Surviving in the Trash Hell Game by Tossing a Coin

Chapter 17 - The Raid (4)

Arges could not understand.

How he, who held the title of Grade 5 and belonged to the strongest guild in the south, could be facing such a predicament.

How he was struggling so much in Area 84, a place with no powerful individuals or factions.

The opponents were two women and one man.

And the man, at that, seemed to have no connection to combat whatsoever.

After all, when he first came out of the village, he was wearing nothing but a shabby firefighting suit.

Arges had planned to deal with them appropriately, then annihilate the village to restore the discipline that had grown lax from two defeats.

That was why he had taken off his shirt and revealed his muscular physique, even though there was no need to.

To instill overwhelming dominance in the enemy, and awe in his allies.

However, there was no dominance or awe here.

Only open ridicule from the enemy, and meaningless fear for his allies.

The man had used some trick he himself hadn't noticed to create a stalemate.

One of the women, using some other trick, was not being pushed back at all even in a 1 against 40 fight.

To top it off, the young brat he had half-killed was now completely fine and blocking his path.

It was humiliation itself.

He even regretted taking off his shirt to establish discipline.

He dearly missed every single piece of equipment that enhanced his movements.

With every blow that landed on his exposed torso, he regretted his decision.

Nevertheless, Arges maintained his composure.

Because none of that signified defeat.

In the end, he was confident that he would win as time went on.

As it happened, the situation was also flowing in Arges' favor.

The bothersome man had walked over to his group, likely to finish them off.

And the woman who had overwhelmed the group had, for some reason, not shown herself.

The only one blocking him was a young girl who wasn't even an adult.

Although he had struggled, Arges naturally defeated her with ease.

He hadn't killed her when he defeated her.

It was to use her as a bargaining chip against the other two who would come looking for her later.

Moreover, even that card was rendered moot.

Because the rabble that had been dithering, pushed back by a single woman, had finally gathered and were slowly approaching Arges.

That, too, with determined expressions on their faces.

Clutching their weapons tightly.

“Ha! Have we finally won? That's more like it.”

Arges had seen the man move towards his group earlier.

But the man was not there.

And there was blood on his subordinate's axe blade.

What else could this mean?

For the first time since arriving in this village, Arges could smile.

He thought the subordinate's stiff expression was due to simple tension.

So Arges simply approached them with an excited expression.

Unaware of what conversation they had shared with Kang Woon.

***

“What did you say?!”

It was true that Maletta had disciplined every single one of them.

It went without saying that they were covered in blood.

There were countless people constantly clutching at their wounds, as if something had been broken or cut off.

It was only natural for them to throw a fit and try to preserve their paltry pride.

If the comrade of the person who had just done this to them said, ‘I’ll stop hitting you, so let's be friends’.

Who would gladly accept that?

Of course, since that was the only thing I was aiming for in the first place.

I had no intention of backing down, nor did I think I would fail.

The surrender of the enemies.

Defeating Arges together with them.

I couldn't do it alone, but if dozens gathered, it was possible.

Isn't there a saying like that?

Though one may be overpowered.

Two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

Then how many flowery phrases could be attached to forty-something people?

Couldn't even a mountain be moved?

“This crazy bastard! After you killed Belsher!”

“Yeah, you think we'll take the hand of an enemy!?”

Of course, their reactions were bound to be negative.

Putting aside what happened at the last village, I had killed people right away at the Tunnel.

It meant there was no way they would hold favorable feelings for me, who had killed their comrades.

Even if that wasn't the case, my mercenary, Maletta, had beaten them to a pulp.

There was no way they could accept that proposal graciously, both indirectly and directly.

Therefore, I naturally had no intention of pushing some half-baked theory of justice here.

Because there was no way justice existed for these bandits who lived like bats, extorting and exploiting.

There was only one thing I was pushing.

“You're still speaking informally even after getting beaten like that?”

The difference in power.

The difference in status that arises from the difference in power.

“Not gonna use honorifics? Wanna die?”

I hardened my expression and lifted my chin.

The ones who reacted with an ‘oops’ to my response all lowered their eyes.

“Anyone would think you and I are on equal footing. Won't you lower your eyes?”

“Keuk… I-I'm sorry!”

At my following words, the men responded by bowing their waists as if addressing a new boss.

As expected, for despicable guys like these, imprinting the difference in power is the most effective way.

Of course, there was still a glint of defiance in their eyes, but didn't I stage this whole scene to crush even that defiance?

“You're lucky. If you had run your mouths a little more there, you all would've died.”

“Heek….”

Maletta also chimed in, lightly placing a hand on my shoulder.

It couldn't be better timing.

More than half of them showed some degree of defiance to my words.

But when Maletta intervened, they could only make a deflating sound.

Wasn't it Maletta who had just brutally ravaged them with her Scythe?

So they just gulped down their saliva.

They expressed their respective feelings, constantly looking back and forth between my face, Maletta's, and the ground.

And now that the atmosphere has calmed down like this.

It was time for a lengthy explanation.

I lowered my raised chin and looked at the enemies surrounding us like defeated soldiers.

Although they were enemies, I opened my mouth as I looked at the ones absolutely necessary to solve the quest.

“You know what will happen if you run away, don't you?”

“Th-that is….”

“You'll be killed by your leader. Won't you?”

“B-but, we too, right now….”

Unable to erase his defiance at my question, he asked timidly, but it was no counterargument to me at all.

No, rather, it was the very matter I had been hoping for.

Pleased that the situation was flowing satisfactorily, I slightly raised the corner of my mouth.

I began to get to the most important context of this negotiation.

“We're different. What do you think is the reason we ‘deliberately’ spared you instead of killing you?”

“But, the guys with their arms and legs cut off….”

“Are they alive, or dead?”

“…They're alive.”

What I was touching upon was an emotion contrary to the fear engraved by their leader.

‘Doubt’.

What we were planting was not another form of fear.

I was making them recognize that there was ‘another path’ where they could surely survive.

What I was aiming for was betrayal caused by internal strife.

No matter how similar the two bad options were, in the end, there exists a worst and a lesser evil.

And if one had to choose between the worst and the lesser evil, wouldn't it be right to choose the lesser evil?

I would make choosing the leader the worst option.

And make joining hands with me the lesser evil.

“I need you. And, you need me too.”

“……”

“It's probably better to stick with us to survive… than to stick with the leader who blew someone's head off, right? Isn't it?”

As if judging my opinion to be valid, a hint of hesitation rather than defiance began to appear in their eyes.

That was also natural.

They would know as well.

Even if they won this battle, it would be the leader's victory, not their own.

And also what the end would be like after a defeat.

“‘I will let you live as long as you don't betray me.’ It’s not a bad deal, is it?”

To drive a wedge into that hesitation, I extended my pinky finger, raised my hand, and showed it to them.

Of course, this action itself was not the wedge.

This situation, where they were naturally hesitating and deferring their answer.

This situation itself was the wedge.

Don't people often call it the ‘carrot and stick’ strategy?

If presenting the solution ‘you'll survive if you join me’ was the carrot.

Then telling them the outcome ‘you'll die if you don't join now’ was the stick.

It was the basis of negotiation.

“Of course, if the deal falls through, what kind of end you'll meet….”

I moved my pinky finger to the center of my mouth.

The gesture must have looked like a ‘shh’.

A gesture to show that I would not tolerate any answer other than this choice.

“You know too, right?”

“Just give the order, Captain. I'll kill them all.”

As I gestured with my finger, Maletta took out her Scythe as if to put an end to it.

The blood and flesh that had been seared onto it from the rekindled flames crumbled off.

“W-we accept… we'll accept!”

That move worked perfectly.

As soon as my words and Maletta's threat hit them, the man at the front of the group frantically waved his hands, signaling his acceptance.

I cheered inwardly, but the job wasn't over yet.

So, maintaining a cynical expression, I slowly walked towards him.

The man trembled, but with his reason still intact, he requested something of me.

“I-in return. Would it be alright to make just two conditions?”

“You're bold, aren't you? I'll hear you out, so speak quickly.”

From here on, it was the carrot again.

Using only the stick would just tear the skin.

You have to give a carrot too.

I urged him for an answer since Erin couldn't buy time forever, and after taking a short breath, he opened his mouth.

“First, could you give us a chance to negotiate with the leader?”

“That much is easy.”

There was no reason to refuse since talking to the leader would only serve to drive the wedge in deeper anyway.

It was funny to see them, being the same trash, looking for a chance to get back together, but in the end, what was important was the next part.

“Alright, and what if the negotiation fails?”

“…Then, we will join you without a word.”

I brought up the topic casually to get to the main point.

The man, after a glance back, hesitated but finally gave his answer.

He bowed his waist a full 90 degrees, offering his conclusion from a perfectly subservient position.

Only then could I raise the corners of my mouth.

Well, isn't it obvious?

What would I get from killing you guys?

“It's a deal.”

***

“Keuk, heok, heok….”

Erin lay there, covered in blood.

After stomping on Erin once, Arges approached his subordinate.

The axe held by the vanguard of the group standing in the front line.

His axe blade was drenched in blood.

“Have we won?”

Arges anticipated the victory report he would hear from his mouth.

He expected to hear that they had finally beheaded the man and the woman.

He expected to hear that even if they couldn't kill them, they had succeeded in making them retreat.

“Leader, let's stop.”

But the words that came from his mouth were completely different from Arges' expectations.

A roundabout way of saying let's stop, but the essence was to retreat.

At the mention of retreat, Arges' smiling expression instantly soured.

The subordinate's face also slowly hardened like his.

“Is this a betrayal?”

“If running away and suggesting it is betrayal, then yes. If being a traitor is betrayal, then no.”

“Then it is a betrayal.”

“……”

The subordinate continued to speak as calmly as possible, as if he still had some intention.

But Arges cut off the very source of that conversation and only forced his own opinion.

“Retract your betrayal now. If you do, I will forgive you.”

“…Is that true?”

“Of course. Unlike Barkan, you haven't deserted yet, have you?”

The subordinate at the front of the group was clearly hesitating.

He couldn't give a clear answer of yes or no and kept darting his eyes around.

As if to drive a wedge into that hesitation, Arges extended a sweet proposal along with his hand.

“I am Arges Valtan of Grade 5. The Iron Executioner, who has only lost a handful of times.”

“……”

“Trust me. Just as you have done until now.”

As the subordinate, groaning in conflict, lowered his head, his eyes suddenly caught sight of the blood-soaked axe.

He knew whose blood was on the axe.

That blood was not Maletta's or Kang Woon's.

It was the blood shed by his own subordinates, forcefully smeared on for camouflage.

There wasn't a single drop of their blood; it was merely the blood of those they had ravaged.

The time Maletta and the subordinates had clashed was by no means short.

It meant there had been enough time for Arges to defeat Kang Woon and come to their aid.

There had been enough time to ‘trust’ as he said, but in the end, he couldn't even settle the match.

Could he trust someone like that?

Who was strong and who was weak?

Doubt and distrust began to sprout.

Was the leader saying he didn't support them because he couldn't even defeat that one man?

Was the strength of a Grade 5 an illusion, and was he just a fox in a den without a tiger?

Had they taken the wrong path?

Hesitation becomes conviction.

The subordinate squeezed his eyes shut and, instead of taking Arges' outstretched hand, bowed his waist.

He raised his voice, even while sensing the threat.

“No, sir. With all due respect, this is not a fight we can win!”

“……”

“Leader, we must retreat! This is an unwinnable fight!”

The strength of Maletta and Kang Woon.

The doubt that had formed about Arges' strength.

That was the reason he bowed and refused Arges' proposal.

No objections followed from the subordinates.

Rather, there were only people nodding their heads as if in agreement with those words.

Arges laughed hollowly, looked over their faces one by one, and then.

He opened his mouth.

“My mistake.”

“……”

Arges wiped his face once.

The subordinate, not knowing what that meant, straightened his back and studied his expression.

He just thought that since Arges' voice was in a calm tone, he had understood their true feelings and would accept their proposal.

“The fear I planted in you guys was insufficient.”

“Pardon?”

“I should have understood the difference between being lenient and being soft.”

But the calmness was soon tinged with passion and enmity.

A lion-like gaze, tinged with killing intent, wrapped around the subordinates.

Arbitrariness and fear.

That was the way Arges had ruled his group.

And Arges had no qualms about using that method.

“I'll have to set up a new board when we get back.”

“L-Leader-”

“And the one to be kicked off that board is.”

The subordinate, who desperately wanted to avoid siding with Maletta who had attacked him and his comrades, tried to change his mind.

But Arges only spouted his own words and raised his Morningstar.

And kicked off the ground.

Similar to when he had burst the head of the subordinate who had grabbed his ankle.

This time, he raised his weapon instead of his foot and charged to burst his head.

“Starting with you!!”

A figure flew before the subordinate's eyes before he could even close them, but.

But.

The subordinate clearly saw that the attack did not reach.

“Keok!”

Instead of the peok sound of a head breaking.

The kwang sound of metal clashing.

That scream was not the subordinate's.

But, it wasn't Arges' either.

The voice of Kang Woon, who had been negotiating with them.

“Hoo… I was right, wasn't I?”

He had inserted himself between the subordinate and Arges, holding out his Greatsword.

While struggling to block the Morningstar, that symbol of heinousness, he had not lost his composure.

So he made up his mind.

So the subordinates made up their minds.

Before Arges' expression could even be tinged with bewilderment.

“My new comrades?”

At that one phrase from Kang Woon, they raised their weapons.