Chapter 32: The Otaku Takes a "Simple" Escort (And Meets Something Green With Opinions)
The cart rolled out of Southval at a pace that felt almost insulting.
No dramatic soundtrack.
No ominous fog.
No cursed ravens forming a skull shape in the sky.
Just wheels, creaking wood, and a merchant who hummed like his biggest enemy was boredom.
Meliodas sat on the bench with the token in his pocket and the F-rank plate in his pouch like it was an artifact of civilization.
He didn't like how much he liked it.
Kaelen walked beside the cart, hood up, pretending to be a normal escort and not a prince with a bounty-shaped shadow following his life.
The mage trailed behind like a man who didn't want to be included but didn't want to be alone either.
Bud stayed palm-sized on Meliodas's shoulder, glow faint in daylight, claws gently hooked into his coat.
Tired.
Watchful.
Still offended at existence.
The road north-to-northeast was narrow but maintained—packed earth with small stones, the kind of path farmers demanded from barons by existing loudly enough.
Fields stretched on either side, dotted with small fences and scarecrows that looked like someone had tried to frighten birds using despair.
Meliodas kept his posture loose.
Relaxed travelers didn't get questioned.
Relaxed travelers didn't get followed.
Relaxed travelers—
A twig snapped.
Meliodas didn't flinch.
He let {Hyperawareness} widen a fraction, like cracking a door open just enough to hear the hallway.
Left side. Treeline. Low movement.
Not a wolf.
Not a deer.
Too coordinated.
Kaelen's hand drifted toward his sword.
The merchant didn't notice anything and kept humming.
The mage did notice. He slowed, shoulders tightening.
Bud's claws pressed in slightly—warning.
Meliodas lifted one hand, palm down.
A subtle "don't."
Kaelen held, breathing controlled.
"Simple escort," Meliodas murmured to himself.
The brush rustled again.
Then something green stepped out.
Not "monster" green.
Not "slime" green.
A person-shape—short, wiry, broad-eared, with a long nose and eyes that were far too clever to belong to anything that wanted to die today.
Leather scraps for armor.
A spear that had seen too many repairs.
A round wooden shield that looked like it had been stolen from a child's toy set and upgraded with nails.
Behind him—more shapes.
A cluster, fanning out from the trees in a half-circle.
Not rushing.
Not snarling.
Not animal.
People.
Just… small, green, and extremely committed to being a problem.
The leader raised his spear and barked something in a language Meliodas didn't recognize.
Kaelen's posture stiffened.
The merchant finally stopped humming.
He squinted.
"…Ah," he said, voice turning tired. "Again."
Meliodas blinked. "Again?"
The merchant sighed like the world was personally inconvenient.
"Greenskin raiders. They've been bold lately."
Meliodas kept his eyes on the group.
Greenskin.
Okay.
That was the word.
Not goblin.
Not yet.
Not from anyone who knew Meliodas didn't know the world.
"Pay toll!" the leader snapped in broken common, words slurred by accent but clear in intent.
He jabbed his spear toward the cart.
"Shiny. Food. Pay!"
Kaelen's jaw tightened.
The mage's hand twitched near his robe sleeve, like he was considering a spell and also considering how likely it was to get him noticed.
Meliodas leaned forward slightly.
He didn't draw Moonsing.
Drawing made a scene.
He didn't want a scene.
He wanted "F-rank boring."
So he tried diplomacy first, because he was an otaku and that meant he had absorbed an unreasonable amount of "talk-no-jutsu" from fiction and still believed in it when tired.
Meliodas held up his empty hand.
"No toll," he said calmly. "This is a guild escort. Walk away."
The greenskin leader stared at him.
Then laughed.
It wasn't a friendly laugh.
It was a laugh that said: You think paper matters in a ditch?
"Guild?" the leader scoffed. "No care. Cart ours."
He snapped his fingers.
Two of the greenskins stepped forward.
Kaelen's hand tightened on his sword.
The merchant muttered, "I hate this part."
Meliodas exhaled slowly.
"Okay."
He didn't shout.
He didn't threaten.
He just stood up from the cart bench, hopped down lightly, and walked forward until he was close enough that the greenskins could see his face clearly.
{Adorable} hit the situation like a slap.
Two of the raiders blinked—actually blinked—like their brains had to restart around the idea that this human looked annoyingly… approachable.
The leader's eyes narrowed.
Not charmed.
Not softened.
Just suspicious.
Good.
Meliodas preferred suspicious.
Suspicious people made fewer mistakes than emotional ones.
He stopped a few paces away.
"I'm not paying," Meliodas said, voice even. "Leave."
The leader bared sharp teeth.
"You human. One. We many."
Meliodas nodded slightly.
"You're right."
Then he tilted his head, mild curiosity on his face like he was asking about the weather.
"How many of you want to keep your knees?"
Kaelen made a choked sound.
The mage's eyes widened.
The merchant quietly leaned back on the cart like he'd seen enough to know where this was going.
Bud's glow brightened half a shade—pleased.
The greenskin leader hesitated.
Just a heartbeat.
Enough.
Meliodas moved.
Not {Rush}.
Not full speed.
Just… fast.
Fast enough that the leader's eyes widened too late.
Meliodas stepped in, slapped the spear aside with the flat of his palm, and tapped the leader's knee with his boot—precise, controlled, {Chitin Slayer} precision without the flashy part.
Cartilage popped.
The leader collapsed with a howl.
The surrounding greenskins surged—instinct and outrage.
Kaelen drew his sword in one clean motion and stepped to Meliodas's side, cutting low—not killing, just disabling like he'd learned from watching his master.
The mage flinched, then muttered something under his breath and flicked a hand—
A small gust of wind shoved one raider back into another, tangling them without drawing too much attention.
Meliodas didn't comment.
He didn't praise.
He filed it away.
Bud lifted his head, eyes shining.
A pulse of heat—not enough to burn, just enough to warn—rolled off him like a tiny sun yawning.
The nearest greenskin froze mid-charge, eyes wide.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Something old in his instincts went: That's not food. That's danger.
Meliodas used the pause.
He grabbed the leader by the collar, hauled him upright just enough to meet his gaze, and spoke quietly.
"You want to live? Call them off."
The leader snarled.
Then his eyes flicked to Bud.
His face went pale-green.
He barked sharp words in his own language.
The raiders stopped.
Not because they respected the leader.
Because the leader sounded like he had just seen a forest spirit.
They began backing into the treeline, dragging their injured with them.
Meliodas let the leader drop gently to the ground like he wasn't a villain.
"Next time," Meliodas said calmly, "ask for work. Not carts."
The leader spat something hateful.
Then crawled backward into the brush, limping, pride bleeding out behind him.
The road went quiet again.
The merchant exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for a lifetime.
Kaelen slowly sheathed his sword, hands still trembling.
The mage stared at Meliodas like he wanted to ask a hundred questions and didn't want to die.
Bud settled back down on Meliodas's shoulder and sent a pulse through the bond.
Easy.
Meliodas snorted softly.
"Yeah," he murmured. "Very easy. Totally F-rank."
They walked on.
And for a while, it stayed quiet.
Too quiet.
Not the predator quiet.
The… held-breath quiet.
Kaelen noticed it too, because Kaelen was learning fast and fear was a very effective teacher.
"Master," he whispered, "do you feel that?"
Meliodas didn't answer immediately.
Because he did feel it.
Not wrongness like infernal corruption.
Not hunger like beasts.
Something else.
Like the air had… attention.
Like the sunlight was listening.
Bud's claws tightened slightly.
Not alarm.
Caution.
The trees ahead thinned into a small grove where the road cut past a shallow stream.
Wildflowers grew thick there, bright and careless.
And hovering above them—
Something small.
Something pink-gold.
Something with wings like petals and a body like a tiny glowing insect.
It drifted lazily over the blossoms, leaving faint sparkles that vanished before they touched the ground.
Meliodas stared.
His brain did the same betrayal it always did when the world got cool.
'…No way.'
He stepped forward without thinking.
Kaelen hissed, "Master—"
Meliodas stopped himself at the last second, not crossing into the flower patch.
Good.
He had learned some self-control.
The tiny winged thing turned in midair.
It looked at Meliodas.
Then—very deliberately—stuck its tiny tongue out.
Mocking.
Personal.
Kaelen blinked. "What… is that?"
The mage's voice was tight. "A fae."
Meliodas's eyes widened slightly.
A real fae.
In broad daylight.
Hovering like it paid taxes.
It fluttered closer to the road edge and made a sound—half giggle, half chime.
Then, in surprisingly clear common, it said:
"Big human looks tasty."
Kaelen went stiff.
The merchant made a noise like regret.
The mage's face went pale.
Bud's glow sharpened.
Meliodas—because he was Meliodas—did not focus on the "tasty" part.
He focused on the wings.
He stared like a man seeing a rare gacha character in the wild.
"...You're real," he whispered.
The fae tilted its head.
Then smiled.
Not a friendly smile.
A mischievous one.
"Aww," it cooed. "Big human thinks he's special."
It fluttered higher, just out of reach.
Meliodas's hands twitched at his sides.
Not to attack.
To touch.
To poke.
To—very respectfully—confirm the fluff and sparkle mechanics.
Kaelen noticed the hand twitch and looked horrified.
"Master," he whispered urgently, "please do not—"
Meliodas exhaled.
He forced his hands to relax.
He forced his voice calm.
"I'm not going to grab it."
Bud sent a pulse that felt like: Liar.
Meliodas ignored it.
The fae drifted closer again, bold as daylight.
It circled Bud once, then stopped in front of Meliodas's face.
Its tiny eyes narrowed.
Then it sniffed.
Actually sniffed.
Its expression changed.
Not fear.
Not awe.
Annoyance.
"Ugh," it said, wrinkling its nose. "You smell like trouble."
Meliodas blinked. "Thanks?"
The fae stuck its tongue out again.
Then it did something worse than insulting him.
It reached out and flicked his forehead.
A tiny, glowing flick.
Meliodas felt it.
Not pain.
A ping in his mana—like someone had tapped a bell inside his body.
Kaelen's hand shot toward his sword.
The mage stumbled back a step.
Bud's glow flared, hot and offended.
The fae giggled like it had just committed a crime and loved it.
"Don't follow the green ones," it sang. "They're not the only ones that bite!"
Then it zipped backward into the flower patch, spiraled once over the stream, and vanished into sunlight like it had never existed.
The road stayed quiet.
Meliodas stood still, touching his forehead like he'd been tagged by a cosmic prank.
Kaelen looked at him. "Master… are you cursed?"
Meliodas stared ahead.
"No," he said slowly. "I think I got… trolled."
The merchant muttered, "I hate fae."
The mage swallowed, eyes darting to the treeline. "Fae don't speak unless they want something."
Bud sent a pulse that felt like: We should leave.
Meliodas nodded once.
"Agreed."
He climbed back onto the cart bench, face neutral, heart quietly screaming because he had just met a fairy and did not get to collect it.
They continued toward the farmstead.
And Meliodas couldn't shake the feeling that the greenskins had been the loud warning…
…and the fae had been the quiet one.
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[END OF CHAPTER 32]