The Paladin

With the monstrosity brought down, the remaining underlings were no match for Reed. After a brief skirmish to scatter the lingering stragglers, he sank wearily to the floor.

A crushing wave of exhaustion and dizziness washed over him.

My head is throbbing.

Had he depleted too much mana? Without question, Reed had never expended this volume of magical energy in a single engagement before. [Property Change ― Crystallization] was a ravenous spell on its own, and pairing it with an Explosion Rune had drained power at an alarming rate. He had spent his mana like water pouring from a shattered reservoir.

Reed laid a tentative hand over his chest. To his surprise, his mana reserves were not depleted at all. In fact, they remained remarkably plentiful. The divine mana granted to him by Ur ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seemed practically bottomless.

Is that not it? If it isn't mana exhaustion, is my head pounding from chaining spells together without pause?

Whatever the underlying cause, for now he had nothing but gratitude for the generous bounty Ur had bestowed upon him.

Nearby, Iseline and Loty watched Reed with evident hesitation. Reed tilted his head, noticing their altered demeanor. They were treating him with an unmistakable layer of caution.

Iseline cleared her throat timidly before speaking.

"That was an extraordinary display. And the magic you command is... remarkably unusual. That technique earlier, was that alchemy?"

"Alchemy?" Reed echoed, caught off guard by the question.

"Transmuting common soil directly into crystal," she explained, gesturing with one gloved hand. "You altered the fundamental properties of matter. The only branch of magical discipline I know capable of achieving such a feat is alchemy... Is that not what it was?"

I see. Is transmutation magic considered a category of alchemy in this world?

To think he had been performing alchemy without even knowing it. Reed mentally filed away the intriguing revelation. Seeking out a proper alchemist later might yield valuable clues for developing his earth magic further.

Naturally, Reed chose not to expose his ignorance. He simply offered an enigmatic, knowing smile and gave an answer designed to sound profound.

"It's somewhat complicated to explain."

"Ah! Please forgive me! I certainly didn't mean to pry into trade secrets."

"I'm sure there will be an opportunity to discuss magic down the road," Reed replied smoothly. "In truth, I find myself quite curious about necromancy as well."

Reed's explosive performance might have stolen the spotlight, but Iseline was by no means an ordinary mage. Her undead summons had successfully restrained that hulking abomination, even if only for a brief window. That feat alone spoke volumes of her exceptional caliber as a necromancer.

"Aha! So you harbor an interest in the grand art of necromancy?" Iseline's eyes lit up instantly. "In that case, how about visiting our cooperative to chat with our distinguished necromancers? We could sign you up right this instant... Haha, just teasing!"

Catching the guarded look on his face, Iseline offered a slightly sheepish laugh. Energetic though she usually was, even she looked drained from the harrowing encounter.

Beside them, an equally spent Loty muttered under his breath.

"Demon worshippers... Dammit, I thought I was a dead man for sure. Mark my words, I am never stepping foot in a sewer again as long as I live."

Grumbling, Loty cast a venomous glare at the fallen monster's corpse, only to recoil in shock. The creature's swollen flesh was beginning to hiss and shrink.

The excessive, grotesquely multiplied limbs detached and dissolved into ash, while the distorted bone structure cracked and collapsed inward. Before their eyes, the monstrous silhouette receded until only the frame of an ordinary human remained.

"Demonic sorcery," Iseline remarked with a shudder. "Utterly sickening."

"Ugh. Rotten bastards," Loty spat, turning his head away in disgust.

Reed grimaced at the macabre sight. Yet amid their revulsion, Shaka alone leaned in close, inspecting the shrunken remains with keen focus. Noticing his posture, Reed stepped forward.

"Shaka? What is it?"

"Raphal."

"Pardon?"

"It is Raphal."

"...What?"

Reed dropped his gaze back to the corpse. Now that the monstrous swelling had subsided, the facial features were unmistakably those of the slave merchant, Raphal. There was no doubt about it.

That explained the eerie prickle of familiarity Reed had felt during the fight. Yet the revelation only spawned deeper bewilderment.

"Raphal? How in the world did Raphal end up like this?"

Shaka stared down at the corpse in silence. His scaly face wore its usual dull, vacant expression, but beneath it lingered a solemn gravity.

"Raphal, good human. At least to me. Raphal was unlucky."

"To end up in this state just from bad luck..."

"That is this land," Shaka said quietly, his blunt words carrying a profound weight. "Death is close. No luck, you die."

Reed detected an unspoken sorrow beneath the lizardman's stoic tone. Had Shaka lost someone precious to him in a similar fashion in his homeland?

Cocooned within the sprawling stone walls of Morasil, one easily forgot, but this territory was still the Demonic Borderlands. A treacherous frontier where anything could happen without warning.

"..."

Reed shifted his gaze from Raphal to Shaka. After a heartbeat of calculating deliberation, he made up his mind.

Forgive me.

The rune inscribed upon his iron shovel flared with faint light.

Boom!

With a localized crack of concussive force, Raphal's face was completely obliterated, reducing his features to an unrecognizable pulp.

Loty jumped nearly a foot into the air.

"W-What the hell?!"

"Ah. I thought I saw it twitch," Reed said, playing off the sudden strike with a sheepish look. "It startled me, so I swung my staff on reflex."

"R-Right. Well, it was a demon's thrall, so fair enough. But honestly, hearing you call that shovel a 'staff' sounds ridiculously weird."

Reed had been diligently reading the local newspapers lately, which meant he knew full well how fiercely the Empire cracked down on anything related to demon worshippers. Morasil in particular maintained heightened vigilance due to multiple past terrorist incidents orchestrated by demonic cults.

The Governor formally tolerates necromancers not just because they aid frontier development, but because they serve as a counterweight against an unmistakable enemy like demon cultists.

If imperial authorities discovered that Raphal had been corrupted and puppeteered by demon worshippers, suspicion would inevitably fall upon Shaka, his former slave, and by extension upon Reed, the one who purchased him. Defacing the corpse beyond recognition was a necessary precaution.

It leaves a foul taste in my mouth, but I cannot take unnecessary risks.

Still, Reed had no intention of leaving the dead abandoned in the filth.

At the wide intersection where several tunnels converged, Reed gathered the remains of Raphal and the scattered cultist underlings. Raising his shovel, he methodically heaped fresh earth over them until a neat mound took shape. Despite his fatigue, he smoothed the soil with practiced care, then pressed his palms together in a quiet prayer.

It was an ingrained ritual he had observed ever since his days as a slum gravedigger.

A bare minimum courtesy for the departed.

...And a modest offering to Ur.

Iseline observed his solemn actions with fascinated curiosity, while Loty merely shrugged. This was the same boy who had insisted on giving a proper burial to a giant Crystal Kobold.

Mages are famous for their bizarre eccentricities anyway. This must be his.

Only after Reed had finished consecrating the makeshift graves did the party turn toward the exit. Navigating the winding, damp labyrinth of subterranean waterways, they finally reached a stone staircase leading upward.

As Reed climbed, a brilliant cascade of natural light spilled down from the opening above. It was dazzling. Never in his life had sunlight felt so welcome.

Wait... Is it still daylight up there?

Had merely a few hours passed, or had an entire day slipped by in the dark? Having completely lost track of time underground, Reed squinted against the glare as he stepped out onto solid ground.

Waiting for him, however, was a reception he had not anticipated.

"Halt!"

A broad-shouldered man clad in silver-white plate armor leveled a massive greatsword directly at them, a radiant halo of golden light blazing behind his back.

"..."

Nadja stood in silence deep within the subterranean darkness. Beneath her dainty boots lay the freshly turned earth of Raphal's grave.

With a delicate flick of her wrist, she parted the soil and examined Raphal's mangled corpse. His face was crushed beyond identification.

Nadja crookened a slender finger, beckoning a trembling slave huddled nearby. The wretch took a hesitant step forward, babbling frantic excuses.

"F-Forgive me, Mistress! We had no idea the mage possessed such monstrous power! Please, I beg of you, have mer—Ghk!"

Nadja thrust her index finger straight into the slave's ear canal, stirring through brain matter with ruthless precision. In an instant, she pulled the memories directly from his dying mind.

The rupture of the subterranean dam sweeping away legions of thralls. The breathtaking, deadly spectacle of a crystal sphere detonating into a storm of radiant shrapnel.

Nadja's fingers twitched.

Raphal, empowered by a demon's blessing, had been utterly obliterated. And for all practical purposes, that young mage had crushed him entirely on his own.

Such staggering power in the hands of a mere fledgling.

A shiver ran through Nadja's voluptuous frame. Yet the emotion driving that tremor was unadulterated delight.

"Haha... Hahaha!"

A melodious laugh bubbled from her lips.

Above all else, Nadja despised incompetence. Conversely, she adored genuine capability. At long last, she had discovered someone who was truly worthy of her interest—someone not boring in the slightest.

"Perhaps I should have made him mine back then, no matter the cost."

To think she had let such a golden prize slip through her fingers when they crossed paths at the slave market. Nadja shook her head in self-reproach.

"I still have much to learn, it seems."

No matter. She was the sort of woman ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who stopped at nothing to acquire what she desired, and she possessed more than enough cunning to see it done.

"The foul remnants of the demon worshippers are here! Search every corridor!"

"Do not let a single one escape!"

"In the name of the Light, purge the wicked!"

Imperial patrols were closing in; she would have to lie low until the heightened vigilance subsided. Yet the prospect only stoked her anticipation. How much more formidable would Reed become in the meantime?

And how exquisite would it feel to hold the leash of such a capable boy?

With a faint, alluring smile, Nadja dissolved seamlessly into the surrounding shadows.

The man barring their path was a paladin of the Sun Church: Holy Knight Martin of the Silver Shield Holy Knights. After listening to their explanation, his stern demeanor melted into boisterous astonishment.

"Ah! You're the fellows from the Stonemasons' Union! I had heard rumors of an eccentric mage taking up masonry work, but I never imagined we would cross paths like this! Hahaha!"

"...It seems rumors travel faster than I anticipated," Reed replied dryly.

"Haha! A tale like that is far too juicy to keep quiet! Though I must admit, I never suspected you possessed the skill to subjugate ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠demon cultists!"

Sporting bushy sideburns and a robust physique, Martin gave off an instantly likable impression. He possessed a hearty, pleasant nature and laughed freely throughout the conversation, though his good humor never came across as foolish or grating.

Most arresting of all, however, was the dazzling halo radiating behind his back. The divine glow was bright enough to sting the eyes if looked at directly.

Loty leaned close and whispered in Reed's ear.

"He's an Oathbound paladin. The genuine article."

"An Oath? What does that mean?"

"They profess a core conviction before their god and draw sacred power by strictly upholding that vow. It makes them exponentially stronger than ordinary fighters."

"An Oath, you say..."

Swearing a conviction to a deity in exchange for divine power. Did that not sound remarkably familiar?

Reed opened his mouth to press Loty for further details, but Martin chimed in, interrupting their quiet exchange.

"Would you gentlemen be so kind as to accompany us to our parish?"

Reed flinched at the polite request. The notorious reputation of the Sun Church's inquisitions was well-known even to a novice like him.

Is it really safe to walk right into their den?

As if reading his apprehension, Martin offered a self-deprecating smile.

"You have nothing to fear, I assure you. It is merely a routine inquiry regarding the encounter, alongside a standard purification check to confirm you haven't contracted any curses or spiritual blight. I have sworn a holy Oath to the gods never to speak falsehood, so you may take my word for it. Besides, if we sour our relations with the Stonemasons' Union, who will build our grand cathedrals? Hahaha!"

Loty gave a resigned nod. Apparently, submitting to an inquiry was mandatory protocol whenever demon cultists were involved. Only then did Reed's tension ease.

Right. I'm an apprentice of the Stonemasons' Union now. If push comes to shove, the union will step in.

Having institutional backing was reassuring indeed. It brought a profound sense of security.

After treating Reed and Loty with cordial warmth, Martin turned his attention toward Iseline.

In an instant, the paladin's expression froze. His affable air vanished, replaced by an aura as razor-sharp and frigid as drawn steel.

"Necromancer. You are coming with us as well."

"My goodness. My name is Iseline, if you don't mind," she replied with an exaggerated pout. "And could you please dim that needlessly blinding glare? My cooperative members are feeling faint."

Behind her, the seven skeleton laborers clattered their bones together in apparent terror. Martin clicked his tongue in distaste, and the divine halo behind his back quietly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dissolved.

You can turn that off? How convenient.

Oblivious to Reed's slightly sacrilegious thought, Martin turned back with his usual polite smile.

"Shall we proceed, then?"

Flanked by Martin and a detachment of Church soldiers in an escort that felt uncomfortably close to an arrest, the party made their way to the Sun Church's district chapel. There, Reed was ushered before an elder priest for questioning.

"At what time and in what manner did you first encounter the demon worshippers?"

"Could you describe any distinguishing physical characteristics or arcane traits displayed by the cultists?"

"Have you experienced any abnormal physical ailments, mental clouding, or unwarranted revulsion since the confrontation?"

The initial inquiries were straightforward. Having nothing to conceal, Reed answered every question with candid detail.

The priest nodded, jotting notes onto parchment, before lifting his gaze to fix Reed with an intense stare.

"One final question. We are informed that a licensed necromancer accompanied your party in the sewers."

"Yes."

"Did this necromancer exhibit any suspicious behavior? Anything that hinted at collusion with the demon worshippers... even the slightest anomaly?"

The question reeked of blatant prejudice.

Before Reed could answer, Loty spoke up firmly.

"None whatsoever. In fact, we only survived thanks to Miss Iseline's timely intervention. We would all be dead without her. There was zero cause to suspect her of demonic allegiance."

"...Is that so? Does the mage concur?"

"I concur," Reed said.

"And the lizardman over there...?"

"I agree," Shaka rumbled bluntly.

"Haaah. Very well. Thank you for your cooperation."

Clearly disappointed at failing to extract incriminating testimony, the priest sighed heavily before releasing Reed's party. Iseline, however, remained sequestered in an isolated chamber for an extended interrogation.

As the priest saw them to the doors, he offered a parting remark.

"Ah. The necromancer asked me to relay a message. She wishes to coordinate the liquidation of the relics retrieved from the underground at a later date."

"Understood."

"I am well aware that stonemasons frequently cross paths with necromancers on municipal projects," the priest added in a hushed tone. "It may be presumptuous of me, but I would advise against placing too much trust in those who disturb the resting dead."

"...Thank you for the advice."

It sounded like well-intentioned counsel, but depending on how one interpreted the inflection, it could easily be construed as a veiled threat.

Once the heavy chapel doors clicked shut behind them, Reed leaned toward Loty and muttered under his breath.

"The Sun Church seems to have a few fanatics in its ranks, doesn't it?"

"...You realize I'm a Sun Church believer, right?"

"Oops."

"Well. Can't say you're entirely wrong, though."

Reed let out an embarrassed chuckle.

"Still, I saw you in a new light today, Senior."

"Now what?"

"You clearly disliked Miss Iseline from the start. I didn't expect you to defend her so adamantly."

"What kind of scoundrel do you take me for? We fought side by side in the dirt, for heaven's sake."

Bickering like brothers, Reed and Loty made their way to a nearby tavern, gorged themselves on a lavish meal, and eventually parted ways to return to their respective homes.

Before turning in for the night, Reed mentally reviewed the clash against the demon worshippers.

His split-second reflexes in manifesting the crystal armor to absorb the blow. The iron shovel etched with runes, and the devastating concussive shockwave he had unleashed through it.

Every shred of combat experience and technical mastery would serve as vital fuel for his continued growth.

The next divine offering cannot be far off.

Reed could never predict the exact moment Ur would bestow her blessings. Yet having interred demon cultists into the soil, his instincts told him the threshold was drawing near.

Defeating just one more worthy adversary would likely elevate his earth magic to the next horizon.

I learned a great deal today.

Thoroughly exhausted, Reed rested his head against Shaka's thick tail and drifted off to sleep. The lizardman's scales provided a pleasantly cool pillow.

With that, the sewer incident was neatly resolved.

...Or so Reed had naively believed.

The city's prominent newspaper splashed the sensational incident across its front pages, and rumors swept through Morasil like wildfire.

Two mornings later, having relished a sweet, well-deserved day off, Reed arrived at the guildhall for work—only to freeze dead in his tracks at the sight of an enormous banner strung proudly above the Stonemasons' Union entrance.

"..."

Reed stared blankly at the screaming golden lettering for three silent seconds, slowly spun on his heel, and marched right back the way he came.