Fainting
Fainting
"Why has the blood for the sacrifice still not arrived?!"
The Abyss Cult, the last surviving secret society of the dark wizards, had been struggling lately.
A golden opportunity to take revenge on the Empire that had persecuted them had finally come, yet things only kept going wrong.
Activating their newly created black magic circle required an enormous quantity of sacrificial blood—blood taken from living humans.
But for some time now, the supply of that blood had plummeted and dried up entirely.
"I apologize, Cult Leader. The man who was supposed to deliver the blood suddenly vanished...."
Under the Cult Leader's rebuke, Venom could do nothing but bow his head and apologize.
The Cult Leader could not be called good-tempered by any stretch of the imagination. If he decided to vent his anger, Venom would probably be carried out looking like a dried mummy.
'Useless bastard! What happened to being a notorious villain and serial killer famous across the Empire? I should've known from the moment he started running his mouth so arrogantly.'
Venom felt wronged by the situation too.
For a while now, the Imperial guards had been patrolling the slash-and-burn villages near the capital, so they could no longer raid them and harvest blood as before.
So they had no choice but to outsource the work, and the criminal introduced through the Thieves' Guild had suddenly gone silent.
A wanted fugitive by the name of Shylock.
The list of crimes made Shylock look vicious and bloodthirsty enough for the job, but the deadline had passed and he had neither appeared nor made contact.
"Are you really planning to become a sacrifice yourself?"
"Even if my life is insignificant, if it can serve the Great Plan, I will gladly cast it aside!"
He didn't mean it.
Venom wanted to live to see the world burn and be stained by demons—he had absolutely no desire to see it as a skeleton.
He had answered that way only because sounding devoted in front of the vicious Cult Leader improved his odds of surviving.
"This is not something that can be repaid with the life of a wretch like you! Get out there right now and raid a city if you have to—bring me fresh blood, you maggot!!!"
At the Cult Leader's roar, Venom immediately nodded and hurried out of the cult's sanctuary.
He had barely saved his life, but this was survival on borrowed time.
If he failed to bring the missing sacrifices, the Cult Leader would truly kill him and drain his blood if necessary.
He was being spared only because they were short on manpower. The Cult Leader could kill someone like him as easily as wringing a chicken’s neck.
"These damned Imperial bastards!!! Why did they suddenly strengthen patrols they never used to do...."
Venom felt trapped at a crossroads where either path led over a cliff.
If he didn't bring sacrifices, the Cult Leader would kill him.
But if he raided a village to get sacrifices, he'd be caught by the Imperial Guard and executed.
He couldn't understand why things had gone so wrong.
There was no way the Empire could have caught wind of this operation they had planned in secret—so why had the defenses around the capital been strengthened?
And the criminal who had confidently promised fresh blood had gone completely silent. Had he been captured somewhere?
It was almost as if someone had gone around broadcasting the Abyss Cult’s plan to the whole Empire.
'No way... is there a traitor within our Abyss Cult?'
The thought that there might be a traitor among them crossed Venom's mind, but he soon shook his head and dismissed it.
A harsh environment forges tight bonds among those within it.
Even he himself had never once dreamed of selling out the comrades he had raided villages with, captured people with, and laughed and chatted with while drawing blood together.
'The guards can't possibly search that entire vast area, so there's bound to be a gap somewhere.'
Venom resolved to target that gap and raid one of the remaining slash-and-burn villages, and began preparing to head out.
***
"Fortunately, Volume 4 doesn’t seem likely to require even more security around you, Master Rupert."
Esteban said as he read volume 4 of <Iron-Blooded Alchemist>, which Rupert had handed him.
"Don't even get me started. Even walking around the territory these days, the looks I get are hostile."
Even the territory residents—whose favorability toward House Somerset would score a full 100 if measured like a dating sim game—were side-eyeing Rupert, so there was no need to mention anywhere else.
The number of people using the Goldpool Valley Magic Tower’s Teleportation Circle had surged lately, and almost all of them were headed to the same place.
The Somerset Territory.
Most came and—
"Are you even human?! Bring Nana back!"
"Patrasche and Nello are alive! I saw them!"
"Author, let your workers go home!"
There had even been a minor incident where a workshop employee on his way to work joined the crowd, but the people who limited themselves to shouting complaints outside the manor were the tame ones.
The guards patrolling around the manor sometimes caught people lurking about with clubs in hand.
"Honestly, isn’t the author who turned Nana into a chimera the one at fault here?"
Hearing people blame him even after the guards dragged them in was enough to keep Rupert from daring to travel outside the territory.
"Once volume 4 is released, the merchandise shop, which is already thriving, will be in even more of an uproar."
Rupert clicked his tongue in regret.
He had originally planned to inspect the Somerset Merchandise Shop that had opened in the capital, but since he couldn't go in person, he was only receiving reports on the situation.
Still, the news that it had been packed with people from the first day to now brought a smile to Rupert's face.
The capital shop was so crammed with people that many customers made the expedition to the Somerset Territory's merchandise shop, expecting fewer crowds there.
As a result, the Somerset Territory was enjoying an unexpected boom, and with the entire Goldpool Valley region benefiting from the trickle-down effect, the territory residents were practically holding a festival.
The inns stayed full of diners and overnight guests, and most merchandise customers were well-off enough to spend freely. Money was pouring into the territory.
"The new figurines in particular are astonishingly popular."
The figurines produced with Kroon’s craftsmanship were nothing like the dolls this world already had. They were so intricate they looked like real people shrunk in miniature.
People who saw them bought them as if spellbound, and fights breaking out over who would get one were commonplace.
Even though the figurines were only available to shop customers of Gold Badge rank or higher, they sold out completely on release day and were now in short supply.
Thanks to that, Kroon and the artisans had been working day and night to produce goods and meet the numbers, but by now they had grown quite accustomed to it and could produce figurines of increasingly good quality.
Kroon's teaching in particular had been a great help to the artisans—at first, every single piece had required Kroon's touch during the production process.
Now the artisans could handle the basic work among themselves, and Kroon only did the finishing touches.
"Master Rupert, aren’t you pushing yourself too hard?"
Just as their discussion of Volume 4’s sales schedule was wrapping up, Esteban spoke again.
"Pushing myself? Hmm... I suppose I did work a bit more than usual this time, what with making the picture book alongside it."
"I’d certainly like the books to come out faster, but if speeding things up ruins your health, Master Rupert, that would be the greatest loss of all."
Rupert waved off Esteban’s very merchant-like calculation of costs and losses.
"Haha, I'm used to this much. Besides, Monk Manuel visits every day these days to heal me, so I'm perfectly fine."
Rupert stood up in response to Esteban’s concern and began demonstrating his stamina, as if to prove the point.
"At my age, pulling all-nighters for days on end is nothing. Something this heavy is—!"
Rupert tried to hoist up a statue in the reception room that was the size of a grown man's upper body.
But the attempt never came to fruition.
Thud.
"Huh...? Why don’t I have any strength...?"
Veins stood out on Rupert’s painfully thin arms as he tried to lift the statue, but it did not budge. Instead, dizziness hit him and he slumped to the floor.
"Master Rupert!!!"
Esteban, who had been watching, rushed over to Rupert.
But Rupert felt a sudden wave of dizziness wash over him and lost consciousness right then and there.
***
"Did Big Brother eat a poison apple too?"
Rupert lay on the bed, still unconscious.
A crowd of people had gathered around him.
His family—Count Somerset and Ada.
Esteban, Sena, Kroon, and of course the people who worked at the manor.
Monk Manuel, who had rushed over after being contacted, was also present.
"What's his condition?"
"I've healed him with Divine Power for now, but this is from accumulated fatigue, so there's no other remedy but plenty of rest."
Count Somerset let out a low groan at Manuel's words.
Rupert had always insisted he was fine, so the Count had avoided interfering. Now his son had collapsed from overwork.
The Count sank into self-reproach, feeling he had been far too irresponsible as a father.
Everything Rupert touched had been a resounding success and revived the family, so under the excuse of trusting him and leaving things to him, he had effectively neglected him.
No matter that he had been named heir, he was still young—the Count regretted that he might have unknowingly placed a burden on him.
"So that one was human after all."
Kroon muttered to himself.
Kroon had always thought dwarves could hold their own against anyone when it came to hard work. After meeting Rupert, he had begun to wonder whether dwarves were actually a lazy race.
Rupert pulled all-nighters in the workshop as a matter of course, and watching him chug Vitality Potions like water had seemed downright insane to Kroon.
Not only did he draw, but he also went around the workshop checking and inspecting products—and on top of that, he went around nagging people as if he were their mother.
Kroon had even wondered whether Rupert was secretly twins.
Unless one of them was resting while the other worked and they took turns, that level of activity was incomprehensible.
Rupert had been repeating that madness for months now, so it wasn't strange that he had collapsed—what was strange was that he had lasted this long.
"He'll have to be made to rest for the time being, even if by force."
At Count Somerset's firm voice, Esteban nodded in agreement.
"Of course. I’ll add a brief notice to the upcoming Volume 4 saying that Master Rupert collapsed from overwork."
Rupert would have protested in horror that he was perfectly fine, but he was unconscious and could not stop the decision from being made.
And completely oblivious to the solemn mood, Ada alone was having fun. She declared that Big Brother had eaten a poison apple and kept kissing his forehead, insisting she would wake him up.