Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: Change of Mood (2)
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A normal carriage ride from Jamila to Maduros took three days, and another six from Maduros to Mezaya.
They'd shaved two days off what should have been nine, thanks to pushing hard.
Given the nature of this mission, a day or two's difference wasn't make-or-break, so there'd been no need to strain themselves that much.
But he just wanted to get it over with and relax. Managing two prisoners on the road was no small hassle, even with the Kalia Merchant Group handling the logistics.
And it wasn't like they'd overdone it that badly. The horses had taken the brunt of it, sure.
"You've arrived?"
By the time the carriage pulled up to Mezaya's church, Deimerus—who'd been tipped off ahead of time via the Kalia network—had everything set up.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
Ventis's underling, handled with extra care to ensure delivery in perfect, living condition, was dragged straight from the carriage to the church basement the moment he stepped off.
The church was endlessly merciful to the innocent but flipped that mercy into endless cruelty for demons. It boasted the world's top torture specialists.
Finding the sweet spot between inflicting pain without killing—and breaking a will—was what made torture so tricky. The church didn't have to bother with that balance.
A few rounds of smashing the body, then miraculously healing it with holy power before smashing it again? That was all it took to show how fragile human willpower really was.
"Ugh... ughhh..."
The black market overseer, hauled out of the other carriage, was shivering so pitifully it was visible even from here.
Galen gave Deimerus a quiet heads-up.
"Your Grace, go easy on that one, if you would."
"No worries. We don't spill blood needlessly unless it's a demon collaborator. Remember the Burtane family?"
Deimerus gave a faint smile.
"Of course, he's still a thief who's fiddled with stolen goods at heart, so a stern talking-to is in order. How on earth did you nab him so easily?"
"Haha, just put our heads together and worked at it."
Galen laughed it off vaguely. Deimerus, who was just idly curious, let it drop without pressing.
They had far more pressing matters ahead.
Heading to the archbishop's office, Galen and Lilia laid out everything that had happened, step by step.
The raid on Maduros's black market and capturing the overseer alive. Learning Ventis's name from him and tracking him down. Spotting his trail by sheer luck and taking him out.
They'd kept the letter vague to avoid leaks, and sure enough, even Deimerus seemed floored by the tale.
"Hmm..."
His expression grew graver as the story went on, and when it ended, he let out a heavy sigh.
"The worst-case scenario we feared."
"We might have jumped the gun—"
"No. It's a solid deduction. At least the demon contractor part is certain. Lilia confirmed it herself."
Deimerus shook his head at Galen's cautious words.
"Her senses outstrip mine intuitively. Once she's archbishop material, she'll surpass me. The chance Lilia misread it? Pure wishful thinking. What exactly did you feel, Bishop Lilia?"
"Well... something like an evil grasp of death that flared up on contact with holy power? Not sure if that's the right way to put it, but yeah, that creepy vibe."
"Exactly. Nothing in this world clashes head-on with holy power like that. Only demons from another realm—hell itself. So Ventis being a contractor is fact. Linking it to the magic armaments? That needs careful scrutiny."
Deimerus's gaze drifted to the magic armaments on his desk.
One broken, two intact.
They'd kept the underling's and Ventis's whole as evidence.
Lilia asked worriedly.
"All three handled fire the same way. Could three identical magic armaments really be running around together?"
"Unlikely. But a descended demon mass-producing them in hiding? Even less so."
"Honestly, I can't picture that either... but still..."
"Ways to get magic armaments all tie back to ruins. We assume they're relics from the past. Why? Because no one seriously thinks a demon capable of making them exists today. The last time real demons ravaged the world? Even long-lived elves don't remember that far back."
Deimerus tapped the armrest of his chair.
"That said, just because none have shown up yet doesn't mean they won't forever. We stay vigilant. But my point is: nothing's confirmed, so no need to fret prematurely."
"Ah, yes!"
"We'll dig into Ventis's backers thoroughly to hunt demons anyway. Something'll turn up. Even optimistically, it'll take months. Worry when there's cause—and prepare then."
"Prepare how?"
"You're the easiest asset to deploy as a pilgrim. If real demons are involved, obvious. Even if it's just a shadow group hoarding armaments, that's big. We'll call on you."
"Just say the word!"
"Hone your skills till then. No need for you to sweat the messy search. Put it out of your mind. Understood?"
"Yes! Will do!"
Lilia answered brightly.
She'd unloaded all her fears about the armaments and demons, and gotten assurance it'd be handled.
Detailed probes weren't her wheelhouse anyway.
Liberated from worry, Lilia snapped back to her usual self. Deimerus nodded, then turned to Galen.
"And... Lord Galen."
"Yes."
"Every task I give you, you exceed expectations."
"You're too kind."
"I mean it. Nabbing the overseer snuffed this out early, no further damage. It'll pay off in the investigation too."
"Wasn't it Your Grace who told us to start at the black market? I just followed orders."
"You went above and beyond, like it was nothing. Subduing Ventis? Obvious bonus. You do such stellar work, I agonize over rewards every time."
"Mind if I bank it, then?"
"Hm?"
Deimerus raised an eyebrow. Galen grinned.
"No fixed reward for this job, right?"
"True."
"Told you I chase thrills over coin."
"I know. Your thrills align splendidly with church ideals."
"...Coincidence, I swear. Anyway, after that ruin dive? Doubly so."
A black card from Kalia—three of them, even—meant living lavishly forever without lifting a finger, unless you blew it absurdly.
No matter how well Galen performed, the church wasn't a merchant guild; cash had limits.
Hundreds, thousands of gold? Big money absolutely, but with tens of thousands already, the thrill had faded.
Church jobs weren't about the pay anyway.
It was about building ties.
"So no need to pay me."
"Hah, chalk it up as debt?"
"Come on, not debt. Lubricant. For later."
"Later."
"I'll hang up the mercenary gig someday."
Galen hadn't set a date, but...
One day, the wandering would end, and he'd settle.
Then he'd cash in on the church.
Whatever form that took—aid, favors, leeway.
The more he helped for free, the deeper the debt grew.
But from Deimerus's view? Not a bad deal.
Mutual aid. Noble houses often clashed with the church. Staying tight with a mage who could crush them? Welcome.
"Can't meddle outside my jurisdiction. That alright?"
"Not asking strangers. Just Your Grace remembering suffices."
"Done. Settle northeast or east, and I'll pull strings."
"Counting on it."
That wrapped settlements.
Now for the actual accounting.
"Oh, Your Grace."
"Yes, Bishop Lilia?"
"Report's done. Time to destroy the magic armaments, right?"
"Indeed."
"May I? Good practice..."
"Of course. Purifying evil firsthand is valuable experience."
Deimerus approved readily.
No need to go far; destruction happened right there.
"Urgh."
Lilia grimaced, gripping the bracelet-form armament, and invoked her blessing.
A platinum glow like roaring flames forcibly infused the armament with holiness.
The clash of polar forces rippled into the body. The metallic bracelet crumpled.
"Kiyaaaaah!"
The armament's piercing shriek filled the archbishop's office.
Galen shuddered in revulsion, Deimerus didn't blink, and Lilia—face twisted like she was handling a gross bug—stared it down anyway.
She said observing the repulsion taught her something.
Galen wasn't clergy, so he didn't get it, but—
"..."
—he sure got the level-up part.
Just like Dawn Archipelago, destroying the armament dumped experience in.
The underling's wasn't much, but Ventis's—powerful and battle-tested—gave a satisfying haul.
The simultaneous jumble of sensations from multiple skills rising was a pleasant buzz.
Galen watched the crumbling armament with satisfaction.
Separate from the "debt" agreement, they got a hundred gold in travel stipend.
What used to make him quake was now just a night's tavern haul.
A hot night, granted, but still.
Prisoner handoff complete, they were free agents under Mezaya diocese.
Galen spent days blissfully zoning out.
"That underling knew more than expected, huh."
Lilia, volunteering sweetly at the church clinic in downtime, fished for updates now and then.
"Not core stuff, but he handled Ventis's odd jobs—like an aide. Lots of trivia."
"Good grab. Shame no big secrets."
"We didn't expect earth-shattering from a grunt, right?"
"Fair."
"Overseer's cooperating too. Church is cross-checking, chasing leads."
No quick wrap-up, that was sure.
Even torturing the pirate boss for "Ben" the alias and meetup spot took months to link to black market supply.
"You've rested plenty. Free to pilgrimage anytime—just keep in touch."
Deimerus's words meant no reason to linger.
Yet they did.
Partly vacation vibes...
"...Where to next?"
"Beats me...?"
Galen had followed church gigs since leaving Abaka with Myra's letter. Lilia had tailed him since Abaka.
Sudden total freedom? Paralysis.
Flush with cash and time, decisions dragged.
Ten days turned to half a month. Time to move.
That's when a familiar guest dropped by.
"You two busy?"
A pint-sized girl whose pointed ears poked from under her hood screamed "not human."
Akanksha had come calling.