Chapter 120
Chapter 120
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: Savage Territory: Priella Atria (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A deep darkness had settled over the back alleys of the city.
In the deserted alleyway where no signs of life stirred, eerie noises echoed repeatedly.
Crack, crunch—!
Amid the irregular bursting sounds shattering the alley's silence.
A man hoisted a blood-drenched axe and spoke while gazing at the figure sprawled before him.
"Hoo... So the empire's mages aren't all that impressive after all."
A short on the battle slipped from the lips of Woki, the Valtur tribesman warrior, as he let out an excited breath.
The identity of the man he had just felled was none other than a battle mage from the Magic Corps.
He didn't know the name.
The moment he realized the opponent was a mage, Woki had swung his axe without hesitation.
Against the empire's mage he encountered for the first time today, Woki's axe had danced mercilessly.
"At this rate, I can't even get a proper warm-up. The fight ended before I could even get into it—what a letdown."
Rattle.
Woki slung his hefty axe over his shoulder and glared at the fallen mage with eyes full of dissatisfaction.
Just like the imperial soldiers he had faced at the border, the Magic Corps mages hadn't put up any real resistance before meeting their end at Woki's hands.
Woki was one of the Five Tusks, renowned even within the Ervar Alliance for his prowess.
For such a warrior's axe to be faced head-on by battle mages was nearly impossible.
A few axe swings were all it took for their defensive spells to shatter, sending them crashing to the ground.
"Korkia, can't we at least take down some of those imperial guards patrolling nearby instead?"
But Woki wasn't thrilled with such fights.
A true warrior's battle should be hot and fierce.
He wanted to drag the nearby guards over and have them charge all at once.
Unfortunately, the alliance's grand shaman had no intention of indulging Woki's desires.
"Easy there, young warrior. Even with the spirits' power intact, rampaging like that will draw unwanted eyes."
Korkia placated him with a wrinkled smile.
It was a warning that excessive frenzy might affect the ritual.
"A fine warrior knows how to maintain composure, just like your great chieftain."
"......"
After saying that, Korkia's footsteps turned toward the mage's corpse.
Step, thud.
The uneven footfalls echoed in Woki's ears.
She intended to harvest the mage's heart for the stargazer ritual's materials.
"......Fine. But I won't hold out for long."
Even if Woki enjoyed the great chieftain's favor, he couldn't ignore the grand shaman's advice in the heart of enemy territory.
In the end, he chose to heed her words.
Keekekeel—.
Pleased with Woki's attitude, Korkia added an intriguing tale directed at him.
"Young warrior. Right now, the great chieftain's mood is no different from yours."
"......"
"You know how long the Mother Earth's great warrior has awaited the stargazer ritual. So now that it's drawing near, even the chieftain must be itching with anticipation—"
It was the story of the Ervar Alliance's great chieftain, Patringer, eagerly awaiting the two of them.
It made sense.
The chieftain he knew was a man who spared no means or methods to grow stronger.
"......"
Swish.
As Woki mulled over Korkia's words, his gaze shifted to the staff she carried.
'That said, we haven't run into a single guard patrol in three days.'
Staring at the grand shaman's staff, a memory flashed in Woki's mind of her wielding mystical sorcery.
It had been three days since the two infiltrated the imperial city.
Counting the mage before them, they had slain four battle mages in that time.
Yet they hadn't directly encountered any imperial guards.
Korkia's sorcery had kept them hidden from the empire's pursuers.
"Korkia. Sorcery truly is mysterious."
It was nothing short of wondrous.
The pattern she drew using deer's blood.
From the moment it was complete, imperial soldiers could no longer track Woki and Korkia.
And even now, days later, its effect persisted.
Valtur shamans used sorcery too, but none had achieved anything like this.
"It seems the imperial soldiers still haven't caught our scent properly."
"Keekeek—. Starting to feel the profundity of sorcery now, are you?"
Hearing Woki, Korkia burst into a satisfied smile and laughter.
Arrogance befitting a grand shaman adorned her face.
"Here we are, stirring up their lair, and not even a glimpse of their guards. Feels like we've turned the whole empire into fools."
By his long experience on the battlefield, things going this smoothly sparked some concern.
But the one who cast the spell spoke with overflowing confidence.
"Don't worry. For just us two old folk, it'll be no easy task to find us—"
"......"
"Under the mystical flow of great nature, our features blur and our presence fades. It makes everything about us seem natural."
That was the effect of Korkia's sorcery.
Even hearing her explanation of its principle, Woki's limited insight couldn't grasp it.
Unfazed by whether he understood, Korkia continued expounding on the sorcery.
"Moreover, with so many people crammed into this narrow land, finding us feels even more impossible, doesn't it?"
"......I see."
"So fret not. Only spirits can pierce great nature's flow, so those fools can't pursue us."
Had she finished retrieving the heart?
Korkia rose, boldly proclaiming the sorcery's power.
Swish.
The grand shaman, pocket now filled, began moving with slow steps once more.
Step, thud.
As Korkia's leisurely footfalls traversed the shadowy back alley.
The barbarian warrior watching the old woman slung his axe over his shoulder and followed.
'Only those elf-eared folk can handle spirits, she said—'
Woki had never seen a spirit in his life.
He might never encounter one in his lifetime.
Such was the fate of a great warrior born in savage lands.
* * * * * *
The office of Chief Mage Creighton Lukbart.
In the vast office where three first-class mages sat, Creighton, cigar in hand, glared furiously at his subordinates.
"You think it makes sense that we still haven't found those barbarians?"
Creighton's reprimanding voice boomed through the office.
It had been four days since the first victim was found, yet they had no real leads.
Unprecedented circumstances with barbarians roaming the city.
Yet guards and mages couldn't capture them, let alone pursue them effectively.
In the meantime, three more victims had piled up, bringing the mage death toll to four at barbarian hands.
At this rate, ten victims soon wouldn't be surprising.
"Anyone could spot them looking like obvious barbarians, and you can't even find a trace? Does that make sense?!"
"......We are ashamed."
Hoo—
Creighton, steeped in rage, took a deep drag from his cigar.
Thick smoke billowed from the corners of his mouth.
He pointed at one mage before him and spoke.
"First-Class Mage Marty. Why haven't we found them yet?"
"It's just that... even magical means can't track their traces......"
"Even magic can't find traces?"
Swish.
Creighton's fierce gaze fixed on the first-class mage, who shrank back but continued.
"I swear! It's as if they never existed there from the start—tracking spells can't detect them!"
"......"
"And we tried every tracking spell we know...!"
Amid the spreading cigarette smoke, countless worries swirled in Creighton's mind.
The Magic Corps battle mages focused more on firepower than theory or research.
Still, failing to find traces for days gnawed at him.
Was it the limit of the Corps' tracking spells?
If so, paying contribution to Celestia for a suitable tracking spell was an option.
'No, perhaps asking the Doctor to investigate would be better.'
Creighton's head began to ache.
Losing valuable mages to a handful of barbarians—what a humiliation.
Irritation surged so fiercely he wanted to flip the desk.
But venting on an innocent desk wouldn't change anything.
Creighton had only one decision left.
"I'll have to think of a solution—"
"......Chief Mage."
"......"
The barbarians in the city were clearly no ordinary foes.
Entrusting it to subordinates forever would likely yield no progress even after more days.
A sensitive matter for the border lord too, so Creighton himself needed to step up.
Whoosh.
Gazing at his subordinates, Creighton waved them off.
"All of you, out."
"......Yes."
Creak, thud.
The chastised subordinates filed out of the office.
As the three first-class mages exited together, heavy silence descended on the vast room.
"Hmm—"
Surveying the suddenly quiet office, Creighton soon reached for his staff.
The staff, bound with a grimoire, wrapped itself in faint mana as if awaiting him.
"Guess I need some fresh air."
Cooped up in the office all day, Creighton felt his mind sluggish.
A breath of cold air seemed in order.
For northern men, it was the best way to clear the head.
Swish.
Staff in hand, Creighton promptly left the Corps and headed to the bustling streets.
"......"
Step, step.
Creighton's steps carried him through the winter street teeming with crowds.
Under the sky shedding pure white snow, people hurried with noisy footfalls.
Was it the onset of the north's harsh winter?
Everyone was bundled up thickly.
"Winter's already here? About that time, I suppose."
The north's winter was notoriously severe even across the vast empire.
Its biting cold spared no one, relentlessly asserting its might.
Without proper layers, even the toughest caught vicious colds.
Achoo!
Like the girl coughing right before Creighton's eyes.
Hmm.
Creighton's gaze fell on the outsider walking ahead.
Her thin attire screamed vulnerability to the cold—she was clearly new to the city.
"Dressed like that, she'll catch something soon... Hm...?"
Creighton's eyes lingered on the girl for a moment.
Soon, his face filled with bewilderment.
The face before him was all too familiar.
"......"
Spotting Creighton, the girl approached him directly.
She scanned him top to bottom, then tugged at the sleeve symbolizing the chief mage's robe.
Swish, tug.
Creighton's startled gaze met the face pulling at his collar.
In his view stood a girl with a very familiar appearance.
"Creighton? Is that you, Creighton?"
"......"
The black muffler symbol of the Eight Blades Society.
The massive crow perched on her shoulder.
Even the black-streaked hair.
It was Priella, exactly as he knew her.
—Caw!
Blink, blink.
Creighton's dazed stare fixed on Priella's expressionless face for a moment.
Soon, Priella looked at Creighton and spoke.
"Creighton. Lend me your house."
"What?"
Creighton's blank face stared at Priella.
Not just crash for a few days, but lend the whole house?
It was the first request of its kind in his life.
Moreover, Priella's outrageous demand didn't end there.
"Lend me some food too."
—Caw!
The crow, wings spread wide, chimed in enthusiastically from her shoulder.
Lend her food too.
Setting aside if he could, repayment afterward was the real worry.
Creighton's bewildered gaze turned to his comrade.
"......"
It seemed cooling his head would take more time.
The north's harsh trials vexed even the Magic Corps' chief mage.
* * * * * *
—Celestia, the Phantasm Library.
At a table in one corner of the grand library, the Doctor gazed at a translucent screen as usual.
The secret society's surveillance system.
Peeking at communications via Celestia's network was one of his few hobbies.
— "Urgh......"
The screen Begerton Antares watched showed a hunched old woman.
Swish.
The old woman glared at the crystal orb before her with a flustered expression.
The Doctor didn't know her identity, but he could tell she was a northern barbarian.
—"The text scrolls too fast to control. How do the empire's nobles handle this thing?"
The old woman scrutinized the orb with her oddly shaped pupils.
Curiously, no one conversed with her.
Whoosh, flick.
She merely manipulated the orb this way and that, eyes brimming with fascination at the screen.
"Looks like a barbarian lucked into a crystal orb."
The Doctor watched the old woman on screen, voicing his honest impression.
A barbarian who luckily got a crystal orb.
That was his assessment of her.
No mage tower in barbarian lands, so she must have stolen or found an imperial one.
Either way, not legitimately.
"......"
Gulp, gulp.
As the Doctor sipped his pine needle drink and watched,
Keekekeel.
Soon, the old woman peering intently at the orb let out a bizarre laugh and spoke.
—"Polaris No. 1... The dream treasure all nobles covet...!"
"It's Polaris No. 2 now."
Ahem.
The Doctor, watching the screen, couldn't hold back a chuckle and muttered alone.
"Keekeekee. Just like a barbarian, isolated in the mountains and ignorant of the world."
—"......"
"Regrettably, Polaris No. 1 is now a relic of the old era. Gifting that won't impress nobles anymore."
He didn't know how a barbarian heard of it, but she was clearly out of touch with the latest info.
Truly regrettable.
As the Doctor observed her,
The old woman on screen flashed a chilling smile and continued.
—"Keekeekee. The dumb warriors will love it."
Swish.
Watching her, the Doctor too grinned chillingly at the screen.
"Keekeekee. You'll love it too."
The Doctor and the old woman.
Their eyes met across the void.
Soon, as if denying any disconnected conversation, bizarre laughter echoed from both sides of the screen simultaneously.
"Keekeekee—"
—"Keekeekee—"
"Keekeekee—"
—"Keekeekee—"
"Keekeekee—"
—"Keekeekee—"
The Doctor's face turned icy cold as his gaze pierced the old woman beyond the screen.
"Feels like someone who shouldn't share the same sky."
That old woman is dangerous.
Such was the Doctor's thought.
Soon enough, one of them would have to vanish.