Chapter 6
Chapter 6
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Water Flow Manipulation (5)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Water Flow Manipulation felt like issuing a "move" command to the surrounding water—though Galen wasn't sure if that was the most accurate way to put it.
He could also specify the path and speed. The farther the distance and the faster the speed, the more mana it consumed.
In short, Galen had quietly gathered the water spilling from the torn waterskin, formed it into a lump, and hurled it at the intruder's nape at maximum speed.
It might resemble a water balloon—something that would only sting if thrown gently—but what if it moved as fast as a baseball?
The answer was right before his eyes.
'More than enough to kill a person.'
Until now, he'd only practiced magic in his room, so he hadn't tested its destructive power firsthand. Now he had a sense of it.
As expected, imagination and reality were worlds apart. He hadn't anticipated that his first real demonstration would involve smashing a man's neck.
'Still, there's a lot I'm lacking. Compared to the Young Master's magic...'
The moment he'd seen the intruder slice through the waterskin hurled right in his face with a single stroke, Galen had realized the man was no ordinary fighter.
With reflexes like that, he could dodge or block a spell. If the first ambush failed, the second would naturally be much harder.
After a split-second dilemma, Galen had feigned helpless submission.
Fortunately, the intruder had mistaken him for a regular person, so he'd leisurely monologued his victory. That gave Galen the opening to finish his spell and strike the man's nape.
It had worked out in the end, but if Galen were more skilled, he wouldn't have needed to risk letting the man grab his throat. Jerbon could have just blasted him with water and killed him outright.
...Well, it's only been a few days since I learned magic.'
In truth, he was already growing abnormally fast.
No need to rush—just keep doing what he'd been doing, and it would be enough.
Having thus evaluated his Level 13 Water Flow Manipulation, Galen finally turned his attention to the intruder's corpse.
His first kill didn't leave him particularly scared or trembling.
Maybe because the man deserved death, or perhaps because he hadn't stabbed or slashed him himself.
"...".
Galen stared at the body for a moment before cautiously opening the door.
The hallway was silent. The fight hadn't been noisy enough to draw other guests rushing out.
He slipped downstairs. The innkeeper lay sprawled there.
No visible wounds, breathing steady. They'd probably snatched his keys and knocked him out.
Galen grabbed a nearby portable oil lamp and returned to the room.
Holding the light close, he peeled off the mask and finally saw the intruder's face.
"Hm."
Not a familiar face, but it rang a faint bell the more he looked.
He rummaged through the man's pockets.
A coin pouch mostly full of coppers and a bit of silver. A bundle of keys, likely the inn's. And a palm-sized bronze plaque.
'As I thought. I have seen it before.'
The plaque was an identification token marking affiliation with the Oceanis Family—specifically issued to the family's warriors.
A mage family didn't consist solely of mages. Servants were ordinary folk, and there were plenty of house troops serving as warriors. Magic instruction was so secretive that mages were inevitably few in number.
Anyway, the fact that Galen didn't recognize him meant no direct connection to Jerbon or Elisa.
Which implied he was close to one of the trio: Rius, Tarina, or Raven.
Galen had no personal grudge against him, and a healthy warrior wouldn't suddenly turn to banditry.
Elisa's warning had come true already.
If they'd just looked the other way for a day, he might have left on his own. But no—they couldn't wait and ordered a hit. What impatient scum.
'Just you wait. I'll pay you back in kind later. For real.'
Galen ground his teeth.
But revenge could wait. Right now, the body was the priority.
Pondering disposal, he dug through his bag.
He wrapped the oil lamp in spare clothes to muffle the light as much as possible, hoisted the corpse, and left the inn.
Night watch patrols focused on the docks. Familiar with the area, Galen navigated the alleys by the dim glow alone.
Soon, he reached the sewer.
This world's sewers were tunnel-like, accessible to anyone. Of course, no one but vagrants would enter willingly.
Guided by the now-brightened lamp, Galen descended the stairs to the underworld cautiously.
Ignoring the stench, he followed the passage until he met the shit-filled stream flowing like a river.
Splash!
Galen dumped the body right in. He even used Water Flow Manipulation to shove it deep into the sewer.
Confirming it sink, he headed back lighter. He passed the still-unconscious innkeeper, returned the lamp, and sauntered to his room.
A perfect cleanup—no one the wiser.
"Phew."
Lying on the bed, tension finally ebbed. Galen went limp.
The best solution was burying the incident itself.
Unless someone specifically investigated the sewers from the start, finding the body wouldn't be easy.
And even if they did, they wouldn't suspect Galen from the corpse alone.
How could anyone imagine a servant of over ten years turning out to be a mage who counter-killed an intruder?
'They'll probably think I got outside help. Especially with Elisa around. And they can't just ask outright—perfect for misunderstandings.'
If things played out that way, Galen would be safe.
He wasn't some big shot they had to kill at all costs. He'd already left the island—who knew where—and trying again risked another failure. Assassination was getting too troublesome.
Even as direct heirs of a prestigious house, they'd have the brains to weigh costs and benefits.
Of course, they might ignore that and press on anyway.
'At least no second assassin tomorrow.'
Every day delayed meant Water Flow Manipulation would rise at least one more level.
Time was on Galen's side.
A short while later, the innkeeper woke and knocked on every guest room door—a minor commotion. Worried after losing his keys, no doubt.
Good intentions, but to the bewildered guests roused from sleep, it was like someone banging on windows at night. And since no one reported theft or robbery, the owner ended up looking like a liar.
Galen felt a twinge of pity but played dumb. Ignorance is bliss sometimes.
He left the inn early and boarded the ship he'd booked yesterday.
The voyage took twelve days total.
They lost about a day at each port loading and unloading cargo.
Aside from brief landfalls, Galen had nothing to do on board. So his time went to the obvious: practice. Water was plentiful, after all.
For instance, pretending to gaze vacantly at the sea from the rail, he'd manipulate the water along the waterline. With constant waves, it didn't draw notice if he played it casual.
Water Flow Manipulation Lv.30
Progress to next level: 2%
By the time they reached Nijerte, Water Flow Manipulation had transformed completely.
Galen disembarked in high spirits.
Scanning the docks, he spotted men in coachmen's garb clustered together, chatting.
Coachmen were the best guides to a new city—they went everywhere.
As Galen approached, a couple took interest.
"Looking for a carriage."
"Solo?"
"Yes."
"Where to?"
"Gotta unload luggage first. Any inns you'd recommend?"
"Inns? This city's crawling with 'em."
A mustachioed middle-aged man chuckled. His balding companion chimed in.
"Ask like that, and we can't recommend. Too many. Give us some criteria."
"Hm, planning a long stay. Decent facilities, good food a plus. Safety if possible."
"Safety? Worried about robbers at the inn?"
"Had a run-in recently."
The mustached driver had joked, but Galen's shrug made him awkward. Rubbing his mustache, he muttered sheepishly.
"Should've gone high-end."
"Guarded inns cost extra."
"True enough."
"What about Bron?"
The balding one cut in.
"Matches the young sir's needs, roughly?"
"Bron? Safe?"
"No thieves or bandits, at least. Who'd rob there unless they're crazy?"
"Fair, but..."
"Bron the inn name?"
Galen asked, listening. The mustached man nodded reluctantly.
"Bron Brothers' Haven. Folks just call it Bron. Run by brothers with the surname Bron, as the name says."
"Famous?"
"So they say, but I don't know the trade. Ex-mercenaries who retired alive—must be skilled. Fair rates, good rep overall."
"Sounds perfect."
"It is. But... pretty rowdy."
The owners being ex-mercs drew tons of mercenaries. Drinking, yelling, brawling till dawn was routine.
"Owners don't stop 'em?"
"If they quieted down that easy, they wouldn't be mercs. They do crack down on hassling normal guests, though."
"So I won't get punched, at least."
"Probably. But luck's a factor. Some seek the noise on purpose. For a long stay? Eh."
"Guess I'll see after a few nights."
Not his intent, but it sounded ideal.
Galen's plan: focus on magic training while watching the Oceanis Family's moves.
Staying at Bron? Even if another assassin came, it'd be easy to handle.
Hard to sneak into a merc haunt open till dawn. Worst case, ask the veteran ex-merc owners for help.
Plus, mercs were as info-savvy as merchants, beyond their brawn. Long-term stay could build useful ties.
"Mind guiding me?"
"Bron? You sure?"
"Yes."
"I'll take you if you want. Don't curse me later for a bad rec."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
The mustached coachman led him to his carriage.
Soon, it rolled toward the city center.
────────────────────────────────────
────────────────────────────────────