Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: The Black Magician, the Tracker, and the Saintess
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Niore was frozen solid, staring down into the pit. The dirt looked like it had been freshly dug up, and the blood smeared across the bottom hadn't even clotted yet. Someone had been here just moments ago.
Did the person in the pit miraculously regain consciousness and claw their way out? Or had someone else dug them free?
"......"
There were faint footprints left behind.
Leading east, toward the student dorms. No rain had fallen today, and the wind was calm. The trail of someone who had fled in a hurry stood out in stark relief. If Niore wanted to, she could follow it.
There were mountains of reasons not to.
It didn't involve anyone she knew, nothing was certain, it was probably dangerous, and it wasn't something she had to do or even needed to. Piles of reasons.
There was only one reason to go. Someone seemed to be in danger.
It was meddling. She already knew full well what happened when you stuck your nose into other people's business—the Restman barony had crumbled after showing too much kindness to outsiders.
So she repeated it to herself, over and over: stop getting involved in this shady late-night business and leave it to someone else. Niore tried to shake off the lingering temptation.
Step.
After taking one step, Niore let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a babble. Her toes were pointed right along the path of those footprints.
"...Ahaha."
Yeah, where's the blood gonna go? Just live the life you were born into.
Born into a family poorer than city merchants, she'd never tasted a spirit pill, so she hadn't achieved Fullness.
She'd diligently practiced her family's handed-down breathing technique, but hadn't even reached Harmony yet.
But Tracing was different. Her knack for reading flows was something she prided herself on—no one could match her eye for it. Blink, and traces invisible to others sharpened into crystal clarity before her.
Target: height around 175 cm, weight about 70 kg, right-footed.
Imagining the suspicious figure retracing those steps in flight, Niore let her sense of justice pull her into pursuit.
Bennett halted in an alley of the student dorms, his body shrouded in a black hood. He dropped to the ground and pressed his ear to the pavement.
Light footsteps. Getting closer. Headed straight for him.
"...Being tracked?"
That presence he'd sensed while fleeing? He'd thought he'd erased his tracks well enough, but apparently not. His escape skills, honed by years as a black mage, were top-notch. Amateur work wouldn't have spotted a thing.
So this was a seasoned tracker.
Who could it be?
Had that mage planted someone to watch him? Or was it the mage herself, hiding the demon sword? Maybe another black mage. Whatever the case, he needed to shake them off. Expectations were always pessimistic, after all.
Wrapping mana around his body, he kicked off the ground. He shot forward like the wind. First priority: put distance between them and hide.
To throw off the pursuit, he vaulted walls along deserted paths, leaped branch to branch, or used Fall Delay magic to glide briefly through the sky—scrambling his trail every way he could. Expert evasion.
But his pursuer was a cut above.
They were definitely slower. Even when he exploded forward in acceleration, they couldn't keep up. But after a short while, those footsteps would close in again, without fail.
He was clearly faster. If they were still catching up, it meant they were predicting his every move.
"Tch... spying from the sky or something?!"
Glancing up at the sliver of sky visible between the alley walls revealed no familiars. He'd have shot down any suspicious flying bats or the like long ago.
Bennett's flight paused as he realized it: only one escape route left. Right in front of him loomed the Goddess Church's chapel building.
He rapidly scanned a mental map of the area and reached a conclusion. Circling around the church would get him caught.
Coincidence? Or the tracker's plan?
The tracker was surely from the same faction as the tower mage hiding the demon sword. Why else pursue so stealthily and relentlessly?
That didn't mean they were from the church, though. If so, they wouldn't come alone—they'd bring holy knights swarming.
Ignore the uncertainties; stick to the facts. Someone buried the demon sword. They meant to use it for personal gain.
That alone would have the church descending in righteous fury. Black mage or not, anything that ruined lives was anathema to their doctrine.
So the tracker would find the church awkward too. Plus, it housed that notoriously ill-tempered saintess. Word was she was willful and disrespectful—no way she'd tolerate a noisy bunch at night.
This... could serve as neutral ground.
If the tracker had any brains, they wouldn't start a fight inside a church building. If he could avoid combat, talking it out wasn't a bad option.
The fleeing man was terrifyingly fast. Niore would've lost him forever if she'd missed a single trace along the way.
He'd noticed her pursuit midway. She wanted to catch up and ask what had happened in that pit—and if it was as bad as she'd imagined.
She'd urge him to repent, atone before the Goddess, accept due punishment. And if he refused, fight with everything she had...
"...?!"
Why was the suspicious guy heading to a church building?
Had he overheard her telepathy and rushed off for confession? Niore knew better—that world was too kind. Her family wouldn't have fallen if it were.
Mistake or intent, it was an opportunity for her. The saintess lived there, or so she'd heard. Raise a ruckus, and not just her but church officials would come pouring out, stopping the creep.
She followed the trail: across the prettily landscaped garden, up the external drainpipe, grabbing the balcony railing. With a heave, she pulled herself onto the balcony.
The hooded figure—male, judging by the Adam's apple—was waiting. He asked warily,
"...What's your group's goal?"
Niore wanted to ask about last night's events, the dug-up pit, and his connection to it all. But, oh no.
"...!"
No whiteboard. Niore clutched her throat in panic.
The tracker was a sweet-looking female student. No weapons, no murderous glare. No recognition, so probably a freshman.
Maybe just a misunderstanding? Bennett probed.
"...What's your group's goal?"
"...!"
Silence, huh...
Testing him? Or buying time to assess? Bennett heightened his guard and pressed further.
"I don't know what you're plotting, but bold move. Just possessing or hiding a demon sword is enough for an inquisition. You knew the risks."
"...??"
"Not talking? Fine, I'll guess."
"......"
Bennett pieced together the puzzle in his mind. Why would a faction backed by the Second Prince hide a demon sword so conspicuously? To get caught on purpose—that explained everything.
He laid out the perfect answer.
"Using the demon sword as an excuse to frame black mages, purge the Second Prince's opponents in the academy—the Third Prince's faction?"
"...?!!"
The tracker's face crumbled. Like she'd been hammered in the back of the head. The look of someone caught red-handed. Bennett was convinced.
The truth behind the demon sword burial was a bone-chilling imperial succession struggle.
Perfect for him. If political infighting stirred up the academy, it was a black mage's dream. The tower mage's wicked plan had to proceed. Bennett drew the demon sword from his belt and set it on the ground.
"I only stole it thinking it was valuable. Here, take it back. I'm not dumb enough to meddle in the highborns' fights. I won't interfere, so call off the chase."
"...!!!"
The tracker flinched in shock, stepping forward with arm outstretched. Bennett grabbed the balcony clothes rack and hurled it at her. Clothes scattered, blocking her view.
Bennett leaped off the balcony and bolted.
Niore reflexively swatted the flying clothes rack aside and snatched the fluttering panties obscuring her vision. Then she froze. Acute brain shutdown from information overload.
What the hell did I just hear?
Niore was dumbfounded. First, the good news: the pit held no buried person, just a demon sword. The digger wasn't a murderer, but a thief. Minor misunderstanding.
This wasn't a case of someone buried alive.
It was about several people burning to death soon.
Niore's face clouded with worry. She felt like crying a little. Sure, she'd meddled, but getting tangled in the brutal rivalry between the Second and Third Princes? Overkill for a fallen noble's neck, which could vanish without a trace.
Still, using a demon sword to frame people...
She'd heard of the Second Prince cleaning up the underworld and thought, Good, now he's peeking into the shadows for the empire's sake. Now it looked like he was just raising assassins.
"...Hngh."
Calm down.
They said even if captured by goblin tribes, keep your wits and you'd survive. Maybe it'd blow over harmlessly. She should consult Selbia when she got back...
"Who's out there?"
"...!!!"
A woman's voice came from inside the balcony door, behind thick curtains. Niore glanced at the demon sword on the ground, up at the sky, then bolted. The church would handle the sword fine.
She ran blindly. After a long sprint, she slumped against the girls' dorm wall, catching her breath. Only then did she realize.
"..."
Her right hand still clutched the panties. She'd grabbed them swatting the rack and forgotten to drop them in the chaos.
Opening her hand revealed scandalous lingerie tied at the sides.
Academy panty thief...
What racket in the dead of night?
Saintess Tara woke from deep sleep to the crashing from the balcony beyond. Frowning deeply, she flung open the balcony door.
"What."
The saintess blinked.
Rubbing her eyes thinking she wasn't awake yet yielded the same mess.
Maybe splash water on her face. She went downstairs, drew a bucket from the well, washed with cold water, wrung out her dripping bangs, and dried them. While at it, she brewed and sipped some tea.
Then returned to the balcony.
The clothes rack lay toppled, clean laundry scattered across the floor, and a longsword rested neatly beside it. Seals on the blade—she dispelled them.
"Radiant Threefold Artifact Seal"
A demon sword.
Examining the scene, one piece of underwear was missing.
Putting it together: someone had snuck into the Goddess Church chapel at night, knocked over the saintess's laundry, swiped her panties, and left a demon sword as a gift.
"...What the actual hell?"
She was too baffled to even get mad.