Book 2, Chapter 214 (1/2)

Ogre’s Battle(2)

The tavern boss walked out, six bottles of home-made whiskey in his hand. He almost couldn’t keep up with the pace of the ogre’s drinking.

“This batch is from my personal collection. It has a diff’rent taste, but be careful! The thing’s strong!” he politely reminded them. However, his tone made it seem like he was actually egging them on. It was obvious that these customers could drink up all his stock, earning him a great deal of money.

Medium Rare hummed an affirmative, grabbing the tray and placing it on the table. He took one of the bottles by the neck, pouring the liquid down his throat. A wood-tinted smell of fruit spread out as the alcohol flowed out, and the mellow taste was much better than anything they’d gotten before. This rich fluid was actually very strong; by the time the bottle’s contents were in his stomach, even the ogre felt a comforting dizziness.

The door to the tavern was pulled open, and two groups of people entered one after the other. Looking at their attire they were bounty hunters, a common profession in the Bloodstained Lands. These sorts of people did anything to earn the money for drink, be it working as bodyguards or bandits.

The first group of four managed to find a good place, leaving the three behind discontent. There were only two tables left in the tavern, and both were next to Medium Rare. Nobody dared get close to the ogre, as good-natured as he seemed.

The three bounty hunters muttered something, but it was already far too late and they seemingly didn’t want to find another place. They chose a table and sat down.

One of them was a little clumsy while taking his seat, sending his coat flying to brush against the back of Medium Rare’s head.

“Hey! You touched me!” Medium Rare stated roughly.

“Sorry, friend. This place is a little narrow,” the hunter answered apologetically, fear in his voice. His companions looked over nervously as well, nobody daring to do something that could cause a misunderstanding. Thankfully, Medium Rare was in no mood to bicker. The matter was concluded with a wave of his hand, and Olar just glanced at the hunters without bothering about them.

The ogre was starting to get tipsy, putting him in a good mood. The continuous battles had left every bit of his body filled with strength; it wouldn’t be long before he could break through to level 13. His body had grown more nimble as well, a sign of an upcoming mutation. Although he hadn’t mutated at level 12, it wouldn’t be bad to do so at level 13. After all, only one or two out of every ten ogres could mutate in the first place.

However, he felt a slight numbness in the back of his head, as if a mosquito had stung him. He scratched at the place, cursing the savage creature. The Bloodstained Lands truly were strange, there were mosquitos here capable of piercing an ogre’s thick skin.

The hunters at the two tables sat down, ordering alcohol and dishes as they began to brag noisily. They mentioned their escapades and adventures, the occasional chuckles making the place more lively.

Medium Rare and Olar were chatting happily as well, “You don’t know this, but Old Nasir made me and Tiramisu eat some sludge that was roots, grass, and leaves mixed together every day. It was just nasty! But Old Nasir said I’d slowly get smarter if I ate it every day. What’s the point of being smart? Strength is always better for strong enemies. Tiramisu’s smarter than me, by he never beat me before even with magic. Right, little Olar, did you know Old Nasir told me I could learn magic too? Ugh, but I hate staying in a single pose like a fool. Oh, of course Master is an exception! I just prefer going directly, using my hammer to smash the enemies’ heads!”