I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 112: Anticipation is the Essence of a Gift (1)

Taragon stepped onto the stage, but this time, he looked different. The mercenaries looked at him in admiration, and even Keter smiled in satisfaction.

He had a small shield, known as a targe, attached to his right forearm. It was compact enough not to interfere with his archery. His bow had changed as well. He had switched from a longbow—known for its range and power—to a short bow, which had a shorter range but boasted greater firing speed and accuracy.

And even this short bow was no ordinary weapon. It was a straight shortbow that was only one meter in length. Considering that Sefira’s archers typically wielded longbows that were 1.7 meters, its size made it seem almost like half a bow.

A shorter bow required more strength to pull and had a reduced range. But for a Sefira archer, those were not weaknesses. With ample strength and a bow constructed for durability, those limitations hardly mattered. Even with a short bow, Sefira’s archers could fire arrows eight hundred meters with ease.

Because the bowstring was shorter, so were the arrows. The arrowheads were not broad but sharp and singular, like a bodkin tip. Taragon didn’t give the seventh unit of Squad Two a chance to analyze him.

He rushed forward. The mercenaries were startled. Until now, Taragon had always tried to increase the distance. Never before had he actively closed the gap. He fired as he ran. His shots were much more stable and significantly faster than when he used a longbow.

“Guh!”

“Urgh?!”

Two Platinum-class mercenaries were struck—one in the shoulder, the other in the abdomen. The arrows were so fast that they had no time to react, let alone defend.

But they weren’t fatal. The arrowheads were needle-like, designed for piercing. Without targeting vital spots, bones, or organs, they couldn't deal critical damage.

This time, the match’s rules held Taragon back. If there had been no restrictions, he could have aimed for the face, delivering a decisive blow.

The Platinum-class mercenaries, still unaccustomed to Taragon’s straight shortbow, hesitated.

Ignoring the Diamond-class mercenary, Taragon focused on the two others.

Shhkk! Shhkk!

The arrows whistled through the air, like a snake flicking its tongue. By the time the sound reached them, the arrows had already struck; they were faster than sound.

Clang!

Just as both Platinum-class mercenaries collapsed, their bodies full of arrows, the Diamond-class mercenary lunged at Taragon with his sword.

Taragon blocked it with his aura-infused forearm shield, then immediately counterattacked with his bow. The shorter bow meant a shorter reach, but the Diamond-class mercenary still dodged, despite seemingly being out of range.

That was because Taragon’s bow wasn’t normal. His aura extended the weapon’s range, stretching far beyond its actual size. Normally, swordsmen infused aura into their blades to increase their reach, but never to this extent—because the energy cost was too high.

“Haaah!”

Even though he had consumed countless elixirs, he couldn’t afford to waste aura recklessly. As such, Taragon gripped an arrow in his left hand and rushed in, intent on finishing things quickly.

With the two Platinum-class mercenaries down, the battle had now become a one-on-one duel.

Clang! Clang!

In the blink of an eye, Taragon and the Diamond-class mercenary exchanged dozens of blows. Their clashing auras crackled, sending blue sparks flying.

The Diamond-class mercenary frowned. Taragon’s bow-staff techniques were two levels below his own swordsmanship, that much was clear. But his unpredictable attacks—switching between using his bow like a short sword, suddenly throwing arrows, and especially that damn shield—made him an incredibly troublesome opponent.

Half of the mercenary’s sword strikes were blocked by that shield. Though Taragon’s shield technique was clearly amateurish, his excellent reflexes and agility compensated for it.

I need to take care of that shield first.

The mercenary swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing Taragon back before retreating himself. Taragon was constantly infusing aura into both his bow and his shield, continuously depleting his energy. If the fight dragged on, the mercenary believed he would gain the upper hand.

But that was a mistake. Taragon was an archer. The moment a gap opened—he simply had to shoot.

Swish! Thud!

A whistle cut through the air, and an arrow pierced the mercenary’s calf.

Even his trained eyes and reflexes weren’t fast enough to dodge it.

So damn fast.

Now, he understood why the Platinum-class mercenaries had been defeated so easily.

Instead of widening the distance, the Diamond mercenary charged in, as giving Taragon space only allowed him to fire more arrows. Even Aura Armor was useless—Taragon’s needle-like arrows pierced through it effortlessly.

By now, five arrows were embedded in the mercenary, swaying with every movement. None were fatal, so he could still swing his sword.

Whoosh!

The mercenary suddenly threw his sword at Taragon.

Taragon deflected it with his shield. At that moment, the mercenary lunged forward, grabbing the bottom of the shield and lifting it up.

Got him!

Taragon’s guard was broken. His upper body was completely exposed. The mercenary, now crouched low, unleashed a devastating side kick.

Thud!

A deep, heavy sound rang out. Taragon had blocked the kick with his aura armor, but the sheer force lifted his feet off the ground.

Squelch!

An arrow pierced Taragon’s chest. The mercenary had ripped an arrow from his own body and thrown it at him.

Taragon staggered, unable to stand properly; the arrow had punctured his lung.

“Urgh...”

Taragon was no stranger to pain, but a lung wound was on a different level. Breathing became difficult, and his body grew weak.

The three-second hesitation sealed his defeat.

The mercenary raised his hand and called out, “It’s not a fatal hit, but the lung was punctured. He needs treatment immediately.”

“I know, man,” Keter muttered.

Keter was already at Taragon’s side. He had sprinted over the moment the arrow pierced his chest.

Grabbing Taragon by the waist, Keter hooked his leg and slowly got him to the ground. Then, without hesitation, he gripped the end of the embedded arrow.

“I’ll pull on three. One, two...”

Squelch!

Before reaching three, Keter yanked the arrow out.

His fingers, already coated in elixir, immediately plunged into the open wound.

“Ghhhaaah...!”

Taragon groaned, experiencing an entirely new level of pain.

Keter spread the elixir directly inside the damaged lung, sealing the torn tissue before withdrawing his fingers.

He then poured another dose of elixir over the wound to complete the treatment.

“Stop whining.”

“Thi-isn’t whinin—ghh...”

“You changed your weapon. You adapted and changed your gear. All good moves. Using up all your aura was the right call too. In a battle where the future doesn’t exist unless you win, hoarding energy is nothing but foolishness.”

“Urgh...”

His chest still burned, but the praise made him smile despite the pain.

“Keep experimenting. Push yourself to the point where you would have no regrets—even if you die.”

Keter grabbed Taragon’s hand and pulled him to his feet. Then, he turned his gaze to Anis, who was watching.

“What are you standing around for, Number Two?! Get up there! Every minute you waste is costing me ten gold!”

Anis thought he was exaggerating, but he wasn’t. Keter had spent two hundred eighty thousand gold just to hire the mercenaries for a month. Including food, lodging, and medical treatment, the total cost of this training was nearing four hundred thousand gold.

Of course, Anis and Taragon would find out just how much Keter had spent. It was inevitable, as Keter said he would charge them for their training. If they knew the exact amount now, their minds would be too consumed with financial panic to focus.

So, for now—ignorance was bliss.

* * *

Anis and Taragon tried everything they wanted against the mercenaries. Winning and losing didn’t matter. This was a stage for testing—to see what they were capable of, to stretch their imaginations, to push the boundaries of possibility.

Such training was only possible because there were plenty of mercenaries to fight and because Keter’s healing allowed for limitless recovery.

Their sparring with Squad Two, which had Diamond-class mercenaries, eventually came to an end. The battle with Squad Three, which included an Amantir-class mercenary, was over in an instant. No matter what Anis and Taragon tried, the Amantir-class mercenary never gave them a chance.

No matter how much distance they gained, the opponent closed in within two or three leaps to deliver a decisive strike before they could react.

“So this is Amantir...!”

They had hit a limit. Even arrows that troubled the Diamond-class mercenaries were easily blocked or dodged by the Amantir-class.

Yet neither of them was discouraged. They weren’t ready to win yet, but... given enough experience, they might at least endure it.

By the time their training ended, the sun had dipped low in the sky. Half a day had passed in an instant. Both Anis and Taragon worried they would be sleeping outdoors again, but they didn’t have to.

“Eat well, rest well, and tomorrow, we will fight again. Same routine. That goes for the mercenaries too—eat well, rest well.”

At Keter’s words, Anis and Taragon sighed in relief, while the mercenaries cheered.

“Ooooh! Free meals and medical care?! Sefira really knows how to treat people!”

“I'm starving! Lord Keter, can we go first?!”

The mercenaries were just as mentally and physically exhausted as Anis and Taragon. Rest was a necessity.

However—Keter shook his head.

“Ah, ah. Before that... some of you still haven’t earned your meal.”

Some of the mercenaries flinched.

They were the leftovers—those who hadn’t fought today due to an uneven number of participants.

“All of you, gather in front of me.”

The spared mercenaries grumbled as they assembled.

“Of course. I knew it was too good to be true.”

“I swear, if he’s making us clean this place up like servants—”

Despite their complaints, they stood before Keter.

There were nine Platinum-class, one Diamond-class, and one Amantir-class—eleven in total.

“...Someone’s missing. Burgundy! Where are you?” Keter called.

“You expect me to join as well? I’m in charge of managing them.”

“Managing, my ass. You were planning to use that as an excuse to sit this one out?”

“...Hmph.”

Though displeased, Burgundy stepped forward.

Now, twelve mercenaries stood before Keter.

“All of you will fight me.”

“...What?”

The mercenaries looked baffled.

Burgundy voiced their collective disbelief.

“Are you saying we’ll take turns fighting, like Anis and Taragon?”

“No, that would be boring. All of you, come at once. There are no restrictions. You’re free to aim for my vital points.”

“...?!”

They were shocked that they could aim for vital points. They found Keter, who was saying he would take them on all at once, extremely arrogant.

Even Anis and Taragon felt uneasy about how arrogant Keter was. After fighting multiple mercenaries themselves, they understood how strong they were.

And Keter's opponents weren’t just Platinum-class. There was a Diamond-, an Amantir-, and even an Orichalcum-class.

They knew Keter was strong. But even so, they, as well as the mercenaries, thought he was insane.

Burgundy, in particular, shook his head.

“Keter. I acknowledge that you’re strong. But this is reckless. You think beating us in hand-to-hand combat made you invincible? The moment we draw our swords, it’s different. You know that—so why are you doing something this foolish?”

The other mercenaries agreed.

Even Anis and Taragon shared Burgundy’s doubts.

But Keter only scoffed.

“I get why you would think that. So I’ll just have to show you.”

Keter turned to Anis and Taragon.

“Trainees. Watch closely. Everything I do is possible with aura.”

Rumble!!

The ground trembled.

Keter drew upon his aura, and the sheer force of it made the air quake.

“...Hmph. If you insist.”

Burgundy unsheathed his sword.

One by one, the other eleven mercenaries followed.

But none of them moved; they couldn’t, as they had just witnessed a miracle.

“What... the hell is that?”

Arrows from Keter’s quiver began floating into the air. Thirty aura-infused arrows hovered behind him, spreading out like wings.

It was a skill unlike anything they had ever seen. It was Arrow Wing, Keter’s signature skill.

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on fre𝒆web(n)ovel.co(m)