100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids-Chapter 306 - Gareth Gotten’s First Sheep

The border town smelled like piss and bad decisions.

Gareth’s horse clip-clopped through mud-slicked streets while his eyes darted everywhere—scanning, measuring, scheming. Buildings leaned against each other like drunks after last call.

Wooden signs creaked in the wind, half of them so faded you couldn’t read what they were selling.

But Gareth wasn’t here to shop.

He was here to throw bait in the water and see what kind of fish bit.

The Tower had appeared three days ago. That massive, impossible thing jutting into the sky like some god’s middle finger.

Purple and pink lights swirling around it, visible even from here—thirty kilometers away. The whole countryside was buzzing about it.

Perfect.

"—just a shadow! I’m telling you, Bern, it’s nothing but mountain shadow playing tricks!"

"Mountain shadow? Are you fucking stupid? Mountains don’t glow purple and make the ground shake!"

Gareth slowed his horse near a cluster of men arguing outside what looked like a tavern. Five of them, all rough types. Weathered faces. Callused hands. The kind who’d spent their lives doing hard labor and harder drinking.

"It’s real," a younger one insisted, pointing toward the horizon. "My cousin saw it up close! Said it’s taller than the Capital’s castle!"

"Your cousin also said he fucked a noble’s maid," another shot back, spitting into the mud. "He’s full of shit."

Laughter erupted. But Gareth noticed something—the way their eyes kept drifting toward where the Tower stood. The nervous energy beneath their mocking.

They’re scared. Good. Fear makes people do stupid things.

Gareth dismounted, tying his horse to a post. His legs ached. His back hurt. The antidote pills Viktor had given him were working, but they couldn’t erase the bone-deep exhaustion of being a coward who’d survived this long by licking boots and stabbing backs.

He needed a drink. And information.

The tavern’s interior was exactly what he expected—dim, smoky, reeking of cheap ale and cheaper decisions. Men huddled around tables, voices low but urgent. Everyone was talking about the same thing.

The Tower.

"—heard from a merchant that he will report this to intelligence guild and earn reward—"

"—waste of time, they will nor believe until they see themsleves and might take more than few days to send someone—"

"—no, no, my brother-in-law works at the capital branch, he said awakened ability users are being mobilized—"

Gareth ordered ale, paid with copper that felt too heavy in his palm, and found a corner seat. He sipped slowly, ears open, mouth shut.

That’s when he heard it.

"Damn those Intelligence Guild bastards!"

The voice cut through the tavern’s murmur like a knife through butter. Heads turned.

A man stood near the bar, slamming his fist on the counter. Mid-thirties, maybe. Broad shoulders, scarred knuckles, wearing what looked like official gear—leather armor with an emblem stitched on the chest.

Gareth squinted.

Dungeon Guild.

The man’s face was flushed red, either from anger or ale. Probably both. "They think they’re so fucking special!’" He spat on the floor. "Well fuck that! I’m going myself!"

A few men chuckled nervously. Nobody wanted to directly oppose guild authority, but this guy clearly didn’t give a shit.

"You serious, Tikon?" someone called out.

"Dead serious." Tikon—apparently that was his name—turned to face the room. His eyes were wild with something between ambition and stupidity. "There’s a dragon near Millbrook town. Actual fucking dragon. I’m going to catch it myself and shove it in those Intelligence Guild pricks’ faces to get my money back!"

Dragon.

Gareth’s heartbeat quickened.

Viktor had told him to spread rumors about the dragon. But this idiot was already talking about it? Had word spread that fast?

"You’re insane," another patron said flatly. "Dragons don’t just appear in the countryside."

"Yeah? Then explain the Tower!" Tikon shot back. "Explain the purple lights! Explain why half the animals in the region ran away!" He grabbed his ale mug, draining it in one gulp. "I’m forming a team. Anyone with balls can come to Millbrook. We’re hunting that dragon and claiming whatever treasure’s in that Tower before the guilds muscle in!"

Silence.

Then someone laughed. A bitter, cynical sound.

"You’ll die."

"Maybe." Tikon grinned, showing teeth that had seen better days. "But I’ll die rich. Or at least I’ll try."

Gareth’s mind raced.

This was it. This was the fish Viktor wanted him to catch.

But Tikon looked like an idiot. A reckless, glory-seeking idiot who’d charge headfirst into danger without thinking. The kind who’d get himself killed and take everyone with him.

Which meant Gareth needed to position himself carefully. Not as muscle—gods no, he’d die instantly. But as something useful enough to survive.

A guide.

Gareth stood, legs wobbling slightly. He plastered on his best harmless-old-man smile and shuffled toward Tikon.

"Excuse me, sir," Gareth said, voice dripping with false humility. "I couldn’t help but overhear your... ambitious plans."

Tikon turned, eyeing him up and down. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Gareth, sir. Just a humble traveler." He bowed slightly—not too deep, not too shallow. The perfect amount of subservience. "But I happen to know the area around Millbrook quite well. The roads, the terrain... even some of the local folklore about the Tower."

Tikon’s eyes narrowed. "What is Folklore? The tower just arrived a few days ago!?"

"Oh yes! But apparently only for the outside world, but insiders already knew it would happen." Gareth’s voice rose with feigned excitement. "The villagers have been talking for weeks! Strange lights, unusual monster movements, and—" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "—whispers of treasure. Ancient treasure hidden within the Tower’s depths."

That got attention.

Several men at nearby tables leaned in.

"What kind of treasure?" someone asked.

Gareth spread his hands. "Who can say? Magical artifacts? Gold? Perhaps even skill books?" He let the words hang in the air like bait on a hook. "All I know is that the Tower appeared and the Millbrook’s lord has been... unusually active lately. Hiring workers. Buying herbs. Almost like he’s preparing for something."

It was all true. Viktor had been doing exactly that. But Gareth twisted the truth just enough to make it sound suspicious. Enticing.

Tikon crossed his arms. "And you want to guide us there out of the goodness of your heart?"

"Not at all!" Gareth laughed self-deprecatingly. "I’m old and weak, sir. I couldn’t fight a dragon if my life depended on it. But I know the roads. I know the villages. And if there’s treasure..." He lowered his eyes. "...perhaps a small share for guiding you safely would be fair?"

Tikon studied him for a long moment.

Then he grinned.

"You’re a greedy little rat, aren’t you?"

"Guilty as charged, sir."

"Fine. You can come. But if you slow us down, I’m leaving you for the monsters."

"Understood completely, sir!" Gareth bowed again, lower this time.

Hook, line, and sinker. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Within an hour, Tikon’s "team" began to form.

And what a fucking team it was.

First came the old man.

He shuffled into the tavern like death warmed over—hunched back, wispy gray hair, clothes that looked older than Gareth. But his eyes were sharp. Too sharp. And the way his gnarled fingers rested on the staff he carried...

Mage, Gareth realized. Or former mage. Either way, dangerous.

"Heard you’re going dragon hunting," the old man rasped.

Tikon looked him up and down. "You look like you’ll die before we reach Millbrook."