Blood Iron and the Relentless Relial, Part 1
Gustel, a small village located not too far from Innocence Academy.
In Gustel, a place so peaceful that few outsiders ever visited, one could find a solitary, dilapidated house sitting deep within the most secluded parts of the forest.
Suspiciously enough, a constant stream of people went in and out of this tiny dwelling—far too many for it to ever be considered a normal home.
Though it looked like nothing more than a small cabin from the outside, opening the door and descending the stairs into the basement revealed a long passage that led somewhere deep underground, carrying with it a distinct, metallic stench of blood.
A chilly, ominous draft constantly swirled through the pitch-black corridor.
If one braved the darkness with only a single torch to guide them, they would eventually reach a point where bright light suddenly flooded their vision.
At the end of the passage lay a massive cavern, a place perfectly suited to serve as a hideout for criminals.
This very cave was the stronghold of the Mikels Bandit Group.
Within this den of thieves and outlaws, there was one room that could be described as relatively luxurious.
Inside, a man sat with his chin resting on his hand, perched upon a chair that possessed an elegant, antique charm quite unbefitting a bandit.
He was the leader of the Mikels Bandit Group, Mikels.
But he harbored a secret.
His real name was not Mikels.
His true identity was Relial, a blood mage who was currently operating under an alias for reasons of his own.
The time is ripe. So why do I feel this way?
Relial felt strangely uneasy today.
Just as he had intended, his preparations were flawless.
It was a meticulous plan five years in the making.
Five years ago, he had cut his long hair and grown a rough beard.
After perfecting his disguise by giving himself a few burn-like scars, he had naturally blended in among the vicious bandits.
And it had taken less than two years of proving his worth and gaining their respect to rise to the position of leader.
It took another three years to build an unshakeable bond of trust with them.
Gaining absolute trust from bandits, who betrayed one another as easily as they breathed, was no simple task.
This secret hideout was also something he had designed during that arduous process.
And just recently, he and his men had finally acquired the most crucial component of his plan—a special metal with the unique property of absorbing blood.
Blood iron.
Thanks to Relial expanding the scale of the bandit group, they had succeeded in stealing it, though at the cost of several subordinates' lives. But that was perfectly fine.
To him, the blood iron was infinitely more valuable than the lives of a few dozen lackeys.
For Mikels, who had already made quite a name for himself in the underworld, recruiting more thugs to blindly follow him was as easy as pie.
All he had to do now was replenish his ranks with more wicked bandits and earn their trust.
Though that process would take a few more months, everything was going smoothly so far.
The final phase of his plan was to gather his fiercely loyal subordinates in one place and perform a ritual.
All of this was for the sole purpose of creating the Malice of the Wicked.
The Malice of the Wicked.
That was the name of the blood stone he sought to create.
By slowly feeding the blood of twenty vicious, cunning men who trusted him implicitly into the blood iron, the blood stone would finally be complete.
Grinding the completed blood stone into a powder and consuming even a tiny pinch of it would massively amplify his blood magic.
Since this wasn't a blood stone created collectively by a group of blood mages, he would be able to monopolize its entire power for himself.
This blood stone, forged through such diverse and inhumane methods, was an indispensable elixir for any blood mage who manipulated the crimson fluid.
Although Relial was born with a talent for blood magic—a discipline considered cursed even among the countless schools of magic—his actual ability was pitifully meager compared to others.
After all, the only spell he could cast was Blood Strength, a continuous blood magic spell that merely enhanced his physical muscles.
However, the recipe for the Malice of the Wicked, which Relial had stumbled upon in an ancient temple one day, was like a ray of light shining down upon him.
It took five whole years.
Thanks to Blood Strength, he had been able to display overwhelming power among bandits who possessed no real talents other than their wicked natures.
Yet, what he wanted was not to be the king of some brainless, low-life thugs.
Having lived at the bottom of the food chain his entire life, Relial possessed a powerful desire for compensation.
He was looking much higher.
He didn't want to be the head of a snake; he wanted to be the head of a dragon.
If only I have the blood stone...
If he could just consume the blood stone, reigning supreme with only a single spell would no longer be a mere pipe dream.
As an ordinary blood mage who had grown up hearing legends of a blood mage who shook the world after consuming a powerful blood stone, Relial harbored that very romantic ambition.
But why... why do I keep having this bad feeling...?
Was it because a filthy rat, the creature he despised most, was currently scurrying across his room's floor?
Was it because the owl he had brought in to catch such rats was slacking off?
Or was it because his subordinates who went out on patrol were slacking off somewhere, failing to return long after they were due?
"Whew..."
Relial's mind grew cluttered as irritation flared within him for various reasons, but he desperately hoped this was merely his own paranoia.
After all, it was only human to feel increasingly anxious as a long-cherished dream drew closer to reality.
Once the dream was realized, that would be the end of it.
There was no need to be anxious.
Especially at times like this, he must not rush.
Relial sat in his chair, repeating those thoughts to himself as he watched his owl.
Perched in a corner of the hideout, the owl was biding its time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to snatch the rat with its sharp talons.
It was then.
Sensing a presence approaching the door, the owl abandoned its focus and fluttered away to another part of the room.
"Dammit. I thought it was finally going to catch it..."
Relial felt like nothing was going his way today.
He directed his irritation toward Mont, who should have just returned from patrol.
"Hey! Mont! What took you so long? Don't tell me you went down to the village to meet a woman... Though with a face like yours, no woman would ever come near you unless you kidnapped her."
Relial threw out the crude joke despite his annoyance.
After all, a leader who did nothing but vent his anger and irritation on his subordinates day in and day out was practically begging to get stabbed in his sleep in this line of work.
Before the group became the Mikels Bandit Group, Hueygos of the Hueygos Bandit Group had been exactly that kind of fool.
"..."
But despite Relial's joke, there was no response from Mont.
"Hey. Mont."
Only then did Relial sense something was amiss and stand up from his seat.
His subordinates were not so disloyal as to ignore him completely.
No matter how wicked their hearts, years of effort had ensured that they showed absolute trust and obedience to Relial alone.
Creeeeak.
Soon, the door slowly swung open.
Even as the door opened, a part of Relial desperately hoped for the absurd—that Mont was playing some uncharacteristic prank.
Unfortunately, his ominous premonition proved correct.
"Who the hell are you...?"
The person who stepped through the door was not Mont, nor was he any of his subordinates.
He knew this instantly the moment the intruder stepped inside.
Because out of his dozens of subordinates, not a single one was blind.
Wrapped around the eyes of the man who opened the door was a stark white bandage.
"..."
The moment the stranger's figure was fully revealed, Relial raised his muscular arms—veins bulging as they were reinforced by Blood Strength—and immediately took a combat stance.
There was no way he could miss it.
Especially not a blood mage.
The large black robe the intruder wore, which easily concealed his frame, was heavily drenched in the pungent, metallic scent of blood.
"Who am I, you ask... Well, I'm certainly not the Mont you were looking for."
Those were the first words he spoke as he stepped slowly into the room.
Relial didn't even bother to wonder how a blind man could walk around so naturally.
There were many rooms between the entrance of the hideout and Relial's chamber.
And in those rooms, Relial's loyal subordinates should have been stationed.
Yet, here was a blind man, reeking of blood, standing in his room.
This could only mean one thing: the blind man had slaughtered his subordinates—the precious 'sacrifices' he had spent over five years preparing.
"Stop right there! Take one more step, and I'll smash your face in before you can even react."
Did Relial's feeble threat actually work?
The blind man promptly halted his steps.
But it was Relial who was actually surprised by this reaction.
In truth, Relial was utterly terrified.
Until he consumed the blood stone—yes, until that very moment—he had resolved to avoid strong opponents, just as he always had.
Even if it meant living like a coward for now, Relial had survived by hiding in the shadows, keeping his eyes solely on the sweet fruit that awaited him at the end of his hardships.
But for Relial, who was merely the leader of a petty bandit group and a blood mage of mediocre talent, it was impossible to slaughter dozens of bandits without raising a single alarm.
Yet, until this bastard arrived here...
Relial had not heard a single sound of struggle or commotion.
That uncomfortable truth meant the blind man before him was a powerhouse capable of easily achieving what he could not.
"...What do you want? There must be a reason you came all this way."
"If I tell you what I want... will you actually give it to me? I highly doubt it."
"I'll grant it if it's within my power, considering the impressive effort you made to get here...! Besides, those brainless fools dead outside hold no value to me anyway!"
Relial blustered, putting on the arrogant front he had perfected over his years as a bandit leader.
However, the item that slipped from the mysterious blind man's lips was something Relial could never, under any circumstances, surrender.
"Since you put it that way, it would be rude of me to decline. Very well."
The blind man nodded at Relial's offer and gave his answer.
"...Then I'll take the 'blood iron'."
"B-blood iron? Wh-what is that?"
Relial's tongue tied in panic. The blind man had spoken of the blood iron so casually, as if ordering food at a restaurant.
Why is that word coming out of his mouth?!
Relial hurriedly tried to play dumb, but the faint smirk playing on the blind man's lips didn't waver in the slightest despite his desperate lie.
Relial couldn't let his guard down in this sudden, incomprehensible situation.
Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead.
My dead subordinates? Fine, I can just spend another five years. No, since I've already done it once, it might even be faster this time. But not the blood iron. Absolutely not. That's something I can never obtain a second time!
Relial's eyes darted around frantically.
"I don't even know what this 'blood iron' is, so why are you looking for it here...? Did you take a wrong turn because you're blind?"
The blood iron was something Relial had barely managed to seize after immense effort and an extraordinary stroke of luck.
And yet, a mere few days later, this blind man had come to rob him of it.
The sheer absurdity of these rapid-fire events threw Relial's mind into utter chaos.
Finally, the blind man standing quietly before Relial opened his mouth.
"Just as I thought... You really live up to your name, 'Relial, the man who never gives up.'"