Chapter 132
Chapter 132
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 132
Chapter Title: Foul-Mouthed People (2)
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Sword Ghost, Draka.
Uncle Kuntel had once spoken about Draka. If memory served, it was before I ever met the man.
"He's a dangerous fellow."
Dangerous.
"He broke through the wall to superhumanity in the easiest way possible—the one way he absolutely shouldn't have."
He hadn't walked the proper path.
"If the Sword Gorge still stood... Draka would have been executed by Galatrick's enforcers. They've always been wary of men like him."
If only the Sword Gorge had remained.
If the world weren't in its end times, Draka was a man who deserved death. That was the verdict of the last Sword Pilgrim.
In truth, Uncle Kuntel didn't seem all that fond of Draka either. He'd said something along the lines of leaving him be since he was useful to humanity for now.
"Well, putting that aside, he's a pitiful sort."
"To be honest... I'd say Draka's madness is a refined kind. At least his purpose in swinging that sword is clear."
'Refined madness, huh.'
I recalled Uncle Kuntel's words and let out a bitter laugh.
'Refined my ass.'
To me, even Kelrhalhm—the outright lunatic—seemed more sane.
'At least Kelrhalhm doesn't massacre civilians.'
I stared at the man before me.
He was dressed like a ragged beggar, the stench of blood wafting from his body.
"...Tch."
I clicked my tongue briefly.
Just looking at his face made my brows furrow involuntarily. Nausea churned in my gut.
'What an annoyance.'
Memories surfaced.
An unforgettable memory clawed at my insides relentlessly.
"Ah, there you are."
"You must be the famous Hero Kyle. That makes you the Ashen Mage? And the Divine Archer... oh, and even the Saintess of the Delorhim Church."
The voice.
"Ah, this?"
The Sword Ghost's flat, toneless voice echoed in my ears. To me, it was a voice etched into a horrific memory.
"It's nothing much."
A village burning to the ground.
Magic beast corpses mingled with charred human remains.
Villagers' headless bodies, cut down as they tried to climb the barricades.
'Magic beasts wouldn't kill so cleanly.'
'Magic beasts wouldn't bother building barricades.'
'And they sure as hell wouldn't set fires.'
It was the work of man slaughtering man. The corpses of those who struggled to the bitter end were gruesome. And at the end of those corpses stood one man.
Sword Ghost, Draka.
A torch in one hand, a sword dripping blood in the other, he spoke. His voice held not a hint of tremor.
"Used them as bait."
Used as bait.
Nothing much.
"At least I let them die as humans."
"A fortune not everyone gets."
"Even the Delorhim Church encourages this method. Better to die human than live on grotesquely as something else."
I didn't kill Draka there because Kalt and Kyle, standing beside me, held me back.
'...We need him to track the heretics and read their movements.'
A being spared out of necessity.
To me, that's all Draka was.
"...What was that?"
"Deaf?"
So, no wonder my words came out sharp.
I had no intention of speaking human language to something inhuman.
"You look like shit."
I've always spoken the truth.
Hell, I'm a pretty honest person.
2.
Sword Ghost, Draka.
He narrowed his eyes. Frowned. A veteran of countless battlefields, even he found this situation baffling. Anyone in his place would.
'...Like shit?'
Those were the first words out of her mouth.
From a girl he'd never even met.
'What the...'
Draka looked at the girl before him.
She wore a genuine expression of disgust, as if she'd spotted something repulsive. No sign it was a lie.
'What would I have said in her shoes?'
Draka asked himself.
The answer was simple. He'd have fired back that she looked like shit too.
"Well, you..."
He started to speak, then shut his mouth.
The girl's face—mocking, sneering—caught his eye. Looking at it soured any urge to insult her looks.
"...You lack any sense of dignity."
In the end, Draka changed tack.
"You look like some noble's brat, but did they teach you manners with dog shit? Insulting a stranger's appearance speaks volumes about your family's standards."
Plenty to insult without touching looks.
'Different lives lived.'
Different hells crossed.
Among noble brats, there were always one or two who strutted on family name alone, like this girl.
'Kids with inflated family pride and nothing else.'
And Draka knew exactly how to handle such whelps.
"No dignity. Cheap speech. Makes me curious what your father looks like, failing to raise his daughter right."
A solid hit.
Draka sneered at the girl, expecting outrage. But it didn't land as planned.
"Ha."
The girl just exhaled in disbelief.
Arms crossed, she spat it out.
"A landless vagrant talks big."
"...What?"
Draka's eyebrow twitched.
"Lost your lands, your house, your country—a vagrant lecturing on dignity... what good does that do?"
She shrugged.
"Spitting in your own face, isn't it?"
Draka ground his teeth.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Figured it out from that shitty face."
"You know and still talk like that? Must be some hotshot noble brat. Guess your parents skipped this lesson."
Draka tapped his sword hilt.
"Mention my lands to my face and..."
"Dunno about that, but they said curse you out on sight."
"...Who the hell told you that?"
The girl shrugged again.
"The Ashen Mage."
Draka's eyes narrowed.
'...Ashen Mage?'
He took a closer look at the girl.
Now that he did, she shared traits with that irreverent mage. The signature eyes and hair.
'Come to think of it...'
He vaguely recalled rumors of House Trias taking in a new adopted daughter.
"You from House Trias?"
The girl nodded curtly.
Now it clicked for Draka. From House Trias, home of the Ashen Mage... no wonder she spat curses on sight.
'She takes after her brother.'
Even the foul mouth and rotten temper.
Did House Trias teach scraping insults first? Draka thought as he gripped his sword hilt.
"Then all the more reason not to mouth off to me."
Kiiing. The blade sang.
A sliver of crimson steel peeked from the sheath.
"Lost your nerve?"
"Gonna slice me?"
The girl raised her arm.
Peeled off her glove with a tug. Mana flowed from beneath.
"Think I won't?"
Draka said flatly.
"Try it if you can."
The girl shot back defiantly.
Kiiing.
The emerging blade rang out.
Sparks danced atop her glove with a tick, tick.
A powder-keg moment.
The onlookers' blood ran cold.
Gulp.
The air between them crackled fiercely, like beasts facing off. The watching warriors swallowed dryly. Instinct screamed.
'Gotta stop them.'
But how?
No way to wedge between them. Only two types could.
'Someone strong enough to stand there.'
Or...
'A total idiot blind to the mood.'
The warriors eyed each other nervously. Someone had to step up. But feet stayed rooted. As they hesitated—
"Found you!"
A shrill voice rang out from somewhere.
Warriors' heads snapped toward it.
"What is this place so early in the morning...! God, it's a pain just to catch a glimpse of you!"
White Mage Tower Lord, Selli Dvella.
She was jabbing a finger at the girl.
"Do you know how long I've been looking?!"
She was here.
The total idiot blind to the mood.
"What's with the stares? What'd I do?"
"...No, thank you, White Tower Lord."
"Thank you? For what?"
"Just... thanks. If you take Miss Lania away now, we'll be even more grateful."
"Well, I was gonna anyway..."
Selli tilted her head.
To her, the situation made no sense.
3.
The sub-palace reception room.
The one she'd personally decorated and begged the warriors not to clean yet. There, Selli finally faced the girl.
'Feels kinda emotional...'
Something swelled in her chest.
Selli wiped imaginary tears and spoke.
"You have no idea how much I've struggled to meet you. I'm not exactly swimming in free time, but think of all the hours I poured into this..."
Her voice came out oddly slurred.
She sniffled pointlessly and continued.
"But for you, this much time is worth it. Because it's you!"
"Ah, yeah..."
Unlike Selli's excited tone, Lania looked bored. But Selli didn't mind. She offered Lania some tea cakes.
"Pastries from a famous bakery. Shall we chat over them?"
"I'm full."
"...You haven't eaten breakfast yet?"
"Gonna be full soon, so not hungry."
Gonna be full? What did that even mean?
'I went to the trouble... and they're delicious...'
A bit disappointing, but Selli didn't show it. She cut to the chase.
"The reason I arranged this meeting isn't anything major."
She pulled a letter from her bosom and set it on the table. Stamped with the White Mage Tower's crest.
"If you're in the North, shouldn't you visit the White Mage Tower at least once?"
She tapped the invitation.
"Sure, dropping by without one means tedious procedures... but with this, you're in straight away? A direct line to meet me."
It's an invitation of immense value.
She shrugged as she said it.
"The North is rough country. The warriors' land differs from mage society. Staying in Baekya Castle comes with all sorts of inconveniences, right?"
Great for elemental magic research.
But a terrible place for mages to live, let alone unaffiliated ones.
"In the North, only the White Mage Tower handles magic materials and mana stones."
Selli flashed a confident smile.
"Come visit. I'll give you the tour myself."
She added,
"This is a huge privilege, you know?"
She emphasized "privilege."
But Lania's face remained impassive, uninterested.
'Not the reaction I hoped for.'
Selli swallowed dryly.
"Um... you can see the magic books I authored too."
Lania's interest waned further.
"North specialty ores too..."
Lania glanced at the clock.
"Mealtime. So, if that's all..."
"W-Wait!"
As she moved to end the meeting, Selli blurted desperately.
"Winter gear! Potions! Robes! Oh, and ropes for climbing snowy peaks!"
...What was all this hawking?
Felt like a peddler. Selli felt a strange shame.
"...Ropes?"
But the girl perked up.
In a way Selli never expected.
'She bit!'
And Selli pounced on it.
"Yes! We deal in mountaineering gear since we survey snowy peaks often. Top quality, worthy of the White Mage Tower's name. Even the smallest item carries dignity!"
"Oh..."
Lania nodded.
"That sounds tempting."
Finally, interest.
Selli sighed in relief, though a corner of her mind wondered, 'Is this for real...?'
'Into mountaineering gear...?'
The girl remained utterly unpredictable.