Chapter 222
Chapter 222
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 222
Chapter Title: Parting Paths and the Gauntlet's Trial
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"Give it here!"
Seren hurriedly snatched the power bank and connected it to the smartphone.
Even that simple motion felt strangely fascinating to me. It was because I could sense a familiarity in what seemed like an ordinary action.
"......"
After connecting it, Seren stared at the smartphone anxiously for a moment before her face fell in disappointment.
"What's wrong? It doesn't work?"
"Yeah. Well... that's to be expected. This battery looks pretty old. No way there's any charge left in it."
I'm such an idiot, Seren muttered under her breath.
"That's a shame. So it's useless then?"
"Not necessarily."
Seren shook her head.
"Like I said earlier, if we show this power bank to a craftsman, he might figure out how it charges. With two similar devices, we could even cross-verify, which would speed things up even more."
"Yeah?"
"It might not work, but the odds are definitely much higher."
Seren pondered for a moment before looking at me.
"What about you? What's your plan now?"
"Me? I'm thinking of sticking around the Imperial City for another day. I found a great weapon at the Imperial Armory, but apparently I need some kind of approval from the craftsman who made it."
"Not that. I mean after you leave the city."
"Ah."
The answer to that wasn't hard.
I'd been thinking deeply about my future lately, and I'd come to a conclusion of sorts.
"I've got some unfinished business at the Academy, so I'll stop by there... Then head straight to Heros afterward."
For reference, my Academy business involves strengthening my Blessing using the Holy Grail.
I plan to get help from Bishop Helsta, who's still at the Academy at my request, handling treatments for the cadets.
"Heros... I figured as much."
Seren nodded after a brief pause.
"I need to head to the Sandstorm Hills in the south first. I'll drop off the smartphone for repairs there, then go to Heros."
"That won't be easy. The southern dwarves are a different breed from the ones in the capital."
Dwarves in the capital or other regions tend to have rounded personalities. They've mostly succeeded in blending into imperial society.
Quite a few are half-breeds, too.
But the dwarves in the Sandstorm Hills and other southern areas? They're straight out of the legends—prickly, arrogant, and hypersensitive.
They won't even glance at anything that doesn't interest them. Their craft always comes before family or friends, so threats don't work.
Of course, they have the skills to back up that attitude. Back in my previous life as a mercenary, a single dwarven sword was a godsend.
"I know, but I have to try. No one else can handle something like this."
"Hmm."
Still, I had a feeling it might go surprisingly smoothly.
"Here's a tip. Don't grovel or act subservient when you get there. Just provoke them instead."
"Provoke them?"
"This power bank I got? Anyway, the one that was stored at the Imperial Armory."
Seren looked puzzled.
She didn't grasp the implication.
"You're killing me. The Sandstorm Hills and the Imperial Armory have bad blood between them. Rivals, you could say. From the Sandstorm side, the Armory folks are sellouts who've traded their artisan pride for gold. From the Armory's view, Sandstorm are outdated relics stuck in the past."
I pointed at the power bank.
"So tell them this: Even the Imperial Armory's craftsmen couldn't figure out its structure."
"Ah."
I added with a smirk.
"They'll lose their minds and fight over who gets to crack it."
"......"
Seren's eyes widened in rare surprise, then shifted to a complicated expression as she looked at me.
"What's with that look?"
"You talk like you've actually met the southern dwarves."
"I have."
"When?"
"Let's see... about fifteen years ago?"
Add in the ten years on Spirit Mountain, and that sounds right.
Seren snorted, taking it as a joke.
Then she dropped a bombshell.
"The next disaster hits the north."
"The north...?"
Hearing that word and recalling the current year, I instantly knew what disaster she meant.
Seren continued.
"Utgard Prison Camp."
"Hmm."
"You've at least heard the name, right?"
Of course.
Utgard Prison Camp houses the empire's worst offenders—criminals so vile that even execution seems merciful.
The rumors circulating were even darker.
Human experimentation, tortures so brutal they'd make a civilian faint.
Some even said they were reprogramming prisoners into secret imperial weapons.
I'd dismissed the last one as far-fetched, but after seeing Purgatory Lord's obsession with talent recruitment, it didn't seem impossible.
After all, plenty of those vicious criminals had real skills.
The disaster Seren mentioned was undoubtedly the Utgard Prison Camp Collapse.
The incident's details, later revealed, went like this.
A Dark Cult High Priest infiltrated Utgard Prison Camp—the empire's darkest, most horrific place.
Using the cult's dark sorcery, he seized control, leading to 517 vicious prisoners escaping.
Half pledged themselves to the cult; the other half hid across the empire, committing atrocities that fueled chaos in the capital.
The rest were killed outright.
The demon summoned with prisoners and guards as sacrifices ultimately wreaked permanent devastation on ten percent of the northern territories before vanishing.
I'd declared in my debate with Professor Alex.
The empire would fall within the next ten years.
The Utgard collapse was the spark that ignited it.
Unlike the Bednicker training camp or the Academy's Demon King descent, this wasn't hidden.
Every imperial citizen knew of the tragedy, and it triggered a chain of disasters across the continent.
'At least the capital and Bednicker are still strong, so things should be better than before.'
Too optimistic?
As I tilted my head inwardly, Seren's voice continued.
"It's still half a year away, but no room for complacency. I want to head up early, check things out, and stop it if possible. A disaster big enough for the setting guide wouldn't strike without warning—there must be clues."
"Hmm."
Seren probably didn't know the details as well as I did.
Her setting guide wouldn't have that level of specifics.
"You planning to infiltrate? That'll be tough. Security's as tight as the palace. No amount of status or family name will get you in."
"I know. That's why I'm heading to Heros."
"Huh?"
"B-rank heroes in Heros get unrestricted access to most imperial restricted zones. Almost everywhere except private lands. Utgard's no exception."
"Ah."
That made sense.
'If her next stop is Utgard...'
I need to get stronger, too.
I'm not weak now, but the inmates in that insane prison defy common sense.
The special S-rank prisoners probably rival mid-tier Named in strength.
Factor in the demon summon in the worst-case scenario, and complacency's off the table.
"...Hmm."
As we talked, the hall visible through the window had changed.
About half the guests had left. The banquet was winding down.
We couldn't linger on the balcony forever; time to join the flow.
That's when Seren whispered even lower.
"One last thing."
"Yeah?"
"Something's been bothering me, and your strategy guide confirmed it."
"What?"
"The strategy guide and setting guide. Both were written by someone."
"Obviously—they're books with authors."
"Not that, idiot."
Seren sighed.
"The strategy guide starts thousands of years back. The early parts are mostly that—dense records on handling dozens of nations and hundreds of races during the continent's turbulent era. Written like essays."
"...Essays?"
"Yeah. And it continues right up to a few hundred years ago. Same handwriting, all the way."
"Wait. You mean—"
I asked in a slightly flustered voice.
"A being that lived for thousands of years wrote this?"
"Maybe not 'lived.'"
"What?"
"The one who translated it might still be alive."
* * *
Right before we parted, I asked.
"Seren's still watching this situation?"
"Nah. Looks like she's sleeping now."
"You two aren't on bad terms?"
Seren let out a hollow laugh at my words.
"Of course we are. From her perspective, I'm the jerk who showed up and stole her body."
"I see."
"Hmm......"
Seren hesitated unusually, then said something odd.
"...This kind of talk feels strangely familiar. I thought it'd be a secret I'd take to my grave."
"You'll get used to it."
"Maybe......"
Still hesitating, Seren looked at me.
"Ruan."
"Yeah?"
"...See you again."
"Ha."
Her awkward words made me laugh.
It was a stuffy, dry farewell, but somehow it suited her—this version of goodbye.
Our reunion would probably be in Heros.
No telling how long it'd take.
"Yeah. See you."
After parting with Seren, I returned to my room and slept.
The next day.
Finally.
Under the knight's guidance, I met the craftsman who'd made the gauntlets.
"I'm Angel, the one who forged the Hidden Scale Gauntlets."
More than noting the gauntlets' name, the man's presence hit me directly.
I looked at him with curious eyes.
A middle-aged man with unkempt beard stubble—surprisingly, not a dwarf.
His build was close to mine, so no half-breed either.
Thick booze stench, haggard face, bloodshot eyes... A stark contrast to the dwarven craftsmen with their fierce glares by the forge.
He even held a liquor bottle, guzzling without a care for our stares.
The knight, unable to stand it, spoke coldly.
"Angel, mind your manners. This is a guest sent directly by His Majesty the Emperor."
"Oh? Should I use honorifics then?"
"No need."
I had no patience for tedious etiquette.
"About those gauntlets you made. Hidden Scale Gauntlets, right? Anyway, I want them—"
"Urrp. Ah, sorry."
"...They fit me perfectly."
"I see."
Angel belched loudly and continued with a sneer.
"But do you know the condition for claiming an Imperial Armory weapon, young noble?"
"Approval from the maker?"
"Right. I won't ask annoying questions. Prove one thing, and it's yours."
"What?"
"Infuse the gauntlets with mana."
I froze, and the knight behind me spoke up.
"Still clinging to that stupid condition? Angel, how long do you think the Armory Lord will tolerate you?"
"At least until I drink myself to death."
"Don't forget the Armory's purpose. You owe the imperial family. The food you eat daily, the clothes you wear, the materials for your craft—all from the palace."
"I know. That's why I drink in gratitude every day."
"......"
The knight's glare was dangerous.
He seemed to despise Angel deeply—like he'd draw his sword any second.
"If you're gonna fight, do it without me. Anyway—"
I cut in at the right moment to defuse things, then infused true energy into the Hidden Scale Gauntlets.
Whoosh...!
The energy cloaking the gauntlets shifted into flames.
Black flames, just like last time, flickered around them.
"That do it?"
"What...?!"
"Hoo."
The knight gasped; Angel stroked his stubble.
His hazy, fogged eyes seemed to flash with eerie clarity.
"What's the boy hero's name?"
"Ruan Bednicker."
"Bednicker? Hmm. Surprising. Doesn't have that noble house glare."
Angel tilted his head briefly, then shrugged.
"Whatever. Ruan the Hero work?"
"Just Ruan."
"Fine, Ruan. As promised, the Hidden Scale Gauntlets are yours."
"For real?"
His casual response caught me off guard.
Angel nodded, shaking his bottle by his ear to check the remaining liquor.
"If it breaks, come back. I'll make you something better."
"Hmm. Do normal craftsmen say that?"
"So what? Weapons are consumables. They wear out with use—that's natural. Especially for guys like you."
"Guys like me?"
" Ones who abuse their bodies and their gear even worse."
Is that so?
Hard to agree or deny.
Angel waved me off.
"Get lost. Seeing male faces since morning is ruining my buzz."
"Sure......"
Mission accomplished, I left the Armory without complaint.
On the way, I wondered.
Angel said to return if it broke, but would I ever come back to the palace?
The trailing knight muttered with a chuckle.
"'Make you something better,' he says."
"Pardon?"
"Ah, sorry. It's just... Angel hasn't made anything in ten years. Surprised me."
"Really? Then why keep him around?"
"Armory Lord's orders. Despite appearances, his skill was top among Armory craftsmen. He even forged the imperial sword used by the late emperor."
"Oh......"
I couldn't help glancing back at Angel in surprise.
"How'd a guy that great end up a wreck?"
"Who knows. Probably some reason he can't talk about."
"Hmm."
"Anyway, if he gets back to work, it'd be a boon for the imperial family. One more thing to thank you for, Hero."
"No big deal. But why'd you freak out when I infused the gauntlets with mana?"
The knight spoke with a slightly awkward tone.
"...Angel's a nasty piece of work. That nastiness carries over to his gear. Most of what he makes is finicky to handle."
He glanced at the Hidden Scale Gauntlets in my hand.
"Angel uses a special alloy formula only he knows. His weapons come out black, with insane durability."
"Sounds good."
"Except for one fatal flaw. They resist mana like crazy."
"Ah......"
Fatal indeed.
With mana—true energy—infused, even straw could cleave rock depending on the user.
No matter how good the weapon, without true energy, it's useless in high-level fights.
Worse than a chipped sword.
'But it was easy for me.'
Perfect compatibility? Worth pondering.
That was our last palace conversation.
Afterward, I packed and finally left the stifling palace.
Back at Cartel Academy, I headed straight for Bishop Helsta.
He was in the main building's infirmary...
The scene there startled me a bit.
"No apparent effect on your instrument playing. But do you eat a lot of cold foods normally?"
"Yes! I love ice cream..."
"Hypothermia's a common symptom in the ill. You're young, but better start now. Swap frozen treats for warm tea, warm yourself with lukewarm baths often."
"Th-thank you!"
"Next."
Cadets queued for checkups, with Helsta at the end.
Playing school nurse? Absurd, even if I'd asked.
Or some scheme?
The suspicion vanished when I saw his face.
"......"
A proper physician's demeanor—even knowing his true nature, it looked genuine.
Helsta hadn't noticed me yet.
I leaned against the wall, watching him treat patients.
Soon realized: He wasn't brushing off a single cadet.
No idea what changed him.
"......"
I eyed the line.
Not short—would take time.
Nothing urgent.
Not wanting to interrupt, I turned away.
Grab some food in the market district, return at dusk.