Chapter 215
Chapter 215
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: A Truly Humble Person
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Rocard had until now pegged all of Rishir's reactions to his manipulations as nothing more than 'bluffing'.
Pretending to be nonchalant. Exaggerating one's own prowess.
Those humiliated by his deceptions often preserved their self-esteem in just such ways.
But now...
Rocard's thinking had shifted dramatically.
'That guy named his friend who taught him how to decipher the black magic barrier... and that friend is supposedly the creator of the entire black magic branch that includes this barrier?'
There were limits even to bluffing.
Rishir's current 'bluff' was far too outlandish to help him wriggle out of the present situation.
No one blinded by inferiority complexes, no matter how foolish, would stoop to spouting such absurd nonsense.
And so.
For the first time, Rocard sensed something off about Rishir's behavior.
His impression of Rishir flipped in an instant.
From a greenhorn fun to toy with through clumsy posturing—
'Just what the hell is this guy...?'
And so.
After layers of rumination, Rocard shook his head vigorously, as if casting it all aside.
He suddenly felt ridiculous.
To take such drivel seriously.
—It's a bluff.
—The guy's just bluffing like crazy right now.
Rocard scolded himself inwardly.
As if soothing his unease.
"Lord Rishir. Is that correct?"
At that moment.
One of the grand black magic experts addressed him.
"We have heard of your reputation as a lord. You resolved the Gray Tower's 'issue' and were recognized as an honorary mage, yes?"
Issue.
Rishir's eyebrows shot up in considerable surprise at the loaded reference.
The 'Tullan incident' he meant was something Rishir himself took pride in publicizing, but from the Gray Tower's perspective, it was a blemish they kept under wraps—a sort of state secret not shared externally.
The grand black magic expert smiled faintly, revealing a touch of pride at Rishir's reaction.
"Not that I'm claiming expertise in all things. But when it comes to black magic, I make every effort not to fall behind. We have no intention of recklessly tarnishing the Gray Tower's honor, so rest assured. I bring this up solely to pay respects to your achievements. Your feat in resolving the tower's issue has our keen interest."
"Thank you for the kind words."
But.
Midway through the warm exchange, the grand black magic expert grew solemn as he added,
"Lord Rishir. This much, I must convey clearly. As a mage confronting black mages, there's a vast gulf between that and approaching their power from the same perspective they do."
The yellow mages watching from the side nodded in agreement.
In truth.
The Yellow Tower had likewise grasped the circumstances behind Rishir's recognition as an honorary mage.
Including the fact that he had rooted out the black mage who infiltrated their tower.
Even so.
They did not regard Rishir as a viable counter to grand black magic.
As the expert had said, sniffing out a hidden black mage was worlds apart from comprehending and accessing their knowledge.
Rooting out a black mage ended with dealing with that one individual.
But interpreting black magic knowledge that formed barriers or permeated the dungeon throughout?
One misstep could inflict massive casualties on the investigation team.
"So, if I may be so bold. You say you've figured out the barrier's interpretation method. Or at least its direction. Could you clearly explain the basis for that judgment?"
In the end, his point converged with Rocard's.
His friend made it, so he knows.
What kind of nonsense was that, Rishir?
The grand black magic expert's pupils trembled faintly.
"N-Now, now. That's enough."
At that instant, Rocard intervened, purporting to mediate.
"Lord Rishir must have his reasons for saying so. Peppering him with questions like this just comes off as an interrogation, doesn't it? Consider his position and let's leave it there."
It sounded exceedingly polite at first glance—
But in substance, it dismissed Rishir's statement as nonsense.
Like defending a foolhardy soul.
And so.
Rocard tried to slither out of the situation with his usual deceitful tactics.
Yes. Slither out.
Rocard's interruption wasn't solely to paint Rishir as a fool.
He felt unease creeping in subtly.
Rishir's bluff of spouting such implausible grandiosity so calmly.
The anxiety that it might not stem from stupidity, but from genuine confidence.
Rocard's mind flickered with prior events.
In those memories, he had believed himself the deceiver of Rishir.
But what if it was the reverse?
What if he was the one being played, and Rishir inwardly mocked him all along?
Rocard's ornate face flushed red beneath his habitual humble smile.
Faint veins bulged below his neck.
An unprecedented humiliation for the Golden Divinity—
One too excruciating to endure even in imagination.
"Isn't that right, Lord Rishir?"
Unable to fully swallow the humiliation, Rocard subtly took credit.
As if all his actions were for the other's sake, not his own.
"Come on. Interrogation? No need to put it like that. It's a perfectly reasonable question."
A polite yet subtly mischievous smile.
Rishir's reply.
It cracked Rocard's humble smile.
He vaguely recognized that expression—the one he wore when looking down on his dupe.
"Above all. Proving my qualifications here is the best way to live up to Lord Rocard's expectations, wouldn't you say?"
"Expectations..."
Until moments ago, Rishir had been to Rocard nothing more than prime fodder for amusement—nothing less.
He had sent no such expectations his way.
Yet Rocard could say nothing.
"Because Lord Rocard trusted me enough to press the Gray Tower on my behalf. Right?"
The gambit meant to pressure the Gray Tower now pressured Rocard in turn.
Rocard couldn't accept it.
How had his bid to seize full justification via the Gray Tower's blunder backfired like this?
'No, no—'
Rocard forcibly halted the negative spiral.
Telling himself he was overreacting.
His friend who created the black magic branch taught him about the barrier.
Absurd.
Surely nonsense too embarrassing to repeat would spill from Rishir's lips.
Clinging to that belief, Rocard mustered his humble smile anew.
A rigid one, unlike his usual.
"...Indeed. As I keep stressing. The Yellow Tower places great expectations on the Gray Tower, especially you, Lord Rishir. If you're amenable, by all means."
Rocard gestured.
Rishir gladly stepped forward.
"Do you see this?"
Rishir pointed to a specific part of the magic circle.
"This signifies the 'Burning Black Flame,' indicating the magic circle is based on that power. From the looks of it, this is a barrier spell. If an unauthorized person enters, those black flames incinerate the intruder."
"The Burning Black Flame...!"
The grand black magic experts gasped at the name.
An epithet and symbol of a mighty upper demon.
Rocard shot them a glance demanding explanation.
Understanding, Rocard unwittingly let out a scoff.
If their words held true.
Then Rishir had deciphered the arcane black magic runes on the spot—
With help from his 'upper demon' friend, no less.
"Lord Rishir. If I may cautiously ask... do you perhaps serve that demon known as the Burning Black Flame?"
His humble smile looked utterly delighted, despite the caution.
How could he suppress his mirth when the situation forced Rishir to admit demon worship to prove his prowess?
The Yellow Tower promptly mobilized.
They turned wary eyes on the Gray Tower.
"Gray Tower! Explain yourselves! Are you harboring a demon worshiper!?"
The Yellow Tower's master grilled them sharply.
That sparked razor-sharp tension in the room.
WHO DARES SAY MY MASTER SERVES ANYONE?!
MY MASTER IS A NOBLE BEING WHO REIGNS SUPREME!
The voice shattered the tension.
All eyes snapped to the table.
A gray-white fireball flickered there before they knew it.
Whoosh!
"...!"
Black flames overlaid the black magic runes on the table.
How to take a demon's guarantee?
Such trivial questions were set aside.
"My god."
The grand black magic experts gaped as if short of breath.
"Th-That spirit with such pure energy... is truly Dangaleon...?"
How an upper demon became a pure spirit.
How it came to serve a mere individual.
They couldn't even fathom it.
They alternated stares between the gray-white fireball and Rishir.
Their shocked gazes gradually turned to awe.
"Please, continue sharing your wisdom!"
They cleanly forgot their original purpose.
Why they were here, or their employer's existence—none of it mattered anymore.
Their eyes held only the mysterious spirit and its master.
Soon after.
Regaining their senses, they told Rocard,
"Lord Rocard! Racheta! For this dungeon investigation, anything black magic-related—we'll follow Lord Rishir's lead entirely!"
"...!"
Racheta nodded readily, swept up in their momentum.
And Rocard.
'Commanding a demon as a spirit... what in the world...'
As shocked as the experts, he trembled with humiliation beyond measure.
This confirmed it.
Rishir.
He was the deceiver, not himself.
"I'm glad I can live up to your expectations, Lord Rocard."
Rishir gazed at Rocard with a profoundly humble smile.
That marked the Gray Tower's inclusion in the joint dungeon investigation team.
Based on intel relayed from the site, the Yellow Tower conducted analysis, then sent the refined data back for the investigation.
The dungeon probe proceeded in this systematic fashion.
Rishir felt mixed emotions.
Should he feel relief at not directly experiencing the perilous dungeon?
Or regret at missing out on such an intriguing place firsthand?
Either way.
Rishir decided to be happy.
By safeguarding the Gray Tower's rights against the Yellow Tower's unilateral actions.
Rishir had secured the role of 'Grand Black Magic Chief Consultant' in the joint dungeon investigation team.
This meant the Gray Tower gained legitimate standing in the matter.
A triumph pulled from the brink where even their scant justification might be stripped away—the Gray Tower rejoiced greatly.
Especially—
Some masters, long tormented by the Yellow Tower's haughty dominance, were nearly in tears of joy.
Time passed once more.
Rishir visited the Yellow Tower's quarters where the investigation was underway, accompanied by Masters Meltas and Didoa.
"Allow me to express our thanks once again to Lord Rocard. For opening this opportunity for our tower! From your fair and just standpoint, you must have questioned the injustice of the Gray Tower not receiving due treatment. Isn't that so?"
"..."
Rocard, suddenly hailed as the hero who saved the Gray Tower from the Yellow Tower's tyranny.
Various gazes turned his way.
The gray mages looked on him fondly—
While the yellow mages eyed him askance.
Expressions lamenting a reality where they yearned to speak volumes against the disciple of the Golden Star, yet could not.
"And such swift, meticulous preliminary preparations allowing us to commence the dungeon probe right away! Thanks to you, the Gray Tower need only show up in person! Surely another consideration to ease our burdens?"
No.
Those swift preparations were meant to rob the Gray Tower of response time.
Yet.
That intent had twisted, per Rishir's words, into genuine consideration for alleviating the Gray Tower's load.
Yellow mages' reluctant gazes turned to Rocard once more.
"Ahem. Enough, Lord Rishir. Gilding my face like this only burdens me."
"Oh... such humility. As expected of Lord Rocard."
Gazes treating Rocard as a truly good man!
Rocard suppressed the urge to gouge out those eyes and calmed himself.
He desperately hoped.
For a chance at vengeance before the investigation ended.
S soon, Racheta, head of the White Iron Guild, arrived.
Her fatigue-worn face brightened like clouds parting upon seeing Rishir.
"Lord Rishir! Thanks to your counsel, the team passed the entrance, secured the interior stably, and established a base camp!"
"Oh! Already!? As expected of the White Iron Guild!"
"No such thing! It's all thanks to you, Lord Rishir!"
No empty flattery.
As an adventurer versed in many dungeons, Racheta knew the trickiest obstacle one faced inside.
Black magic.
Even top experts hit dead ends against dungeon black magic, halting progress immediately.
Sometimes abandoning the delve altogether.
Yet.
The moment Rishir intervened, that black magic burden vanished cleanly.
Using his method shut down barriers guarding the entrance and dungeon throughout.
Moreover.
Achieving it in a single day galvanized her further.
Dungeon investigations were massive undertakings on which a guild's fate hung, from an adventurer guild's view.
During the probe.
The guild poured most of its manpower in.
Thus.
Every hour, every day counted as money and resources.
Rishir's swift resolution shortened the timeline!
Already a huge boon for White Iron Guild.
Overjoyed, Racheta blurred even the formal atmosphere befitting an official venue.
Her face beaming at Rishir!
She could've dragged him to a tavern with 'Hey bro! Got time tonight? Make time!' and no one would've batted an eye.
"White Iron Guild will never forget Lord Rishir's feats!"
"No."
"Pardon?"
"I'm merely representing the Gray Tower in this matter."
"...Ah! Right! The Gray Tower!"
Even crediting his achievements to his affiliation.
His maturity beyond his years deepened Racheta's gaze.
The Yellow Tower nowhere in her thoughts.
"Ahem. Racheta? Lord Rishir seems troubled."
Unable to endure, Rocard spoke up.
His humble facade nearly gone by now.
"Ah! Look at me! Can't have that. Wasting your valuable time."
She promptly presented freshly relayed site intel.
"The standout element this time is this."
"That's..."
A silver key, luster faded yet exuding extraordinary presence.
Large, thick.
With a red gem at its core.
A treasure in its own right, not just a key.
Yet.
It was undoubtedly a key.
"From our investigations. It seems to be the key to the dungeon's depths."
"Master Didoa. Do you sense it?"
"...Yes. Faintly. What about you, Rishir?"
"..."
Rishir nodded at Meltas and Didoa's words.
The key—precisely the vast energy in its red gem—registered clearly.
The Yellow Tower side reacted similarly.
Rocard spoke.
"Magical power resides within the gem. Quite a vast amount—"
Racheta nodded.
"Precisely. Thus, we once more request aid from the magic towers, essences of magic."
Her gaze fixed on Rishir.
How miraculous a resolution would he show this time!?
Her expression that of a woman in love.
"This time, the Yellow Tower will handle it."
Rocard emphasized, unable to stand idly by.
"We can't burden Lord Rishir with unknown risks."
Too much for you, but not for me.
The implication in his humble tone.
Moreover, Rocard's eyes gleamed.
Strong anticipation and resolve to redeem his prior humiliation through this.
"Ah! Is that so! Perfect timing."
Racheta brightened at Rocard.
She produced another key.
"Then, might the Yellow Tower take charge of analyzing this key?"
"..."
It resembled the previous at a glance, but the embedded gem created subtle differences.
Among them, its 'comparatively smaller size' nagged at Rocard, though he ignored it.
Thereafter.
In probing the key, they uncovered one fact.
"Using the key's power transports one somewhere. But only a single person."
At Meltas's words, gazes in the room darted about.
"Then, I'll represent the Yellow Tower."
Rocard raised his hand immediately.
His gaze subtly toward Rishir.
Provocative, almost.
"Then, I'll represent the Gray Tower."
"Oh? Lord Rishir. Are you sure? This might not involve grand black magic knowledge. No need to push yourself—entrust it to me. Though lacking, I'll strive not to burden you."
—Since it's too much for you, leave it to me?
Rocard said in his signature 'humble' manner.
"No. The Gray Tower participates solely thanks to Lord Rocard's grace. I must strive to meet those expectations."
"..."
The two 'humble' gazes clashed.
Moments later.
Rocard, eager to outpace Rishir, hastily drew forth the key's power.
The two vanished from the room in turn, guided by the keys.
"Where's..."
Rocard surveyed his surroundings.
A mansion corridor.
Windows boarded, lights out, yet bright enough for decent visibility.
Then.
A vivid glow seized Rocard's attention.
The key still clutched in his hand shone.
That light seemed to beckon him down the corridor ahead.
"Lord Rocard?"
"...!"
A voice amid his fixation on the light.
Rocard startled and turned right.
Rishir stood there.
"...How reassuring!"
He uttered insincere words.
"This key must lead to the same space."
"So it seems."
Rishir's key likewise glowed like Rocard's.
But beckoning him down the opposite corridor end.
"Unfortunately. We can't proceed together."
"So it seems."
"..."
Then.
Rocard grinned slyly, hit by a fine idea.
He sighed feebly.
"Truth be told. I'm quite anxious."
"Lord Rocard?"
"I stepped forward confidently before my tower comrades... but my heart isn't so bold. This situation feels alien, worrisome, frightening even."
He mustered a self-doubting smile.
"So. Lord Rishir. If it's not too much, once your side's resolved, could you come aid mine promptly?"
"Understood. I'll strive to support you as swiftly as possible, Lord Rocard."
Rishir spoke with resolute confidence.
Rocard inwardly smirked slyly at the sight.
That confidence was most welcome.
After all.
He'd finish first and go aid the other.
Could that confidence—
That attitude hold then?
Rocard savored the long-awaited chance for payback.
"Then, fare well."
"You too, Lord Rishir."
Deliberately, Rocard advanced a beat ahead of Rishir into the corridor.
Toward where the key's light led.
"Here, is it."
Corridor's end.
An open room without a door awaited Rocard.
"Armor..."
Entering, the first thing in Rocard's sight: armor.
Sword gripped reverse, standing centerpiece.
The red gem embedded in its breastplate caught Rocard's eye.
Identical to the key's.
Clank.
"..."
Closing in on the armor, Rocard fell back a step.
The armor moved.
Darkness in the helmet seemed to take form, staring.
Now guiding him was the armor's gem, not the key's light.
The gem pulsed powerfully yet emptily.
As if demanding mana to fill its void.
Rocard vaguely grasped it.
'Infuse mana into the gem, control its energy to dominate the armor—that's the key master's duty.'
Rocard already wore a delighted smile.
Golden Star.
His inherited unique magic, the Golden Divinity's forte: 'Object Control'—dominating and wielding objects' energies.
Rocard upended a pouch from his bosom.
Golden dust scattered, coalescing into form.
Golden blades.
At his gesture, they surged toward the armor.
Clang!
Clang clang!
Golden blades pierced the armor's joints, seizing its motion.
Screeech—
Thrashing armor.
Rocard closed the gap leisurely, hand outstretched to the gem.
Thus.
The instant he sought full control of the gem's energy—
"...!"
Ting!
Blinding metallic clash erupted before Rocard's eyes.
His artifact activated, sensing peril.
Golden dust burst from his bosom, forming a shield.
To block the sword the armor had thrust.
"What...!"
He hadn't tracked the armor's motion at all.
Without the artifact, he'd be skewered already.
Realizing this, Rocard felt every hair stand on end.
Same moment.
"Armor?"
Rishir, arrived at his corridor-end room, faced armor decoration.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Three armor decorations.
They greeted Rishir from each direction.
Assuming stances to combat a mage.
Shing!
Rishir drew his sword.
"..."
"..."
"..."
They paused briefly.