Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: 16. The Liberal Alliance and Ian (4)
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Ian jotted something down and left with Wolfgang.
Vivian and Helena, left alone in the room, were left dumbfounded.
Separate from their desire to meet Ian's expectations, they felt like they were growing ever more distant from him.
Staring at the door Ian had exited through, the two made eye contact and gave awkward smiles.
Mercy, picking up on their mood, slyly inserted herself into the conversation.
"What's with the long faces?"
"Oh, n-nothing..."
"It's nothing..."
Their expressions were complicated.
"Hmm."
While Ian had been revealing his true identity, Mercy had been lying down, overwhelmed, but she hadn't actually fallen asleep.
She had heard Ian's confession too.
"I don't know what you're worrying about, but there's no need to overthink it."
Recalling why Ian hadn't revealed himself from the start, Mercy swallowed her own bitter feelings.
"Didn't Ian say it himself? That he's the same person you've always known. And that's the truth. From what I've seen at his side, Ian has always been that way."
Whether Ian was Philip or not didn't really matter.
What had changed was simply how the two of them perceived him.
"He might seem distant at times, but it's all for the sake of those he cares about, so it wouldn't do to take it too hard, would it? From what I've observed, Ian hasn't changed at all whether he's with you now or back then."
The persona of Philip was just an illusion he had created in the first place.
Ian had always been Ian, from beginning to end.
Whether as the manager of the 1st Hero Party or now.
"...You're right."
"That's true..."
Having come to their own realizations, their expressions softened noticeably.
"Thank you for your concern."
"There's a reason you've been with Ian for so long."
"......"
Mercy smiled, but her heart wasn't exactly light.
Like this, all she could do was simple things that anyone could manage.
Trivial comforts, massages, or ghostwriting letters.
She wasn't superhuman or anything.
In this human society, she was just an ordinary elf with no power or connections.
So if there was anything she could do for Ian, she wanted to do it gladly—anything at all.
"Of course! Where else would you find an elf like me?"
Mercy spoke brightly, and Vivian and Helena regained their smiles.
*
While sorting out the Liberal Alliance's base with the 2nd Platoon of the military police, Kati arrived at an antique corridor.
The corridor, luxurious yet tidy in atmosphere, was dark.
On either side were crammed narrow cells.
Unlike the corridor, the rooms sealed by glass walls were bright.
From inside, the outside was hard to see, but the lighting was designed to let those in the corridor peer clearly within.
Inside each one was an elf.
This was the place Kati had reported to Ian about—the one holding numerous elves captive.
The elves were each adorned beautifully in their own varied charms.
Some were dressed extravagantly like nobility.
Others neatly like gentlemen.
Still others seductively like dancers.
Bound only at their legs and torsos to chairs, a dining table sat before them.
On the white round tables were white plates, silver spoons, forks, and knives.
And on the plates were live animals.
Elves, who could hear the voices of life, did not eat meat.
More precisely, they did not kill and eat meat.
The only meat they consumed came from animals that had died naturally.
For them, the cruelest act was to force them to eat living creatures alive.
And those who gathered here treated it as an amusing, rare spectacle to enjoy.
Some elves' plates were empty, and their eyes lacked any spark of life.
Among them was a golden-haired elf dressed like royalty.
"......"
Kati recalled the day she first met Mercy.
The door on the opposite side from where Kati had entered swung open, and armed men burst in.
"That bastard!"
"Rush him all at once and kill him!"
Kati spoke to the military police following behind her.
"I'll handle it alone. Please free the captive elves."
In a narrow path, it was easier to fight solo.
The military police, having witnessed Kati's skills on the way, readily complied.
A group of rough-looking men charged down the narrow corridor with the intent to break through.
Kati gripped her swords in reverse grips with both hands and lowered her stance.
The moment she kicked off the ground, her form vanished from the spot.
-Slash!
A slicing sound rang out, accompanied by a gust sweeping through the corridor.
Kati, who had disappeared, reappeared behind the enemies.
-Screeech...
Her feet skidded across the floor in a pose like she'd abruptly halted mid-sprint.
The enemies' upper and lower bodies separated simultaneously.
Confirming no survivors among them, Kati shattered the glass walls and freed the elves inside.
The rescued elves were escorted away by the military police.
Her gaze returned to the elf dressed like royalty, then shifted to those who had reduced her to this state.
'If only I'd been better at tracking back then...'
The day she found Mercy.
Kati had been with Ian at the time, but she wasn't as strong as she was now.
If she'd been better then, wouldn't Ian's heart have been a bit lighter?
Even though it wasn't her responsibility, Kati sometimes thought that way.
"Thank you..."
"Truly, thank you..."
A few relatively unharmed elves approached Kati to express their gratitude.
Kati merely nodded in response.
Then, suddenly, she sensed something off.
'Their speech patterns are different from Mercy's.'
It had taken a while after rescue for Mercy to speak, but from the start, she'd used informal speech.
Not as bold or playful as now, but still.
'Not all elves are like that?'
Since Kati only knew one elf—Mercy—she couldn't know just by thinking about it.
*
"If you all value your precious lives, stand down quietly."
Ian declared as he blocked the back path.
The narrow passage, barely wide enough for two people, was plenty for one to hold alone.
Those trying to escape the military police's raid paled.
Ian roughly scanned their attire.
'Rich upstarts or nobles with some cash. VIPs here, huh.'
The men were all in flashy suits, the women in dresses.
Masks to hide their identities made them look like guests at a masquerade ball.
One noble stepped forward.
"W-whoever you are, get out of the way! If you don't move right now...!"
"Or what if I don't?"
Ian retorted, aiming his sword at him.
It wasn't the training sword he'd hastily drawn against Edgar, but a real one.
"I know full well you high-and-mighties can't see yourselves clearly, so no need to step up."
"H-how much...?"
Another noble asked.
This one knew how to grovel.
But it didn't sway Ian.
"I'm not the one deciding your fate. I'm just blocking the path."
And incidentally handling any of Edgar's or the Liberal Alliance members who came this way.
"So no point negotiating. Go back and behave. If you're not Liberal Alliance, you might avoid summary execution."
Not exactly welcome news.
Guests at an underground base run by the Liberal Alliance? Their crimes were obvious without checking.
Especially at a security-conscious group's base—they had to be top-tier VIPs.
Ian knew well; he'd once stripped a Liberal Alliance branch bare.
"You rootless punk...!"
A young noble stepped out, pointing accusingly, and Ian casually slashed his wrist.
"Oops. An accident during suppression."
He said it, but it wasn't.
"Got complaints? File a petition with the military police later."
One noble's escort knight stepped up.
"Insolent fool. For not stepping aside, your head-"
Ian closed the distance in an instant, without letting him finish.
To onlookers, it was barely perceptible—just him stepping forward.
The knight's head fell from his neck, mumbling.
"-will roll..."
"Next. Anyone else wanna push it? Step up now."
Having witnessed Ian's skill, they all clamped their mouths shut.
But turning back meant facing the military police.
Ian felt disgust recalling old memories.
Scum like this had made Mercy a spectacle.
And now this scum scrambled to save their own precious skins.
No guarantee none were tied to the Anti-Imperial Alliance.
For intel, he'd keep them alive for now.
They'd all end up executed after interrogation by the military police anyway.
As Ian scanned the crowd, someone shoved through aggressively.
-Clang!
Ian blocked leisurely, checking the man's wrist emblem.
'Liberal Alliance. Here to clear a path for the VIPs.'
"Ooh...!"
Sighs of relief rippled through the crowd.
It didn't last.
Ian didn't bother with a strength contest.
He simply bisected the man diagonally with the flat of his blade.
"Gah...!"
"He... cleaved him with the flat...?"
A few more Liberal Alliance members rushed in for a pincer attack, but they couldn't touch Ian.
Mooks far weaker than Edgar were just moths to the flame.
Ian analyzed habitually even as he cut them down one by one.
'Odd balance. Left-handed trained by a right-hander.'
'Weight shifted back. Scared.'
'No grip strength at all. Not even fit to hold a sword.'
Far from retreating under multiple assaults, Ian advanced step by step.
The fleeing crowd was gradually herded inward.
Behind Ian stretched only Liberal Alliance corpses.
"Time to wrap this up..."
"Iaaaaan-!"
From deep in the path Ian faced, someone bellowed his name hoarsely.
The man emerged with furious strides.
"Edgar. Done running?"
"You...! This is your doing! You brought the military police...!"
"Took you long enough. I knew you were slow, but this is something."
"Why the fuck are you doing this to me...! Because of you, ever since that day...!"
Ian chuckled at Edgar's plea.
"What right you got to whine? If you've lived off others' lives, you should've known yours could fly away anytime."
"Shut up-!"
Edgar pulled a vial from his pocket and downed it.
'Awakening agent.'
Edgar's veins bulged under his skin, pupils contracting as he glared murderously at Ian.
Kicking off, he barreled through the crowd.
'Strength around low B-rank superhuman. With the awakening agent, can't just flat-blade him like the small fry.'
"Dieee-!"
Edgar lunged, thrusting at Ian.
Watching him airborne, Ian sighed faintly.
'Pathetic.'
He'd expected a drawn-out fight with the agent, but it was ending quick—before exchanges even started.
Not that he'd hoped for long.
It was a habit from training heroes.
Tsking at foes' amateur moves rather than rejoicing.
Ian gazed at the incoming Edgar and slowly bent backward at the waist.
Legs firm, his upper body reclined parallel to the floor.
He performed the acrobatic feat effortlessly.
"Wha...?"
Edgar sailed past overhead.
Their faces passed inches apart.
Ian's bored, slightly tired and annoyed expression gazed indifferently at him.
-Thwack!
Ian's sword whipped toward Edgar hurtling backward.
"Argh!"
Edgar tumbled across the floor, right arm severed.
"Can't control midair. Especially lunging—momentum seals it."
Ian spoke flatly, then severed Edgar's remaining arm.
"You're telegraphing too much."
"Gaaaaah-!"
"Don't worry. Might squeeze some info out of you, so no instant death."
Hot agony surged through Edgar's stumps.
More than that, fear crushed his heart.
Not just fear of death.
Overwhelming powerlessness.
Terror that he'd been dancing in Ian's palm from the start.
And Ian's power was inexplicable.
No mana surge detectable.
Not raw physicality.
Just too refined to sense.
Honed for peak efficiency with minimal mana.
'Never... had a chance from the beginning...'
Beyond despair, utter void.
"Heh, ha, haha..."
Edgar laughed madly.
[Master.]
Kati reported.
[Cleanup done. Major documents from the base underground...]
The Liberal Alliance's leader, Edgar, was captured alive.
The subdued base's basement yielded organizational charts and key base maps.
As of today, the Liberal Alliance collapsed.
*
None of the surviving elves were in their right minds.
Only a tiny fraction were intact.
With nowhere to house them until their treatment was decided, all survivors were moved to Fiorelle Castle.
The morning after the Liberal Alliance base fell, Ian set out alone with Mercy.
"Mercy."
"Yes?"
The two walked a quiet castle corridor.
"Remember the Liberal Alliance?"
"...Yes."
"They're gone soon."
"Yes...? What do you mean...?"
Ian explained yesterday's events, softening it as much as possible to spare her pain.
Calmly, focusing only on the fact they'd vanish.
Unthinkingly, he added at the end.
"Didn't think it'd happen, but coincidence made it so."
"...You've been thinking about that all this time?"
Ian felt a special responsibility toward Mercy.
When he rescued her from the old Liberal Alliance base, she had nowhere to turn but him.
He'd tried to part ways at first, but couldn't abandon her in that state.
Gradually, tagging along, she started talking, living a routine, and helping Ian proactively.
But without special powers or status, all she could do was simple chores.
That led to bouts of self-loathing.
Feeling unremarkable among Ian's group—an inferiority complex of sorts.
She hid it well, but Ian knew.
So he tried harder to look after her, make her life better.
Even if she'd wanted it, Mercy had ended up this way because of his kindness.
He wanted revenge on the Liberal Alliance and to heal her trauma, but he was busy.
He'd slacked on pursuit out of necessity, and it nagged at him sometimes.
"Eh, now and then."
And by coincidence, it led to today.
"...I see. So that's how it was. You're... no, thank you. Truly."
Walking beside Ian, Mercy's hand unconsciously reached for his, then stopped.
Ian, ahead, continued unaware.
"So, figuring out how to care for the survivors from there... Thought you could help."
"...Me? Well, I'd do anything helpful, but I'm not sure what I could offer?"
"There's... elves there."
"...Elves?"
They reached a large door.
Before opening it, Ian asked one last time.
"If you don't want to, it's fine."
The Alliance gone didn't erase Mercy's trauma.
This was a form of therapy.
He hoped helping similar elves would heal her past a bit.
But only if she wanted.
"I, um, that's..."
Mercy's face rarely stiffened.
"Mm... Too much? Let's head back if you don't want."
"No, it's not that I hate it..."
Then, from the corridor behind Ian, some approached.
A few rescued elves whose minds were relatively sound.
They seemed to greet Ian, then stared at Mercy.
'They know each other?'
As Ian wondered.
Shock spread across the elves' faces.
"...Princess?"
"Princess...?"
"Princess!"
"It's Princess Mercy!"
"Princess Mercy!"
"It's the princess!"
Ian turned to Mercy with a blank look.
Mercy clamped her lips shut, awkwardly averting her gaze, sweating coldly.
Ian repeated in disbelief.
"...Princess?"