Chapter 276
Chapter 276
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Monstrosity Warehouse
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He was a man who bore both the physique of an aged noble and the aura of a seasoned mercenary.
The lord of the Gainan Family, rulers of Thormun.
At the same time, the head of the Popandal Scabbard.
Bolton Gainan.
He trusted Stone Heart Delon completely.
A rarity for him, to say the least.
Yet now, he eyed Delon with utter suspicion, as if convinced the man had lost his mind.
His deeply furrowed brow screamed profound distrust toward his subordinate's sanity.
"If you can't convince me, you're a madman from here on out."
His eyes said it all.
Bolton kept his mouth shut, but Rishir heard his voice clear as day.
He even understood the reaction.
"Yes, I figured you'd react that way."
Rishir nodded calmly, as if it were expected.
"Knew you'd think I'm nuts too."
"...So you've been keeping something from me."
"That's right."
"Then spit it out. Choose your words carefully."
Bolton placed a hand on the copper bracelet around his wrist.
In that instant.
Rishir felt something stab the nape of his neck like a needle.
A warning from his instincts.
His gut deemed Bolton dangerous.
'Why?'
Rishir felt considerable confusion.
Bolton's presence differed starkly from powerhouses that had ever triggered his instincts before.
The man had merely rested his hand on the bracelet.
No other movements, no surge of extraordinary power.
'Hiding his strength for a surprise attack? Nah.'
Rishir had inherited the pinnacle of assassination swordsmanship; ambushes were his domain.
He trusted himself to detect even the most minimized stealthy motions.
His honed senses spanned countless fields.
Swordplay and magic. Even black magic and curses.
In that light, Bolton's demeanor was impeccable.
No hint of ambush preparation.
Thus, Rishir was certain.
This man's abilities clearly transcended normal bounds.
If he attacked, it'd be in a way Rishir had never encountered.
"..."
Rishir realized he was tense.
He didn't hide it. Nor did he conceal his wariness or fear, letting it show plainly.
Thus, their footing evened out.
Just as he couldn't read Bolton's ploy, Bolton couldn't read his.
Rishir slowly shifted his legs, confirming the weight of the sword at his waist.
The man was already within striking range.
From confrontation to standoff.
The once light atmosphere grew heavier, charged with killing intent by the moment.
"W-Wait a sec!!!"
Then.
Delon cried out in panic.
He knew his lord well.
And had some inkling about this man called Rishir.
Caught in even a sliver of their fight?
It'd make a black mage's torture feel like a joke.
"Lord Bolton! Before the story, let me say this first! My mind is perfectly sound! Sound enough to stay cool even if my dead mom came back slathered in mud! I held back the full truth from you from the start purely for the sake of our Popandal Scabbard!"
"..."
"And, Lord Rishir! Lord Bolton is wise and just! As long as I don't pull anything stupid, he'll never put you in a bind!"
"..."
Bolton nodded to Delon.
The sight ill-fit his "Stone Heart" moniker, utterly unfamiliar, but at least he didn't look possessed by the demon sword's curse or monstrosity power.
He removed his hand from the bracelet and spoke.
"Forgive my rudeness. We're on edge with everything going on, so I overreacted."
"I understand. It's about that demon sword, after all."
"...How much have you heard from Delon?"
"Up to the part where Popandal Scabbard is going all-out tracking the demon sword—that's all I know."
"From my side, I understand you were pulled from the elf expeditionary force to aid in the demon sword hunt."
"Exactly. We're here to assist your demon sword pursuit."
"A warning for your sake: chasing that thing is no walk in the park. Even if you prepare beyond expectations, greater dangers await."
"I know."
"No! You don't!"
The Gainan Family had upheld Scabbard duties for generations.
Bolton was certain he knew monstrosity dangers better than anyone.
The demon sword especially.
It fit within specs yet defied them.
Its power rivaled the inscrutability of Type 0 monstrosities.
Type 0s were untouchable without intel.
Put differently, intel made them manageable.
But the demon sword was different.
Intel didn't help; its inscrutability stemmed from pure, overwhelming might.
Those who chased it would be swept away by that tidal wave of power.
Bolton eyed them once more.
The young man and the little girl.
First impressions soured by elven malice,
But conversation shifted that.
The man was earnest.
Evident even in brief exchange.
He couldn't let such a one shoulder unrelated burdens and be crushed.
"Return to your expedition. Convey my will clearly to the elves! No words of yours will sway me!"
Rishir became the demon swordsman.
"H-Huh?!"
Bolton was convinced.
"Impossible... To dominate that demon sword...? How in the world... W-Wait, the holy sword! That's it—the holy sword was the key! Overpowering even the demon sword's might... As expected of the hero's relic!!!"
A moment later.
Having heard Delon's tale, Bolton's eyes gleamed as he fervently jotted notes.
Claiming he'd finally found the demon sword's countermeasure.
-That's it! Trifles like demon swords are nothing before the holy sword! But demon sword parts need more verification, so note that clearly.
"...What the hell was that, Jalrak? Not some insurance ad—"
Next, Rishir discussed demon sword tracking details with Bolton.
We'll handle this from our expedition side, you do that in Thormun—back and forth like that.
"Is this really okay...?"
Bolton still seemed dazed but nodded in the end.
The demon sword vanishing abruptly.
An internal traitor confirmed but identity unknown.
The demon sword lurking, threatening Thormun.
In this mess, help from its dominator? Why hesitate!
Bolton promised to meet every expedition demand once the sword was recovered.
"Rest up, and I'll promptly dispatch aides to assist on this mission!"
Afterward.
Rishir and Alenza followed their guide to the guest quarters.
Alenza excitedly toured the spacious room—
Rishir watched quietly beside her; how long had it been?
"Hm? Already?"
That was Rishir's reaction to the knock.
He'd thought the personnel Bolton mentioned were assembled quicker than expected.
"Oh..."
Alenza admired the cityscape from the window below.
Rishir turned from her to greet the visitor.
Opening the door, a maid bowed to him.
"Lord Rishir. A message from Lord Bolton."
Rishir's gaze unconsciously drifted to her lips.
The somewhat dark hue seemed purplish.
Then to her body.
'A swordswoman?'
She hid it well, but Rishir saw clearly.
The sharpness of her honed, tempered physique.
'Right, everyone in the mansion belongs to Popandal Scabbard.'
Rishir nodded and replied.
"Yes. Tell me."
Instead of words, the maid handed him a book.
"This is...?"
"Lord Bolton requests you memorize its contents immediately."
"Immediately?"
"Ah!"
As Rishir went to open it right then, the maid panicked and waved her hands.
"Lowly ones like me aren't to know, so please wait until I'm gone—"
"Ah, got it."
"Thank you. Then I'll—"
The maid departed.
Rishir examined the book again.
At a glance, utterly ordinary.
Too ordinary, suspiciously so.
"Beloved Confectionery?"
Rishir questioned the title on the cover.
But soon shrugged.
"Secretive group, so secret storage methods, I guess."
He opened Beloved Confectionery.
"..."
The maid stood silently before the door, suppressing her presence.
A moment later.
Her purplish lips curved into a sinister line.
"About time..."
She figured by now the meddlers had read the "Succession Book."
Their brains overwritten by that monstrosity in book form.
The maid closed her eyes and placed a hand on the doorknob.
The instant she opened the door—
"Huh? Something wrong?"
A man's voice rang out.
'Damn! He hasn't read it yet!?'
What a slow bastard.
The maid cursed inwardly and opened her eyes.
As she hastily mustered a friendly smile—
"Eh?"
Her face fell in shock.
Beloved Confectionery
The man had clearly opened that "Succession Book," eyes scanning the page.
"Wh-What...?"
As myriad thoughts swirled in the maid's head.
"Hey, is this the right one?"
Rishir said, puzzled.
"..."
The maid nodded unwittingly.
As he'd said, the Succession Book—
No, that book had an issue.
'Did the Succession Book transfer somewhere in the meantime?'
"Wanna see?"
Rishir thrust the book toward the maid.
The moment her eyes caught the page's edge.
Text like rising smoke began filling the maid's mind.
Her pupils flooded black with ink-like letters.
"!!!!!"
She whipped her head away with unnatural speed unfit for a maid.
Too late.
"Ah!"
Sensation vanished from one leg.
No. She'd forgotten how to feel her leg.
"Hiiik...!!!"
The maid clawed at the floor with her hands.
For some reason, her gaze fixed not on the Succession Book, but the man.