Dragon's Breath (3)
Rumble.
The thick stone wall, responding to the mana of Roy who carried the Greenhilt bloodline, split open and revealed the secret space hidden within.
And in its center lay a large masked man, collapsed.
Traces of blood coughed from his mouth were visible.
What?
A golden goblet rolled across the floor.
It seemed he had drunk from it and lost his life.
Fell into a trap? That was a close call.
Roy carefully examined the small altar where the goblet must originally have rested, along with its surroundings. Traps of this sort were always placed nearest the treasure.
The real one should be hidden somewhere nearby as well...
He let a fine thread of mana flow from his fingertips, wary of any additional traps. After searching the area thoroughly, he discovered a mechanism—and at last he found it.
The true treasure.
A gourd flask?
The hidden object was a flask. And of course its contents were precisely what Roy had longed for all this time.
This is the real... Dragon's Breath!
That was when he suddenly sensed a presence at his back. Roy spun around at once.
"Boodle?"
"Well done, Young Master. I never imagined the interior would be structured like this... Without you here, I would have fallen into that trap myself without fail."
Roy's guard rose the instant Boodle appeared. Not because he had realized Boodle's betrayal of the family. At that moment Roy would have reacted the same way no matter who stepped into view.
If anyone tries to take this from me, I won't forgive them—no matter who they are.
He spoke in a calm voice.
"I'm sorry, but I still have business here. Would you step outside for a moment, Boodle?"
It was not a request. It was an order from the lord's son. The corpse lying nearby meant nothing to him.
"I apologize. That won't be possible."
Roy's eyes flew wide.
The psychic spell that had controlled the dagger had already been released. Boodle drew his sword without warning and lunged at Roy in a single fluid motion—a speed so great there was no time even to react. The dark-blue blade, swung without hesitation through the darkness, arced diagonally to cleave the boy's body in two.
Just as the edge was about to bite into the slender right shoulder of the young boy—
Kiiiiing—
Light exploded.
"...!?"
The amulets Roy had worn for just such a contingency flared with dazzling radiance.
Creak—
"What in the world..."
Though no famous blade, the solid longsword of forged steel crumpled as if it were mere paper. Not a single scratch remained on Roy's body.
Boodle stared down at the boy, unable to hide his shock. The light from the amulets quickly faded.
"Y-Young Master...?"
What had that light been? Boodle wanted to demand an explanation from the boy.
"A steel sword crumpling... how did you do that?"
But Roy gave no answer.
"What have I done... I was only... thinking of taking a little of the Dragon's Breath."
Though he had lost his weapon on the spot, Boodle still held every absolute advantage—remaining mana, physical power, even experience. Yet the reality before him was nothing of the sort. The one who held the upper hand was clearly the boy.
Boodle could not erase from his mind the image of the child who had destroyed the sword he swung, mysterious light pouring from both arms. It was fear. He even felt a strange awe.
I thought he had talent, but to this extent...
No matter how gifted Roy might be by birth, Boodle had always believed the boy inferior to his own grandson. The truth was that the child standing before him was a complete monster. He dared not attack, afraid that next time his own arm might end up like that crumpled blade. Better to coax the boy with words and secure even a portion of the Dragon's Breath.
"Young Master... do you know what is inside that flask...?"
Even then Roy uttered not a single word. He simply raised his arm slowly and opened his palm forward.
—Thud!
It happened in an instant. Boodle glared at Roy with an expression of utter disbelief and slowly collapsed to the floor. A sharp dagger of unknown origin was buried in the back of his head.
From the very moment the amulet had activated under Boodle's attack, Roy had been preparing magic through Silent Casting. He had forced out the last dregs of mana that were already exhausted. His vision had been blurring. Every nerve was concentrated solely on bringing the enemy down.
Not yet... just a little longer...
He could not fall now.
How long I have waited for this moment.
Having felled every enemy, Roy immediately uncorked the flask in his hand. They had called it liquor, and indeed a deep alcoholic aroma rose. The chance of poison was almost none—every detail pointed to this flask as the greatest treasure. Still, caution cost nothing, so he first dipped a finger and tasted it.
"Mm..."
There was no doubt. This was the Dragon's Breath he had sought, the prize he had craved for so long. A thrill raced from the tip of his tongue through his entire body, as though every cell prepared itself to accept new mana.
"Now I am reborn."
Roy lifted the entire flask to his lips and drank. The quiet underground chamber filled only with the sound of gulping.
"Pwah!"
Having emptied it completely, he collapsed spread-eagled on the floor. So much had happened today; he was exhausted beyond measure. The world seemed to spin. Two corpses lay beside him, yet he paid them no mind. He was ready to feel ecstasy with his whole body, just as he had the first time he lost his virginity in his previous life.
Still lying there, Roy felt his eyelids grow heavy. Sleep crashed over him—whether from the new mana, from fatigue, or from the alcohol, he could not tell. He only knew he would sink into deep slumber for a long while.
Thus the boy fell into a long sleep.
After Roy drifted off, a heavy rumble sounded and the massive stone door concealing the secret space closed of its own accord.
Unable to wait any longer, the household staff entered the main building through a side door rather than the central entrance. They were worried both about the missing Young Master Roy and the suspicious intruders they had glimpsed earlier.
Chief Butler Ibaldo ordered the servants to arm themselves and assemble. Kitchen knives, gardeners' shears, sickles, pickaxes, shovels, hammers—anything that could serve as a weapon was seized, and they advanced together.
When Ibaldo reached the empty central reception hall, he could only stare in horror. Blood was splattered across the floor, and a thick stench of iron filled the air.
"Chief Butler. Over here. The door leading underground is open. There's light as well."
"What!? Make way!"
As the only one among them who could use magic, he had to take the lead.
"Follow me slowly."
Ibaldo had the male servants trail behind him as he descended the stairs. When he rounded the corner at the bottom of the underground steps, the sight of Baroness Ana Greenhilt lying wounded and bloodied met his eyes. Checking her pulse was the first priority.
"Thankfully she still lives. You—run to the temple at once and bring a priest. Hurry!"
"Yes, sir!"
"There's another person down over here. It looks like Lord Geren... Ugh!?"
"Why the fuss—wh-why is there so much blood on the floor? Chief Butler, this man is going to die soon at this rate!"
"You two support him. I will carry the Baroness myself. You—go fetch the maids at once!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
Then another shout rang out.
"Chief Butler. There are more people inside... the intruders. But all three of them seem to be dead."
Ibaldo gently laid Ana on the floor and focused on assessing the situation. Healing her was vital, yet that would have to wait for the temple priest. What he had to prioritize right now was tracking the whereabouts of the remaining intruders.
"Only three? No more?"
"Yes. Just the three."
Inside the underground storeroom only three corpses were visible. The large masked man and Deputy Butler Boodle were nowhere to be found. They searched every chamber of the underground warehouse, yet neither appeared. Ibaldo himself eventually stood before the suspicious wall bearing the Greenhilt crest, gazed at the stone surface for a long moment, and simply walked back out. Though he was the chief butler of the house, he had never known a hidden space existed within the underground storeroom.
He finally opened his eyes.
Pitch-black darkness. How long had he been asleep?
"Ugh!"
A stench so foul it stabbed the nose left him reeling. Roy immediately cast Lighting Magic. The sudden glare of his own spell nearly blinded him.
Yet one impossible fact stood out: though he had just used Lighting Magic, he felt almost no change in his internal mana. Before he slept it had never been like this.
Right. I drank the Dragon's Breath...
Nearby, two corpses already beginning to rot gave off an unbearable reek, and the empty flask lay discarded. Every memory of what had happened only a short while ago returned with perfect clarity.
"Haha..."
Roy laughed. He laughed until his mouth nearly split.
Time for an immediate test!
There were several spells he had known by heart yet could never cast because of his pitiful mana reserves. No—not several. Most intermediate and advanced magic had been beyond him. But that was the past. Everything was different now.
From the countless incantations he had memorized perfectly and was eager to try at once, Roy selected a few.
First, spirit summoning.
The reason so-called high-ranking mages could cast magic of any attribute was manyfold, but the greatest was that contracts with spirits allowed them to supplement whatever attributes they lacked.
Roy began the chant at once—the peculiar formula written in an ancient tome that Hero Carl had retrieved from deep within a dungeon in his previous life. Even after successfully deciphering it, he had never possessed enough mana even to attempt the ancient spirit-summoning magic.
It might fail, but I have to try.