Chapter 358: What Must Be Done (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 358: What Must Be Done (1)
He wasn't dead, nor was she of the direct royal line.
An awkward conversation followed with Sirkal, who had ascended to the throne with startling naturalness.
Suddenly, Alon recalled something Siyan had told him.
‘She’s gathering an army...’
Of course, Sirkal gathering troops and the creation of Divine Land were merely coincidences. They had no connection. After all, Alon hadn't met Sirkal at all for several years.
He debated whether to ask her about it, but—
"Oh dear, would you mind if we moved to a different spot for a moment?"
At Sirkal’s sudden request, Alon looked around. A crowd of nobles was gathered nearby, desperately waiting for a chance to speak with her.
Are they foreign nobles? Alon wondered as he nodded.
"Right. Sorry for taking up your time."
"No, please don't say that. I'm only moving now because I 'have' to."
"...Because you have to?"
At Alon’s question, Sirkal nodded with a faint smile on her lips.
"Just as the Saintess said, preparations are going well, so you needn't worry."
As she brushed past Alon, she whispered in a voice so low it was inaudible to those around them.
"...What?"
Alon reacted a beat late and turned around, but she had already joined the group of nobles.
"??"
Watching her with a bewildered expression, Alon recalled her words once more.
‘Just as the Saintess said, preparations are going well, so you needn't worry.’
There had been a hint of playfulness in her voice.
"Whew—"
Alon thought calmly. Even if it felt a bit strange to be thinking this to himself...
Alon knew that the Grand Duchy of Luxible worshipped Kalanon, the Lightning Receiver. He also knew that Sirkal and her younger sister, Jenira, had distributed statues that resembled him.
In other words, the 'Saintess' Sirkal mentioned could only be the Saintess of Kalanon. Since the Goddess Sironia currently had no Saintess, there was only one possible conclusion.
The Saintess Sirkal spoke of was Silli.
"..."
Having reached that deduction, Alon naturally pondered the next question: what did she mean by 'preparations'?
What on earth could that mean?
...No, in truth, Alon already knew.
The sudden change of the ruler in the Grand Duchy of Luxible. Adding the secret information he’d heard from Siyan—it wasn't difficult at all to figure out what those 'preparations' were.
Soldiers.
If he were to translate Sirkal’s words:
[Just as Silli said, the army is being well-prepared, so you needn't worry.]
"..."
The shocking combination of facts made Alon’s jaw drop as he stared at Sirkal again.
...Silli, oh Silli. What on earth are you up to?
* * *
"Master? Is something the matter?"
"No—it's nothing."
Yutia approached him after finishing her business. Alon waved his hand dismissively and asked her, "Did your conversation go well?"
"Yes, it wasn't anything major."
"What was it about?"
"Hmm—are you curious?"
"...? I am curious, but if it's something I shouldn't know, you don't have to tell me."
"Hehe—"
Yutia made a face as if weighing her options, then smiled as if a brilliant idea had struck her. She stabbed an egg tart with a fork and held it out to Alon—then she parted her red lips slightly.
"Ah."
"?"
Alon was dazed for a moment, but he soon understood Yutia’s intent and took the fork. Then, he brought the egg tart to her mouth.
Crunch—
The sound of the dessert being bitten echoed as it entered her mouth.
"GYAAAAAAAH—!!"
Immediately, a bizarre scream from a familiar voice erupted from behind them. Alon tried to turn his head, but—
"Mmm—it's delicious."
"Is it?"
"Yes. I think it tastes even better because you fed it to me, Master."
Yutia’s voice held his attention.
"Isn't it just that the egg tart itself is good?"
"No? It feels extra special to me."
Yutia chewed while daintily covering her mouth, then flashed a satisfied smile.
"Actually, it wasn't a big deal. It was about Elivan’s birthday."
"His birthday... I see."
"Yes. They said it will be held right after the ball ends. In about two weeks?"
"Then it's basically happening immediately after the ball."
"That's right."
"They're in a hurry."
"Well, apparently some nobles like it because the schedules are back-to-back."
Alon nodded, then a thought occurred to him.
"Yutia."
"Yes."
"Are you going to the party too?"
"No, I wasn't invited."
"...Really?"
"Yes. And it's not just me; many nobles weren't invited. Rumors are starting to spread that people don't understand the criteria for the guest list."
"It seems many people want to go."
"Naturally. For nobles, such gatherings are incredibly important."
Recalling his earlier encounter with Elivan, Alon felt a strange sensation.
Eventually, the conversation wound down. After eating a few more egg tarts, Alon left the ball a bit early.
"Hey—are you kidding me?! Where are the egg tarts?!"
"Th-they were definitely right here—!"
"Ugh—damn it! Move fast! We have to replace them with something else!"
On his way out, he heard the voices of the servants. It seemed the remaining stock of the egg tarts Alon had enjoyed so much had completely vanished.
Alon shrugged and headed to his assigned room.
That night.
"Mentor! Is there anything you're curious about regarding me?!"
"...Curious about?"
"Yes!"
"Nothing in particular right now. Why?"
"Uuu—you're not curious about anything? Like—why my tail is so fluffy!"
"...And if I say I am curious?"
Alon was handed a fork with an egg tart on it by Seolrang.
"Aahn—"
"..."
It was you guys...
Seolrang had her mouth open like a baby bird waiting for food. She was looking at him with her eyes narrowed suggestively. Only then did Alon realize the truth behind the missing egg tarts.
And that day...
Alon received additional questions from Ryanga and Historia about the horns on their heads and their tails, respectively. Consequently, he had to feed them eleven egg tarts.
"...I don't think I'll be eating egg tarts for a while."
Such was Alon’s brief monologue.
* * *
Two weeks later.
After Alon, who had been tormented by egg tarts, returned to the Palatio Earldom while eating sweet potatoes (which he never grew tired of), and while the nobles invited to Elivan’s birthday party were attending a new ball in Tern...
"Phew—is everything ready?"
"Yes, sir."
Duke Phimarian of Ashtalon arrived in Tern. He smiled with satisfaction and instructed his servant.
"Make sure it's well-prepared. It's a gift for him."
"Yes, I will manage it strictly."
Stroking his chin, Duke Phimarian looked out at Tern with a relaxed expression. A significant number of soldiers and knights were within his view. It was a bit too many for the security of a mere party. Furthermore, it seemed soldiers and knights had been drafted from various countries, as they wore many different uniforms.
Watching the scene, the Duke soon moved inside.
"Your Grace."
"Speak."
"Should we deliver the prepared item immediately after today's party ends?"
"Yes."
"But—is it really alright to hand over such a thing so readily?"
At the servant’s concern, the Duke laughed silently. He knew what the servant was worried about.
After all, the gift Duke Phimarian intended to give Elivan was none other than drugs. Specifically, a drug that had recently been circulating in the underworld at an extremely high market price.
On the surface, Elivan and drugs were a jarring combination. Yes, only on the surface.
"Just do as you're told."
At the Duke’s sharp rebuke, the servant bowed and retreated. The Duke entered the lavish ballroom, thinking to himself.
‘What would everyone say if they knew it was Elivan himself who first proposed the drug business?’
The smile on the Duke’s lips deepened. Even now, recalling that moment made him chuckle involuntarily.
It was only natural. That Hero, who seemed so pure that he would care for nothing but saving the world, had secretly sought him out to propose a business deal. And not just once, but twice.
He had come with a vision for the underworld that sounded incredibly solid to anyone’s ears. What Elivan proposed wasn't some clumsy bait to lure him in. Elivan, who seemed the most disconnected from such things, actually had faster information on the underworld than the Duke himself. He even knew exactly what the Duke was up to.
‘...To think the Hero praised for saving the world would be like that.’
Duke Phimarian marveled inwardly as he scanned the room. There were many nobles gathered for the ball. Some were faces the Duke knew, others were strangers.
If there was one peculiar thing, it was that every face familiar to Duke Phimarian was someone who had their feet dipped—either slightly or deeply—into the underworld.
Creeeeeak—!
While the Duke was gathering information, he saw Elivan emerge from the central doors of the ballroom in the distance.
However, one thing was a bit strange.
‘...Is he alone?’
He was by himself. Usually, his companions were always by his side to assist him, and that had been the case even at the ball in Asteria.
While Phimarian wondered about this, Elivan stepped onto the ballroom’s dais and began to clear his throat. As the eyes of the gathered nobles focused on him, Elivan began to mutter softly.
He continued to murmur something while lightly glancing around the room. Doubts began to sprout in the minds of the nobles, and just as Duke Phimarian tilted his head and stepped forward—
"Two... thirty..."
Elivan’s 'words' became clearly audible. He was—
"Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty—"
He was counting. Calmly. While shifting his gaze here and there.
And just as everyone began to question Elivan’s bizarre behavior—
"Forty-eight."
His gaze stopped on Duke Phimarian. Before the Duke could even ask a question, a bright smile spread across Elivan’s face.
"Ahem—"
Only then did Elivan clear his throat as if to begin his speech.
"A total of forty-eight nobles have gathered here today. Thanks to you, I am able to lighten the burden of the 'Hero' until the very end."
He spoke. The moment the nobles wore expressions of confusion at his cryptic words—
CRUNCH—!
Out of the many nobles staring at Elivan, the neck of the one standing at the very front was twisted two full rotations—Splatter!—and they collapsed to the floor, spraying blood in every direction.
"..."
The thick scent of blood filled the air. And then—
"Thank you so much, everyone."
With Elivan’s blood-splattered smile as the signal—
"AAAAAAAGH—!!!"
The carnage began.