Chapter 8
Chapter 8
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Romance Fantasy...? (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The massive corpse sprawled on the floor belched out a filthy stench.
A black rose was tattooed on the neck of the reeking body.
Quite a few people were staring at the corpse. At the forefront stood a knight in black armor, and behind him were three mages clad in black robes.
Further back, six trembling slaves were huddled together, bound in a ragged line.
The armored knight severed the neck of one of the six and tossed the head onto the corpse.
The moment the head hit the body, bizarre veins writhed and fused it back on.
Soon, the eyes turned pitch black, and it began to speak.
"Rose Knight, eh?"
"It's been a while. Master of the filthiest field."
"I heard you were busy. Why did you summon me?"
The armored knight was the man called the Rose Knight.
In a stiff tone, he asked why this tragedy had befallen the temple and why someone he knew had ended up dead in such a state.
The corpse belonged to Dull Knife. Recognizing this, the demon growled in fury.
"A masked weirdo of a warrior did this and vanished. He humiliated me endlessly!"
"Did you run into the Dawn Adventurer or something?"
"No, I don't know his face. He wore a mask and wielded a sword and staff I'd never seen before."
To draw out fury from a demon and make it utter the word "humiliation" with its own mouth.
The church legends, the Knight Commander, and the empire's greatest sword flashed through the Rose Knight's mind.
"'Never seen before'?"
The demon presented a completely new figure that didn't match anything in the Rose Knight's head. A staff? What was that supposed to mean?
The knight furrowed his brow for a moment and asked again.
"No other distinguishing features?"
"He used Aura."
Aura!
At that word, the Rose Knight lowered his voice.
"You're saying a total stranger you've never seen before used Aura to slaughter my subordinate like this?"
The master of the filthiest field.
It was a demon symbolizing the apathy that takes root in the human heart.
It nurtures and fosters apathy until it turns a person into worthless trash, incapable of anything.
That completes its filthiest crop. The field master was a being that cultivated filth.
The demon had long observed countless humans to drag even the talented into apathy.
It had toppled geniuses into ruin after studying them meticulously.
How many in the empire could wield Aura?
Even at the academy, hailed as the pinnacle of education, Aura users were a rarity—one every three years, if that.
For a demon who surely knew this to mention Aura?
Hard to believe, but undoubtedly the truth.
"The academy already has eyes, so not a student. Then it must be some knight hiding his name and face."
"I've memorized every knight's voice. But it wasn't them. And he didn't act like a knight at all."
"Hard to believe."
Among those whose names and faces remained hidden, one who wielded Aura.
Just that fact made the Rose Knight's head throb.
"The truth, right?"
"You wouldn't know the level of that drunkard's sword."
"First time I've seen you praise someone like this."
"Praise? I want you to bring that drunkard to me. Fairest flower, grant my wish."
The Rose Knight inwardly clicked his tongue at the demon's greed.
In these busy times, he should be grateful the knight had even stopped by the temple. And now it was assigning errands.
"You must be tired. Let's head in."
"That damned bastard...! I'm helping your kin, and you dare..."
"Enough."
With that, before the hideous demon could wag its tongue further.
Thwack!
The Rose Knight severed the communication with the demon's head and let out a cold sigh.
An Aura-wielding drunkard.
For such a talent to exist among the booze-swilling rabble. Well, no harm in keeping it in mind.
"If he's that skilled, I'll spot him at a glance."
With that thought, the Rose Knight decided to first search for the temple's missing seal.
If it fell into the church's hands, a horde of demon worshippers would face mass execution.
Especially since this demon was tied to his own brother—he had no choice but to act.
"Let's go."
He stepped into the shadows.
While keeping an eye out for knights who moderately enjoyed their drink.
He probably wouldn't set foot in the capital for quite a while.
"Urgh..."
Stepping down from the carriage, I stretched vigorously.
After becoming Aster Elisia's salaried knight, she'd rushed me in a panic, so I'd hopped right into the carriage.
As a wandering vagrant, I'd simply bundled my few belongings into a cloth on a stick over my shoulder and followed her.
Aster had chirped endlessly at the sight, but I'd let it all go in one ear and out the other.
After three straight days rattling along in the carriage, we'd arrived at the capital.
The capital was the hub where all roads converged—a must-pass on the way to the Elisia Family's territory.
Its name was Bria, I think?
It had been ages since I'd last been here, so I was gawking around like an excited kid.
"Uncle really is such an old-timer... It's been eight years since the imperial capital's name changed."
Aster, who'd been whining about carriage sickness beside me, said with a pallid face.
The capital's name had changed—from Bria to Redelia, apparently.
Chewing on a strip of jerky with weary eyes, she continued.
"Uncle, I'll scout a merchant caravan heading to the family estate, so use this to grab something tasty in the meantime."
"I'll spend your pocket money wisely."
"Hehe... Meet back here for dinner."
She planned to head straight to the family seat.
She'd explained the bishop would visit soon and that she'd blow the lid off then, so she'd handle it fine on her own.
My job was to keep her out of danger and dirty work.
"She pays my salary, so I'll earn it."
With that simple goal in mind, I waved goodbye to Aster.
She even advised me not to get caught up in any mishaps.
Oh, and she was still calling me "uncle." No matter how many times I'd drunkenly told her my real age, she wouldn't hear it.
Eh, being an uncle's not so bad.
Hands clasped behind my back, I started strolling. The capital brimmed with dazzling buildings—a feast for the eyes.
"Redelia, huh... Redelia. Rings a bell from somewhere."
The familiar name nagged at me. I stared blankly into space, rummaging through my memories.
It felt so oddly recognizable, but nothing surfaced.
"Eh... Probably just from some fantasy novel I read back in the day. Similar name or whatever."
Shrugging it off, I sauntered into the bustling downtown.
I'm a hopeless direction idiot, so I just kept going straight. One wrong turn, and Aster would brand me the uncle who can't even find his way.
Dinner, though.
It was just past morning, so time dragged on endlessly.
"Hmm. With some cash after ages... where to."
If you're thinking I headed to a tavern for booze, you'd have me pegged about eighty percent right.
Living as a drunkard, I'd hit the tavern with pocket change. With decent coin, I'd always go to the arena.
"Win a bit moderately, slip Aster some pocket money."
Arenas aren't just seedy gambling dens.
They're wholesome spots to watch strongmen clash fairly, with just enough blood and bone crunching.
Not the sort where dames dance and filthy drunks blather.
From experience, bet money, and you'd get free booze.
But stakes had to be hefty, so I couldn't go often.
"Time to play rich for once."
The sharper the fighter, the easier to read who'd win.
I had a flawless eye for it.
Back-alley pits were the exception.
Those bastards rigged the matches to bleed me dry.
That taught me my ironclad rule: skip small-time thug-run arenas.
"The capital wouldn't pull that crap."
A big capital arena should be clean enough.
I marched straight ahead, then more straight.
Naturally, I spotted rough-looking men banding together, heading one way.
Tracking their path, it led consistently to one spot.
Not a dungeon nearby, so definitely an arena.
"Bingo."
I faced a colossal coliseum like none I'd seen in my life.
This scale meant plenty of confident pros.
Perfect to test for rigging while raking in bets.
Whistling a tune, I strode inside.
"What the?"
"Heh, friendly face."
"What kinda hat is that?"
Capital folk were sharply dressed.
I was the lone ragamuffin in threadbare rags, so heads turned a bit.
A sedge hat's great for rain or sleep cover, but yeah, probably clownish.
Whatever. I tune out buzzing flies.
Planting myself in the crowd's heart, I beckoned a shouting lad hawking bets.
"Those two guys fighting?"
"Yes, sir. Got the coin? Minimum one silver."
"Baldy with no hair wins. Five silvers on him."
"Whoa~ Sir, have some cool fruit wine on the house."
"Remember this well. He'll smash the shield and win."
"Yes, sir! You're always right."
"Polite kid."
Grinning at my hype man, I tossed him a rusty copper as a tip.
He bowed, wished me luck, and melted into the throng.
A lively sort, rare these days.
"Kaha."
Plopping onto the arena seats, I chugged the fruit wine.
Surrounding chatter boomed, drowning out my gulps, but who cared.
I savored the burn down my throat for a good while.
"Where'd you bet?"
Then a man plunked down beside me.
Tall as hell, shady purple cloak, strikingly refined face.
"Whoa, seen him somewhere?"
A flicker of familiarity hit me, but no dice on placing it.
Eh, weirdo striking up chat with a hammered bum.
"All my worldly goods on the shiny-headed fella there."
"Funnily enough, I bet on him too."
"We'll be rich soon, buddy."
"You seem mighty confident. Predicted the win already."
His purple eyes gleamed as he probed.
How bored to chat up a lush like me? I answered earnestly.
Who wins, who loses?
Weapon matchups, fighter's face, body condition—easy read.
Especially these common clashes; I called it like prophecy.
"...... Academy grad, by chance?"
"Whazzat damage?"
"N-no. Slip of the tongue."
He blinked rapidly at my spot-on call.
"Weird guy."
Thinking him spineless, I slung an arm around him.
Time to booze him off with awkward talk.
But.
"What a bold soul. I like it."
"...?"
"Let's watch. See who wins."
I debated shaking him off, but nah, not that kinda guy. Kept the pose.
Match started. My baldy pierced the shield and won.
Lad rushed back with winnings. Arm stayed slung.
"Who ya got next?"
"Hmm... Your take?"
"The thin-sword guy."
"Aw, you'll lose this one. No sweat—normies rarely spot it. Big lug takes it."
Twitch.
Huh? I double-checked, but.
"Haha... I fancy myself skilled too. Still say thin-sword wins."
"My eyes don't lie."
"Just looking out for your wallet, bold one. Hear me out."
"Hey, why toss my coin in the trash?"
Grind.
Oho, teeth gnashing.
I arched a brow—hidden by my hat, probably.
I clocked his pride-pricked glare.
Seen that look plenty from ego-high skillers.
"Wanna... bet?"
Made sense he'd push.
I replied honestly, moderately.
"Dunno... If you're ready to strip to your birthday suit, maybe."
"Haha, you're a riot."
"No joke."
"...... Let's see it through."
Thus, I bet against this prideful stranger.
"..."
"...!!"
"........."
"... Haha."
"Whoops... Another peek? More chances?"
"One-eyed gent wins. This ring on it."
"Fancy piece. You sure?"
"Worried for me...?"
"Gambler's eye, eh? Fine. Opposite side."
Hooked a sucker proper.
Planned to toy till his pride deflated.
Take half winnings, obviously.
Clothes coming off, naturally.
Saving a gambler from the brink?
Aster'd approve.
Meanwhile, Aster was under odd questioning.
"Ever seen someone like this?"
"No."
Why were imperial soldiers dashing about so frantically?
Curiosity piqued; she tailed them briefly.
"If we don't find the Prince, we're all dead by the Emperor's hand, got it? Move, you idiots!"
Overheard something intriguing, but ignorable.
Prince trouble? Any link meant tyrant ties.
Shut it out. Erase from memory.
Think elsewhere.
"Uncle's fine, right?"
She just beamed, picking booze jellies for Guro.
Oblivious to the unfolding chaos.