Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Prologue
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Galen had been born into this world carrying memories of his previous life on Earth.
Though they were just the memories of an ordinary everyman, in a world where civilization was clearly less advanced than Earth's—excluding magic, of course—those memories proved surprisingly useful.
Knowledge taken for granted on Earth often turned out to be advanced or undiscovered here.
Even as an orphan who never knew his parents and thus received no proper education, Galen had been able to showcase his smarts from a young age. Thanks to that, he'd been summoned here and there, never going hungry.
Eventually, luck struck, and he was hired as a servant in a prestigious family. There, even more good fortune smiled on him when he caught the eye of the youngest young master and became his exclusive valet.
Unlike regular servants who handled menial chores, a valet was more like a personal secretary—a huge step up by commoner standards.
Sure, attending to a scion of a noble house meant staying busy with all sorts of duties. But on the flip side, no one dared mess with him because of who his master was. It was comfortable in that regard.
Pretty good life, right?
Galen truly believed so.
"Gah!"
That illusion shattered the moment a choked scream from the coachman pierced through the carriage window.
The short, abrupt sound felt too surreal at first. But reality crashed in right after.
"Whoa!"
The carriage lurched violently as the arrow-struck coachman slumped, yanking the reins in his death throes. Galen nearly tumbled from his seat.
At least the well-trained horses halted on their own, averting a full overturn. Small mercies.
"W-what's happening?"
Jerbon, the youngest young master who'd been dozing across from him, blinked awake in confusion and glanced around.
Before Galen could even speak, sharp cries erupted from outside in unison.
"Ambush!"
"Young Master Jerbon! We're under attack!"
The first came from the mercenaries they'd hired for the journey; the second from the family escort.
Sleep fled Jerbon's eyes in an instant, sharpening with focus. The handsome young man's face hardened.
"What? Who dares?!"
Galen hurriedly grabbed Jerbon as he shot to his feet.
"Young Master, please calm down."
"Let go, Galen!"
"They'll handle it outside, won't they? No need for you to go out there—it's dangerous."
"Dangerous? You think I'd fear some pathetic assassins?"
Shaking off Galen's hand, Jerbon flung open the carriage door with gusto.
"Looks like they've underestimated me, thinking they can pull this off on land. Today, I'll show them the might of the Oceanis Family!"
"Young Master!"
"Quiet! You stay hidden, Galen—keep out of stray arrows' way!"
With that, Jerbon leaped out and slammed the door shut behind him.
Galen briefly considered joining the fray for appearances' sake but decided to stay put as ordered.
What could a civilian like him do charging into a battlefield barehanded? Serve as cannon fodder, at best.
His body was safe now, but his mind raced with worry.
'This isn't a good spot for the young master to fight at full strength.'
The Oceanis Family was an ancient lineage of mages renowned for water magic. They were said to be invincible near seas or rivers.
Put another way, they were weakened without water nearby, like now.
They could manipulate moisture in the air, sure, so they weren't helpless—but far from their peak power.
Why not use other magic? Mages in this world weren't jacks-of-all-trades. They specialized obsessively in one path.
Learning multiple types was hard; mastering them, harder still. Even if you managed, you'd end up mediocre at both.
Thus, nearly all mages focused on a single element—including the Oceanis Family.
They had no other options, having poured everything into water magic. Like picking a class in an RPG and being stuck with its skills only.
Jerbon brimmed with confidence in his abilities and seemed to think he could handle it even weakened. To Galen, it felt like reckless bravado.
'The city's less than half a day away. Bandits don't show up here. This has to be planned—and they surely scouted our forces.'
Jerbon was only twenty and hadn't built much fame yet, but the Oceanis name rang out across the region. A true powerhouse.
No way would anyone target their direct heir lightly.
'Or maybe that's exactly why the young master has to step up? He's the strongest here—our best shot at winning.'
Unless the attackers had calculated everything and brought overwhelming numbers. Then they were done for.
All Galen could do was pray Jerbon had some hidden ace up his sleeve, unknown even to the assailants.
"Hold the line! Don't let them through!"
"Cowards too scared to show your faces! Get lost!"
"Aaaagh!"
The clash of steel, barked orders from mercenaries, screams of severed limbs—it all blended into a horrific cacophony.
Jerbon's commanding shouts interspersed throughout, so at least he was still alive.
Peering through the tiny carriage window yielded little view. Galen waited anxiously for it to end.
'...Is it over?'
The chaos dragged on subjectively but hadn't lasted long in truth. It began to die down.
Galen pondered cracking the door open.
"Gasp!"
A shadow loomed suddenly at the window. Galen recoiled in terror.
His eyes met mad, bloodthirsty ones, half-insane with frenzy.
Bang!
The door flew open.
A masked figure with a bloodied sword glared wildly.
"I'll kill you at lea—"
His words cut off as his head snapped forward.
Blood and flesh oozed from his shattered skull.
The masked man crumpled. Some ten paces back stood Jerbon, finger pointed right at Galen.
"That makes... the last one."
Jerbon murmured it like a whisper.
Death's shadow receding, Galen heaved ragged breaths. Only then did he realize he'd been holding his.
"Th-thank—"
As Galen opened his mouth, his eyes widened. He bolted from the carriage on instinct.
Quick action let him barely catch Jerbon as he staggered and fell.
Now Galen saw: Jerbon's back was soaked in blood, the original color of his clothes lost.
"Hey! Anyone? The young master's...!"
Galen's shout trailed off.
The battlefield came into focus belatedly.
Escorts, mercenaries, masked attackers—
No one stood. Just dozens of corpses strewn about.
"Told you... last one."
Jerbon's strained voice carried bitter self-mockery.
"Don't speak."
Galen carefully hoisted Jerbon and dashed to the carriage, kicking aside the intruder's corpse. He laid Jerbon on the floor.
His valet training included first aid. Rifling through luggage, he pulled out a small kit.
Positioning Jerbon on his side, Galen grabbed scissors. It was the lower back, not the upper. He swiftly cut away the blood-soaked fabric.
"This'll hurt a bit."
"No use... ngh!"
Galen poured a full bottle of holy water over the wound, wiping with clean cloth. Jerbon groaned in pain despite his fading state.
'It's bad.'
With gore and grime cleaned, Galen inwardly sighed.
The gash was bone-deep, edges blackened. No mere first aid would fix it.
p>Holy water was just revitalizing liquid, sustaining the body but not healing wounds or curing ills.
Still, better than nothing. Galen packed clean cloth over it and bound tightly with bandages.
"Try to drink this."
He fed Jerbon another bottle. Coughing it down, Jerbon's breathing eased slightly.
Both knew it was just a final burst of clarity before the end.
"No... use."
The holy water bought him a few more words, at least.
"Poison's... spread. Lost too much... blood. Unless a priest... comes..."
"Don't give up."
"I don't... wanna die. Damn it. Mana... ran out at the worst... time."
Jerbon paused, hacking up blood, then fumbled a trembling hand into his bosom.
A small book slowly emerged.
"Family's... secret manual."
"...Pardon?"
"Deliver it... to the family. If not... burn it..."
His weakened hand let go. The manual hit the floor—but that wasn't important now.
Forcing slowing breaths, Jerbon reached in again for something else.
Or tried to.
"And... this too... make sure... to deliver..."
His voice failed. Breathing stopped. His hand froze midway from his chest.
The young life, only twenty years old, flickered out.
Galen fell silent for a long while.
Master and valet or not, they'd spent more time together than anyone. Watching him die hit hard.
But he had to pull it together. Galen bit his lip. The stinging pain suppressed emotion, sharpening reason.
'No time to freeze.'
Attackers were dead, but reinforcements might come. Lingering was risky.
Considering pursuit... head to the city, obviously.
Not far, crowded enough to deter attackers, and help was there.
'The secret manual... pretend I never heard.'
First time seeing one, but it likely held the Oceanis Family's arcane legacy.
If that was the attackers' goal? Hand it over or burn it, they'd know Jerbon didn't have it—and hunt the sole survivor: him.
Better to feign ignorance and leave it. Sorry, young master, but survival first.
Galen grabbed his bag with a heavy expression. As an all-purpose valet, it held essentials like money.
This one bag was all he needed.
'Right, the young master's ring.'
Alone? No one would recognize him. He needed the Oceanis crest ring to prove lineage and seek aid.
Galen gently extracted Jerbon's right hand from his bosom.
A small box came with it—the last thing Jerbon had clutched.
Galen's gaze wavered.
He knew what was inside. He'd been there when Jerbon picked it, even advised.
Earrings for his sister.
The young man's final words had been a simple plea: deliver the gift to family.
"......"
Frozen for a spell, Galen pried the box from Jerbon's hand and pocketed it.
He took the ring too, without forgetting.
"...Fuck, I'm insane."
Cursing—a word he rarely used—Galen reached out.
Foolish impulse, maybe... but screw it. Half-honoring a dying wish was pointless. If loyalty, then all the way.
As he picked up the secret manual—