Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Hunt the Weak Ones First.
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"Get out first."
The young man spoke politely, and I followed him down from the carriage. The coachman drove the carriage around to the back of the building as is.
I watched the scene with sharp eyes.
'They must be moving slaves through the back door.'
The young man's voice came from beside me.
"This way."
As we headed toward the entrance he indicated, I noticed a sign hanging high on the side. It depicted a single spoon placed over a bowl.
'No way, this place is...?'
Ding-a-ling.
When the young man opened the door and entered, shelves filled with various kinds of tableware came into view.
A few people stood in front of the display racks, selecting bowls. It looked like any ordinary shop, nothing special.
An old man stood at the counter, polishing a cup. Next to him were neatly arranged shiny spoons.
'Aha.'
What a fitting choice of business. And those spoons were probably prepared for customers visiting for other purposes.
"Noah?"
The old man at the counter raised an eyebrow upon seeing the young man. His blue eyes gleamed coldly through his monocle.
"What's the matter? And who's this with you?"
"Mr. Moritz."
The young man called Noah approached the old man. He whispered something, and the old man—Moritz—turned his gaze toward me.
"Hmm."
Moritz let out a nasal hum, then withdrew his gaze. He listened to Noah's whisper.
"...So, I had no choice but to bring him."
Once Noah finished his report and stepped back, Moritz left the counter and approached me.
"I sincerely apologize for any shortcomings in the merchandise. As the person in charge, I offer my apologies."
Moritz bowed his head politely.
I didn't know what Noah had reported, but his demeanor was impeccable. He exuded the seasoned expertise befitting the manager of this shop.
"I'll accept your apology."
I responded arrogantly, curious to see how they would react.
"......"
Noah's eyebrow twitched subtly,
"Yes, thank you. Then allow me to show you the new merchandise."
Moritz simply retreated with a calm expression.
He showed no emotional fluctuation even at the rude words from the young man.
'Impressive. This must be what it takes to run a slave trade.'
I suppressed a leaking chuckle and nodded. Moritz spoke in his ever-gentle tone.
"The merchandise you requested is further inside. Please wait a moment."
He returned to the counter, picked up a communication orb, and contacted someone somewhere. Then he beckoned to Noah.
"Noah. Guide the customer."
"Yes."
I followed Noah, who took the lead, toward the inner door.
Just before the door opened, Moritz's gaze brushed my back. It was a gaze sharp enough to slice through a person like a blade.
Click.
The door that had opened closed, and even that gaze vanished.
Faint lights hung from the corridor ceiling. The narrow corridor on both sides was packed with tableware and dishes.
"Follow me."
Noah's tone had become much ruder than before. For now, I followed him without a word.
We passed through a corridor where something could jump out from either side at any moment and reached the door at the end.
Clack.
Noah opened the door and gestured for me to enter.
"Come in."
It was blatantly suspicious behavior, a transparent trick.
"Are the slaves in here?"
"Yes. Hurry up and come in."
Even to my question, Noah replied shamelessly.
'Hmm.'
I paused for a moment and summoned Requiem's power. Black threads invisible to others extended from me.
'One.'
The number of living beings in this room.
'Of course.'
The corners of my mouth curved into a grin.
Spotting Noah's lie was too easy. But I deliberately didn't point it out.
"Sure."
I readily stepped into the room Noah indicated. And the moment I took one step forward,
Thud.
The door closed behind me.
Clang.
The bolt locked,
Click.
With the sound of a switch, a red lamp illuminated the room. A normal person would have winced at the sudden brightness, but,
"Hmm."
I simply blinked a few times to quickly adapt to the light.
Inside the room, a bear-like burly man stood with his back turned.
"Hmm-hmm~"
He hummed a tune while polishing something. Even with his massive build, the tip of a huge halberd was visible.
'The blade is red.'
Whether it was originally that color or stained with something else, I wasn't sure.
'Either way, it doesn't matter.'
On the cart in front of him lay iron tools: skewers, tongs, branding irons, hammers, awls, and the like, all gleaming ominously.
'Not for treating humans, that's for sure.'
I assessed calmly.
In fact, such things were more familiar to Abel than anyone. The 'place' in Ovest Castle held even more varieties of iron tools.
'He's no expert compared to them.'
Beside him were a bucket, rags, and a mop. And most were dyed in a red even deeper than the lighting.
"You said you'd show me slaves, so what's this guy?"
When I asked,
"Ha!"
Noah snorted from outside.
He was peering at me through a small hole above the door. He sneered.
"You still haven't come to your senses? Can't grasp the situation?"
"What's there to grasp?"
"There's a slave here."
Noah's finger pointed straight at me.
"You, you bastard."
After spitting the words, Noah addressed the man behind me.
"This is the one, Bruno."
The man called Bruno turned around with a "Hmm."
His upper lip and jaw were covered in thick beard, and a scar crossed his cheek.
He lifted the halberd and rested it on his shoulder.
"Young men are always welcome."
Noah chuckled slyly in response.
"It's new merchandise, so take good care of it. But it'll be a bit stiff."
His tone held no hesitation, even with the subject right there. It stemmed from his certainty that I would fall to Bruno's hands.
"You'll have to beat it plenty to soften it up."
"Ah, don't worry. I like them stiff."
Noah grinned widely at Bruno's enthusiastic reply.
"Then have a good time."
After firmly locking the padlock one last time, he left.
'Another door that locks from the outside?'
I frowned at the door.
I really hated doors like this.
"So, dissatisfied with the merchandise?"
Bruno approached, lightly flicking his halberd. Each movement echoed with a heavy thud.
"You came to the right place. I handle complaints well."
"Doubtful. You don't strike me as the friendly type."
My twisted retort made his bushy beard twitch.
"Curious how? Want me to show you?"
The nauseating laugh and repulsive smile followed.
I didn't want to face him for even a second longer.
"No, that's fine."
I spat coldly and let my arms hang. I visualized Requiem's form and focused my mind on my palm.
Shing.
Requiem appeared and wrapped around my hand.
The moment I gripped the hilt, a fierce vibration surged. It was Requiem's desperate attempt to dominate my body.
But as the inside of the Gauntlet heated up, Requiem quieted again.
'As expected, the Guardian's power.'
I grinned and gripped the sword firmly.
"Huh?"
Bruno uttered a dazed sound. His beady eyes fixed on the suddenly appeared black sword.
"What the hell is that?"
The moment he pointed his halberd at me,
Whoosh.
My robe billowed out and settled,
Clang, clang.
The halberd he held clattered to the floor. And the now-ownerless forearm fell.
"Argh!"
He clutched his severed arm and staggered back. His eyes widened dramatically.
"Grk."
He stared at his arm's end in disbelief.
No blood flowed from the cleanly severed stump, as expected.
Sizzle.
Instead of the usual veins, muscles, and bones, black flames crackled. They slowly burned up his forearm, creeping upward.
"W-what is this! Get off!"
He wailed and flailed his arm. But the black flames neither detached nor extinguished.
His forearm shriveled like a dead leaf. The once-vibrant flesh lost its color, and the blood beneath dried up like a drought-stricken land.
"Gah, graaaah!"
He writhed on his knees. Sharp pain like being stabbed repeatedly with an awl, hot agony like boiling oil poured over him tormented him.
The black void steadily devoured his vitality. It stopped only after reaching his shoulder.
"Grhhh......"
He clutched his remaining arm, gasping. His arm was already deader than an old man's—older, even.
Like an arm buried in a grave for decades, rotting away. He would never use it again.
"U-ugh. M-my arm. Where's my arm......"
His twisted face scanned wildly around before stopping. At the end of his gaze lay the fallen forearm on the floor.
"Wh-what the..."
No, it could no longer be called a forearm.
A lump of flesh drained of all life, left with only skin and bone. The most wretched end a life could meet remained there.
"U-uuu."
His teeth chattered. His face paled blue at the incomprehensible horror.
I turned my eyes from the trembling Bruno and slowly raised my right hand.
The pitch-black sword flickered in my grasp.
'Indeed, this is Requiem's power.'
The force that made Requiem infamous as the sword of death. The ability to absorb all life force with a mere touch.
A power optimized for slaughter, made solely for killing.
Even in a normal person's hands, this power was formidable; in an expert swordsman's, it made them an absolute, perfect victor.
No one could win one-on-one against Requiem. How could they oppose something that stole life with a graze?
Even dragons, the strongest beings on earth, were powerless before this sword.
'Of course, it depends on the wielder.'
In any case, a mere human like this could be made to kneel effortlessly. Or toyed with.
More than that, I was newly amazed at Requiem's sharpness.
'To sever it in one stroke like this.'
The moment I drew it, my arm moved with fluid, efficient grace. As if I'd spent a lifetime honing the sword for this instant, naturally like flowing water.
As a result, a single draw severed his arm.
'Too smooth.'
I shivered at the sensation of the cut.
When slicing off thugs' limbs with a dagger, there was clear resistance.
But just now,
'It was like cutting pudding.'
Was this the feeling when forking through the pudding served as dessert this morning?
Even though I'd carved through flesh, sawed bone, and fully severed the arm.
Requiem's cutting power was that devastating.