Chapter 150 – Armor Puppets.

The silence held for a few heartbeats after the door closed behind Varkas. Commander Arlin’s crimson eyes remained fixed on the door for a moment before she turned her attention to Rusty.

“So, you’re the one who got ‘lost’ during the retreat.”

Rusty straightened slightly. The weight of her gaze pressed on him with the same intensity as the Orc Warchief he had fled. This was yet another time he encountered someone stronger than him but for the time being, he still needed to hide himself.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Alexander urged him to be respectful toward the woman, quietly offering advice on how to speak while hiding inside his helmet. No one seemed to think he was a monster anymore, as his mannerisms had begun to improve and now appeared much more natural.

“The guard informed me that you followed the Orcs through the forest. Do you have any usable information about their movements or numbers? Something we can act on? You will, of course, be compensated for your trouble.”

Arlin folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. Rusty didn’t answer right away. He took a breath, an unnecessary gesture for someone like him, but one that helped maintain the illusion of thought, of consideration. Inside his helmet, Aburdon’s voice whispered.

“Give her a partial truth. Enough to be useful, not enough to raise suspicion. Make it believable. And do not mention the Barbarians.”

He weighed his options, choosing which details to share. Then he began describing how he had tracked one of the Orcs for a time before losing sight of him deeper in the forest.

“I followed a wounded Orc along the western forest ridge. One hour, maybe two at most…”

He kept the timing vague. Specific details could unravel the lie. Between his fabrications, he included real information, pointing out the locations of several temporary Orc camps. He avoided mentioning the one he had actually raided.

Rusty knew the locals would likely send scouts to verify his report. If they came across the ravaged camp filled with dead Orcs, the questions would begin. Questions he had no intention of answering. It was smarter to appear weaker than he truly was. Let them underestimate him. That way, when the time came, he could strike without warning.

“That’s awfully vague. No real numbers, and only a few directions? Seems like bringing you in was a waste of time.”

Commander Arlin said flatly. Her voice was neither harsh nor kind, but it carried clear disappointment.

“Still, it lines up with some of the scattered reports we’ve been receiving…”

She began rubbing her chin in thought and glanced toward one of the nearby guards. A man stepped forward and started writing something on the large map that lay across the desk. Several locations were already marked there, and if Rusty had asked Aburdon, he was sure the demon lord would have confirmed their accuracy.

“Oh, right. Give the adventurer the usual payment… You can leave.”

There was no gratitude in her voice, and it was clear he had not earned even a sliver of her favor. The moment he stopped speaking, she seemed to forget he was still in the room. If not for the faint glow of his armor catching her eye, she might not have given the order to pay him at all.

“Follow me.”

One of the guards stepped forward, handed him a single silver coin, and motioned for him to leave. Rusty gave a silent nod and walked out. The door creaked and then slammed shut behind him as the soldiers quickly pulled it closed. This woman felt more dangerous than the mercenary leader he had met before.

“So rude. Once we grow stronger, how about we cut off a finger or two?”

The guard commander didn’t see him as worthwhile which caused Aburdon to be enraged. The spirit clearly took offense at the disrespect. Soon, he and Alexander were going back and forth.

“What are you even saying? We are not doing anything like that.”

“Be silent, you two, let us return to our lair, I’m sure Gleam is already worried!”

His metallic boots echoed softly against the ground as he left the barracks. Life around him continued as if he had never been there. People filled the streets, and he could see shops and taverns beginning to open for the day. It was clear these people had grown used to this kind of life and thought little of it.

With haste, Rusty slipped into the shadows, his pace quickening. He had one final task to complete as he needed to evolve once again. Back in the slums, the world felt different compared to the district he had just left. Many people were missing, likely still working to clear debris and recover bodies near the city walls.

His partially collapsed lair stood at the end of a narrow alleyway. The roof still needed repairs, but the entrances appeared untouched. The door remained shut, and the windows were still boarded with roughly nailed planks.

Compared to the surrounding buildings, his lair had been left untouched. Several nearby structures showed signs of break-ins, with doors hanging open and the occasional splatter of blood marking the stone. It seemed some people had used the chaos of the siege as an excuse to loot or settle scores. His place, however, was too decrepit to be considered worth the effort. That would likely change once he went through with his plan to build a smithy. When that time came, he would need to find a way to protect it.

*WHUMP.*

Something dropped from the rooftop and landed squarely on his helmet.

*Clank!*

“Oh… Gleam?”

He staggered back, one arm raised on instinct as a pair of ant legs clung to his head. The small ant familiar chirped in satisfaction and perched herself atop him like a regal crown.

“(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)”

“I’m glad to see you two.”

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“ (¬_¬) “

“I’m late? Sorry, they made me stand there for hours, I couldn’t do anything about it.”

It seemed that Gleam was irritated about having to wait for him, but now that they were reunited, she returned to her usual spot on his shoulder. Without hesitation, he made his way toward the entrance of his current home. The door was shut and barred from the inside. He stepped closer and gave it four distinct knocks, part of a secret code Rolo had instructed him to use.

He wasn’t sure whether the four children were still inside. They had been told to flee if monsters or thieves ever came. A moment later, he heard movement from within. Someone was there.

“Is it the Mister?”

“His name is Mr. Edmund.”

A shuffle of small feet sounded on the other side of the door, followed by hushed whispering. Rusty heard the sliding of a wooden bar, the creak of hinges protesting as the door cracked open just wide enough for a pair of eyes to peer out.

“Ria, don’t open it all the way! What if it’s not him?”

Whispered a voice belonging to a young man. Isan, by the sound of it.