As I rode Rusty toward the mercenary office, I continuously maintained Beast Breathing.
Runderg had divided the technique into three stages.
The first stage—
Foundation.
Learning the breathing pattern and circulating aura correctly.
The second stage—
Maintaining Beast Breathing constantly during movement and combat.
And the final stage—
Even without actively using Beast Breathing, the body would still retain its enhanced strength naturally.
Right now—
I had barely stepped into the second stage.
Keeping the breathing active while riding, thinking, and remaining alert at the same time was difficult.
My focus constantly split between breathing rhythm and awareness.
Several times I nearly lost the pattern entirely.
But practice was the only way forward.
When I entered the mercenary office, it was busier than usual.
Mercenaries filled the room with loud voices and armor noise.
At the counter, Lamane looked up and spotted me.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Are you alright?"
I blinked.
"Why?"
"You look different."
That made me pause for a second.
"…I'm fine."
She didn't seem fully convinced, but let it go.
"So," she asked, pulling out several request papers, "looking for anything specific?"
I smiled faintly.
"Anything involving combat."
Lamane scanned the board for a moment before pulling one request free.
"This one might suit you."
She handed it over.
The request came from a village near the Dark Swamp Forest.
Apparently, raids had been happening repeatedly.
Livestock stolen.
Storage houses broken into.
People injured trying to chase the attackers.
The description mentioned possible lizardmen activity.
Lamane smirked slightly.
"Looks like you'll be meeting old enemies again."
I accepted the request immediately.
The ride toward the villages took several hours.
Along the way, I stopped briefly at a roadside inn near the swamp region and gathered information from locals.
The situation was worse than expected.
The request wasn't from one village—
but three villages pooling money together.
The attacks mainly happened at night.
Livestock disappeared first.
Then people who tried following the tracks ended up ambushed in the swamp.
Thankfully, nobody had died yet.
But fear was spreading quickly.
After hearing enough, I mounted Rusty again.
While riding between villages, I continued practicing Beast Breathing.
Maintaining the rhythm during movement was exhausting.
But slowly—
it was becoming more natural.
Then—
suddenly—
I heard shouting from the left side of the road.
"Stop them!"
I immediately turned my head.
Three lizardmen burst from the trees, sprinting toward the Dark Swamp Forest.
One carried a large sack over its shoulder.
Several villagers chased behind them desperately—
but the distance kept growing.
The moment I saw them, I pulled Rusty's reins sharply.
Rusty instantly changed direction.
His six legs exploded forward with terrifying speed.
The lizardmen noticed us too late.
We intercepted from the side.
The first lizardman reacted quickly and jumped away before impact.
But the second wasn't fast enough.
Rusty slammed directly into him.
The force sent the creature rolling violently across the ground.
At the same moment—
I unsheathed my sword.
The third lizardman rushed toward me with a crude iron rod instead of a blade.
Before—
my sword would have struggled to cleanly cut through a lizardman's neck.
But now—
everything felt sharper.
Cleaner.
Calmer.
I swung once.
Its head separated instantly.
No resistance.
No hesitation.
The first lizardman snarled and charged me with the iron rod raised overhead.
I blocked casually.
The impact barely traveled through my arms.
Not even a small vibration reached me.
But Rusty moved before I did.
His mutated front claws dug viciously into the lizardman's leg.
The creature screamed and collapsed instantly.
I stepped forward calmly—
and drove my sword into its chest.
Silence returned.
Only the swamp wind remained.
Even then, I kept my sensory field active.
Watching.
Listening.
Ready.
The injured lizardman Rusty had slammed earlier lay motionless nearby.
Dead from the impact.
Several moments passed before the villagers finally caught up.
Most were breathing heavily.
Sweat covered their faces.
A few carried farm tools instead of proper weapons, while others held shaking torches despite it still being daylight beneath the swamp trees.
They looked exhausted—
more desperate than brave.
I still kept my sword raised slightly.
Just because they looked human didn't mean they were harmless.
"Who are you?" I asked coldly.
One older man stepped forward carefully.
"We're from Neabu Village."
He pointed toward the dead lizardmen.
"They stole from us, so we chased them."
I frowned slightly.
"You chased lizardmen toward the Dark Swamp Forest… over livestock?"
The villagers exchanged uneasy looks.
Then one man spoke with a trembling voice.
"…Not livestock."
My eyes narrowed.
He pointed toward the sack lying near the dead body.
"They took a child."
Silence fell instantly.
Then—
from inside the sack—
I heard weak crying.