Dark Moon
I dragged a chair out of the office and sat down in the hallway. Corpses littered the floor in front of me; behind me lay the path to the baths. That corridor was a one-way route, so as long as I held this position, no one was getting past without my say-so.
I stared at Vinous’s severed head and let my thoughts drift.
When I killed him, there had been a flicker of satisfaction—a clean, sharp rush of relief. Looking at his head now, that feeling was still there. But it wasn’t enough. It felt like stepping out of a shower without properly drying off, water still clinging to the skin.
I know why. Because my revenge isn’t finished.
Vinous had only been middle management.
The people who planned and executed the Battle Mage Project sat far higher—so high that comparing them to Vinous almost felt unfair. And I already knew one of them.
Alpha Tear Pharmaceuticals. The company that manufactured Mana Essence and supplied it to the military. They were on my list.
I couldn’t just walk up and kill them. At my current strength, charging Alpha Tear would get me crushed like an insect.
I need more power. To take on Alpha Tear alone, I need to reach at least 9th-class. And if I hit that company out in the open, the Freesel Kingdom will almost certainly intervene…
A sigh escaped me on its own.
I was starting to wonder whether I could ever finish this revenge. But I couldn’t stop here and call it done. I would find every last person connected to the Battle Mage Project and make them pay.
I glared at Vinous’s head for a long time, then closed my eyes.
The doping effect of Overlord was wearing off, and crushing fatigue and pain crashed over me all at once. Worse still, my mana roads were damaged.
Of the fifty I had, only thirty-four were intact. Sixteen had been destroyed beyond anything I could repair on my own. Restoring those sixteen would require a specialist healer.
…This is bad. I can’t fight a prolonged war like this.
A 5-Class mage’s mana roads numbered eighty or more at minimum. Mine didn’t even reach half that. Forcing myself up to 5-Class with drugs, then overworking the roads with Overlord, had done the damage.
An ordinary mage might despair. But I have knowledge of the original story. I know a healer who can restore mana roads. I know where the treasures of this world are sleeping, and how to claim them. This isn’t hopeless—not for me. I just… need a little time.
I exhaled. There was so much to do I didn’t even know where to start.
Footsteps. Soft, measured.
I opened my eyes. The hallway ahead was empty. Slowly, I turned my head.
No. 31 stood there in her military uniform. Her purple hair was slightly damp, her face as expressionless as ever.
She’d been hit with sleeping gas and was already up and moving. I quietly marveled. Probably the Witch Factor in her blood.
“You killed Instructor Vinous.”
“Yeah. It was a hell of a fight. No. 31—are you going to kill me? Honestly, I don’t have the strength to fight you right now. If you’re going to do it… make it clean.”
I faced forward again as I spoke. If it were anyone else, maybe not—but dying at the hands of No. 31 or No. 212 didn’t seem so bad.
“…It reminds me of the old days. Back then. When the Dark Moon rose, and I went berserk and fell from the waterfall—you were the one who saved me. I’ll repay that debt now.”
That had happened, once.
“So I should thank you for sparing me?”
“That’s not what I mean. I never intended to kill you in the first place. When I say I’ll repay the debt… I mean I’ll take responsibility for our classmates—including No. 212.”
“……!”
I turned to look at her in surprise. No. 31 stood with her arms crossed, watching me with a cool, proud expression.
Her. The daughter of Duke Leltius. If anyone could pull that off, it was her. Something in my chest lightened, just a little.
“Thank you, No. 31.”
“There’s a condition. The Battle Mage Project. Don’t make it public. Bury it.”
“It’s for our classmates. You don’t want them hounded by the press either.”
“…So I’m one of those classmates.”
If the Battle Mage Project stayed buried, the biggest beneficiary wouldn’t be No. 31—it would be me. I was a mutineer who’d killed his superior, a terrorist with a bounty almost certainly coming. The Freesel military wouldn’t want the project exposed either. International condemnation would be unavoidable, and human-rights hyenas would swarm in looking for money.
“Thank you. I’ll do what I can. I’m not the one in charge of this, so I can’t promise—but the Battle Mage Project won’t see the light of day. Really. Thank you, No. 31.”
“Irina.”
“Hm?”
“My name is Irina.”
She turned and started walking down the corridor. I watched her back recede, then called out in a hurry.
“Irina! My name is Yujin!”
One week later.
Louis Bilstein came to the safe house. He was the one who’d prepared it for me—a quiet little village on the outskirts of the Freesel Kingdom, far from prying eyes.
“You look much better than the last time I saw you. I’m glad.”
“How did things go?”
“Exactly as you wanted, Mr. Yujin. We negotiated with the Freesel military and agreed to bury the Battle Mage Project. Ah—and all of your classmates have been placed under No. 31. Irina Leltius. The army naturally tried to refuse, but… Duke Leltius applied pressure.”
“Good that it worked out. What about the hunt for me?”
“No visible response so far. That doesn’t mean you can relax. Freesel’s special operatives may already be moving in secret.”
“Right. Best to leave this country, then.”
Louis spoke as if he’d been waiting for that.
“Come to our Empire. We’ll provide identification, of course, and a fine estate. In exchange, join our company.”
“I already told you last time. I’m not going to the Empire.”
“I still don’t understand. The terms aren’t bad, are they? Even the Freesel Kingdom doesn’t treat the Heist Empire lightly.”
“They don’t treat other nations lightly either. The Empire’s military is too strong. I’ve had enough of the military. And Kaiser is purging rebels right now, isn’t he? I have no interest in walking into a purge.”
Louis handed me a bag. I opened it and checked the contents. Seven Dark Holes sealed in glass vials. An account card. First-class documentation for Neo London. And a Neo London Class-3 citizenship certificate.
“A pity. Why Neo London, though?”
“The Hapeil Republic… I killed a fair number of their soldiers. The moment I set foot there, they’d come for me. Divine France is supposedly even more peaceful than Neo London, but I want nothing to do with religion. Every other country is too deep under Freesel’s influence to be safe.”
“So you chose Neo London by process of elimination.”
I linked the account to my watch and checked the balance.
“…Why is there only fifty million credits?”
“Acquiring those Dark Holes in the bag cost two hundred million. Another six hundred million went to the Play Road drugs last time, and three hundred million to fully cryopreserve Vinous’s head. After deducting your identification papers, train fare, safe-house fees, and so on, fifty million credits remain. Originally it was four thousand seven hundred fifty-seven—I rounded up out of generosity.”
“…Your accounting is painfully precise.”
“Haha. As a businessman, I’ll take that as high praise. Ah—and if you look at the citizenship certificate, I chose the surname myself.”
“Yujin Meier. Not bad.”
“I was going to put Adolf, but… you didn’t seem fond of it. I went with something ordinary.”
“If it had been Adolf, I’d have thrown the certificate in your face.”
I stood up.
“Leaving already?”
“There’s nothing left to do if I stay.”
I packed clothes and essentials into the bag. With so little to my name, packing took five minutes.
“Louis. Do you believe in past lives?”
“Past lives, out of nowhere? I’m not well-versed in religion or mythology.”
“Not like that. I’ve been dreaming memories of past lives. Surprisingly, there was more than one.”
“Haha. Is that so. Were you a noble in a previous life, by any chance?”
“…How did you know? I was a count’s son.”
“Oh? What was the family name? I’ll look into it.”
“Hard to say. By the time I woke up, it had all gone hazy.”
“Rather frivolous conversation for a farewell. If you ever need my help, contact me. I’ll assist.”
“For free?”
“In my dictionary, service exists. Free does not.”
Before stepping out, I pulled the infinite face mask over my features. I planned to take it off only after arriving in Neo London.
“I’m going.”
“That’s a rather perfunctory goodbye, isn’t it?”
“We were never the type for heartfelt farewells.”
“Cold as ever. Well—travel safely. I’ve a feeling we’ll meet again.”
I didn’t answer. I just raised a hand in a wave and walked out.