Chapter 70
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Reunion
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Let's rewind time just a moment to when Enoch removed his hood on the first floor.
"Come out, you bastard!"
Along with that cheap thug-like line, one employee's head exploded.
Splat.
A headless corpse collapsed limply into a pool of blood.
Enoch had pierced him, certain he was a black mage—and he was indeed a black mage...
But to most onlookers, he just looked like a madman who had killed someone out of nowhere.
It was unavoidable. Losing their base in Calypso was a devastating blow to the black mages.
Not only had they permanently lost a portion of the network they'd built over more than a thousand years, but they'd also lost a capable leader... and above all, their funding source.
Calypso was the empire's largest slum and quarantine zone, a gathering place for all sorts of criminals. But that's exactly why money flowed in there.
Dirty money that couldn't see the light of day accumulated in the shadows, and all the shadows of the continent ultimately led to Calypso.
The black mages had brazenly flaunted their madness—what they called the seed of divinity—to rake in cash from such places.
But the moment they could no longer set foot in Calypso...
Naturally, the massive funds that had poured in also vanished into thin air.
That's why they'd sacrificed some personnel to establish a front as a merchant guild in the light, even if it meant a strategic retreat.
The black mages of Ksalys were staking the organization's survival on hiding their identities.
They'd abandoned their research, their dreams, their growth—using black magic solely to earn money.
So unless they openly used black magic or a skilled mage or priest dissected them, it was hard to uncover their true nature.
In the ensuing chaos, the innocent screamed and fled, while Enoch picked out only the black mages to kill... and the Ellis Family began moving according to their contract.
"Everyone, be careful. Our opponent's at least Expert-level!"
"Yes, Captain!"
Not quite on Enoch's level, but with the tanned skin typical of southerners, a sturdy middle-aged man.
Carlo grabbed his sword and shield, issuing orders to his men.
They formed up, and the moment they faced the intruder ascending to their floor—Enoch—they realized.
"Zah...av...?"
Radiant golden hair, bronzed skin. Muscles packed throughout his body, and even without fully manifesting his aura, an intense heat washed over them.
How could he forget?
Despite leaving the south and shirking his duties, Carlo still harbored affection for his homeland and the family there.
The fact that he'd sent money home steadily for over ten years meant he'd never forgotten the south for a moment.
Recognizing his former lord was only natural.
Not just Carlo, but the other southern mercenaries who'd left home with him began to waver.
Enoch eyed their attire blocking his path, his gaze sharpening.
"You lot. You're from the south, aren't you?"
"...I don't know what brings a blood of House Zahav here, but you're no longer our lord."
"Oh?"
"We're mercenaries. We just take the money and do the job. If you must pass, you'll have to take our heads."
Carlo spoke with resolute expression. The other southern mercenaries understood, steeling themselves with resignation and resolve.
But.
"Seems like you're misunderstanding something."
Enoch shrugged, dropping the corpse whose face he'd just scraped against the wall until it was unrecognizable.
Thud.
"First off, I'm not just some blood relative—I'm the Patriarch. In other words, I am the Grand Duke of Zahav."
A title bestowed on only four in the empire—now just three. Grand Duke.
Perhaps because its weight and power were well-known even to non-southerners, the mercenaries' morale completely crumbled.
They could face death willingly because it helped other southern mercenaries.
No one trusted mercenaries who did anything for money. They were scorned as lowly curs who could bite yesterday's employer for the right price.
But if they showed that contracts mattered more than life—and actually followed through...
At least southern mercenaries would gain a reputation for honoring their pay.
Then their deaths would have ample value.
The current standing of southern mercenaries was bought with the blood of predecessors who'd thought the same.
Having benefited from that, they couldn't pretend otherwise now.
Turning from duty once was enough.
Thus, Carlo and his men prepared to die gladly.
...Unless the opponent wasn't the Zahav brat, but the Grand Duke himself.
No matter the contract, drawing steel on an imperial Grand Duke was a grave crime.
Setting aside actual conduct, Grand Dukes were second only to the Emperor in nobility. Even imperial heirs bowed to them.
Opposing the Grand Duke houses, who stood at the forefront blocking continental catastrophes, meant endangering the empire.
It equated to treason.
Forget mercenary honor—worst case, they'd be lumped in as rebels.
Naturally, no one would hire southern mercenaries then.
What good was strength and contract-keeping if you risked traitor labels?
Mercenaries already toed the line of crime, but fully crossing into criminality was another matter.
Realizing this, Carlo and the others lowered their weapons powerlessly and closed their eyes, abandoning resistance.
Half-hearted rebellion would cut off their comrades' livelihoods entirely.
Fleeing was impossible—it would shatter trust and bring dishonor.
Accepting death meekly. That alone was the best choice for Carlo and his men.
...Or so they thought, until Enoch's next words rang out.
"Second, I'm not rampaging without reason. Everyone I've killed is a black mage, and this merchant house's lord is a black mage in hiding. I'm just fulfilling my duty as an imperial Grand Duke."
"That's..."
"You were deceived and manipulated by black mages, right?"
"...Ah."
Only then did Carlo grasp what Enoch meant.
He couldn't confirm if Ksalys people were truly black mages... but Enoch had the power to make it so.
In other words, Enoch was saying:
No matter the truth, I'll back you up.
"Of course, we need to make it look convincing. You get it, right?"
Enoch grinned, smirking at the stunned mercenaries.
"From now on, come at me with everything you've got."
Anyone watching would think they'd been brainwashed.
At the unspoken implication, Carlo nodded once, then shouted in an awkward voice.
"Urk! My body's moving on its own! Such an evil power—definitely black magic...!"
An obvious lie for the audience. But Enoch would gladly play along.
At Carlo's words, all the mercenaries shouted their own nonsense and charged Enoch.
Weapons of every kind assailed him from all sides at speeds and power beyond the ordinary.
Most mercenaries couldn't manifest aura visibly, but they could handle it decently.
Equivalent to regular knights.
Carlo, as captain, could even briefly coat his sword in aura for a time—senior knight or vice-captain of a small order.
Overkill for mere mercenaries. Yet no one here thought they could take Enoch down... nor did Enoch himself.
Whoosh.
Flame-like aura flickered briefly over Enoch's skin.
Bam!
With strike sounds almost simultaneous, two comrades fell.
What followed, Carlo's level couldn't even register.
Just Enoch's golden hair scattering as afterimages, and someone collapsing each time.
Even that, Carlo sensed only because he was the strongest captain; others likely fell without knowing what hit them.
But those still conscious struggled to their feet and charged again.
Swinging swords with broken arms and legs. Knowing it was their path to survival.
Of course, knowing didn't make it easy. Pain always bred fear.
"Nice."
Enoch, genuinely satisfied, crushed the southern mercenaries head-on—the ones who would one day be his people.
They lay rolling on the floor with injuries severe enough to immobilize, but recoverable with treatment.
Finally, Carlo—his arm dangling broken—steeled himself.
But.
"Ah, you're good."
"...Pardon?"
"I heard you're not directly contracted with Ksalys but subcontracted through the Ellis Family? Then we should coordinate with them properly."
"Is that alright?"
"Does the Ellis Family raise black mages by any chance?"
"Absolutely not. Madam despises them."
"Mm, good attitude. Then did you know Ksalys Merchant House was a black mage group when you signed on?"
"That too, no. There was some internal chaos purging traitors recently. Their investigation might've been lax."
"Well, they hid well. Anyway, no plans to antagonize Ellis Family, so pass the word. You have contact?"
"What should I say?"
Enoch pondered briefly, then chuckled.
"Just as it is."
"...Understood."
Enoch passed the bowing Carlo and ascended to the upper floor.
Only after he was fully gone did Carlo pull out the communication orb from his bosom.
Bzzz—
After a slight vibration and wait, a thin, delicate voice responded.
-What is it, Carlo? Things sounded noisy... something happen there?
"Madam. We were fooled."
-Pardon?
"Ksalys Merchant House..."
The moment Carlo said that.
BOOM!
A massive explosion rocked the upper floor, and a horrific energy began leaking out.