Chapter 404
Chapter 404
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: World 4 (8)
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“Next question. Sir Bolteus, you’re well-known for your particular disdain toward Aura Knights, but is there some personal grudge or history involved? Like suffering humiliation, or a woman being tangled up in it—”
“If it’s personal humiliation, I’m suffering plenty right at the hands of the nobody in front of me right now. Next!”
“I’m Marseck from [Daily Pardau]. First off, there are rumors that the purpose of this visit to Pardau Fortress might not just be simple material exchange. Could you comment on that?”
“That’s an answer I can’t give. But I can tell you how I’ll punish you and [Daily Pardau] for leaking inter-city train operation info and spying. Next!”
“I’m Cinder from [Pardau Metro]! Any thoughts on the ride comfort, speed, or other changes to the train this time around—”
“Don’t know. Next!”
“Next!”
“Next!”
“Next!!!!”
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.
.
Hooo.
Bolteus imagined hanging each of these reporters—one by one—from the top of the station platform as he dealt with what seemed like an especially large crowd today.
“Damn it, Cordelia, you bastards....”
He should’ve known better when they brought expensive liquor, claiming it was a party to celebrate safely crossing last night.
He and the other knights and engineers had drunk until they couldn’t hold their sturdy bodies upright, and as a result, the station that morning was filled with the groans of drunks, reminiscent of a battlefield infirmary full of wounded.
The only survivor who hadn’t touched the booze was Bolteus. The rest were so plastered they needed priests’ help, leaving him to handle the entire scheduled interview alone.
“Who knows when the Mutation Bloods might attack, and they go and drink themselves into immobility.”
The mutants across Polgrad’s main island had gone eerily quiet lately, like a lie—but didn’t that mean they needed to be even more vigilant?
It was probably revenge for how he’d always bolted from these interviews in the past. They’d clearly planned to get smashed like that.
Tap, tap—
As his anger toward his comrades burned, another set of footsteps echoed into the small space set aside for the interviews.
‘Ninth one. Finally the last. From [Knight Days], was it?’
Bolteus swallowed the curses screaming in his throat and forced a stern expression. He hated this kind of thing to his guts, but magitech trains were money-devouring monsters, Straugh Fortress was always strapped for cash, and behind his name “Bolteus” was the family name “Straugh.”
Clap, clap, clap, clap!
But the one who entered wasn’t some leech-like reporter—it was a child walking in, clapping small hands.
“Wooow~ Impressive, Sir Bolteus! That interview was on the level of old Imperial high-society madams gossiping over tea—you wrapped it up without punching a single dragon-kin?”
“....Haven’t you gone home yet?”
The Brasthol family kid he’d seen that morning. He’d figured the kid would lose interest fast since visitors had access to only a limited public area with nothing to see and no way to meet other knights or engineers.
“I had plenty of people to chat with, so time flew by. Oh, you still have some time left, right?”
The boy stopped him as he gestured to leave and held up the name tag around his neck.
[Knight Days / Komero Dalph]
“Bribed him?”
“Do I look like a ten-year-old with that kind of money? It just so happened that super important, super urgent business came up for Mr. Komero the reporter, and the kind reporter sold the interview slot he’d bought for big bucks to some nameless boy who happened to be next to him.”
“Hmm....”
A lie not even a nine-year-old would buy. He didn’t know what trick the kid had pulled, but the noble boy—a devout follower—had chased off a reporter who’d give his eyeteeth for it and snatched the interview slot.
“....How old are you?”
“Nine.”
“Knights or engineers. Which interests you?”
“For now, both?”
“Hmm....”
Too bold to dismiss as just some spoiled noble brat.
Above all, there was something about the kid that stuck in his mind ever since the entrance.
Nine years old. He’d seemed at least twelve, but nine.
Behavior beyond his years, and especially that subtle unease....
“....Not official, but worth checking out.”
“Huh? What was that?”
“Talking to myself.”
Bolteus felt a strange curiosity stirring toward this peculiar boy.
“You said simple sightseeing?”
“Yeah. I’m kinda interested in the train and the people riding it!”
“....Follow me. Can’t let you on the train, but I’ll introduce you to some engineers.”
“Waaah! Thank you!”
Bolteus shook his head at the boy’s face—pure innocence fitting his age, a far cry from the shrewd merchant vibe of moments ago—and took the lead.
Clunk!
His footsteps headed into the station’s main building, followed by the patter of the boy scurrying after him.
****
“Third son of the Brasthol family, huh. What about your mother’s side?”
“My mother’s not around.”
“Hm. Any special family education?”
“Just etiquette, nothing else?”
“You were talking about knightly honor. Interested in Aura Knights?”
“They’re the ones from storybooks.”
Yeah, thanks a bunch to that Komero-whatever reporter who got clocked in the back of the head out of nowhere.
Walking the station’s narrow corridors, Bolteus grilled him like a background check, and it felt worth the hardship of dragging this young body around.
‘He’s taking the bait, as expected.’
As confirmed at the main gate, World 4 was an era where commoners’ rights had advanced quite a bit.
Meaning, from a noble’s perspective, those ‘human-like labor beasts’ represented by peasants, slaves, and serfs now had to be treated as actual humans because so many people had died. As population dropped, labor value rose, and so did the status of the working class.
Point being, a ton of people had died.
Unlike the old days when knightly classes went, ‘Ahem! Want to learn my exalted swordsmanship and Aura techniques? Break through the insane competition and grovel like a dog as my squire for twenty years!’
Now it was more like, ‘Seeking talented squires~ Raise ’em right and they’ll guard my back~ Free noble status included~’
In an age of war, martial power was power itself. Slack off even a little on scouting and raising talent, and you couldn’t keep up with the knights dropping like flies—you’d get weeded out.
Problem was, with the population crash, chances to find talented kids had shrunk too. And even if you went looking, inter-city travel was restricted, so it wasn’t easy.
In short, finding ‘prospect’ level talent was like picking stars from the sky.
Now, let’s look at Professor Brasthol here—the black sheep of the Brasthol family, clinging only to the family name.
“Boy. You said your mother passed away.”
“Well, I don’t even know what she looked like, really.”
“Hm. Sorry. No need to answer more. The son of the wealth-famous Brasthol family wandering alone in rough clothes....”
Noble. No mom. Rock bottom in the family. No special treatment.
Bolteus, seeming to gauge his position in the family, looked quite satisfied.
“The stairs are steep. I’ll help you up.”
“Uh, that way over there looks way easier....”
“No. This way’s faster. That other path collapsed in the last raid and the rebuild might be shaky.”
Bolteus deliberately took the harder route, kneading my forearm, calf, and other spots under the pretense of helping, nodding with a grin creeping onto his face.
If Bolteus wasn’t a gay pedo, there was only one meaning behind that satisfied smile.
‘Bone structure and muscle mass—and that slight twitch means he’s checking something else too.’
Even I could eyeball it past ‘this kid’s got potential’ to ‘right shoulder more developed, wide stance means he’s an Aura Knight who mainly uses heavy weapons?’
For people who split seconds into offense and defense, you predict the next attack from muscle tension before the move. Master that, and you can size someone up just from their body.
That’s why Bolteus was getting all happy poking around mine.
Unlike [Lv.3 Decent Aura Talent] or [Lv.4 Solid Water Mana Talent], this was a trait inherited from the previous macho saint who conquered the world with his physique—starting at level 6!
-Martial Bone-
Name’s Martial Bone (武骨) right there. Honestly, a 4th-level water mana talent is already overly generous for a nine-year-old and enough for great mage potential, but he starts with a whopping level 6 [Martial Bone].
Notum’s shaman talent was level ‘8’. The young female troll who lived in the forest near the city, yelling ‘Words, or death,’ had three ancestral great shamans’ spirits on her by a year after we met, and by the end of World 3, she’d pulled off the feat of resurrecting every fallen knight on the final battlefield as spirit soldiers.
After heading south, Notum—with no tribe of her own—conquered the south solo and rose to ‘Great Shaman,’ revered as leader of all greenskins: orcs, trolls, ogres, goblins.
One glimpse reveals a hundred—this is the majesty of Great Shaman Talent level 8.
Two steps down but still level 6 physical talent in a nine-year-old?
Raise him as a bare-fisted fighter with no thought, and in 7-8 years he’d be a martial artist famous across the entire rear Tarigden Archipelago.
And level-headed knight Bolteus had just spotted the glimmers of that talent dormant in this overlooked noble brat.
“....Brasthol must be full of blind fools.”
Verification complete, his ‘helping’ grip had turned cat-like, seizing my scruff like a kidnapping.
Clunk!
Step, step.
“Sit there. Like tea?”
“If you offer, I’ll drink.”
“....Wait a moment.”
Click!
By the end, Bolteus had practically dragged me running to what looked like his room, sat me down, and stepped out.
Brief sounds of something being thrown, people getting smacked, and pitiful cries of ‘N-no, that’s absolutely not—’ later, he returned, pulling two brownish translucent lumps from a pouch like he’d snatched it off someone. After some thought, he dropped both into my tea.
“Drink. Straugh tea mushrooms don’t pair well with sugar.”
“Uh, sure.”
Do they only have mushrooms around here? But it was surprisingly good. The sweetness perked me right up.
Slurp—
Click.
Bolteus downed his hot tea in one go, staring holes into me as I drank. The moment I set my cup down, he spoke.
“Professor Brasthol. Third son of Brasthol, interested in magitech trains and people like us.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Straight to the point. Want to become my squire and join our train crew? I guarantee better treatment than whatever your family gives you, in every way.”
A fastball right down the middle. One cup of tea and he’s scouting a nine-year-old....
“....So that means leaving my father and family to join the Straughs?”
“Ridiculous.”
He scoffed at my roundabout near-refusal and stood.
“Actions mature beyond your years.”
“A mother you never even knew existed. A son treated as nonexistent by his family.”
“You think I wouldn’t know? I too was born a bastard of Straugh.”
“You think I can’t see your immature hatred?”
Bolteus Straugh met my eyes, his deep gaze heavy with old emotions.
“Your name comes from the greatest saint. My name, Bolteus, is from a saint who existed long ago. Priests handling baptisms often give saint names to kids whose fathers won’t even name them. ‘Live strong, Professor.’ ‘Stand unshaken, Bolteus.’”
“Professor Brasthol. Don’t spout nonsense in front of me about loving your family. Your mother was eliminated to hide the family shame, and bastards like you and me are raised as living contracts for alliances with other houses. That’s our reality. Hatred for the family, hatred for the father who killed your mother—that’s why a discarded, unloved child moves with such fervor! I’ve been through it all, so I know. We were taught to accept it all.”
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“....Pardon?”
What.... You can see the hatred in my eyes? I hate my father? I haven’t even seen the guy’s face!
I figured it’d be sweet-talk and promises of luxury, but Bolteus dove into a way heavier, more serious topic than expected.
‘Evil Aura Lv.3! Born with the talent!’
A character born from a ritual disguised as Light Church ceremony but really for human sacrifice.
The attached trait [Evil Aura Lv.3] was practically a curse.
Evil from birth. Good NPCs avoid you like the plague, and even saying ‘Nice weather!’ comes off like ‘Nice weather.... Perfect for killing.... Heh heh heh....’
Bolteus had sensed that in me.
This overwhelming talent.
A kid so young already brimming with that much hatred.
If I’m left alone, he’ll turn into a heavenly killer star!
Something like that.
Plus, it’s still salvageable at this stage, and our backgrounds match, so he felt some responsibility too.
Bolteus gripped my shoulders with the most serious eyes.
“You spoke of knightly honor. But for twisted souls like us from the start, embracing Aura’s arrogance seals a future as villains. I can feel it clearly even now. The evil emotions pouring from a boy not yet ten. The moment you step into the light, it’ll be exposed to the world, and you’ll face baseless beatings—that’s the future I see.”
“Join the train, Professor. No glamorous future like people imagine. Train life is harsh, you lose comrades in endless battles, and before you can even mourn, you’re boarding for the next city.”
“That’s why the magitech train is a place for outcasts like us! Engineers, firemen, knights aboard—all isolated, distant from society like you and me. The irreverent are treated as trash, but here we prove our shine brighter than anyone! No one.... Not a soul in the world sees us as worthless. They envy and follow us.”
“Cast aside the hatred and come with us. Everyone who boards risking life is family. We’ll be your new family.”
Sincerity shone in Bolteus’s eyes. If I said yes, he’d pull every string to yank me from Brasthol.
‘Fragment Knight, huh.... Leaving a powerless family for apprenticeship under a renowned fragment knight....’
....Not bad at all?
From what I gathered, magitech train folk were less like the owner’s servants and more a tight-knit closed group. Like old-school sailors crossing death on sand ships—real camaraderie.
This Brasthol territory was a trade hub, but nothing special: some timber from rock crevices, bit of iron ore.
Easy access was the main perk, but I learned not just anyone could ride this train.
Unless you holed up in Aura seclusion, it wasn’t great for developing other skills. Need baseline mana for magic? Gotta move to mana-richer land. Want to grow as Shard Knight? Hunt shards, but train tickets require established status first.
Joining Straugh’s train crew hopping cities? Perfect.
“Hm.... Will the family let me go? Like you said, I’m basically family property.”
“Straugh influence will handle it. Fake engagement if needed.”
“They treated you like you didn’t exist when you left?”
“That was leaving. Not now. Who’d ignore ‘Lord Slayer’ who butchered the irreverent Lord Cool-Pag?”
“Ooh.”
No need to ditch the family name either. Build fame on the train as ‘Professor Brasthol,’ boost family prestige—later I could throw weight around Brasthol. By then, they’d just regret sending their kid on someone else’s train.
“....What should I call you from now on?”
Bolteus patted my shoulder approvingly at my answer.
“Bolteus is fine. Don’t like being called by the family name.”
“Yes, sir. Bolteus.”
“Follow me. I’ll introduce you to your new train family.”
Click.
Fwoosh—
Bolteus opened the door, and the station’s lingering booze stench rushed in like it’d been waiting.
Bang!
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“Normally.... They’re not like this.”
“Yes, sir. Bolteus.”
“It’s just that no casualties in a rare smooth run led to the celebration getting a bit out of hand.”
“Of course. Happens.”
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“Another cup of tea....?”
“Sure.”
“Right. Wait here.”
Click!
Bolteus served another mushroom tea, then quietly slipped out.
Slurp—
“Hm. Weirdly addictive aroma.”
True to its Straugh Fortress specialty name, the tea had its own distinct fragrance and charm.
Sipping it against the backdrop of more thrown objects and screams than before from outside only deepened the rich flavor.
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