Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Ipari Plains (4)
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The duel ended with the Duke's household claiming victory.
After their triumph in the duel, the first thing the Duke's household did was...
"Drink and feast to your hearts' content!"
...throw a grand banquet right there on the plains.
They slaughtered the livestock they'd brought along in advance and cracked open barrels of liquor. Soon enough, the air was thick with the savory aroma of cooking food wafting across the plains.
"There's more than enough meat and booze—overflowing, even! So eat and drink your fill, everyone."
The Duke even invited the Marquis's men to join the feast. Thanks to that, soldiers from the Duke's household sat on one side, while those from the Marquis's household occupied the other.
The Marquis's soldiers forgot their dejected moods and indulged heartily in the food and drink.
At first glance, it seemed like the Duke was acting with generous magnanimity.
'Talk about a petty bastard.'
But Demian had seen through it from the start. This whole setup was just the Duke's way of rubbing the Marquis's nose in his defeat right up to the bitter end.
Proof of that was the expression on the Marquis's face as he sat next to the Duke.
"Ryanbloom Marquis! Why the long face? Sure, we clashed for a bit, but it's all over now. Forget it and join the fun."
The Duke said as he poured liquor into the Marquis's cup.
"As the victor, I'll pour first. After all, I'm the winner here!"
The Marquis grimaced like he'd just bitten into something foul.
He looked like he wanted to bolt right then and there. But turning down an invitation from the victor went against the etiquette of the defeated.
Besides, his own soldiers were already laughing and enjoying the booze and food.
He couldn't very well ruin the atmosphere.
"Come on, drink up!"
Thanks to that, the Duke was the only one in high spirits. He kept pouring into the Marquis's cup over and over, grinning all the while.
Demian watched the scene with a wry smile.
'Well, that settles that worry.'
The reason Demian had gotten involved in the duel between the two houses was to prevent the Duke's household from being wiped out—thereby checking the Marquis's power.
The Duke's household was supposed to crumble after losing that duel.
Demian had thwarted the black mages infiltrating the Duke's ranks and ensured their victory in the duel.
That grim future could now be considered averted.
'All that's left is Yulan.'
One of their executives had been killed by Demian, and their plot to devour the Duke's household had been disrupted.
Yulan would undoubtedly come after Demian now. And since that's exactly what he wanted, he'd been leaving openings for them.
'They might even show up on the way back.'
People are most vulnerable right after a big event ends—when they're basking in the joy of it.
And everyone was in that state now.
Demian was lost in such thoughts when someone approached him.
He glanced over to see Michael Ryanbloom.
"Uh, mind if I sit here?"
Michael Ryanbloom asked, his face stiff and formal.
It was an unexpected approach, as far as Demian was concerned.
He'd wanted a proper chance to talk with the guy, but he hadn't expected Michael to come over first.
"Suit yourself."
When Demian readily agreed, Michael Ryanbloom's face lit up instantly.
He plopped down across from Demian, grinning from ear to ear like it was the best thing ever.
"Can I call you Sir Demian?"
"Sure. And I can call you Sir Michael?"
"Y-Yes! It'd be an honor!"
Demian tilted his cup back. As soon as it was empty, Michael Ryanbloom snatched up the bottle and refilled it.
"I-I was so m-moved during the duel!"
"Moved?"
Demian couldn't help but ask, caught off guard by the random word.
"I-I always thought there was no one else like me in the world!"
Michael continued, his face flushed bright red.
"B-But Sir Demian, you're just like me... no, way beyond someone like me!"
The reason Michael had surrendered in that final duel wasn't simply because Demian was stronger.
Through his superhuman senses, he'd glimpsed the talent Demian possessed.
And realizing that Demian's talent was on an entirely different level from his own, he'd immediately conceded defeat.
"The world's a big place, huh."
Michael said, his face full of awe.
The fact that he hadn't despaired upon sensing Demian's caliber showed that Michael Ryanbloom was no small fry.
'Or maybe he was just that lonely.'
Demian had been captured by Dorgo before he could even grasp how extraordinary his own talent was, enduring a hellish ordeal as a result.
So he couldn't really empathize with Michael's sense of despair.
"You're too arrogant."
And he had no intention of trying.
"Y-Yes?"
"You just thought to yourself that you're number two, didn't you?"
"H-How did you know?"
Even after meeting Demian, Michael's pride remained intact.
Demian was the undisputed number one.
And he himself was right below.
No matter how vast the gap, he figured being second place wasn't so bad.
"You're right—the world's wide. Your level of talent may be rare, but you can't assume there's absolutely no one else like you."
Michael's confidence wasn't entirely unfounded.
In fact, among master-class swordsmen, Michael was on the stronger side.
It was true that Michael Ryanbloom possessed talent worthy of going down in history.
But were there only one or two people who'd left their mark on history?
"Even in the Empire alone, there are at least three people with talent surpassing yours."
In his previous life, Michael Ryanbloom lost to a girl younger than him at age 25.
That defeat spurred him to redouble his sword training, eventually reaching the master realm.
But even after attaining mastery, he never beat that girl.
She was the one who would later be known as the Sword Empress far in the future.
"Michael Ryanbloom, don't get arrogant. Don't be conceited. Never think you're the best. Always remember that someone who can surpass you could appear at any time."
Michael stared at Demian in shock. Then, with a cautious expression, he asked,
"D-Do you live by that same philosophy, Sir Demian?"
"Nope, not at all. I'm the best."
"...But you just told me to watch out for that."
Michael looked utterly baffled.
But what could he do? Demian Haksen really was the best, and he'd proven it in his previous life.
"I consider myself the best, but I never let my guard down. I'm always preparing and bracing myself. Know why?"
"No idea."
"Because I never know when, where, or what danger might strike."
In his previous life, Demian Haksen had crossed paths with Archlich Dorgo by sheer bad luck, becoming a Death Knight and dooming the world.
In the process, he'd even killed his own family with his own hands—a filial impiety beyond redemption.
That's why, upon his return, Demian Haksen had vowed to always prepare for the worst.
"If even I—the best—stay vigilant, what excuse do you have to slack off?"
Demian added as he tilted his cup back.
"Michael Ryanbloom, don't get arrogant. Work harder. Get stronger than you are now."
The reason Demian was giving Michael Ryanbloom this lecture was to prepare for the future.
What if Demian Haksen failed to track down Dorgo in the end?
What if Dorgo led his undead legion to attack the world?
Borrowing Michael Ryanbloom's power then would be a huge help.
"I'll... keep that in mind."
Michael nodded.
"But in exchange... I have one request."
"This advice was for your own good."
"T-That's true, but..."
"Just spit it out."
When Demian prompted him, Michael answered right away.
"Can I call you big brother?"
Demian Haksen was left dumbfounded by the response.
"Uh... suit yourself."
He ended up blurting out his permission in a daze.
Michael's mouth stretched into a massive grin.
"Looking forward to it, big bro Demian!"
* * *
"Oh? Didn't expect you two to get so chummy in the meantime."
Just as Demian had unwillingly gained a sworn little brother, the Duke and Marquis approached the pair.
"It's always a sight to behold when young men forge a bond of friendship like this. Don't you agree?"
The Duke chuckled heartily as he glanced at the Marquis, who was still scowling.
"Your Grace, to what do we owe this?"
Demian said, rising from his seat.
Since the Duke was his employer, he needed to observe proper etiquette in formal settings.
"No need for that. Sit back down. Can't have the hero of our victory standing on ceremony. Right, Marquis?"
The Marquis's scowl deepened at the Duke's question.
'Man, he's really petty.'
Demian inwardly clicked his tongue at the Duke for still tormenting the Marquis.
"Sorry to interrupt your drinks. But as they say, strike while the iron's hot. We've finished our discussion, so I came over."
"Discussion?"
"Didn't we agree that, as compensation for your victory in the duel, we'd open the Marquis's secret vault to you?"
Because Michael Ryanbloom had drawn his sword first at the press conference, the duel reward had been slightly adjusted.
Upon victory, the Duke's household would take the territory adjacent to the gold mine, and Demian Haksen would receive one treasure from the Marquis's secret vault.
"This guy's been stingy about handing it over, so I had to twist his arm a bit."
"Stingy? You say that knowing the value of that thing!"
"When you're opening the secret vault, you can afford to part with something like that."
A light spat went back and forth between the two.
"Demian Haksen."
The Marquis turned to Demian once the bickering ended.
"First, let me apologize to you."
His retainers would have been stunned to hear it.
The Marquis had an extremely strong sense of pride and rarely apologized first.
Especially not to Demian Haksen, who had humiliated the second son.
"I'll apologize for sending knights to intimidate you as well."
Demian could roughly guess why the Marquis's attitude had shifted.
He'd realized there was no benefit to keeping Demian Haksen as an enemy.
Killing him wasn't an option either, with the Duke's household backing him.
If you couldn't kill them, the best move was to get on friendly terms.
That's why the Marquis had decided to bow his head.
"Of course, I don't intend to stop at words. Consider this my apology—and your reward for the duel."
The Marquis pulled a small box from his breast pocket.
The leather box exuded an air of luxury.
But the item inside was utterly plain.
Just a single gray ring, devoid of any ornamentation.
"It's a ring imbued with subspace magic."
Unlike its shabby appearance, the ring's true value was beyond imagination.
Subspace magic.
A spell that warped space to store various items.
This secret storage could only be accessed by its owner, making it the world's most secure vault.
"It was made by the White Magic Tower and can hold up to 100kg."
Subspace magic tools came in grades.
From what Demian had heard, the lowest-grade ones could store 10kg.
Even those were worth as much as a small castle.
100kg was ten times that. Its value was incalculable.
It was indeed a treasure worthy of a spot in the Marquis's secret vault.
'100kg is enough for a full set of good armor, spare weapons, food, potions, and plenty of gold coins.'
No more lugging around a heavy backpack on future trips.
"My thanks, Your Grace Marquis."
Demian accepted the subspace ring from the Marquis with both hands.
He slipped it onto his finger and channeled mana into it. The ring registered Demian Haksen's mana.
Now, only Demian Haksen could use it.
"If there's anything else you need, just say the word. I can't give you more from the vault, but the Marquis's household has plenty of fine equipment."
The Ryanbloom Marquis Family was the kingdom's premier knightly house.
As such, they possessed an array of superb weapons and gear that would make other houses drool.
"Ah, then—mind if I make one more request?"
"Go ahead."
At the Marquis's prompting, Demian quickly replied.
"I'd like a bow."
"A bow?"
The Marquis tilted his head at the out-of-left-field request.
Demian said it casually, like it was no big deal.
"For sending my little brother off to his wedding."