Chapter 112
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 112
Abel smiled, his eyes fixed entirely on Seo-ah as if she were the only person in his world. The top agent of the Reinhardt Spy Team was putting on a masterful performance.
Unfortunately, Simon, forced to witness the display head-on, looked as though he wanted to gouge out his own eyes and ears.
“Put some on your lips, too.”
“Okay.”
“Your lips are purple.”
“…That’s because of the medicine. The medicine is purple, not my lips.”
“Right, I know. But you’re still pretty.”
At that, the target of his affections hung her head and mumbled in a tiny voice, “Please stop saying things like that.”
He leaned down to match her lowered gaze and whispered, “I meant the medicine is pretty, not you.”
“……”
What absolute bullshit.
Why the hell do I have to sit here and watch this? I can’t just dump them somewhere, which means I have to bring them back with us. Does that mean I have to suffer through this crap on the way back, too?
His irritation rising to its absolute limit, Simon glanced at Oscar.
Did you really turn the carriage around just so we could watch this?
But the grumpy look on Simon’s face froze.
“……”
Oscar sat in a posture so relaxed it was almost elegant. With his long legs crossed as if he were the sole occupant of the carriage, he stared straight ahead, resting his chin on one hand. His sharp, flawless jaw was pulled back, and his eyes, cast upward, looked chilling.
“…Don’t say things like that either,” Seo-ah muttered.
“Why are you always telling me not to do things?” Abel replied.
Oscar, who had been quietly watching Abel’s shameless flirting, let out a dry chuckle.
So he doesn’t want to see this crap either. Then why on earth…?
A cold, menacing smile played on Oscar’s lips as he looked down at his documents. Then, his brow furrowed, and he muttered fiercely, “Why the hell is this written like this?”
“…Pardon?”
Just as Simon asked a beat too late, Oscar shoved the papers toward him.
“Tell them to redo it and submit it again.”
Caught off guard, Simon blinked as he took the documents.
Oscar continued to flip through the papers, letting out incredulous scoffs. He signed a few here and there, the scratching of his pen carrying an eerie, menacing edge.
“Redo this one too.”
Another document was rejected.
His bloodshot eyes, which made even the Wolves tremble, twitched.
“Redo.”
Simon von Bernheim, who had always been the perpetrator and never the victim, felt for the first time what it was like to be on the receiving end.
*
Around the time Simon was spiraling into confusion, the carriage carrying Marquis Reinhardt and the Wolves following him entered the western border of Pelfe.
The shortest route from the capital of Luxen to the Pelfe Neutral Trade Zone ran along this border.
As dozens of horses galloped past, a thick cloud of harsh, gray dust rose in their wake. Clad in black, the Wolves’ eyes gleamed sharper than ever.
A few scouts rode ahead at their leader’s command, while the remaining Wolves maintained a set distance around the carriage, scanning their surroundings.
Finally, they entered the Rock Forest.
It was a vast region of bizarre rock formations, a unique landscape formed as millennia of erosion wore away the softer earth, leaving only the hard stone behind. The result was a literal forest of stone, with winding pillars taller than a man standing like trees.
Though it was not a lush forest—hardly a single blade of grass could grow there—the countless crevices between the towering rocks made it the perfect place for an enemy ambush.
However, thanks to a thorough sweep by the scouts, there was no sign of life.
The Wolves who had personally led the sweep signaled from a distance. Receiving the all-clear, the wolf driving the carriage nodded and cracked his whip.
“Hyah!”
About an hour after they entered the Rock Forest, a flashing blue light reflected in the eyes of the vigilant Wolves.
“It’s a Magic Dome.”
In the distance, three tower-shaped Magic Domes designed to repel demonic beasts stood like a mirage. At the peak of each, a blue light flashed, indicating they were fully operational.
Just then, a bluish beam shot out from the top of one tower. Though the beams seemed to fire at random, they were actually targeting only demonic beasts. The mana cannons, appearing as streaks of light, fired relentlessly into the distance.
With the Magic Domes functioning properly, they would at least be safe from demonic beasts.
The Wolves exchanged nods.
Marquis Reinhardt’s party picked up its pace.
The Rock Forest, which doubled as Pelfe’s western border, was a barren land, yet life still existed here. Its most prominent inhabitants were giant scorpions. Over time, a mutated species emerged, one that reacted to the mana flowing beneath the earth.
It didn’t take long for these mana-sensitive mutant scorpions to become the dominant species. They were commonly referred to as “earthworms.”
As was typical of mutated beasts, the earthworms were much larger and faster than ordinary scorpions. Their hard carapaces could withstand most attacks, and their sharp tails were tipped with venomous stingers.
Autumn was the season when they were most active.
Due to the rocky terrain, a massive military force had to be stationed here before the installation of the Magic Domes, which could target the creatures with pinpoint accuracy. This was to prevent the earthworms from descending upon nearby villages.
The introduction of the Magic Domes drastically reduced this waste of manpower. Just over a decade ago, dozens of outposts were scattered throughout the Rock Forest, each requiring mana users to stand guard twenty-four hours a day. Now, the Magic Domes handled it all.
However, this convenience came with a critical vulnerability.
If the Magic Domes did the work of dozens of outposts, it also meant that if even one of them stopped working, the entire region could be devastated in an instant.
*
When a carriage pulled up in front of a Magic Dome, one of the Special Task Force guards approached, tilting his head in confusion. While civilians were allowed in the Rock Forest, the Magic Dome was a military facility off-limits to unauthorized personnel.
“What is your business here? …Ah, Countess!”
The soldier who had approached the carriage immediately snapped to attention upon recognizing Countess Ilya.
Pelfe’s House of Ilya was originally a family of knights, and during the former king’s reign, they had even been granted the right to guard the royal palace. After the former king’s death, however, the family’s authority was drastically reduced.
One of the few privileges they retained was the right to patrol the Rock Forest. Of course, even that was a nominal right, as all actual authority lay with the King. For the current House of Ilya, their remaining privilege amounted to little more than the freedom to enter and exit military-controlled zones.
The Countess, her face hidden by a black veil, looked as if she had come directly from a funeral. By now, there was no one in Pelfe who had not heard the news of Grand Duke Baden’s suicide.
Stepping down from the carriage, she looked up at the towering Magic Dome.
The sun had begun to tilt. Once it started its descent, it would sink rapidly, as if sliding down a slope.
“What brings you…”
The Countess did not even bother to answer the soldier, who was asking why she had suddenly appeared in the middle of her son’s funeral. Her black skirts fluttered as she walked toward the Magic Dome, followed closely by a man with closely cropped hair.
Flustered, the soldier followed but did not dare block her path. Fortunately, by the time the Countess reached the main entrance of the Magic Dome, the manager in charge had noticed her sudden arrival and rushed out.
Only when a titled noble appeared did her relentless steps finally falter.
“Countess Ilya, I heard the news. You have my deepest condolences.”
The manager of the Magic Dome offered his greetings in a somber tone, yet he remained firmly in front of the door, showing no intention of stepping aside.
Why on earth would someone in the middle of burying her only son come here? Furthermore, the man standing behind her exuded an unusual, formidable aura.
But the dry, hollow voice that came from the Countess shook the resolve of the man blocking the entrance.
“Is this not the highest point in Pelfe? I came here hoping that from this height, my voice might reach my son who has gone to heaven.”
“……”
“Please, grant a mother who has lost her son just a brief moment.”
It was an incredibly difficult request to refuse. The manager sighed several times before finally speaking.
“Then, if only the Countess…”
“You go too far. Surely you know that I do not require your permission to ascend this place?”
Her justification was mere wordplay, but wordplay could be a weapon more powerful than any blade.
“…Yes, I understand.”
The manager of the Magic Dome could not stop Countess Ilya and the man accompanying her from entering.
The Countess headed toward the stairs leading to the control room at the top of the Magic Dome. The manager followed them, but his lingering unease gradually faded as he matched his pace to the Countess’s slow, agonizing climb.
Her breathing was so labored as she climbed the spiral staircase that it sounded as if she might collapse at any moment. Her withered back bent more and more like that of an old woman, and she seemed unable to take another step without the support of the man beside her.
She was merely a powerless old woman who had been stripped of everything, only to lose her son in the end. Though the man with her was slightly concerning, he was just one person. What could possibly go wrong?
Before he knew it, the manager had let his guard down completely and continued up the stairs.