Ambush
You have acquired a Fragment of Memory.
▶ Trait acquired: [ Mana Sense ]
The chaos of the banquet had barely settled when dawn broke the next morning.
Ian woke in his cramped little room to the creak of his bedframe. Last night's tension and exhaustion still weighed heavy on every limb, but this was no time to rest.
Knock, knock, knock—
Something tapped lightly against the small window. When Ian opened it, a tiny messenger bird fluttered inside with a soft beat of wings. A scrap of parchment was tied to its leg.
Ian carefully untied the note and unfolded it.
Turning the mana stones into cash is harder than I expected. Please help. It's urgent.
— Aurora
Of course. Mages were scholars at heart. However deep Aurora's knowledge of mana stones ran, the practical business of converting them into coin — especially through the shadows of the black market — was never going to be her strong suit.
Cashing out mana stones wasn't simply a matter of quality. You needed the right channels, the right connections, and above all a pretext solid enough that no one would look twice.
Ian sat still for a moment and nodded to himself.
Leaving everything on full auto and hoping it works out would be pretty shameless of me.
Even in the game, fully automating a fief required five-star administrative heroes by the handful, plus the dozens or hundreds of aides under them. Seorigol was nowhere near that kind of system.
Ian threw on his coat in a hurry. Only four days remained until the deadline the family head had set. To scrape together the astronomical sum of a hundred and fifty million rene, he needed to liquidate whatever raw mana stone he could get his hands on — immediately.
The moment he stepped out of his room, he nearly collided with Yerna coming down the corridor.
"Huh? You… where are you going at this hour?"
Yerna startled, her hair still slightly mussed from sleep, the drowsiness plain on her face.
"Business in the fief. More to the point — what are you doing at the annex? This place is usually off-limits to anyone who isn't a servant."
At his counter-question, color flooded Yerna's cheeks.
"W-what! I was just… just out for a walk and happened to be passing by! I didn't come looking for the likes of you!"
"You walked all the way out to the annex? Not even the garden?"
"Sh-shut up! Where I walk is none of your business!"
She was snippier than usual today — then, abruptly, her expression turned serious.
"But… why are you really going to the fief? You're not running away because of what Lionel said yesterday, are you?"
"Running away? Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to make money."
"Money?"
"Four days left until the deadline the family head set."
"You're actually planning to earn that much?"
"Of course. That's the only way I can cleanly cut ties with this wretched family."
Debt. It had a way of binding people thicker and stickier than blood. And more than that, it was a factor that could drag down the fief's reputation itself.
"So how exactly are you going to make a hundred and fifty million? Don't tell me you're seriously planning to sell your body. If it's that bad, I could lend you a little—"
"Don't worry. I've got a way. And if I take your money, do you really think the family head or Lionel wouldn't notice?"
Yerna stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. There wasn't a trace of humor in his voice. He genuinely meant to raise that impossible sum.
"Well then. I'm off."
Ian moved on without lingering, as if he couldn't afford another second. Yerna watched his retreating back with a complicated look in her eyes.
At the main gate of House Darkest, Ian received an unexpected kindness.
A noble who claimed to have watched yesterday's sparring match offered him the use of a spare carriage.
"Truly splendid swordsmanship yesterday, young Ian! The least I can do. It's only a spare, so don't feel obligated — make yourself comfortable on the road."
What the hell even is a "spare carriage"?
Ian climbed aboard nursing a fierce envy. The ride was in a completely different league from any public coach — plush cushions, barely a jolt. His envy of the nobility and his yearning for revolution both melted quietly into the comfort of the seat.
After several hours on the road, they were nearing Seorigol when—
"Stop the carriage!"
Ian urgently called for the driver to halt.
"Is something wrong, young master?"
"Up ahead… something's off."
"There's nothing there, though?"
The driver tilted his head. Ian couldn't see anything unusual with his naked eyes either. And yet a strange prickling ran through his skull — a sensation he'd never felt before, but one that registered unmistakably as danger.
What is this feeling…?
Ian stepped down from the carriage and stared blankly at the road ahead. An ordinary stretch of path. Nothing more. And since Seorigol was the only thing at the end of it, there was no reason anything strange should be here.
An Aberration…? No — the feeling wasn't quite that severe.
"Hmph…"
He folded his arms and let out a small sigh — and in that instant—
Riiip—!
A sound like tearing cloth split the air. The space in the middle of the road warped, and people materialized out of thin air.
What the fuck—!
Ian reflexively stumbled several steps backward. Four armed figures had just burst from a stretch of empty road he'd been certain held nothing at all.
One warrior with a sword, one with a mace, and two who looked like mages with staves — a textbook bandit party composition.
The swordsman swaggered forward and opened his mouth.
"See? Told you. Sitting around in an invisibility spell is a waste of time. We should've just jumped the slow carriage and grabbed him. Why make it so complicated?"
Bandits? Bandits… on the road to Seorigol?
While Ian reeled, the figure who looked like a mage quietly silenced his swaggering companion and stepped forward.
"…How did you see through my invisibility magic?"
See through it?
See through what?
Ian barely managed to stop his eyes from rolling and simply stared blankly at the mage. The man flinched, then spoke again.
"Don't tell me. A spell of this caliber isn't even worth a response? Well — you did sigh at it. Of course. Just who are you…?"
Only then did Ian roughly grasp what was happening. The mage had taken that idle sigh in front of the invisibility field as proof that Ian had seen straight through the magic.
He'd just sighed by coincidence.
Should I… lean into this misunderstanding?
Might as well inflate his reputation while he was at it. These people clearly had designs on him — and honestly, he had zero confidence he could win a straight fight. Just look at those weapons. Nasty pieces of work.
Ian answered with the calmest expression he could manage.
"Invisibility is basic among basics. Watch the flow of mana carefully enough and it's trivial to see through."
The mage's face went pale.
"Impossible. My invisibility magic was classified as a top-tier strategic asset even within the Mage Guild…"
"Then train harder."
Keep it short. Make it sound like he knew something they didn't.
It seemed to work. The opposing mage muttered, thoroughly deflated.
"M-my apologies. We'll withdraw."
He gestured behind him, signaling a retreat. They were just starting to pull back when—
"Bullshit! This bastard knows about the massive mana stone mine in that fief of his! Big profits come with big risks — that's how it works!"
The swordsman suddenly roared and charged at Ian.
Damn it—!
Ian twisted aside in a desperate dodge. The swordsman jolted in surprise — but Ian had no blade, no weapon of any kind. Realizing as much, the man came at him again.
"…Why aren't you using magic?"
The lunatic mage was studying Ian with eyes full of suspicion.
"An attack of this level is nothing— Gyaaaah!"
Ian tried to bluff, then let out an undignified scream as he scrambled clear of the sword.
"You… you tricked me, didn't you?"
The mage's eyes spun wild.
I'm so screwed!
Watching a fireball streak past and singe a lock of his hair, Ian felt his fate settle into place with grim clarity.
This was it. He was going to die — not to an Aberration, but to a pack of common bandits. What a hollow way to go.
Come to think of it, he'd lost his life to bandits dozens of times before, always for lack of preparation. The dangers of a dark fantasy world had never been limited to monsters alone.
And in the same breath, he understood.
Word about the mana stones in Seorigol has already leaked.
The price of letting his guard down.
— Biiiiii!
That prickling in his skull again. Ian hurled himself into a roll just as—
KRAKOOM—
The ground where he'd been standing erupted in a violent blast.
"Damn it! How did you dodge that?! That was my trump card — Explosion!"
The mage clawed at his own hair, shrieking.
"You crazy bastard! You almost killed me too!"
The swordsman's shout cut through at the same time. Through the thinning smoke, Ian spotted the man's sword lying on the ground. He lunged for it without hesitation and swung.
Shhk—
A nauseating sensation of flesh and bone parting.
"Gyaaaaah!"
The swordsman clutched at the ruin of his arm and writhed on the ground.
…Okay. One down.
Three left. The problem was the look in their eyes — sharper now, coiled tight. The earlier carelessness was gone. They closed ranks around the mad mage, a single hardened unit.
"How about you let me go now?"
"No. If you can't use magic, we win."
"You were scared a minute ago."
"That was before we knew you were just a lowly human who can't even cast."
Attacks poured in again at once. No reasoning with them.
Against one opponent, he might have scraped by somehow. But a four-man professional bandit crew that included mages was far more than Ian could handle alone. No more lucky breaks like before. He was being driven into a tighter and tighter corner, the threat to his life growing by the second.
And then—
Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!
The thunder of many hooves suddenly tore toward them.
Shit—!
Ian braced for the worst — but the riders swept past him without a moment's hesitation and charged straight into the bandits. With practiced horsemanship and brutal weapons, they crushed the attackers in moments, scattering what they didn't cut down.
"…Huh?"
His confusion lasted only a beat. The lead rider wheeled about and trotted toward him. The figure dismounted with impeccable form — and though Ian had never seen her in riding clothes before, the face was unmistakable.
"…Roella?"
What on earth are you doing here?