Chapter 22 (1/2)

“Hey, old man,” Karta said, shooting a glance at Vremya from her spot on the couch. “I just thought of something.”

“Another way to exploit me to make money?”

“No, it’s not that,” the Labrador retriever said and rolled her eyes. “There’s been incidences of titans suddenly appearing out of nowhere in the middle of society, and no one’s been able to explain it. There’s no hints of teleportation or energy fluctuations; they just suddenly show up as if they were born there.”

“That’s not unreasonable,” Vremya said, nodding his head. “Creatures of darkness were all that existed, so it’d make sense if they left a few eggs or whatever behind when we cleared them out to make space for ourselves.”

Karta narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, it’s the accepted explanation, but isn’t there a much more obvious one? How many times have you used that banishing technique where you launch people into the future?”

Vremya scratched his head. “I’ve used it on quite a few titans back in the day.”

“Have you ever used it on a group of titans, like say, a thousand of them?”

“Perhaps.”

Karta blinked at Vremya. “…Red Monday was caused by you.”

“Hang on,” Vremya said, raising a hand to tap at his display. “Let me Poiskle that.”

“You don’t have to,” Karta said. “It’s the name of a massacre caused by a group of a thousand titans that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. All the primordial gods had to make a move to subdue them.”

Vremya nodded. “What about the other batches of titans? What days were named after them? I’ve launched over a thousand of them into the future more than once.”

Karta stared hard at Vremya. “I guess they just haven’t arrived yet.”

“Hmm.” Vremya shrugged. Well, if they did show up while he was around, all he had to do was banish them once more.

***

Paul stood atop a tree. It was the tallest tree on the peak of a mountain, and from his vantage point, he could see everything around for miles. Even though it seemed like he was nowhere near civilization, from his experience as an interdimensional mercenary, Paul knew this was the best place to find employees. Where would one find dozens of people desperate for money? A bandit hideout, of course! People turned to robbery when they couldn’t make a proper living due to whatever circumstance. If given the chance, regular people wouldn’t resort to murder and pillaging.

Paul whipped out a pair of binoculars and pressed them against his eyes. After scanning the surroundings, he finally found what he was looking for: smoke. Where there was smoke, there was people—or a tribe of really intelligent spirit beasts. Either way, it was a point of interest. Paul’s body vanished from where he was standing, and he reappeared a few miles away towards the direction of the smoke. As a mercenary, safety came first. No one would be there to patch him up if he died. He could only rely on himself; as such, most mercenaries chose to invest their all into their movement techniques rather than their offensive ones.

The group of bandits came into view pretty quickly. Paul was a little surprised at how fast he found them. If they were that easily located, they should’ve been eradicated a long time ago. Perhaps it was a newly formed gang. Honestly, he’d prefer a newer gang; the people in it would have less violent tendencies. Paul purposely stepped on a twig, and the men sitting around the fire stopped talking.

“What was that?” one of them asked.

“Probably just a boar.”

“Winkles, go check.”