Hundreds of them! I was in the midst of casting an exceedingly powerful spell—one that would have been more than enough to annihilate them all—but alas, the damp environment of the swamp caused a slight interference with my Magic Power."

Hayley patiently listened to his bragging before getting to the point. "I heard you ran into some trouble, and that one of your teammates was injured? If you’d be amenable, we can offer some healing. We would also like to understand the conditions deeper in the swamp."

"I am as captivated by your kindness as I am by your beauty, madam."

"Please, do not worry. It was merely a minor tactical retreat! We are already making thorough preparations for a magnificent counter-offensive!"

BANG!!

Before the words were even out of his mouth, the door to the next room was slammed open.

Brendan stood fuming in the doorway, the teeth woven into his beard-braids clattering together.

Glaring with eyes wide as dinner plates, he pointed a finger at Fletcher. "Why don’t you tell these nice folks the truth! Tell them what kind of ’wave’ your bullshit ’Wild Wave’ really kicked up!"

Fletcher’s face stiffened, but he forced a smile. "It’s ’Wild *Art*’! Brendan, sometimes, great art requires a small... er... unforeseen cost..."