Chapter 78
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Thread (5)
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The lumberjack, facing a stranger, muttered in bewilderment.
"...Who are you?"
"You remember the one who assigned you the job."
A voice quickly emerged from within the robe, but even as he spoke, his eyes ceaselessly scanned the surroundings.
His demeanor suggested his wariness hadn't subsided yet.
"By any chance, the Dark Sight Ghost...?"
"Correct. I'm here in his stead."
"...Yes. What brings you here? Ah, come to think of it, there's something I need to tell you..."
Only then did he withdraw his wandering gaze and stare straight at the lumberjack.
Through the screen, his eyes were hidden by the hood, but the suspicion and distrust filling them were palpable enough.
I'd be the same.
Hard to believe he was alive and well like this.
It was only natural to find it suspicious.
'Compared to Garn, he's cautious.'
Well, compared to Garn, who wouldn't be?
The only discernible feature of the man hidden in the robe was his angular, solid jawline.
The square-jawed man glared at the lumberjack for a long while before opening his mouth.
"...Who came looking?"
The lumberjack answered as if he'd been waiting.
"Yes."
I'd instructed the lumberjack in advance. No need to hide my identity.
Precisely, everything except my questions about Rosellin could be revealed.
I told him it was the only way to maximize his chances of survival. But to keep silent about the artifact hidden in the house.
"A very suspicious middle-aged man came by."
"Suspicious?"
"Yes. He had an ordinary face, but he was definitely a magic user. Earth magic, no less. He trapped me in the dirt and threatened me, so I'm certain."
"Threatened you, yet you're alive and well. Must've spilled everything."
"Ah, no... I did talk, but I fed him false information."
"...?"
The lumberjack had used his wits, it seemed.
It was obvious they wouldn't believe him if he claimed to have said nothing, so he'd cunningly mixed truth with lies.
The square-jawed man stared silently again, and the lumberjack hurriedly added.
"He first pressed me on why I'd bought the Dark Sight Ghost."
"And?"
"I revealed I was from the underworld and bought it as a proxy to deal with someone."
"Then?"
"What could he do? It's true I'm from the underworld. He just left after that."
"Let you live and walked away?"
"He must've suspected my words were lies. He ramped up the threats, but nothing more happened. I swear!"
The lumberjack suddenly stripped off his shirt, revealing dark purple bruises mottled across his body from being crushed by earth.
The square-jawed man gazed at the wretched sight for a moment before falling silent, lost in thought.
"...What should I do now?"
"No need to do anything."
"Yes?"
"Just rest."
"Ah... just rest...?"
For an instant, relief washed over the lumberjack's face, which had blinked in confusion at first.
Then, in a flash, his head was severed.
Thud.
Only the lumberjack's head rolled grotesquely across the floor.
He'd racked his brain for a way to survive right up to the end. I'd even thought that if he were a Transcendent, he might spare the lumberjack—but he'd never intended to let him live.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
I, watching the scene through the screen, sprang into action. In truth, I'd been preparing throughout their entire conversation.
Time to attempt what I'd planned over the past week.
Jackal scanned the house after killing the lumberjack, a chill lingering in the air.
The furniture looked plausible enough, but there were scant traces of actual living. Most were likely props for camouflage.
Nothing overtly strange, yet a subtle unease had nagged at him since earlier. He couldn't pinpoint it exactly—just a tickling hunch he couldn't confirm, reliant purely on instinct.
What was it?
Should he have trusted his gut more?
If he had come, he might have noticed.
Jackal hesitated briefly before stepping outside. He slowly raised his palm, then pressed it down firmly. The cabin before him collapsed flat, as if crushed by a giant hand.
He then rubbed his palm against the empty air several times, and the debris from the ruined cabin crumbled away as if actually being ground by a massive hand.
That was the extent of Jackal's cleanup. In any case, he'd followed orders.
If there'd been someone more suitable, they'd have sent him instead.
'He said he'd handle the aftermath, so this should suffice.'
Jackal turned to leave, mission complete.
At that moment.
Something snagged sharply in his senses. This wasn't the vague hunch from before.
Something was hurtling toward him rapidly—from multiple directions at once.
'Above!'
By the time he snapped his head up, it was already upon him.
The first shape he registered.
'...A bird?'
It was a bird construct. The odd part? Its body was made of dirt clods instead of feathers.
Shaping a bird from earth wasn't strange in itself. But one that actually flew? That was off.
Moreover, the clay bird was emitting a faint glow from its entire body, exuding intense mana. That's what Jackal had sensed.
Mana enveloped the bird, warping its form.
Three razor-sharp spears. No, more like nails.
The three nails surged toward Jackal.
Jackal had entered combat stance the instant he detected the mana.
He thrust his palm forward, and his pre-condensed mana erupted in a burst.
One of his honed martial techniques: Shattering Qi Palm.
A massive palm materialized in the air, colliding with the three nails.
Boom!
He blocked them effortlessly, but at the same instant, surging mana roiled from behind.
It wasn't just behind. Birds charging from all sides sank into the ground or oxidized into mana midair, unleashing the same chained assault.
This attack pattern was entirely new to him.
The only explanation: he'd walked straight into a trap.
And earth-attribute magic, no less.
'It's that guy!'
The very man the lumberjack had described—the fool who'd left careless traces everywhere, exposing himself.
'...An ambush?'
Before he knew it, earthen walls were rising from the ground to enclose his feet.
Jackal stomped hard, shattering the rising barrier.
And in that moment, fiery whips coiled around both arms.
'Fire?'
He'd thought an earth mage—fire now?
The scorching heat clung to his skin.
"Urk..."
...Not alone, then?
Even as he pondered the enemy's intent for a split second, spells detonated from all around.
Again, earth magic surging from below.
The ground split, and a massive dirt hand shot up to seize his ankle.
It clamped down the moment it grabbed hold, but Jackal channeled mana into his toes and kicked free with force.
His right foot broke through the earth.
With his freed right foot, he stomped to demolish the rising walls on all sides and swatted two of the three plummeting nails from the sky.
He failed to block one properly—it pierced straight through his left shoulder.
"Grah...! Fight fair, you coward!"
As if responding to his furious shout, the ground rumbled again.
Dozens of dirt needles erupted from behind, riddling his body.
Fortunate or targeted, they all missed vitals—but Jackal's strength ebbed from his entire frame.
His arms were bound and yanked outward by flames, his left foot gripped by the earthen hand.
A colossal dirt nail impaled his right shoulder, and dozens of needles propped up his body as it tried to slump backward.
He couldn't move.
Jackal could only hold his breath, praying the needles in his back wouldn't burrow deeper.
"Ha... haa..."
As he desperately steadied his breathing.
Footsteps crunched from the forest.
Jackal couldn't turn his head toward the sound.
"Who goes there!"
"Weren't you looking for me?"
"It was you after all! Resorting to such petty tricks!"
"Thanks for the compliment."
He approached Jackal and looked down at his half-reclined form.
An utterly ordinary middle-aged face—matching the lumberjack's description to a tee.
He seemed to lose interest in Jackal immediately, stepping back and pulling something from his bosom to read.
Only the edge of the parchment entered Jackal's view.
"Doing it like this... then this? Pielberin..."
He muttered something incomprehensible, then sat down around Jackal's immobilized position.
Drawing something, it seemed.
Jackal's instinct screamed: a magic circle.
"What are you trying to do!"
No answer came to his hollow shout.
Instead, Jackal only realized the fear laced in his own voice.
After spending considerable time drawing the magic circle, the middle-aged man began placing clumps of dirt at key points around it.
And the instant intense mana erupted from the middle-aged man, who had retreated far away.
Earth walls began rising around Jackal from all directions.
In a blink, the visible moonlight was blocked by the walls.
'Fortress Magic?'
Not odd for earth-based magic... but it felt detached from the spells shown so far.
How many spells could he wield?
Of course, handling variants within the same element wasn't unusual.
But Transcendents were busy refining their core specialties to ascend realms... they generally avoided dabbling in miscellaneous types.
'Could be multiple people cooperating.'
The enclosed space was fairly spacious. A door he hadn't noticed opened, and the middle-aged man entered.
"If you're about to die, say so."
He left those words and exited through the door again.
"What... Who am I supposed to tell! Hey!"
Another hollow cry.
As time passed, the rage and excitement churning inside Jackal gradually subsided.
The flames coiling his arms flickered out. The taut pull remained, though.
Only then could Jackal finally think rationally.
'They don't plan to kill me right away.'
One reason for that.
To extract information.
As Jackal racked his brain on how to respond, the middle-aged man finally reentered the structure after quite some time.
He stood at a fixed distance from Jackal—just beyond the reach of his natural mana influence.
From there, he spoke calmly.
"Do you intend to share any information?"
"Information? What information?"
Jackal feigned ignorance.
The middle-aged man replied nonchalantly, as before.
"Anything you know about Zmol, speak."
"...What?"
Zmol.
The moment he heard the name, Jackal instinctively stiffened.
They already knew about Zmol? ...How much did they know?
Jackal immediately discarded several prepped responses. If they knew that much, feeding fake info as truth was too risky.
"Of course, no reason to talk just because I say so. So, a deal: speak, and you live."
"...?"
"Sounds clichéd? But it's sincere. Tell us everything and join our side—we'll spare you."
"Your side? So you do have an affiliation. Then why mess with us?"
"You lot bothered us first."
Jackal scowled.
First?
But racking his memory turned up nothing.
It made sense.
The group he belonged to: Moonlight Echo.
Jackal was indeed a member, but even he didn't know what schemes they were plotting.
He had minimal deep interactions with the others to begin with.
Not just him—everyone was the same. Unless it was a joint mission, they rarely crossed paths.
Everyone had their circumstances, gathered by the one person who knew them: Zmol.
Members like Jackal merely took mercenary jobs from Zmol. Of course, it was easy to infer even Zmol answered to someone.
"Even if you somehow escape here alive, you'll be discarded anyway. Like the lumberjack you killed. Whether you spill or not, the time you were captured doesn't change."
"...?"
During his brief silence, Jackal considered countless possibilities.
He'd already abandoned any thought of bluffing with hasty lies.
Tell the truth about everything he knew, then somehow break free from this state and flee.
'Can't go back to Moonlight Echo.'
Flee on the run, then?
End up like Partan?
The weakest Transcendent, hunted down pathetically by multiples.
'Actually betray and switch sides for real?'
That hinged on whether he could trust their word.
...Would they really spare him after he talked?
"In that case, spill everything and join us."
"...Doesn't the same apply to you?"
"Kill me after I talk?"
Jackal wanted to nod. His precarious bind made even that impossible.
"You're saying the same thing as Garn."
"...Garn?"
Jackal's eyes widened in shock.
His mind raced.
Garn?
Jackal knew the members' names. He'd even done a few missions with Garn.
Mostly near the capital.
But he'd heard Garn went missing on another assignment recently.
Cedric.
That much he knew. Cedric.
The one who killed Partan.
Garn had been pursuing him.
Affiliation, huh? Same side as Cedric?
"What happened to Garn?"
"He's alive."
"He told you everything?"
"Yes. Said he has people he must protect—can't die."
A long-forgotten memory resurfaced for Jackal.
He didn't know the details, but Garn had said something similar during a joint job.
Most in Moonlight Echo were reluctantly affiliated due to circumstances, and Garn had offhandedly mentioned he couldn't leave the capital.
"If you want, I can let you hear his voice."
"...You can do that?"
The middle-aged man pulled something from his bosom and tossed it near Jackal.
It rolled to his side: a communication orb.
Static crackled from the orb, followed by a clear voice.
- "What am I supposed to say into this thing?"
It was Garn's voice—a voice Jackal had heard several times before.