Chapter 26: No Ill Intentions (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 26: No Ill Intentions (5)
Calian stared straight ahead in silence, his hood still pulled low.
Four burly men with swords at their waists blocked the door behind him. Across the iron table, the man in charge was examining the very betting slips Calian had submitted.
"Turning three florins into over six thousand," the man mused. "Impressive."
Calian didn't answer. The man, perhaps not expecting one, simply shrugged and set the slips down.
The reason Calian had been called into this room was obvious. The sum had grown too large. Paying out that much money would be a massive blow to their operation, so Calian had followed willingly, expecting some sort of compromise or threat.
"Even in a gambling den, we have our business ethics," the man said. "We will give you your money."
With those words, he lightly tapped the table with his fist. At the signal, one of the subordinates standing behind him placed a heavy pouch on the table.
Calian watched the man with a questioning gaze, surprised they would hand over the money so easily. Though his expression was hidden, the man noticed the slight tilt of his head and smirked.
"Ah. But as for why I called you in..."
The man opened the pouch, showing off the gold coins inside. Calian didn't even glance at them.
"I'm just a little worried about handing such a large sum to a kid."
The message was clear: We'll give you the money, but not today. Come back when you're a little older. As if on cue, the man who had set down the pouch let out a snicker.
Calian watched them for a moment before finally speaking.
"I know it's a lot of money, but..."
Only his lips were visible beneath the deep shadow of his hood, and they were curled into a smile. His voice was clearly that of a boy, yet it held no trace of surprise or panic.
Calian tilted his head slightly, his tone laced with disappointment.
"I thought you'd at least try to negotiate."
Instead of answering, the man pointed at Calian's head.
"First, why don't you take off that stuffy hood, kid?"
Calian raised a hand and lightly gripped the edge of his hood.
Then, pulling it down even lower, he gave a curt reply.
"No."
"People should look each other in the eye when they talk. Don't you think?"
Judging by the amount of money the boy had won, the man figured he wasn't a commoner. But since he had come without any guards, he couldn't be from a particularly high-ranking family, either. Confident in this assumption, the man was acting with complete disrespect.
"If I take this off..."
The corners of Calian's lips curled upward. It was a smirk he had learned from Franz—one that was exceptionally good at getting under people's skin.
"Things will get troublesome. For you."
The smirk, a perfect imitation of Franz’s, had the desired effect. The man spat out a curse and jerked his chin toward the subordinate behind him. The thug who had set down the pouch strode over to Calian and reached out to snatch the hood off his head.
In that exact moment, Calian moved.
Whoosh!
His left hand shot up to clamp down on his hood while his right drew the knife hidden in his sleeve. In one fluid motion, he rose, spun, and slashed his blade across the back of the thug’s hand.
"Aaargh!"
By the time the man clutched his hand and began to scream, Calian was already sitting back in his chair.
"W-What the...?!"
It had happened in the blink of an eye.
Despite his emaciated frame, Calian's condition was at its peak, allowing him this brief burst of speed. Of course, it was a state he could only maintain for a moment—once or twice at most—but that didn't matter now.
As their companion screamed, the four men blocking the door drew their swords.
In that instant, a terrifying aura exploded from Calian.
A thick, suffocating wave of killing intent, dripping with pure malice, flooded the room.
The man in charge couldn't speak. Cold sweat poured down his spine. He had faced the killing intent of knights before, but this was on an entirely different level. The men surrounding Calian were in no better state, their sword tips trembling uncontrollably.
People who survived in places like this were quick-witted. Unlike knights who would clash swords to the bitter end, these thugs knew when they were outmatched. They wouldn't dare push their luck once they understood the gap in power.
"This act of underestimating me for my age is getting old," Calian said, his voice cutting through the tension. "Never mind what I look like. Sheathe your swords and get rid of the noisy one. We negotiate first. Threats come later."
Even as the man behind him shrieked with a half-severed hand, Calian's voice remained unnervingly calm.
"If you understand, let's start over."
The thick, swirling killing intent vanished as if it had never been there. Calian smiled brightly. The sight of that smile, visible only as a curve of lips beneath his hood, sent a shiver down the man's spine. It was utterly chilling.
Damn it! We brought in a crazy swordsman!
Could they win if he called in the men outside? The man quickly ran the numbers.
He's too fast. Those sluggish bastards outside could never keep up. Besides, with killing intent like that, half of them would die before they even drew their swords.
The calculation was simple. It was better to lose the money than to fight a useless battle, bleed out, and lose the money anyway. Backing down before a single sword had clashed was exactly what Calian had anticipated.
But if I hand over all that money, I'm a dead man anyway. What do I do?
The man had his own problems. Even though he had brought out the money to act tough, letting such a massive sum walk out the door would be disastrous. It would disrupt their operations and leave them short on their tribute payments.
Still, since Calian had mentioned negotiation, the man decided to plead his case.
"It's difficult to pay all of that at once. If you tell us where you are staying, we can send the money in weekly installments."
Screeech!
The tip of Calian's knife scraped against the iron table. The spine-chilling sound echoed through the room.
"Swords," Calian said. "The noisy one."
Recalling Calian's earlier command, the man gestured frantically. The four men sheathed their swords, and two of them practically dragged their screaming companion out of the room.
The man tried again. "Are you satisfied now? If you just tell us where you're staying—"
Screeech!
Wrong answer.
The man gnashed his teeth.
"Fine! Honestly, paying it all at once is impossible! We also have to send up our weekly tribute—"
Calian raised his knife and pressed it to his own lips, silencing him. His quiet, gentle voice followed.
"Don't tell me things that will only annoy me."
"Then what am I supposed to do when we don't have the money?!" the man blurted out. Startled by his own outburst, his voice quickly shrank. "No… I-I didn't mean it like that. Just… tell me what you want."
Calian tapped the table with the tip of his knife.
"I won't take the money."
It was the best news the man had heard all day. His face brightened instantly, but Calian wasn't finished. His next words struck the man like a bolt of lightning.
"Instead, give me a person. Monster's Eye."
"Wait, that's—!"
Screeech!
"Ah, damn it, seriously!"
The man grimaced. The unreasonable demand pushed him to his limit, sparking a sudden wave of defiance. He felt like throwing all caution to the wind.
Calian noticed the shift in his attitude. If he gave him any more time to think, a fight would break out, and his cover as a weak boy would be blown.
He had to end this now.
"He's just starting to bring in money, and the Master—!"
The man abruptly shut his mouth.
He had heard a faint vibration from Calian's knife—a blade that wasn't even a proper sword.
Hummmmm!
A blue energy enveloped the knife, swirling and extending into a sharp, ethereal blade.
A blue Aura, capable of cutting through anything, condensed on the small weapon. The man's eyes widened in sheer horror. The other men gasped, staring at Calian's hand in disbelief. As if to shatter their disbelief, Calian quietly rose from his seat, raised the knife—now wrapped in a sword-length blade of Aura—and slammed it down right in front of the man's nose.
The man flinched violently, his shoulders jerking back.
"..."
There was no sound.
The knife passed through the thick iron table in utter silence, as if it were made of water. Only a long, nightmare-like afterimage of blue light remained.
A chilling cold radiated from where the blade of Aura had vanished, having sliced down between his knees. The man instinctively shrank back. His pants had been cut open, exposing his bare legs.
"Who… Who are you?!"
Calian lowered his head.
Gurgle. Blood welled up from deep inside him.
He gripped the corners of the table with both hands to support himself, barely managing to swallow it back down.
I can't do that a second time.
His heart ached as if it were being torn apart.
Calian forced himself to speak, feigning a relaxed tone.
"Six thousand florins and your life… is that enough to trade for Monster's Eye?"
His voice trembled—a result of suppressing immense pain—but to the man, it sounded like the tremor of barely contained rage.
Crazy! He's a Sword Master! A hundred—no, a thousand of me wouldn't stand a chance!
Quickly assessing the situation, the man nodded frantically. He gestured to his two remaining subordinates, who were shivering behind Calian with wide, terrified eyes. It was a command to bring the boy, and the two scrambled out of the room.
Calian reached out and retrieved his knife.
Surprisingly, the blade, which he thought would be unable to withstand the Aura, was perfectly fine. The craftsman's skill must have been exceptional, and the fact that the Aura had only manifested for a brief moment probably helped. Calian let out a dry, internal laugh.
I'm weaker than the knife.
He sat back down, lowering his head to hide his pained expression as he slowly caught his breath.
Five minutes passed like five years. The pain finally subsided to a manageable level. When it took longer than expected, Calian grew impatient and tapped the table with his knife. The sound nearly gave the man a heart attack.
"They'll be here any second! Please, just wait a moment!"
Just then, the office door burst open, and the men who had left rushed back in. But there were only two of them. They hadn't brought Kyrie.
"Where is the kid?" the man asked urgently. "Why are you back alone?"
"He said… he won't leave without Hina…"
Calian raised his head in surprise, his hood almost slipping off.
Hina.
He had heard that name before.
Could it be the girl from earlier…?
Seeing Calian look up, the man panicked. "He said they want to go together, right?"
"Yes. A girl named Hina, another half-breed like him…"
"I don't care, just bring her! Bring two, bring three, just bring them all!"
"Y-Yes, sir!"
The sound of running footsteps echoed again. This time, it didn't take long.
Click.
The door opened once more. Four people walked in. Excluding the subordinates, one was Kyrie, and the other was someone Calian had seen just moments ago—the silver-haired girl who had handed him his betting slips.
Seeing them, the man's face lit up with relief.
"There. Take them all. Please, just leave quickly."
With a scrape of his chair, Calian stood up. The man and his subordinates flinched and shrank back.
"Follow me. Both of you."
Speaking as if he had no further business there, Calian walked toward the door.
"Ah."
Just as the man was sighing in relief, Calian let out a short sound, spun around, and walked back.
"W-What is it now?"
Calian stood before the man and held out his hand.
Seeing this, the man nearly fainted from fright.
Did he change his mind? Does he want the money, too?
Calian smiled brightly.
"My entry fee and my original bet, please."
Five gold coins.
I have to budget carefully.