Episode 43 - The Bulkro Family 2



Grinding his teeth through the deliberation, he finally lowered his head.
Even if the man was lying — the fact remained that he was in no position to properly care for his sons. That hadn't changed.
"So... what exactly are you offering us..."
"Here. A signing bonus."
He dropped the heavy pouch onto the ground without ceremony — the one he had been pretending to hand over to the mine owner moments ago.
The jingle of coins made Fawza flinch. He carefully bent down to check —
"G-gold coins—?!"
"Yes. All of that is your signing bonus. Take it, if you'll come work under me."
"......!"
He understood instantly.
What it meant — to have someone hand over this kind of money without hesitation as a signing bonus.
This man was exactly what his nose was telling him. Not someone who did anything remotely legitimate.
"What... exactly are you planning to have me do?"
"...Hm. I've heard about you. Fawza Bulkro. A specialist in rock blasting."
"...Ngh!"
He had already done his research.
Fawza Bulkro.
A family that had worked as miners in a dwarven settlement for generations. Through circumstances of some kind, they had ended up sold off to a place like this — but Fawza and his two sons were skilled explosives technicians of a high order.
"I want to put that blasting expertise of yours to uses that are... thoroughly unpleasant."
"...You're remarkably upfront about it."
"Well — your nose has already figured out a fair bit about me, hasn't it? Any lie I tried to construct would get sniffed out immediately. Better to go straight at it."
With that, Kaftin leaned against the cave wall and closed his eyes, as if prepared to wait for an answer.
At this point, refusal was hardly viable — but the man in front of him was fundamentally a decent miner at heart. Whether he would sever that thread of conscience and choose survival, or hold onto it and die — that choice belonged entirely to Fawza.
Fawza looked back and forth between his two sons peeking out from under the blankets and Kaftin — torn.
"Can you promise...! That you'll ensure the safety and livelihood of me and my sons—?!"
"It's not a promise. It's responsibility. If you don't want it, that's fine. I won't force anyone whose conscience won't allow it."
"......!"
Would someone who reeked this heavily of blood really be this relaxed about refusal?
Fawza had assumed that turning him down would get them killed. His brow furrowed as his mind worked through it.
"If I refuse... you won't kill us?"
"Why would I? Are you and your sons some kind of threat to me? If not — I couldn't care less."
"......!"
It was clear now.
This man was a great predator. Ferocious when hungry — but as long as he felt no threat, he showed no aggression toward anything that posed no danger.
If Fawza refused, he would simply take back the money and leave.
"One question..."
"Go ahead."
"You said you know medicine..."
"Yes. One of the fields I'm confident in."
"...If I become your subordinate — would you be willing to look after my sons' health?"
He opened his eyes as wide as they would go and sharpened his sense of smell to its fullest.
This question would tell him what this man truly was.
"You and your sons are both skilled workers I need. Looking after you is naturally part of the arrangement."
Fawza sensed two things from him in that moment.
Indifference — and a solidity like standing before a block of iron.
A villain soaked in the smell of blood, and yet utterly unyielding in his own way.
"What exactly... made you end up spilling so much blood...?"
For someone to fall this deep into darkness — there had to be more than ordinary reasons behind it.
"That's not a story you need to know right now."
"......"
He looked between his sons and Kaftin once more, let out a shallow sigh, and closed his hand around the pouch.
"...Alright. I'll follow you. Take care of us. What do I call you — Leader?"
"Hm. Whatever's comfortable. I don't concern myself with things as trivial as titles."
"......!"
Anyone who wanted subordinates and intended to build a force would normally care about establishing their position through how they were addressed.
Kaftin was genuinely waving it off as though it was a nuisance, shaking his hand dismissively.
"Th-then... Boss, I suppose."
"Whatever works."
Fawza approached carefully, swallowed once, and took the hand Kaftin extended.
A restaurant in one of Pink Rose Street's inns — rented out entirely with money.
Those gathered under Kaftin sat around a round table at the center of the room. Planted in the middle of the table was a flag Kaftin had made himself.
On a red field, drawn in white — the mark of a beast's paw print with claw marks arranged like a crown above it, and at the center of the paw, a snarling skull with prominent fangs. Imposing and unmistakable.
"This is the mark of our organization going forward — the Brash Brigade."
"The Brash Brigade...?"
Fawza tilted his head, not quite following the name —
"It means a den of lunatics who act without thinking twice."
"......!"
Kaftin rose from his seat, took the flagpole, and grinned.
The numbers were still short — but at least the people needed to get things started were here.
Now it was time to secure a base of operations before moving in earnest.
"With Fawza on board, the plan has no problems. As discussed — we hit the administrative building and take it."
"......!"
Everyone shifted in their seats.
They had hoped he wasn't serious. He was.
"W-wait a moment! That building has—!"
"Ah yes, I mentioned this before, didn't I? We're a brand new organization with limited strength. Taking down established groups all at once isn't realistic yet. That's exactly why."
He wagged a finger, preemptively cutting off Whispermere's objection — a gesture that made his resolve clear.
There was at least one other objector besides Whispermere.
"I refuse—! Slaughtering unarmed administrative officials is something I will not condone!"
"Ah... yes, that's fair. You're a martial artist with principles, Maengseol. Well — one fewer person shouldn't be a problem given they're unarmed civilians—"
Everyone's expressions soured. Kaftin's eyes narrowed.
He had just suggested the most efficiently targetable objective available, and this was the reaction he got.
"Don't tell me you're all against it...?"
"...Mm."
Every pair of eyes found somewhere else to look the moment he glanced their way.
Kaftin ground his teeth for a moment — then sighed.
"Fine. I suppose it can't be helped. Alright. We do it the hard way. Anyone have thoughts on which organization we should hit first?"
The sheer ease with which he dropped the idea made Fawza freeze with his mouth hanging open.
Since agreeing to follow him, nothing had stopped being surprising — and he had thought by now nothing could surprise him anymore.
Meanwhile, Whispermere had her eyes closed and was running through the situation at full speed.
As much as she hated to admit it, Kaftin was right — with the current roster and the district now in a state of open competition between factions, there was no realistic path to winning a direct confrontation.
Kaftin transforming and running loose would open up possibilities — but as he himself had explained, the poison gas from his transformation didn't distinguish friend from foe.
And the casual way he described running out of energy and dying if he fought alone had made her genuinely understand — Kaftin, for all his power, was not invincible.
But suggesting a mediocre target would get a flat refusal. Whatever she proposed had to satisfy his instincts and his appetite for violence — and simultaneously be something the other members could accept.
"For now, finding a manageable organization to start with seems like the priority. If it's a group that's been oppressing the merchants and civilians struggling to get by in this district, no one should have any objection to taking them apart."
"That's the issue — with our current strength, even that's pushing it. It needs to be something weaker, something that can serve as a statement—!"
"Right, so..."
In the middle of the confusion, something clicked for Whispermere. She slapped the table and stood up.
Every eye in the room turned to her. Suddenly self-conscious, she flushed and cleared her throat.
"Um... well..."
"......?"
"I thought of somewhere that might be appropriate..."
"Oh? If you've come up with something, it's worth hearing."
She hesitated for a moment, then forced the words out.
"...The City Guard fortress that's currently under construction..."
"......!"
The room went still.
On top of the incident Kaftin had caused involving the Four Gang Lords, the former City Guard captain had been found buried alive in a latrine — which had sent the kingdom's security administration into a complete upheaval.
The security bureau had obtained parliamentary approval to deploy a garrison-scale City Guard force to manage Pink Rose Street, and they were currently constructing a fortress on the site of the station Kaftin had burned down.
The unit set to occupy it was, in name, a City Guard — but in practice, it would be staffed by rough mercenaries operating under contract. Naturally, they would be handling the bulk of the security work.
Which meant that while it wasn't called a punitive force by name, it was effectively an advance unit of exactly that being dispatched to the area.
"That's a bolder idea than I expected from you."
Kaftin turned a satisfied smile on her. Whispermere flinched and looked away.
"Well — I don't particularly like the idea of those mercenaries either. And if they're armed and looking for a fight, Maengseol won't object... and more than anything, I heard they're using a standard military fortress design..."
The more she explained, the wider Kaftin's smile became — and eventually he nodded.
As she said, Maengseol too had his eyes closed in deliberation, and gave a shallow nod.
Not enthusiastic — but not abstaining either.
"There's one issue though, Whispermere. That fortress — it isn't finished yet, is it."
"...No. It won't be complete until at least the start of next year..."
That was the only problem with the idea.
At minimum, eight months until completion. Even by the standards of a small urban fortress, it was a compact but well-appointed facility with capacity for around a hundred and fifty personnel.
And the force slated to move in after completion was reportedly a hundred and twenty or more — mercenaries wearing City Guard uniforms, better trained than the average mid-tier organization's fighters.
"So my thought was... wait about six months, and hit it just before completion to take it..."
"So we just finish the last of the construction work ourselves."
"Yes."
"The issue is that the mercenary guards will come after us immediately. What's the plan for that?"
Whispermere swallowed once, then looked over the assembled members.
"A solid government-spec fortress — and everyone here. I think that's enough to hold them off."
The unexpectedly high assessment left complicated expressions on everyone's faces.
It was plausible — but a hundred and twenty was a lot. There would be at least ten or so knight-class fighters in a command capacity among them.
Against an organization that had barely broken ten members, the numbers were overwhelming.
For any normal organization, that was.
"Well... if I step in, it's manageable."
The room went quiet at Kaftin's words.
With his monster transformation ability factored in — without multiple personnel capable of wielding Aura, ordinary soldiers and mercenaries were meaningless regardless of quantity.
Whispermere, who understood that better than anyone, swallowed and nodded.
"Fine then. Six months of free time. Everyone get settled, do what you want — meet back here in exactly six months."
"Is that... really alright?"
Fawza looked up at the apparently relaxed arrangement —
"Of course. I've got nothing pressing right now either — I'll be taking care of some personal matters."
"Personal... matters?"
"Yes. Hunting down the Gang Lords."
Kaftin grinned and clicked his tongue in anticipation.
Maengseol looked at him with an expression of complete exhaustion and clicked his own tongue in response.
—To be continued—