Chapter 16
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 16
No, that can't be, the Count groaned softly. He was a fallen man, not even worth their notice. It made no sense to sacrifice dozens of subjugation squads just to punish him.
...Regardless of the truth, one thing was certain: this was dangerous.
"I have to stop them, somehow."
Even if a purge wasn't their sole purpose, there was no telling how out of hand things would get if they recklessly disturbed the Primordial Core. Although no major incidents had occurred in the last half-century, history showed that it wasn't unheard of for the monsters of the Primordial Core to run amok. According to the records, every time they stirred, the entire region was laid to waste—the Core was a disaster just by existing.
Think. The Count clutched his head. Think. Think of a way out. Even with the gatekeeper already defeated, it seemed impossible for thirty-one nobodies to conquer the Primordial Core.
Yet, he couldn't stop a subjugation led by the Imperial Family. Think. Think. Think.
"...So, the solution is that the Primordial Core just needs to be conquered."
A cunning plan began to form. They had been granted entry to the dungeon, but what if, unfortunately, the Primordial Core had already been conquered by the time they arrived? He could easily ignore a few regulations. Once a Great Evil Cave was conquered, no one would dare hold him accountable.
Yes, this is it. They would 'unavoidably' be unable to proceed. Having reached this conclusion, the Count considered the next problem.
In that case, how was he to assemble a squad capable of conquering the Primordial Core?
"They might be closer than you think, my Lord."
The old servant, who had spent half his life by his side, quietly murmured as if reading the Count's mind. Catching his meaning, Count Etarque’s thoughts went to the Magic Tower, 'Wing'. In the past, they were considered equivalent to a B-rank subjugation squad at best.
Although the Magic Tower had struggled to conquer even the B-rank dungeon 'Sanctuary Tetarinde', the current 'Wing' might actually be capable of it. Having grown exponentially of late, they had conquered over six B-rank dungeons in just a few days. Their recent achievements alone were enough to rival the prowess of an A-rank subjugation squad.
And the Count even knew their secret—the catalyst for this rapid growth was a supply of high-quality mana stones from an unknown source.
Challenging one of the Seven Great Evil Caves with only a single A-rank caliber squad was sheer madness, but it was certain that the Primordial Core was not in a normal state either. If the rumors the Count had heard were correct, the gatekeeper of the Right Path had been defeated, and the only monster remaining was Swallow—the very same one that had fought Hero Bern's subjugation squad. It was possible. Entirely possible.
"The Magic Tower, yes! Send someone to 'Wing' immediately! If I let those unheard-of bastards head to the Primordial Core, my life is over. They must have heard that the gatekeeper has been defeated, so offer them a fortune! Promise them riches and immense honor in my name as Lord, and commission them to conquer the Primordial Core by any means necessary! Beg them if you must! Just do whatever it takes..."
But the Count's shouting was cut short. He noticed another maid fidgeting anxiously at the door, though he had no idea when she had arrived.
When the Count glared at her, his eyes filled with irritation, the terrified maid squeaked, "A-A guest has arrived," before bowing deeply.
"A guest?"
Displeasure and disgust contorted the Count's face once more. His patience was wearing dangerously thin.
How much more do they intend to insult me? First, a notification without warning, and now someone showing up unannounced...!
"You the Count of this place?"
An unfamiliar voice cut through his thoughts.
A blonde man stepped out from behind the maid, followed by a crowd of dozens.
This was the castle of Hastin County, and this was the Count's private chamber. It was not a place anyone could enter without his permission.
"How dare you barge in here..."
But the Count could not finish his sentence. His anger instantly dissolved into hollow despair, leaving only a faint groan as his voice trailed off. One look at the intruders' attire was enough to understand the situation. The smug, triumphant expression of the man in the lead only confirmed it.
This was undoubtedly the subjugation squad from the document.
"Yep. Looking at your reaction, I guess I've got the right guy."
"...Who... are you?"
"Niphrim. It'd be a shame if you didn't recognize me, considering we might be seeing a lot of each other from now on."
The blonde man thrust a piece of parchment forward. A large imperial seal, which had no business being stamped there, caught the Count's eye.
This was a blatant threat.
"W-What brings you here without any prior notice...?"
"Why? Is there some reason I shouldn't be here?"
It was an incredibly insolent attitude. His pride refused to let him welcome such an uninvited guest, so the Count met him with silence.
Unbothered by the cold reception, the blonde man, Niphrim, pulled back the paper. He looked around, spotted a spacious sofa, and threw himself onto it. The mage sitting demurely next to him—a girl with short, light-green hair named Sylvia—gestured to the maid.
"Hey, we're guests, you know? And I want some snacks. Snacks and tea, please."
The maid broke into a cold sweat, glancing nervously at the Count. He let out a heavy sigh.
"...Bring it to them."
As the Count waved his hand dismissively, the other maids quickly scurried out of the room.
With over thirty uninvited guests, the private chamber was packed to the brim. It was utter chaos. Barely suppressing the urge to pick up the sword he had thrown earlier and slit all their throats, the Count forced a smile.
Surely, there was a reason they had arrived so early.
"Ha... so, what brings you here..."
Even though this was his own land and his own castle, the Count was the one walking on eggshells. After hovering awkwardly for a few minutes, he finally approached Niphrim with a strained smile.
The blonde man spoke, though his gaze was directed elsewhere.
"Sylvia, you gluttonous piece of trash. Do you really have to look for snacks even in a place like this?"
"Idiot, it's because we're in a place like this that we have to try them! And don't speak to a lady like that!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."
He was being completely ignored.
The Lord of the territory, ignored in his own castle—and by lowborn bastards with no pedigree, at that.
Endure, endure, endure, Etarque.
Desperately trying to calm himself, the Count asked again.
He bit his lip so hard he thought it would bleed. Only after being asked the same question four times did Niphrim finally turn his head toward the Count with an annoyed look.
"What do you mean? Obviously, we came to crush the Primordial Core."
The arrogant voice pierced the Count's ears.
"I-I see. Yes, then when do you plan to begin the subjugation...?"
"What's the rush?"
"Pardon? Oh, it's nothing. I merely intended to offer you food and lodging for a few days if you weren't in a hurry."
"Oh, the snacks are here! Snacks!"
The girl Sylvia's shout drowned out the Count's voice once again. The Count shot a resentful glare at the maid, a silent rebuke for her timing, but his gaze was lost in the commotion as she brought the tray to Sylvia.
Niphrim, who had been casually bantering with Sylvia, picked up a pastry.
Snapping it in half with his teeth, he continued.
"Hey, Count, what date does the document say the subjugation is scheduled for? Honestly, we were going to head out today. But something just came up, so we'll have to go tomorrow. That cool with you?"
"A-A schedule? What do you mean it just came up? And tomorrow? Isn't that far too rushed? This is a monumental task; surely it would be wiser to rest and recover your strength before setting out."
"Nah, don't sweat it. We're just going to stop by 'Wing' first, and then we'll head straight there."
"W-Wing? What business do you have there?"
"To kill them all."
The Count froze at the sudden, casual declaration. In the background, the sound of a maid dropping and shattering a teacup echoed through the room.
"...What... do you mean by that...?"
"Huh? Playing dumb now? Your security is so pathetic that eavesdropping with magic was a breeze. We heard everything on our way in. You were going to commission that 'Wing' place, right?"
"T-That is..."
"We came all the way here to conquer a dungeon. We can't just hand it over nicely, can we? It's only natural to eliminate any obstacles. Besides, this actually works out in your favor, Count. In the end, the stronger of the two forces will challenge the Primordial Core. If the survivor goes, you won't have to worry about a thing, right? Isn't that so, Count?"
Niphrim smirked. A bead of sweat rolled down the Count's jaw. Realizing there was no way to talk his way out of this, he lowered his head. Chuckling as if the sight was highly entertaining, Niphrim offered a casual suggestion.
"Or... did you happen to think of a better alternative?"
The Count kept his head bowed, remaining silent for a long moment before finally muttering.
"...Forgive my slip of the tongue."
"Pfft, I'm truly humbled by your grace, Count."
Satisfied only after hearing that groveling response, Niphrim picked up the remaining half of his pastry.
Crunch. Even the sound of him biting into the pastry felt exceptionally sharp.
*
"Please ride with us again!"
Wearing a practiced customer-service smile that Swallow could never get used to, Belviro immediately turned to welcome his next passenger. Judging by the newcomer's appearance, they were likely a wealthy noble. Aside from the sky carriage Swallow had just ridden, two others were circling the skies of Riaze, suggesting it was a popular mode of sightseeing for the wealthy.
The sky carriage had landed in 'Survey Rose.'
It was also known as the 'Street of Gold and Pleasure.' While that was its public reputation, the reality was that once the sun set, it became a "street of the night," where massive sums of money and deformed slaves changed hands to satisfy the bizarre, twisted whims of the nobility.
Having absolutely no knowledge of such things, Swallow and Melju had no way of verifying the truth, but that was how the sky horseman, Belviro, had described it.
Perhaps because the Emperor's palace lay just beyond a single wall, and this street was the playground of the empire's elite, a restrained and orderly atmosphere prevailed despite the dense crowds. Although there were easily enough people to turn the street into a chaotic marketplace, not a single person raised their voice. No one dared drown out the street bard's performance with noise. Of course, that didn't mean everyone in Survey Rose was a born gentleman.
Rather, the oppressive weight of high society's decorum kept the rowdy elements silent.
Swallow and Melju were similarly subdued. Swept up in the atmosphere, they kept their voices low as they pressed for answers.
"So... you are saying the Teleportation Hub is currently out of service?"
"Yes. We apologize for the inconvenience."
Of course, there wasn't a shred of sincerity on his face. Having uttered the word "sorry" hundreds of times a day, any actual remorse had likely withered away long ago. Reciting his rehearsed line, the gatekeeper bowed his head.
He wore a knee-length black robe. A necklace featuring a pentagram and a single-eye motif, crossed by four diagonal lines, identified him as a member of the Imperial Alchemy Society.
Behind him stood a massive structure resembling a biological experimentation capsule—undoubtedly the Teleportation Hub Melju had spoken of.
The metallic transmutation plate beneath the platform and the raw mana solution sloshing inside the massive crystal connected to the hub—anyone could tell at a glance that this was indeed a Teleportation Hub.
However, the crystal was currently devoid of light. Normally, mana circulating for active use would glow of its own accord. The lack of light meant the system wasn't even primed for operation.
In short, the power was shut off. The gatekeeper's claim that it was out of service was not a lie.
"I had no idea this would happen... I am so sorry, Sir Swald..."
Fidgeting anxiously, Melju spoke in a small, dejected voice as she clutched Swallow's sleeve. Having confidently declared that reaching the hub would solve all their problems, she was undoubtedly just as flustered as he was.
"Sigh..."
He felt bad for Melju, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her it was fine. Because it really wasn't.
The situation was bleak. His first instinct was to simply kill the gatekeeper and seize the hub, but on second thought, that was a terrible idea. He had no idea how to restart a deactivated hub, and more importantly, there was no guarantee this gatekeeper was the only one managing it.
If he killed the gatekeeper and another administrator saw it and permanently locked down the hub, he would end up causing a massive scene in Riaze for absolutely zero gain—the worst possible outcome.
Should I ask Melju to use brainwashing magic on him?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the gatekeeper spoke up cautiously. He had initially assumed Swallow was merely Melju's servant, but hearing her address him as "Sir Swald" seemed to have thrown him off. Confused, he directed his hesitant question to Swallow.
"Judging by the circumstances, it seems you absolutely must use the Teleportation Hub. Is it a matter of extreme urgency?"
"We need to get to Hastin... so, yes."
"If it isn't a matter of life and death, how about returning around eight o'clock tonight?"
"Eight? Will it be operational again by then?"
"The auction is scheduled to end at six, so the post-auction dinner should wrap up before eight. Since the VIPs planning to attend the subsequent banquet will be using the hub, the higher-ups will temporarily authorize its operation around that time."