Chapter 97
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: The Power in Words (3)
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Exactly one minute and thirty seconds before Kaban opened the door to the Immigration Control Office.
"..."
"..."
"..."
A bizarre silence hung over the office interior.
Normally, no matter if quitting time was approaching or not, entrants would pour in endlessly, filling the air with chaotic, deafening chatter that never let up.
But right now, there was no one in front of the Sensory Officers seated at their stations.
- Tick, tock.
It was so quiet that even the second hand on the wall clock rang out crystal clear.
A phenomenon that might happen once every year—or maybe once every two.
Cooperative entrants, diligent Sensory Officers who weren't slacking off, strict security measures, and even pouring rain outside.
Everything had to align perfectly for this legendary "pre-quitting hush" to blanket the office.
And amid that hush, the Sensory Officers' eyes gleamed as they failed to hide their impatience.
'Just one more minute with no one coming in, and we're off.'
'Quitting time, drinks, quitting time, drinks, quitting time, drinks!'
'59, 58, 57, 56...'
'Please don't come, please don't come, please don't come...'
The dream of every civil servant in the world.
To clock out without a single issue.
No matter how many terror threat notices came in, after a full fourteen days of nothing, tension naturally eased.
The Sensory Officers, who had pushed the Central Officer's constant warnings to the back of their minds, had already packed their coats into their bags and were just waiting for the alarm.
Even the newly assigned guards watched the clock with faces full of subtle anticipation.
- Tick, tock.
And the moment the second hand passed thirty seconds,
- Creeeak.
The sound that cruelly crushed everyone's wishes finally rang out.
"Ah."
"Ah."
"Ah."
"Ah."
Short sighs burst from everyone's lips.
The Olfactory Officer turned with the look of a man who'd lost his country.
'What kind of bastard comes in at a time like this?'
There stood a large-framed man at the entrance, his entire body shrouded in a robe caked with soot.
As if he'd weathered every storm and hardship the world could throw at him.
The Olfactory Officer could tell right away.
"Here to leave the country, sir?"
Anyone could see this guy was an outbound traveler.
"...What?"
But the man tilted his head as if he'd misheard.
Oh no.
No time for this.
You couldn't just chase away someone who'd already walked in.
No room for hesitation.
The Olfactory Officer grabbed the entry-exit ledger and rushed right up to him at the entrance.
"Name, origin, purpose of departure—quickly, sir!?"
"...?"
"Name first, give me your name!"
"...Kaban Bloodbeach."
"Place of origin!?"
Even as the werewolf practically barked the questions right in his face, the man calmly adjusted his grip on the spear he carried and answered slowly.
"From the Scardi Empire in the north, seeking my destiny, I passed through the west to arrive here."
"So you were born in the north?"
The Olfactory Officer scraped the ground with a hind paw in frustration.
"Then what's your purpose for leaving? Where are you headed?"
"I'm not trying to depart anywhere—"
That was when it happened.
- Ding ding ding!!!
The wall clock blared its bell raucously.
"Quitting time! Rainy days call for sausages and booze!"
"Who's on duty tonight?"
"Let me see... Oh, it's the Auditory Officer?"
"Noooo!!!"
Chaotic chatter erupted all at once.
"Damn. Too late."
The Olfactory Officer, who had been hastily processing the departure, slammed the ledger shut and told Kaban,
"Sorry, sir, but it's quitting time now—office is closed. Night shift starts in two hours, so please come back then."
"But I—"
"Have a good evening. Heavy rain out there—bundle up tight in your coat."
And that was that.
Before Kaban could even respond, the Olfactory Officer gave a curt farewell and shut the door.
- Creeeak, thud.
Kaban stared blankly at the firmly closed door right in front of him for a moment.
The first door-in-his-face rejection of his life.
A mere thirty seconds.
The dragon hunter, who'd dragged even Mnatsil to death's door faster than time itself—that was the extent of his allotted glory.
- Pourrrrr...
As if mocking him, a torrent of rain poured down on his head.
"..."
Kaban stood there stock-still for about ten seconds, then pushed the door open again and stepped back inside.
- Creeeak.
Bright light and warmth flooded in once more.
The familiar voice from moments ago greeted him again.
"Sorry, sir, but we're closed for the day... Huh?"
The werewolf, who had just shrugged on his coat, tilted his head at the sight of him.
"Kaban Blood... whatever. Bloodbasher, was it? Why are you back?"
"..."
Bloodbasher's face twisted in a scowl.
A surge of hot emotion welled up.
'Hold it in. They're not my target.'
Kaban suppressed it and said quietly,
"...I'm not here for some trivial reason like that."
"But I just explained—departure processing is in two hours—"
"I never said I was leaving!"
"Pardon? You're not here to leave?"
The Olfactory Officer blinked in surprise at his shout.
"Then why are you here?"
Finally, a proper question.
"I..."
Starting from the beginning.
Kaban spread his sopping wet arms wide and declared in a grave voice,
"I have come to usher in the era of man."
In that instant, the Sensory Officers' gazes met.
Frozen expressions.
Quick signals exchanged with fingers and glances.
The message was clear.
The number one threat the Immigration Control Office dreaded most.
[Hey, big trouble. We've got a problem customer.]
A problem customer.
They popped up now and then.
Drunks stumbling in to spout nonsense, folks dumping their life stories, or those throwing tantrums demanding things outside your authority.
Age, gender, race, culture, nationality—didn't matter. They always crawled out of somewhere.
The ultimate madmen who ignored all common sense, etiquette, and procedure.
Civil servants' worst nightmare: spewing whatever they wanted, no matter what.
After two miraculous weeks without a single one, of all times, now?
Only then did the Olfactory Officer properly scan the intruder up and down.
A shabby robe scorched here and there, and a spear nearly as long as the Olfactory Officer himself, tipped with something like a beast's claw.
"...You're a mercenary, huh."
A drunk mercenary.
The pinnacle of problem-customer difficulty.
And whoever took them on had to see it through to the end.
"Olfactory Officer, you're on your own."
"Good luck, Blaszek."
"We'll head out first."
"Son of a—"
The other Sensory Officers, realizing it wasn't their problem, grinned and brushed past.
Ignoring them, Kaban pressed on, drunk on his destiny.
"Heaven guided me here. My spear and armor sense a dragon in this place—"
"I see, then have a seat over there. I'll handle you."
The Olfactory Officer replied with a face screaming annoyance and a tone more mechanical than a golem, flipping open the ledger again.
"Kaban, Kaban, Kaban..."
Fingers trailing down the names.
And then,
"...Huh?"
Something off.
"Not here?"
Neither 'Kaban' nor 'Bloodbeach' was in the records.
'No way.'
The entry-exit ledger synced with every border with just a day's lag.
"Pardon, sir, what was your name again?"
"Kaban Bloodbeach. I will close the age of myths—"
"Yes, yes, got it. Just wait a sec."
His conviction sliced clean off.
Kaban's face crumpled.
'Should I just kill him?'
If they knew who he was, they'd never dare treat him like this.
A werewolf like this one would crumple with a single spear thrust.
But he exercised superhuman patience and held back.
He'd come here chasing something more important than this.
That was when it happened.
- Creeeak.
The conference room door opened, revealing a black-haired man with a tired face.
"I'll head out first... Hm? Still one left, huh. Olfactory Officer, handle that one and go home."
His tone carried a subtle air of superiority.
"Ah, Central Officer. Take a quick look at this?"
"...I'm off the clock."
"Five seconds. It's... weird. He's here to leave, but no name in the ledger."
The werewolf mangled Kaban's purpose yet again as he addressed the man.
"No, I'm not here to—"
"No name in the entry-exit ledger. That's rare."
His words cut off again.
Swallowing boiling irritation, Kaban's gaze shifted to the man.
The man stared back for about two seconds.
Their eyes met—black as the midnight sky.
In that instant,
- Hummmm...
The dragon-claw spear and the dragon-scale armor hidden under his robe began to resonate.
Reacting only to those who could wield a dragon's power, they were slowly drawn toward the man.
"...?"
Caught off guard, Kaban gripped his spear tight without thinking.
'Why is this... happening?'
Then it hit him what it meant.
'No way...!!'
Kaban stared at the man in shock.
"Just note it for now and come back tomorrow morning. Looks like the Royal Post Office missed a sync. Anyway, I'm off."
"W-Wait! Hold on!"
- Step.
He crossed the guidance desk and stepped over the line marked [Authorized Personnel Only].
In that moment,
- Clang!
The guards, shooting resentful glares at Kaban for delaying their quitting time, crossed spears to block him.
"Beyond this point is restricted to authorized personnel only! Step back!"
"..."
Kaban's killing intent toward a human surged for the first time in ages.
"...The only reason your neck is still attached right now is because I'm more interested in that man than in you lot. Move."
Exercising patience to the absolute limit, he issued a chilling warning.
The one called Central Officer raised an eyebrow and said,
"Whoa. Had a bit too much to drink, huh? Cooperate with instructions, and we'll process your departure smoothly."
"I'm not departing!!!"
His patience finally snapped. Kaban flung off his robe and roared,
"I am the dragon hunter, Kaban Bloodbeach! Dare not stand in my way!"
Revealing dragon-scale armor and scars etched across his body from countless battles.
He displayed them proudly.
Sure enough, stunned reactions came from all sides.
"D-Dragon hunter?"
"What the hell's wrong with that guy's face?"
"That armor... made from some material I've never seen."
Finally getting the reactions he'd craved, he smirked viciously.
And Kaban saw it.
"...My god."
The eyes of the so-called Central Officer wavered massively for a split second.
'Yes, you know.'
This was the one.
This guy knew about the volcano's master.
Nothing else would make his sacred gear react like this.
'Unless you utter a dragon word, that's all there is to it.'
Conviction solidified.
"I know what you're hiding. Hand it over."
Heaven had truly guided him here.
Then, suddenly, the Central Officer shouted,
"Terrorist!"
"...What?"
Upgraded from "outbound traveler" to "terrorist"—Kaban could only gape and ask again.
"What did you call me?"
*****
"I am the dragon hunter, Kaban Bloodbeach! Dare not stand in my way!"
The moment I saw that armor, I knew.
The thick blue scales matched Mnatsil's almost perfectly.
And he'd declared himself a "dragon hunter" with his own mouth.
'That's the guy.'
No doubt about it.
That half-face covered in horrific burns—Mnatsil's doing, for sure.
'Didn't think he'd actually show up. And so brazenly.'
Honestly, it threw me off, and I froze for a second.
Figured he'd sneak in or something.
But I quickly regained composure and started thinking fast.
Okay, think. How do I handle this?
Now that he'd revealed himself as the dragon hunter, he'd start blabbing about dragons any second.
That was when the Olfactory Officer's words flashed through my mind.
'Here to leave, but no name in the ledger.'
No name in the entry-exit ledger meant only two possibilities.
1. Born in the Crossroad Kingdom and never left the country.
2. Entered our country without passing through Immigration Control.
One happened sometimes. Locals popped up occasionally.
But that accent and the scorch marks on the robe he'd just tossed—definitely from the western continent.
So, two.
And two only happened in one scenario.
'Illegal entry.'
The type our office hated with a passion—a very, very, very deep passion.
And what illegals usually aimed for was...
"Terrorist!"
That was it.
Plus, we had that fake terror threat notice from intel collab.
"...What?"
The startled guy hurriedly raised his voice.
"Don't you dare call me a terrorist! I'm telling you, you have a drag—"
"Terrorist!"
Merchant class secret: the bigger, the better.
Bigger was always good.
And that applied to voice volume too.
'If he spills about the dragon, the op's toast.'
The second these people learned dragons existed, everything unraveled.
This fake plan to catch him, Mnatsil's identity, even the egg.
Had to stop that at all costs.
Only one way in a pinch like this.
Cut him off and shout louder.
"No, you have a drag—"
"That look, that armor, those scars! All match the intel sketch perfectly!"
I pointed at him firmly and declared,
"You're a terrorist. No other explanation!"
Stigmatize, confident big voice, and the authoritative halo of Central Officer.
With those three, I could make you anything.
"Damn it! Fine, I'll grab you and make you talk!"
The dragon slayer's patience finally hit zero as he gripped his spear.
"My god, the Central Officer was right—he really is a terrorist!"
"Signal external forces! The lunatic waltzed right through the front gate!"
The guards' eyes widened at the sight, and they hit the alarm.
- Wee-ooo-wee-ooo!
Dozens of footsteps thundering in soon after.
- Bang!
"Central Officer, what's going on!?"
To the margrave's cavalry captain who burst in, I said,
"That's our guy!"
"What!? The terrorist!?"
"Yes! One hundred percent!"
"My god, he came just like the warning said!"
Now the whole world saw him as a pathetic lawbreaker.
'Plan's on track.'
Nothing more unjust than a frame job.
The man called Kaban stabbed his spear into the floor in frustration and yelled,
"No, that's not it! I'm not some petty crook—I'm here from the west to open the era of man at the volcano's m—"
And every time he tried to explain louder, I cut him off like a ghost and shouted,
"Declaring a state of emergency as of now! All forces, apprehend that terrorist!"
"Damn it, let me talk!"
Fat chance.
You won't even get the "d" in dragon out before they nab you.