Chapter 107: How to Reach a Dream (2)
Chapter 107: How to Reach a Dream (2)
The space reeked of blood, medicinal chemicals mixed with mana, and the pungent stench of horse manure.
I looked down at Ashton, who was bound to a chair. Outside, the clash of blades was frantic, but here, it felt as though time had come to a standstill.
“...Is that you?” he asked.
The Izentheim known as Ashton—
“Julian,” he gasped, wheezing as he called out his comrade’s name. “Julian...”
But he could not open his eyes.
He had none left.
Dark red blood leaked from his empty sockets, trailing down his cheeks to pool at the tip of his chin.
Thump.
My heart continued its steady beat.
The Izentheim.
They had been hiding among us for a very long time. There was certainly one among the knights—no, there could be even more.
“Julian...”
The knight named Ashton continued to call for Julian.
Should I kill him?
Or should I let him live?
A flurry of thoughts raced through my mind.
The ways I could use him if I kept him alive for interrogation. The possibility of tracking down other Izentheim using the information he possessed.
However, the Izentheim exist only for their own kind. They desire nothing but their grand cause: our destruction.
They are an alien species with no will to live—or rather, their entire existence is focused solely on that one goal.
Could I truly make use of them?
I didn't even know exactly who I was fighting yet.
The true nature of the Izentheim remained veiled, unseen. They were nothing more than opaque silhouettes whose existence I was only certain of. Because everything about them was still a mystery to me...
I didn't need to waste time on dilemmas without answers.
An enemy of humanity must not be allowed to live.
Though the methods might differ, that duty was an absolute that must never change.
I established a standard to halt my spiraling thoughts.
It became my criterion, my categorical imperative, and eventually, I accepted it as my conviction.
“....”
On the floor lay mysterious drugs the Cartel bastards had used for torture. I picked up a reagent bottle and a discarded syringe. Through the intuition of the Virus, I understood the mana formula of the chemical.
The Virus perceives mana as mana.
Perhaps it even interprets things that aren't mana as such.
Bubbling.
The liquid inside the reagent bottle began to boil. The variables emitted by the Virus seeped into the liquid, twisting the mana formula that composed the drug.
It was a method I was using for the first time. This, too, was a new kind of realization, yet a question arose.
Why was I going through such a complicated process to kill Ashton?
Was it merely because I didn't want Julian to suspect me?
Stab.
I plunged the needle into the side of Ashton’s neck.
“...!”
Ashton let out a short groan. His body convulsed with tremors.
The moment the syringe was emptied, Ashton’s head slumped powerlessly.
His breath stopped.
“....”
I crushed the empty syringe into powder in my palm. I hoisted Ashton’s corpse onto my shoulder. I stepped out of the stable and began to run. I sprinted through the jungle.
Julian, having finished off his opponents, caught up a moment later. The shouts and footsteps of the Cartel members echoed behind us, but it didn't matter.
On these rugged mountain paths, we were faster than any vehicle.
A knight is a human tactical weapon, cultivated by the Empire’s extreme ‘Iron Man Ideology.’
Though the meaning of that term might have faded with time, at the very least, the two of us were no frauds.
* * *
In an unnamed forest near the border.
I set Ashton down from my shoulder. Julian conjured a small spark of mana at his fingertips to illuminate the body.
“He’s dead.”
Under the bluish light, Ashton’s condition was gruesome. Flesh torn away, bones exposed—countless marks of torture.
Yet Julian showed no emotion. There wasn't even a flicker in his dull pupils, which looked as though they were covered in dust.
Finding it strange, I asked him, “Was he a comrade?”
Julian nodded.
“He was.”
I looked at Ashton.
This man would never return to the Empire. Just like before my regression, his body would never be found.
It was because he possessed the heart of a sub-species.
“What do you plan to do with the body now?” Julian asked.
“I...”
My voice trailed off.
Julian’s words echoed in my ears.
‘What do you plan to do with the body now?’
As if he were asking about the corpse’s utility.
In the subtext of his words, as if he knew something I didn't, a spark suddenly lit up in my mind.
Strange suspicions began to bloom.
—Looking back, it was odd.
What exactly had Julian been doing until I arrived here?
Julian is an exceptional knight. In the Sentinel, men who possess both such martial prowess and intellect are rare.
And yet, he had been excessively composed. Even though his comrade had been kidnapped, he hadn't stepped forward first; he had only moved according to my lead.
As if he were waiting for me to discover something. As if he were guiding me toward it.
“....”
To blame it on his dry personality made him seem far too incompetent.
The Julian I knew was by no means an incompetent man.
“...Julian.”
I turned to look at him. The suspicion that had branched out reached a single possibility.
Why was Ashton suddenly captured by the Cartel, and how did I happen to come here?
A knight who is an Izentheim is a rare asset. Even from the Izentheim’s perspective, how could such a precious individual—one they must keep alive—be caught by mere Cartel thugs?
“It was you.”
No matter how much I thought about it, there was no other reason but this man.
“....”
Julian looked at me in silence. An unidentifiable light flickered in his deep eyes.
“You,” I asked him, “did you kill Ashton?”
Julian’s complexion was always constant. He was a man who lacked expression. I had thought of it as composure, nonchalance, or serenity, but I had been gravely mistaken.
I had never once looked into his true self.
There was too much I didn't know about him.
“...Yes,” Julian nodded with a low cough. “I leaked the information to the Cartel.”
My face hardened.
He lowered his gaze to Ashton’s corpse. A small breath escaped through his teeth.
“Ashton. This man was not a pure Imperial. He was a man whose dreams were far too large... a man who borrowed the identity of a commoner named Ashton.”
Julian whispered quietly, as if recalling a not-so-distant past.
“I was the first to find out. I was also the one who had him discharged from the Sentinel.”
Impersonating an Aran to enter Empire Point carries a minimum sentence of death.
Those who know of it and allow it to happen also face extreme punishment, up to execution, depending on their status.
“I let Ashton go. I allowed him to keep his title as a knight.”
Julian confessed his crime and Ashton’s simultaneously.
“He said he was grateful. He said he would surely repay me in another way.”
A sharpness like shards of glass seeped into his dry voice.
“However, it seemed Ashton’s greed grew again at some point. He broke his promise and showed signs of trying to return to the capital.”
“...Were you monitoring him?”
“If he could deceive the Empire, why wouldn't he deceive me?”
A man whose depths cannot be fathomed leaves no openings.
Julian continued calmly.
“Max. I don't know what is right. And I don't know what is wrong. But I can certainly see what is incorrect.”
Julian’s eyes flashed slowly.
“Do you know the scale of cash the Cartel funnels to the Imperial Palace and the Imperial Guard?”
The Imperial Guard rakes in money from everywhere.
Whether it was soaked in drugs, filth, or blood, it didn't matter; they could just launder it anyway.
“Despite that, the higher-ups turn a blind eye to the Cartel. In fact, many see them as a source of funding for war preparations.”
Julian continued in a hazy tone.
“But that money flows back into the Empire through the borders, ruining the subjects and destroying the poor. They are breaking people's souls just to earn a pittance.”
I sat down on a rock in the forest, using it as a chair.
“Max. Do you know the crimes the nobles commit using drugs? Do you know the crimes addicts commit just to get a fix?”
Stories of high-ranking nobles forcibly addicting commoners to turn them into horrific slaves—and that children were among the victims. Stories of a head of a household slaughtering his family while high, and another selling his family to get more drugs...
“Before this plague spreads further, before it becomes irreversible, someone must cut it off.”
While I was in the capital, Julian had been watching, watching, and watching it all.
“Maximilian.”
He called my name.
“It is impossible to take down the Cartel through normal means. It requires far more money and people.”
I could easily understand what Julian was saying.
“...Do you need a stronger Cartel?”
Julian nodded.
“Destruction and replacement.”
He pointed to Ashton’s body.
“Using this as a pretext, we destroy the current Cartel and replace the vacuum with someone who is at least controllable.”
This had been Julian’s plan from the start—the reason he had asked for my cooperation.
“You were testing me.”
“I won't deny it.”
For a moment, I didn't know what to say to him.
Since my regression, it was perhaps the first time I was at a loss for words. The miracle of regression had instead revealed a new side of Julian.
“We must secure the interior before the war,” Julian said, looking at me. “Starting a war without setting the Cartel straight would be a great detriment to the Empire.”
He was trying to persuade me.
“Furthermore, the raw materials for drugs are no different from stimulants. They will be vital supplies during wartime.”
The raw materials grown on Cartel farms, including Black Poppy, are used as stimulants on the battlefield.
Steampacks are a core resource of war.
“To a pure Imperialist like you, there could be no more fitting mission.”
I looked at Julian.
His proposal was right for me. For the benefit of the Empire, and for my own cause.
But was it right for Julian himself? For a man who seemed so worn down, who had stepped so deep into the world’s darkness...
“Julian,” I suddenly blurted out. “What is it that you are looking for?”
Swoosh—
The wind blew, shaking the tree branches. Shadows flickered as if dancing.
Julian looked up loftily at the night sky. The soft moonlight pooled in his eyes.
“...I wonder.”
In him, I saw—
“Perhaps I am looking for a way to reach a dream.”
—A fragment of Baltaras.
* * *
A luxury villa in the heart of Bequinia.
I opened Ashton’s chest cavity on a metal table. First, I examined the heart in detail. I didn't need any other organs.
“...He is a sub-species.”
“Did you learn how to perform autopsies?”
“Yes. The shape of the heart is different. It’s more distinct in those who have trained with mana.”
The atria, ventricles, muscles—every part was different. Unlike humans, a sub-species' heart is transformed by mana. Depending on individual talent, more efficient pathways are forged.
“I will keep the heart.”
I removed the heart and placed the body in a freezer.
I had learned a new fact thanks to Julian.
A living Izentheim is difficult to use, but a dead one is quite useful.
“Now, I shall explain,” Julian said.
“Yes.”
Julian pointed to a chalkboard on the wall. Dozens of photos were connected like a spiderweb.
“Costa, Pellier, Kunta. These three are the most influential heads of the Cartel. They are also called Capos. They are at war with each other, selling drugs recklessly and competitively. There is no order and no control.”
I scanned the faces of the Capos and their subordinates. They had many nicknames in their world: the Viper, the Boss of Bosses, the Iron Boar.
They were merely frogs in a well.
“They can be easily killed. We will use this body for the ‘destruction’ of the Cartel.”
Ashton. This man would become a hero. Not a spy of the Izentheim who forged his identity, but a tragic knight who was brutally murdered while working for the civilians of the Empire.
By inciting the anger of the knights, including the Sentinel, and projecting that force onto the Cartel, the destruction operation would resolve itself naturally.
The problem was what came next.
Julian pointed out that exact point.
“However, even if you cut off the heads, new ones will emerge.”
Even before my regression, the Empire had cut off the heads of the Cartel, but their subordinates had splintered, leading to an even more chaotic situation. Even after the Empire fell, their atrocities had continued.
“Rather than letting that happen, we will create a controllable organization that encompasses the entire Cartel.”
In other words, we would raise the strongest Cartel.
“Do you have a candidate?”
“There is someone I have been grooming for quite a while. He has the skill and a purpose. However... cough.”
Julian let out a dry cough. Cough. Cough. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and gave a bitter smile.
“My funds have reached their limit. To raise him, I need even more massive amounts of money than I have now.”
“Funding is not an issue.”
“I know, but the Cartel is a money-eating hippo, more than you might think. It’s like pouring water into a bottomless pit.”
Julian seemed worried about me. Of course, even this could be an act, but one thing was certain.
Just as I couldn't truly know Julian, he couldn't truly know me.
Perhaps no one in this world would ever see my ‘end.’
“Are you worried even after seeing my money? There is no need for that.”
I said nonchalantly.
“I’ll tell only you, Sir Knight. My net worth is at least over 10 billion dollars.”
“10 billion?”
Julian blinked.
“Yes. That’s the minimum. To be honest, I don't even know exactly how much I have. It’s growing every single day.”
With the profits from the Kanilan short-selling, the surge in raw materials, the revenue from the mana stone mines, and the absorption of various Imperial corporations, the structure where money breeds money was already complete.
“...I see. I didn't expect 10 billion.”
At least for me, things that can be solved with money are the easiest.