The Retired Supporting Character Wants to Live Quietly

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]

Chapter 181 - Kirrin’s Black Forest (4)

"(You dark elves are good at hiding.)"

Dian wiped the grease from his fingers onto his cloak and chuckled.

"(With skin as dark as yours, once you disappear, you’re damn near impossible to find. And you don’t even leave a scent—what a pain.)"

As Drebren cautiously stepped back, his eyes caught sight of his club lying nearby.

"(That’s why the Black Swamp was such a nightmare. If I hadn’t had fried chicken this time, I probably would’ve lost track of you again.)"

While Dian spoke, Drebren suddenly lunged, grabbing hold of his club.

Despite his towering height—nearly two meters—his agility was more akin to that of a great feline predator.

"(Are we really doing this again? You’re not even considering just talking things out?)"

Dian shrugged and grinned when Drebren didn’t respond.

"(I know a little about dark elves. You don’t negotiate with your targets—assassination and abduction are carried out without warning. You consider an enemy’s ignorance of their own death to be the ideal kill. And secrecy is absolute.)"

Dian scoffed as he watched Drebren take up a fighting stance.

"(But now that I know who you are, I bet that pisses you off. A disgrace for an assassin, isn’t it?)"

Still, Drebren remained silent.

Dian wasn’t wrong—dark elves never conversed with their targets.

"(Where’s Kirrin? She wasn’t at the academy, so I’ve been looking for her. Do you even know your sister has go—)"

Dian abruptly twisted his body mid-sentence.

Zakrion lunged forward, leaving a blurred afterimage in his wake.

His brass-knuckled fist slammed into the ground, shattering the pavement where Dian had just stood.

Zakrion flipped backward, effortlessly pulling his fist free from the cracked stone.

By the time his feet touched the ground, Dian was already a few steps away—still holding his bag of fried chicken.

As soon as he landed, Zakrion’s figure multiplied, his rapid movement leaving behind dozens of afterimages as he charged at Dian.

His speed was so intense that even his afterimages barely remained visible.

Dian smoothly stepped back, deflecting Zakrion’s fists with the smallest possible movements.

"(This is pointless.)"

Not a single one of Zakrion’s attacks landed, yet he refused to stop.

Because he hadn’t been aiming to hit Dian in the first place.

He was forcing him back.

Dian’s retreat path was already calculated—

And waiting for him at the end of that path was Drebren, his club raised high.

The plan was simple: while Dian was focused on dodging Zakrion’s flurry of blows, Drebren would crush his skull from behind.

A flawless strategy—

That completely failed.

Right before the club could connect, Dian vanished.

Drebren’s strike slammed down—

Directly onto Zakrion, who had been right in front of him.

BOOM!

The club barely missed Zakrion, embedding itself deep into the ground.

"Brother, move!!"

The instant Drebren turned his head, Dian’s foot came flying toward his chest.

The moment he was kicked, Drebren knew.

They could not defeat this man.

Drebren had been there—at the Black Swamp.

During the war between the Demon King’s army and the Human Alliance.

The dark elves had taken a long detour, planning to strike the coalition’s flank from within the Black Swamp.

A treacherous landscape, impassable by carts and barely navigable even on foot—

Which made it perfect for infiltration.

The dark elves had sent in dozens of operatives—

Not just from the Nemara clan, but from multiple clans, forming a large-scale assault force.

If they successfully infiltrated, they could wipe out an entire military outpost in minutes.

And just as expected, the swamp was empty.

The dark elves began advancing, gliding over the marsh with their signature light-footed technique.

Their mission was as good as completed.

Until they reached the swamp’s edge—

And two humans were waiting for them.

Thirty percent of the dark elves were instantly killed.

Only then did they realize they had walked into an ambush.

The survivors hesitated—arguing whether to push forward or retreat—

And in that moment of indecision, another thirty percent fell.

By the time only a third of them remained, their enemies finally showed themselves.

One was a golden-haired man with bright blue eyes.

The other—a wild-haired, brown-eyed man.

After a brutal battle, the remaining dark elves fled.

Or rather, they didn’t retreat in an orderly fashion—

They simply ran for their lives.

It wasn’t until long after the war ended that Drebren realized the blond man had been Linus, the Hero.

But the other one—

No matter how much he investigated, he found nothing.

It was as if that man hadn’t even existed.

Years later, Drebren participated in the imperial intelligence competition—

And there, he finally saw him again.

Dian.

Head Combat Professor of the Special Missions Academy.

Ten years had passed since the Black Swamp.

For humans, that was a long time.

Drebren had assumed Dian must have weakened.

And without Linus by his side, surely—

Surely he and Zakrion could handle him.

But now—

They weren’t even sure they could escape.

Should they stop fighting and try to negotiate?

No.

That was not an option.

A dark elf would rather die than try to reason with a target.

For now—they had to retreat.

Just as he reached this conclusion, blinding pain exploded through his body.

His vision blurred as he was sent flying—crashing into a flowerbed several meters away.

"Brother! Are you all right?!"

Zakrion dashed over, lifting Drebren back onto his feet.

"Get up! He’s coming!"

Dian was strolling toward them, bag of fried chicken still in hand.

"Take off your shirt, Zakrion."

"What?"

Zakrion blinked at Drebren’s sudden order.

"He tracked us using the smell of fried chicken on our clothes. Take it off. We’re retreating."

"Retreat…? That’s absurd…"

Zakrion hesitated—

But the moment he saw Dian approaching, he clenched his jaw and tore off his top.

"(Running away? At least answer my questions before you go.)"

Dian casually rummaged through his bag of fried chicken as he spoke.

"(Where is Kirrin? And why were you trying to capture me alive?)"

Instead of responding, Drebren and Zakrion raised their arms toward the sky.

From somewhere above, thin, whip-like strands shot out, wrapping tightly around their bodies.

"(Oh, no, you don’t!)"

As the dark elves were yanked upward, Dian hurled a piece of fried chicken at them—

But it fell short, smacking against the wall and dropping uselessly to the ground.

Cursing, Dian tucked the chicken bag under his arm and leapt onto the nearest rooftop.

Just as he reached for their ankles, dozens of strands lashed out, weaving around him like a net and pulling him back down.

"(Damn it! The chicken—!)"

Freed from his grasp, the dark elves wasted no time, sprinting across the rooftops in a full retreat.

A female dark elf appeared alongside them, matching their pace.

"Thanks, Sharian. If not for you, we’d be dead."

Drebren exhaled heavily.

"I saw everything from above. That guy was no joke. Maybe I should’ve helped?"

"If you had, none of us would’ve made it out alive."

"You made the right call, Brother, to make Sister stay behind."

"At least you both survived. So, will you try again?"

"Of course."

As they vaulted over the academy walls, Drebren’s voice was firm.

"We’ll succeed. No matter what it takes."

"Even though that guy isn’t human—he’s a monster?"

"We’ll get help from our other siblings if we have to. Mother entrusted this mission to us."

"Well… if it’s Mother’s request, then we don’t have a choice, huh?"

With that, the three dark elves vanished into the night.

# # # # #

"Goddamn it."

Cursing under his breath, Dian looked down at the chicken in his hand.

Thanks to those weird threads interfering, the bag had torn open, spilling the entire meal onto the ground.

All he had left was the chicken neck.

What a waste.

Guess he’d have to swing by the Imperial Palace again later and get another batch.

But more importantly—

Who the hell were those guys?

They showed up out of nowhere, didn’t explain a damn thing, got their asses handed to them, and then ran off.

And that thread—whoever had pulled them to safety, it was probably Kirrin’s sister.

The fact that this all happened right after Kirrin disappeared meant she had to be connected somehow.

But with them refusing to answer any questions, there was no way to know how.

Dian bit off a chunk of the chicken neck as he thought things over.

But there was really only one option.

They ran—so now he had to track them down.

Guess it’s time to head to the forest of the Nemara Clan.

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]