Chapter 195
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 195
Chapter Title: You're in Big Trouble
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High atop the Hampstead Heath hill stood the Serpent Earl's castle.
From its walls, offering a panoramic view of London below, Rimon narrowed his eyes.
The fog-shrouded city of London.
Or more precisely, he was examining the fog itself.
'What a crude fake.'
That thick, damp fog looked almost identical to the haze that spread during twilight hours, at least to the naked eye.
But appearances were all it had.
A closer look—even for an ordinary person—would reveal the differences from true twilight.
This fog lacked not just magical aura, but the very sense of mystery that should accompany any magical phenomenon.
And with his pitch-black eyes, Rimon could see its true nature more clearly than anyone.
A long snout here, a massive hand there, or a faint glint of eyes.
Glimpses of dozens, hundreds of constellation shadows flickering through the dense mist.
'Magic Lord, you sly fox. I wondered why you'd show up so boldly alone... So you mobilized every high-level player from your guild for this.'
Rimon clicked his tongue.
Even for a lord, blanketing London in fog alone was no easy feat.
Yet Carl had achieved it not through quality, but sheer quantity.
A feat possible only for the top ten guilds—and specifically Makers Guild, which boasted 90% of the world's magic-type players.
Of course, it was still just fog.
Harmless mist that, in any other city, would be dismissed as a weather anomaly.
But in London, the consequences were catastrophic.
"Open the door, please!"
"Kyaaah!"
"Ghosts! London's ghosts are coming for us!"
People pounding on locked doors.
Those barricading themselves inside.
Others screaming and fleeing.
Some muttering in dazed stupor.
Thanks to a Sword Master's keen senses, Rimon heard every sound echoing from the fog. He furrowed his brow.
Under normal circumstances, it might have caused mere confusion.
The problem was the date: Walpurgis Night.
With most citizens already out celebrating in the streets, the panic exploded uncontrollably.
Pajing, pajing, pajing!
It was chaos that should have already claimed thousands of casualties.
Yet it hadn't spiraled into total disaster for one reason: faint blue afterimages flickering in and out of the fog.
The Serpent Earl's knight order.
Hundreds of elite knights from the Blue Dragon Clan, plus thousands more regulars, leaping through space to conduct rescues.
A feat possible only for the space-manipulating Blue Dragon Clan—and in their home turf of London, no less.
But everything has its limits.
London's population was too vast for the Blue Dragons alone, and the panic too widespread.
Ziiiiiing.
Right then.
Loud noises erupted across London as holes suddenly punched through the fog in certain districts.
"Everyone, stay calm."
"With this Twilight Breaker developed by our Makers Guild, you have nothing to fear from the fog."
"Come this way—it's safe over here."
Around Makers Guild members wielding oversized flute-like staves, patches of fog vanished.
As people gathered there, London teetered back toward stability. Watching, Rimon unwittingly twisted his lips.
"...Ha."
A short, dry laugh escaped him. He turned his head slightly.
Gazing toward the castle interior, he muttered coldly.
"Just as that old hag said. You've got some potential, but no real class."
As a veteran of the old era, he could tell.
The ripples this would cause. The inevitable conclusion. The true aim of this farce.
Thus, seizing the moment while the Blue Dragons were fully occupied, Rimon drew an iron sword he'd grabbed from the training grounds.
He paused to consider.
The risk of exposing his identity. The chance of alerting the Liberation Brigade. Alternative solutions.
Then, exactly one second later, he grumbled dismissively.
"Who gives a damn about that crap!"
Essentials of the Demon-Slaying Dragon-Killer Sword
斬魔龍殺劍 要訣
"Lightning is born from slow clouds."
閃電來自慢雲
Rimon swung his sword slowly.
Like clouds drifting lazily across the sky, the blade moved at a leisurely pace—until it completed its arc.
Craaaaaack!
A single bolt of lightning cleaved the air.
The fog blanketing London split diagonally.
And a ferocious storm along the sword's path shredded the remnants to oblivion.
"Gasp...?"
"W-what is that?"
Whether from the fog's abrupt dispersal or the fierce winds that followed, the citizens panicked anew, milling about in confusion.
Rimon scowled briefly at the sight.
Then he spun on his heel.
Heading back to the training grounds to return the iron sword, he muttered under his breath.
"Our earl's in big trouble now."
"...The fog has dispersed, and the situation is under control. Please remain calm."
"Calm? How can we stay calm?!"
"Twilight hours at noon? That's unprecedented since the Demon God War!"
People shouted, faces flushed with forgotten decorum.
Rose responded to them all with her usual composure and diligence.
"As I explained, that fog was a natural phenomenon—unrelated to twilight hours."
"Nonsense! How could that be natural?!"
"I've lived in London my whole life, and I've never seen fog like that outside twilight!"
But the unrest refused to settle.
The terror twilight inspired in London ran that deep.
Against them alone, Rose might have calmed things.
The problem was Carl.
"Hmm. Isn't it premature to rule out any link to twilight?"
"Duke Carl, you think so too?"
"Personally speaking."
Shaking his head slightly, Carl continued with a worried frown.
"This is serious. We got lucky this time, but if it happens again... can we handle it?"
"W-wait. Are you saying this could happen again?"
"What has happened once can happen twice."
"No...!"
Groans and laments erupted from all sides.
"Duke Carl, please refrain from stoking public fear."
"Hoho, why so sensitive? I was merely sharing my personal opinion."
Rose clenched her fist, watching Carl's hearty chuckle.
It wasn't just his shamelessness—dismissing the impact of his words as "personal opinion" despite knowing better.
She suspected this fog was his doing.
But she couldn't voice that suspicion.
The Magic Lord and Makers Guild were untouchable, even with proof.
Accusing him on mere hunch, even as Blue Dragon Princess, would invite fierce backlash.
"I've long worried about twilight hours."
As if mocking her silence, Carl pressed on innocently.
"They've always come only at noon before, but that's not absolute. Today's proof enough."
Magic itself was vague, unpredictable.
Expecting stability from a curse born of its backlash was foolish to begin with.
Thus implied, Carl added casually, as if it just occurred to him.
"And from what I've heard, recent twilight vanishings have multiplied."
"Is that true?"
"Not just that. Reports of ghost attacks or strange monsters during twilight."
"What? Why wasn't such vital information public?!"
"How should I know? London's security isn't my responsibility."
Carl sounded perplexed.
But his words sharpened like a blade, directing the crowd's resentment one way.
"Lady Rose, did you know?!"
"Who wouldn't? The Serpents couldn't ignore London incidents."
"Then why hide twilight dangers?!"
"No excuse justifies concealing such a crisis from those responsible for security!"
"......"
She hadn't spoken, yet they condemned her as if she were behind every anomaly.
Rose stayed silent.
She'd realized it already.
Shills were planted among them.
Any rebuttal would only fuel their attacks.
Carl wasn't sloppy enough to corner her without contingencies.
And events unfolded as predicted.
"Now, now, everyone calm down. Did Rose foresee this? Blaming the Serpents won't solve anything."
Pretending to mediate, he pinned the blame.
"On that note, I have a proposal."
He drew their attention.
"Did you see the item that cleared today's fog? The fruit of my long research."
He touted Makers Guild's role.
"Research to eradicate twilight hours."
By the time he revealed his goal, few questioned or doubted.
Carl's masterful rhetoric had steered the mood flawlessly.
These were Great Britain's elites, after all.
Even amid chaos, some eyed his suspiciously polished response.
But they stayed silent.
No one wanted to cross the era's absolute power, the Magic Lord.
"Hoho. Seems the gentlemen and ladies here want to see my research's results. What say you, Lady Rose?"
As time passed.
With the crowd's backing, Carl pressed her for an answer on "cooperation."
His commoner followers.
Royalists like the haughty Duke Robert and the crestfallen Crown Prince Edward.
Even nobles like Alfred, who'd cozied up to her moments ago.
No allies in sight.
Thoroughly isolated, she had one response left.
"I oppose it."