I Was Reborn in Another World, but Hold On – No Parents? Was I Abandoned? - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: First Blood

On a certain road.

Originally just a nameless path, situated between a powerful nation and its neighboring counterpart, this road became frequented by merchant carriages and the mercenary escorts protecting them. Over time, it earned the name “Merchant’s Way,” as dozens of merchant convoys traversed it on a daily basis.

Despite the typically bustling activity on this merchant route, today, the presence of merchant caravans was notably scarce.

The cause was the recent circulation of unsettling rumors.

It was said that the Reaper himself appeared on the Merchant’s Way.

Indeed, several merchant convoys had mysteriously vanished along the route recently.

On this path rumored to be plagued by death, a lavish caravan, escorted by a band of mercenaries, confidently advanced.

“But is it really okay? No matter how much it’s called a merchant route, isn’t this path a danger zone now?”

The stout merchant regarded the leader of the mercenary band with skepticism, who rode alongside the caravan.

“It’s more than okay. We, the [Crimson Claw], are the ones handling the escort! Who dares to challenge us?”

The mercenary proudly inflated his chest, yet the merchant’s expression remained obscured by concern.

“However, according to the rumors, even renowned mercenary groups fear the killer known as the Reaper on this merchant route.”

“Be it the Reaper or a demon, there’s no one they can’t defeat against us.”

The leader laughed arrogantly, brushing off the concerns of the worried merchant.

To cut to the conclusion, moments later, this merchant convoy would be annihilated, and their lifeless bodies would stack up along the roadside.

The worst was about to unfold. One of the mercenaries at the forefront noticed something ahead and shouted a warning.

“Hey! There’s something up ahead on the road!”

There stood a figure clad in a black robe, with a deep hood covering their face. They wore light, agile gear from head to toe. What struck as peculiar was the person’s face concealed behind an ebony mask and the absurdly large scythe they wielded.

“W-what… who the hell is that!?”

The leader exclaimed.

“Hey, how massive is that scythe!”

Muttered one of the mercenaries.

“Who are you!?”

The panicked merchant inquired.

Despite this, the march of the mercenary band pressed on. Ideally, the leader should have halted here, observed the situation, or, better yet, fled immediately…

The figure with the scythe stood motionless, uttering not a word. However, in the next moment, with a speed inconceivable for someone wielding such a large scythe, they lunged forward, crouching low with the scythe poised. In one swift motion, they severed both legs of the leader’s horse, positioned at the forefront. Before the leader, thrown off the horse, could regain footing, his head was decapitated and soared through the air.

“Your fatal mistake was advancing towards me without entering combat stance, without stopping to assess the situation, without giving orders to your subordinates, like a fool. If there’s a next life, keep that in mind. Consider that the person you coincidentally encountered might be the killer known as the [Reaper] in the streets…”

As the masked figure addressed the fallen man’s severed head on the ground, a click of the tongue was heard beneath the mask.

He turned out to be a guy not worth killing.

The mercenaries hurriedly dismounted, preparing for combat…

Swords unsheathed, spears poised, staffs in hand, they prepared themselves. Yet, with a single muttered word, their morale plummeted.

“Re… Reaper…”

Upon comprehension, a man stumbled awkwardly, dropped his weapon, deserted his comrades, and fled.

However, the Reaper was far from forgiving. The fleeing man’s head soon danced through the air.

The mercenaries abandoned the option of fleeing and confronted the Reaper. However, whether it was a sword strike thrown with the intent to die, a spear thrust launched with all their might, or a magic attack teetering on the edge of their magical capacity, none of it grazed the Reaper. With a shake of the head, a sway of the body, and a mere step forward, the Reaper effortlessly evaded it all.

“Hey… this can’t be true…”

Indiscernible murmurs echoed, but their voices were drowned out by the agonizing cries of their fallen comrades, one after another.

The last remaining merchant trembled as he came to a realization… This is the Reaper, the slaughterer feared as the God of Death.

“Wait! I’ll pay you! I’ll give you everything, my belongings, my entire fortune! Just spare my life…”

“I don’t need money or belongings. Answer me one thing… Do you know anything about the whereabouts of what the hero stole from the Demon Nation nearly ten years ago?”

“What? No! I don’t know about such a thing. However, I’ve answered! Spare my life…”

The merchant’s final words disappeared into the void.

What remained was silence and countless corpses.

“Tch, it was a waste after all… I guess merchants won’t do. I had the impression they would be well-informed… No, perhaps it’s still concealed. Alright, I’ll stop this petty search! Your Excellency, you must be getting impatient soon. Maybe I should inquire among the bureaucrats of some other country next…”

His cruelly distorted face remained hidden behind the mask, but the blood-dripping scythe caught the sunlight, emitting a cruel gleam.