The God has moved to another world.

Intercontinental mobility was frequent in the world of sea plains and middle plains.

Fast ships and airships.

Such things frequently go and connect the rest of the world with logistics.

The steady supply of energy, demonic stones by guilds, also played a part in them.

Fuel, materials, and "the mind I think I need" are the creatures that do most of the work when it comes to people.

Whether it was a ship flying in the sky or going on the water, they were supported by magic technology.

Beyond using magic, most of those objects are operated using secrets and tricks from various countries.

For this reason, it was common sense in this world that carriage and transportation were not carried out by companies, but by the State as a state business.

Countries with the skills to fly ships and drive fast make money by carrying people and supplies.

The most appalling thing about these countries is the spill of magic technology.

Because we have the ship and its technology to carry, we can acquire foreign currency through transportation.

If it spills out and they imitate it, then we lose jobs and the country is in decline.

Countries worked closely together to protect each other's magic.

We built each other airports and airfields in the name of consulates in each other's countries, so as not to interfere thoroughly with each other.

By doing so, we made it a stepping stone to carry our luggage to other continents while preventing the leakage of each other's magic technology.

That would be the case in any world, but to say the base of a stream of people and things is very busy.

The port and the airport, the gateway to the other continents, the city with its two, were full of humans of a wide variety of races.

Lizardman, Elf, Dwarf, Goblin, Centaur, Human, Raven, Werewolf, Cat, Cobolt.

It's just a crucible of race.

Each one descends into this city with his own thoughts and travels.

The city was a relay point, a starting point and a point of arrival for some.

It is probably because it is a port town and a special location with large flatlands.

We can accept ships flying in the sky, we can accept ships going in the ocean. There was a massive collection of things here, not just people.

It's not just the "magic ships" that countries are proud of that float in the ocean and sky.

The stopovers held by the city were also reserved for individuals and ships held by the Chamber of Commerce.

Large quantities of goods and people are transported everywhere with such things.

Something is brought in from next to next, and something is brought out from next to next.

No matter what person is there, no one cares, no matter what it is, no one looks.

The city was really a comfortable place to live for what was dark behind it.

corner of the harbor used by ordinary merchants and others.

A huge brick warehouse lined up. There, there was a small bar.

The shop, where the owner, Barten, chopped it up by himself, was made of brick, just as it was all around him.

It's not unclean in the store, but I get the slightest impression that it goes hand in hand with its dimness.

Glasses, tables, etc. were also beautifully polished, although quite used to get in.

The name of the store is "Angel Share".

Alcohol becomes less than its original amount when it ages.

That's what happens when the moisture flies, but the craftsmen joked, "Instead of making it a tasty drink, it decreases because angels swallow it".

The words that emerged from such anecdotes became store names as they were.

It was not in a conspicuous position, it was a store in a place like this with few crowds, but it was a hidden famous store where many regular customers would walk by.

The city brings together a variety of liquors from different countries with different location patterns.

The store owner covered most of them and arranged all the superb liquor in the store.

A classic liquor, a phantom brand, a hidden dish.

Seek them, and those who love booze will pass.

It's not even late at night, but a few customers are drinking in the store.

Everyone was listening to the singer's song playing in the corner of the store.

No noise, enjoy the drink quietly.

That's the implicit rule in this store.

One man, a middle-aged man, sat at the counter.

Trousers in black tank top with a relaxed line of pockets.

The exposed body is covered in thick muscles such as trolls or orgasms.

Her hair was cut short and her face had some wrinkles carved into it that made her feel old.

From the looks of it, are there places like the late forties or early fifties?

If you were to say the impression of the man in a nutshell, it would be "soldier" or "mercenary".

To a forged body, a sticky face, hair.

It was precisely the man whose words would come firm, as all of them embodied.

In fact, the man's business was "mercenary".

Head of the Galtic Mercenary Corps, a group of warriors who do not belong to any country and take on the havoc depending on Kim.

That was the man's title.

Sergei Galtic.

Some countries have nomination arrangements. That was his name.

Sergei was one of the regular members of this store.

This city, which is heavily populated, is arguably the best place to hide.

If you're hiding people, you're hiding them.

He was in a position to escape and hide, but his hobby was to drink.

It was also a doctrine of loving first-rate things.

A place where you can swallow the best liquor, as quietly, as possible without being seen.

This was the perfect place for Sergei.

Having finished his work on another continent, he was actually coming to this store for the first time in two months on this day.

Finish work that could kill you at any time and sip the recommended liquor of the store owner in this store.

It was every decision in Sergei.

Less than ten counter seats, some table seats.

So in all the stores, Sergei sat alone at the table for the four people in the far back.

No customers, no shopkeepers, nothing to complain about.

I want to drink alone.

Such customers are common in this store.

What the shopkeeper recommended to Sergei on this day was the liquor that it was the original of a small inn called the "Wood Leaked Day Pavilion".

I was actually going to swallow myself, but I received every bottle from the shopkeeper, who said bitterly, and Sergei awoke at once with a shot glass.

A little tight liquor, but the taste is really good.

Sergei nodded satisfactorily at the recommendation of the boulder shopkeeper.

"Oh. It looks delicious."

Sergei raised her eyebrows only slightly to the suddenly called voice.

Because a woman who wasn't supposed to be in the store until earlier stood in front of me at some point.

The guests came and went, the faces, they all remembered.

For him, who was often targeted for his life, it was no longer like a habit.

But there was no woman in front of her.

He wasn't supposed to be here.

But in fact, there was a woman standing there.

The woman I don't know, it wasn't.

"Oh. Nice booze. He said it was an original from some inn."

Sergei speaks that way, keeping his gaze off the glass.

The woman sat down in the seat in front of him, listening to it, without even taking confirmation.

"Wooden Leak Pavilion, huh. It's kind of a tiresome name."

The woman shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

So finally, Sergei looked up and confirmed the woman.

But I don't have to check.

I couldn't have misheard the woman.

Beautiful, crystalline voice as if it were clear.

Though brilliant and beautiful, its light is only cold.

That was the voice.

A woman with long, golden silky hair up and luscious limbs wrapped in a cramped red dress as if it were for a man.

Sergei doesn't know the woman's name.

But I knew the woman well.

Anyway, I've been asked to work many times and I'm good at it.

"You know the store?

"At work."

A woman who shrugs her neck so she can stand back.

To that appearance, Sergei raised his eyebrows as surprised.

"You can be tired, too. Looks like he's working all the time."

"Hobbies and work. It's fun living the same way, isn't it?

"I don't like it. The worker holic. I like drinking and relaxing."

"Looks like you."

So the woman smiled.

A woman who spins several dangerous jobs, but paid better than any customer.

That's better than some national official.

"You're done with your previous job, aren't you?

"Oh. I just got to the city."

"Oh. Coincidence. Good to see you."

Well said.

Those words that came to mind never came out of Sergei's mouth.

Always, this woman shows up the next day after work.

Regardless of what kind of state secret job you haven't told anyone.

I haven't told anyone, but Sergei thought this woman's information network would be no less than Stenglaire, known as a superpower.

What country the hell is an intelligence agent?

is also a member of some organization?

Either way, it wouldn't be very nice to know.

It could be floating in the ocean tomorrow morning.

Yes, Sergei thought.

"So? What is it this time?

"Aren't you at work today? Because I heard something a little funny. To talk to the public."

"A public story?

Sergei frowns suspiciously.

I never got out of a woman's mouth, such as a non-work story.

Exceptional things happen because work patterns are not very welcome.

"The great forest nation said they hunted slaves. That's about what you've heard, isn't it?

A major forest country is Metermagito.

Of course, it was in Sergei's ear.

That country of elf supremacy rarely even had slaves.

It is the most "almost" and does not mean that it will never hold.

Not many, such things existed.

If so, it is not uncommon for a slave hunt to take place.

It was on a different continent from Metermagito that this city was located.

Consequently, Sergei did not feel the need to gather information too aggressively, albeit with regard to the situation on some continents.

If anything matters, they'll be in my ear soon.

That's what I thought.

Actually, though, it was the first time in a month or so that Sergei was coming down to people.

Until then, I was in the woods at work.

It was only a few hours ago that public information became accessible.

"I've been away from the world for a while."

Sergei shrugging his shoulders.

To Sergei like that, a woman makes me laugh at her kusuri.

"I think you'd be interested."

"I'm not interested. Business Opportunity. What?

"It depends on the sell-in, huh? I think it's worth checking out, huh? Anyway, it's important."

Important.

When this woman is like that, it's when it really matters.

Sergei's expression changed only slightly.

"Are you in the mood to look into it?

"Well, just a little bit"

I guess I was satisfied with that word.

The woman smiled strangely and slowly rose out of her seat.

"Isn't it about time?

The woman's hand stopped pushing the back of the chair at that word that Sergei uttered.

"Is it time?"

"Name"

The woman raises a little brow and smiles.

"Right. Eltovael, I don't know."

"Ahem?

In unexpected reply, Sergei frowned and turned to the woman.

But.

The woman's appearance was not there already.

Sergei inhaled and exhaled heavily when he made an expression that even the bitter worm chewed up.

"If you name an angel of repudiation, you will be punished by heaven. Damn."

With a whisper, Sergei poured liquor from bottle to glass.

Even while he was diving into the woods, his men were collecting various pieces of information.

If we fish later, we might find a take on what that woman was saying.

Perhaps something extraordinary is happening.

Something like that woman comes around to say.

I looked for it, and I was interested, and maybe that woman will come again.

With an interesting, enjoyable job for Sergei and the right reward.

"Horns on the rabbit, gathering information first. Hey."

With such a twinkle, Sergei opens the liquor on the glass.

He was a Sergei to a woman, but he was also a hobbyist.

When I say his job, I mean it's a battle, a rough thing.

It's only when you're doing that kind of work that you live.

A man named Sergei Galtic was exactly like a painting of a mercenary.