Chapter 332
Chapter 332
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 332
Chapter Title: Surviving as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Good."
Ascanien patted the shoulder of the unconscious Pleroma priest. Mecklenburg made a sour face and grumbled.
"Don't put your hand on him."
"Why not?"
"He'll get heavier."
Mecklenburg replied curtly in his usual blunt tone. Ascanien nodded and withdrew his hand. Mecklenburg was carrying the Pleroma priest that Ascanien had knocked out earlier on his back. After sending all the Pleroma priests to Unter den Linden, they had taken down the reinforcements and used concealment magic to slip away to a suitable spot.
'...Still, who would've thought we'd respond to the kidnapping of 200 magic scholars by kidnapping 200 Pleroma priests ourselves....'
Of course, that probably wasn't Ascanien's intention, but the end result was the same—they'd gotten revenge in kind. The Pleroma group had clearly planned this crime meticulously, yet it had turned into an impromptu countermeasure. Just as the rumors said, someone with divine power on Nikolaus's level could do things beyond the ordinary.
'Secondly, the archdiocese isn't underestimating us anymore.' Now Mecklenburg understood what Ascanien had meant by that. While Mecklenburg had been shocked to hear 200 priests were coming, Ascanien must have been delighted. He could send them all to Unter den Linden and weaken the Brandenburg Archdiocese's forces.
Ascanien had been quiet for a moment, but then he asked,
"How many minutes has it been since we dropped into the Hall of Peace?"
"About ten minutes now."
"Precisely."
Urged by Ascanien, Mecklenburg glanced at his clutch. Ascanien pulled out a pocket watch from inside and showed it to Mecklenburg.
"Nine minutes."
Ascanien nodded silently. The leisure was slowly fading from his face. No, he was reverting to his usual emotionless expression. Mecklenburg could easily guess what was causing it. He hesitated, then voiced the question he'd held back earlier.
"You're not revealing that you're Nikolaus. ...There must be a reason, but what if they realize you used divine power? Why send them to the surface?"
"It was too much to cast two wide-area spells, so I handled their minds with the sleep spell. Any lingering divine power residue should have blended into your mana, Senior."
"...Hm."
"And anyway, they'll remember the blood rushing to their legs more vividly and assume that's what knocked them out."
Ah, so that's why he asked me to do it. Mecklenburg realized he was always one step behind Nikolaus's thought process and frowned slightly. At that moment, the Pleroma priest on his back jolted awake with a gasp.
"Huh...!"
Ascanien immediately grabbed the back of his neck, channeling divine power, and made a fuss.
"You're awake, Brother! Do you recognize me?!"
"...No? I don't... what is this...?"
"Weren't we on our way to capture Ascanien? They shook off the coordinates and tossed us somewhere. We barely escaped. Can't you see we were attacked?"
Ascanien pointed to the spots where the blood vessels had burst from the pressure spell. The Pleroma priest winced and pulled his head back.
"That's... pretty bad. But I don't remember anything."
"Why is that.... How unfortunate. Maybe Ascanien hit your head too hard?"
"......"
Huh?
Mecklenburg involuntarily rolled his eyes and swallowed. Fortunately, the Pleroma priest didn't dwell on the words.
'...Hit too hard? In a situation this tough to improvise in, he mixes in the truth?!"
So this was the real Nikolaus. Far... far more than he'd imagined. He'd thought the mask-wearing was like some madman obsessed with masked balls and secret clubs, unable to separate work from play. But after Nikolaus's overwhelming divine power and bold actions took control of the situation, over the past month or two, it hadn't even seemed odd. Was this the collective illusion from crowd psychology?
Yet the Nikolaus before him now didn't contradict the image Mecklenburg had built up. His composure and shrewdness showed he was a cut above in combat experience and command. The polished image of the promising young politician and orator was still there, but now a new realization was etching itself in: he was a man who would spare nothing for ultimate victory.
Ascanien still held the dazed priest and said,
"I was just about to ask you something, Brother. We're heading to report this to the Bishop right now. We've lost contact with everyone—can you connect? Oh, first, can you reach the Bishop?"
The priest clutched his head at Ascanien's barrage of questions and shook his head vigorously.
"No, I'm not linked to the Bishop.... More importantly, the connection really is cut. Ascanien must have sent the brothers somewhere else...!"
"How unfortunate."
Ascanien's eyes flashed with silent curses at the news he wasn't connected to the Bishop, then he resumed his act. 'The Bishops are elsewhere. Where could they be?' It was Ascanien's question, implying the Bishops had gone where Leonard Wittelsbach was. It was enough to anger anyone who couldn't reach the Bishop directly. Plus, the concealment magic was nearing its limit, so they needed to move fast.
"Then let's head straight to where the Bishop is. Here."
The three clasped hands in a circle. Around the time Mecklenburg gave up nitpicking in resignation, the Pleroma priest seemed to realize something was off and looked back and forth between them.
"Ah, you want me to warp? Why not you two...?"
—Enter through the narrow gate.
"Ghck...!"
Ascanien swiftly tapped the priest's forehead with a spell and grabbed his collar.
"Your reactions have been slow from the start. Being oblivious like that is how you survive longer. Right?"
Mecklenburg bit the inside of his lip at the chilling words laced with force, his gaze wandering again. It felt aimed at him too, for spotting the common trait of divine power users. But Ascanien ignored Mecklenburg entirely, gripping the priest's collar and shouting.
"Brother! Let's go to the basement of the building where the Bishop is right now. He needs spatial magic support—he's looking for us!"
'You think the "Bishop's building" isn't this one?' Mecklenburg figured it was from experience, whatever it was. He committed Ascanien's words to memory and eyed the priest.
"He's looking for me? No way... why me...?"
"Oh."
Ascanien raised one eyebrow in brief admiration, then hardened his expression. Meanwhile, Mecklenburg slammed his staff into the hall floor, creating a makeshift portal. If reinforcements came from the surface and reached this floor's hall, it would take them to their next destination. Ascanien raised his voice passionately.
"Don't you know the situation? We failed to capture Ascanien and now we're chasing him! There's no time. The Bishop will explain once we're in the basement!"
"Ah, no...."
"Now!"
Mecklenburg flinched at the shoulders. It was the loudest Ascanien had ever been. He'd pressured with a time attack to prevent rational thought before, but now he was using another—primal—tactic. Mecklenburg let out a hollow chuckle.
Boom—! Thud—
It worked.
The problem was how loud the collapse was after the warp. There were piles of crates in the dim basement corridor—they must have tripped over them. The priest, hit by divine power, passed out immediately upon arrival. Mecklenburg jumped up, grabbed Ascanien and the priest's hands, and scanned both sides of the corridor. Rows of rooms of unknown purpose—storerooms, maybe. Ascanien, perhaps startled by the noise, rarely looked flustered as he quickly checked both ways.
In that moment, Mecklenburg was certain. Ascanien hadn't come for all-out war. He'd known since the basement order. Unlike the earlier area swarming with priests, this was the Bishop's building, so Ascanien would be extra cautious. Mecklenburg's eyes darted for an escape route.
[What was that.]
"...!"
Footsteps from upstairs—they'd noticed. Mecklenburg cast a soundproofing spell and urgently turned the nearest door handle. Luckily, it opened. But relief was short-lived.
'Ugh...!'
It was an artifact storeroom; mana stabbed at his lungs like a knife.
"Another place...!"
"No."
Ascanien shoved Mecklenburg's back. Caught off-guard himself, he bit his lip but still pushed Mecklenburg and the unconscious priest inside.
"Why, why?!"
"An empty room would give away our mana. Especially when you're too tense to control it properly."
Ascanien pulled Mecklenburg along, passing display cases. Footsteps grew closer.
Clank—!
Soon, someone roughly yanked open the storeroom door.
Mecklenburg sighed in relief while sharpening his senses.
Pitch black except for a sliver of light. This was a small back room in the storeroom—more like a closet. The light leaking through the small door shook wildly. Two or three people were milling about.
High-ranking Pleroma clergy. Their emanating vitriol choked the air. One-on-one on the surface, he might win somehow, but this was Pleroma's base. These weren't like the priests before—they were superior, and outnumbered. Their vitriol suggested battle readiness.
'If they find us....'
Death. Nikolaus might seize the advantage with divine power—but that was optimistic. For Mecklenburg, not Nikolaus, it was certain death. Sweat beaded on his back, cooling his skin.
Creak— Thud—
"......"
The light steadied. Mecklenburg squeezed his eyes shut. Finally gone. Only then did he realize his jaw was clenched tight.
Ascanien stayed statue-still another 30 seconds before exhaling sharply. He neatly arranged the unconscious Pleroma priest to free some space and leaned against an artifact box. Mecklenburg then noticed he was stepping on Ascanien's foot. His dark-adapted eyes narrowed in a glare; Ascanien nodded reluctantly. He shifted, then unbuckled his belt clutch and tossed it to Mecklenburg.
"...My legs cramp without this. Hold it for me."
"Why me? And you're not leaving now?"
Ascanien pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence. Soundproofing was already up—what now? Mecklenburg was baffled but took the clutch.
'...Leaving now would be suicide.'
No claustrophobia, at least. Time was the issue now. Ascanien's face was grim. As they adjusted with the extra space, a glass vial rolled in the clutch—Mecklenburg pulled out the one he'd been given.
"Speaking of which, this...."
No label on the vial. He glanced at Ascanien, who shrugged. Then he smiled and asked,
"Want to test what this drug does?"
"Where? On you?"
Mecklenburg asked in shock, but luckily his guess was off. Ascanien looked at him like he'd gone mad.
"You're crazy. On the Pleroma priest."
"No way. Isn't he our key to getting out? What if it puts him in a coma or something?"
"......"
Ascanien pondered deeply, then nodded slowly. That reaction chilled Mecklenburg more. He'd thrown out the worst-case for a high-value hostage, and it made sense? Knowing his thoughts, Ascanien replied quietly.
"It's not that bad, but perfect for leaving the worst memories. Testing or not, the outcome's the same—worst case—so we grab one quick."
[......]
He wanted to ask what "grab one" meant, but footsteps lingered outside the door. Mecklenburg felt his heart pounding and clenched his fists. Ascanien was tense too—more mana leaked from him. Mecklenburg knew he was human, but with the distance he'd felt from Nikolaus, it hit home now.
'...Still, we can't go on like this.'
They only had each other. Wanting to ease Nikolaus's tension, Mecklenburg blurted something reckless despite his own nerves.
"...Uh, what if we run out of oxygen and pass out?"
"You're already short on it, Senior."
"......"
Mecklenburg felt his fist tighten and took a deep breath.
'Why did I think I needed to calm him? He jabbers just fine.'
"Don't breathe so deep. Wastes oxygen, like you said."
"You...!"
Ascanien swiftly clapped a hand over Mecklenburg's mouth. Voices came from outside just then.
[...Checked that side?]
[...Come see. Over here....]
The voices faded quickly. Mecklenburg irritably shook off his hand, pointed at the crumpled Pleroma priest, and said,
"Reinforcements could come anytime. Interrogate the ones we sent to Unter den Linden and trace back—easy. We set it up so if they reach the other building's last point, they'll portal here fast."
"Hopeful. Must be your spatial magic skill."
Ascanien praised without enthusiasm. Mecklenburg knew his worry. He shared it too, especially if the others had gotten that mystery vial.
'...Can't we just send everyone here to Unter den Linden together?'
Ridiculous. Ascanien would've if possible. Mecklenburg grimaced at his own fanciful thought. Ascanien, bumping his leg, said curtly,
"Don't move."
"......"
The junior griped about space.... With his mild OCD flaring in pain, Mecklenburg could've boldly claimed he wanted to blast everything away. Exercising patience, he dry-washed his face and lowered his voice.
"Can't we use this Pleroma priest to check downstairs quick? I know every minute counts, but grabbing supplies and manpower there might save time."
"Could you come back up?"
Ascanien cut in before he could reply.
"Like you said, trace back from the surface—but it's still quiet out there. Plus, even if this priest's good at spatial magic, he's just a priest. And the ones we tossed were priests too. Won't confirm, but the risk is high."
Ah.
Mecklenburg pressed his eyes with his hand.
So Ascanien meant: 'Pleroma left an exit but blocked entry. Use this priest to go down and re-enter? Sounds good, but they'd entrust blocking entry to high clergy, not a lone priest. He might send allies out an open door but lack skill to breach a closed one. Risk scales with that.'
So obvious. Mecklenburg was speechless. Why hadn't he thought of it? Nikolaus's thinking was combat-optimized; his wasn't. Sure, time in the unformed HQ aside, he'd been Imperial Mage for three years with unique experiences. He thought he knew it all, honestly.... Wrong. In true combat immersion, he couldn't match Ascanien. His past "combat" was child's play to him.
"Why didn't I go to Berlin with them? Logically, to prevent more allies, Pleroma keeps escape routes open but locks entry against enemies. They're as good at spatial magic as you—better, even. One-way block is trivial. Didn't we face something similar at Pentaron? You break Pleroma spatial spells easily—can you crack this one-way fast?"
"......"
With time, he might deduce and dismantle their spell formulas, but not when survival hinged on minutes. Ascanien reached for the pocket watch unbidden and muttered. His voice had grown icier.
"What do you think of my brother?"
"Now?"
"Out of left field, but I need your answer."
Unexpected, unrelated. What was this? Same trapped situation, but not the time for chit-chat. What's he thinking? Neck prickling, Mecklenburg answered.
"He's a good friend."
"Knew you'd say that. What was I expecting? I'll ask later."
Ascanien whispered, looking away, then rapped the door.
Clank—
"...?! What are you...!"
"Prepare soundproofing."
Ascanien pressed a finger to his lips again. How long? Felt like a minute, but his left hand folded twice. After ten seconds, the far corridor door opened. They'd heard.
Creak—
A cleric's shoe heels circled the corridor door, slowly approaching the storeroom back—toward them. Ascanien's face was deadly serious, mana undetectable. Only Mecklenburg's mind raced in tension.
'This lunatic....'
Damn, damn! What did this madman do?! Pleroma be damned—he'd die of a heart attack first!
Screech— Bam!!
"?!"
The door flew open; Ascanien, kneeling, grabbed the intruder by the collar and slammed him down. A panicked scream erupted below.
— I can do all things through him who strengthens me.
"Aaaagh!"
In that instant, thoughts flooded Mecklenburg, but he quickly grasped Ascanien's intent. His body reacted faster. He urgently wrapped soundproofing around the corridor storeroom door. Ascanien, now conserving stamina by skipping concealment, hoisted the Pleroma by the collar and said,
"...Waited for one alone, and luck strikes. Didn't they say three-man teams?"
"Ah! Ah! Aaaagh!"
Mana and divine power crackled from his hand. The Pleroma didn't struggle free, just clutched his chest and writhed. Bone-cracking—more like glass shattering—echoed outside. Realizing what was happening, Mecklenburg paled. Ascanien, expressionless, checked the collar trim color on his robes.
"Luckily, a Monsignor. Met another from Brandenburg before—nostalgic."
Priestly rank but honorary higher. In Pleroma, pre-bishop clergy. Ascanien lightly pressed his left hand to his mouth and swallowed something. Blood scent spread. Overlapping servitude and concealment had gone wrong. He snapped his fingers—the collar trims on their priest robes shifted to Monsignor colors. Impersonation time. Ascanien hauled him up, hand on his back. The half-dead Monsignor blankly gripped the wall.
"Stay quiet. Brother's got new colleagues—welcome them calmly."
Ascanien checked the pocket watch once more, then whispered in the Monsignor's ear.
"You know where His Excellency the Bishop is, right, Brother?"