Kobolds Crushed, Secrets Revealed
The kobolds crumbled without even getting a chance to fight back. Kobolds were low-grade monsters whose individual combat prowess was nothing to write home about in the first place. In a one-on-one, they'd get pummeled and chased off by a farmer who knew how to throw a punch...
"Kiiing! Kiiiing!"
Their opponents were warriors over two meters tall. And one was a knight clad head to toe in chainmail. Juabil and Belenca were top-tier warriors whose strength overflowed even at rest. There was no way a handful of kobolds could stand against them.
"Uwaaaah!"
Juabil swung his child-sized mace without hesitation. With no advantages beyond his massive bulk and sturdy frame, he threw himself into battle leveraging that raw physicality.
From the kobolds' perspective, it was an utter catastrophe. Their bodies were kid-sized, so facing a lunatic charging at them with a weapon as big as himself was nightmare fuel.
Belenca, meanwhile, silently carved through the kobolds. Her prowess needed no lengthy explanation—it was the standout force on any battlefield.
The kobolds tried intimidating the humans first.
"Y-You! Do you know whose stuff you're messing with?!"
"Whose is it?"
Ian fielded the question on behalf of the group. The kobolds exchanged glances before finally shouting,
"The Gr-Great Lord of Darkness! The Demon King's property!"
"Y-Yeah! You wanna die a gruesome death?!"
Ian couldn't help but snort at the kobolds' pathetic bluff. It seemed laughable to him, but surprisingly, bluster like that could work in this era. It was all down to biased information. If you didn't know what the enemy was capable of but boasted that your side was super strong, foes often got scared and hesitated to fight.
"...Lord of Darkness!"
"...Demon King!"
Sure enough, a few mercenaries looked spooked, their morale dipping. What utter idiots...
Or so one might say, but the poor mercenaries would take offense. They were just typical medieval folk—uneducated, scraping by at the bottom of some no-name mercenary band. How smart could they really be?
"Hey, kobolds."
Ian tossed in a line for the shaken mercenaries' sake.
"Heh. Weak dogs always bark the loudest."
"...Grrk!"
"Don't use such strong words. You'll look desperate."
The moment the line left his mouth, Ian wanted to gargle with saltwater. No way. Weren't cartoon characters from his old world spitting out stuff like that without a care? Was he still not up to par?
It was cheesy, cringe-worthy dialogue that made his toes curl. But...
Unexpectedly, the mercenaries ate it up.
"Ooh...!"
"So cool!"
"..."
Ian felt a weird mix of emotions as the medieval crowd lapped up lines straight out of old comics. Guess a masterpiece works anywhere...!
The kobolds sensed their bluff had been called.
"R-R-R-R-Retreat!"
"Run!"
Meanwhile, the mercenaries' morale shot through the roof.
"Attack! Sweep those kobold scum away!"
"Waaaaah!"
Ian chuckled, watching the warriors duke it out. Honestly, Juabil and Belenca had done almost all the work. Over 80% of the corpses littering the ground were theirs. The rest of the mercenaries had just ganged up on stray kobolds that broke from the pack. And they were the noisiest of all.
"They're fighting well."
He'd been in the thick of battles lately, but mages weren't really built for frontline scraps. Sure, on a full-scale war front, maybe. But in skirmishes like this? Mages didn't shine easily.
Ian was useful thanks to his arsenal of spells, but normally, he'd hang back and watch.
"That mercenary Juabil—if he'd had any brains, he'd be a big shot by now."
"A mercenary? Nah, he'd have gotten land and a knighthood."
Size mattered in combat. Bulk wasn't everything, but it was no small advantage.
In that sense, Juabil was born a natural powerhouse. Long limbs and superior strength let him wield a dagger like a spear.
"Master!"
The fight wrapped up before he knew it, and Juabil lumbered back.
"Master?"
"Yessir! Mage sir! You're my master now. I serve ya."
Ian's performance must've left an impression. Juabil saw him as a benefactor.
The demon exorcism had been a show, sure. But slaying the demon mage Walter? That was real. Walter had been exploiting Juabil's band for labor, so Ian had genuinely saved him.
"We took out all the kobolds."
"Yeah... good job."
The mercenaries had bagged about forty kobolds. For a band of just over a dozen under Juabil, that was a massive victory.
"Mage sir! We won...!"
"Yeah, yeah. I saw."
The mercenaries rushed over, eager to brag to Ian. But his nonchalant response made them flinch.
We pulled off a huge win, but he doesn't look happy at all?
Did we screw up somewhere?
They whispered among themselves. Ian's reaction defied common sense to them.
Ian wasn't thrilled because he'd expected victory all along. With Belenca in the mix? And Juabil pulling his weight? Losing would've been weirder.
Plus, he'd just spectated from the back, so the thrill was muted.
Idiots. You think a mage feels the same as you grunts?
...Oh!
But the mercenaries didn't see Ian as odd. Quite the opposite—they thought it made him an exemplary mage!
Not reveling in victory like a commoner? Perfect. A mage of Ian's caliber needed that air of otherworldliness to seem legit. Stone-cold poise even in triumph...!
That's our mage!
"???"
Ian blinked in confusion at their admiring stares. I just hung back with Kira watching the show. Why the hero worship?
Guess they appreciate me not meddling.
He nodded to himself. Nothing worse than a clueless higher-up butting into ops. Ian was basically the band's "CEO," so he could've interfered plenty. But staying hands-off? Made for smooth sailing.
"Good work, everyone."
"Thank you, mage sir!"
Ian praised his "employees" from the comfort of the sidelines, doing jack squat himself. The ideal boss, really.
"Ian. Let's check the warehouse."
"Right. Let's go."
Belenca called, and Ian brushed himself off, standing.
Investigating post-battle? Another mage perk. Let the meatheads handle the fighting.
Ian headed to the hidden warehouse with Belenca and Kira in tow.
# Demon mage Walter's secret stash was tucked deep in a mossy cave that doubled as the kobolds' lair. Naturally, they passed right through kobold territory en route.
The cave's standout feature? Skulls everywhere.
"..."
Ian eyed them closely, and Belenca commented,
"Local villagers' bones, probably."
"Villagers?"
"Kobolds ate 'em."
"..."
Ian was hit anew with how monstrous kobolds truly were. Wild dogs ate people. Wolves too. Kobolds? They chomped humans like chew toys, obviously.
"They sure ate a lot."
Belenca tsked, crossing herself.
Walter was a demon mage.
Ian thought, staring at the piled human remains. Whether offerings to demons or fodder for twisted experiments, Walter had harmed people as casually as breathing. And tossed the corpses to the kobolds as feed.
...Why the hell?
A chill of dread mixed with burning curiosity gripped him. Why had Walter delved into demon magic at the cost of so many lives? Just a psycho? Or some grand goal requiring sacrifices?
Either way, it was beyond Ian's grasp.
"Here it is."
Belenca led with a torch, easily spotting the hidden treasure nook deeper in.
"Oh ho."
Baskets brimmed with raw amber gems. But more striking than the amber hoard was the yellow tapestry adorning the wall.
A tapestry was a woven wall hanging—basically a decorative carpet. It prettied up the place while offering minor insulation.
"Well now. These rocks are chump change compared to this."
Belenca whistled, inspecting it. Medieval tapestries were pricey. Handmade drudgery, and this one used actual gold thread. A golden tapestry.
"You'd only see this in a duke's castle..."
She was genuinely impressed. One tapestry like that made discovering the stash worthwhile. Sell it, and you'd be rolling in coin!
"Ian?"
"..."
"What're you staring at?"
Unlike Belenca, buzzing with profit dreams(...), Ian focused on the tapestry's imagery.
A circle and equilateral triangle.
He fished a signet ring from his pocket. A ring etched with a circle and equilateral triangle—the symbol of the old Church of the Gods of Heaven, the Golden Rule.
And that... religious art?
Tapestries often featured pictures. Historical battles or biblical scenes were common. This one depicted something religious: sunlight pouring from cloudy skies, winged angels, the Golden Rule symbol. And before it, wailing emperor and nobles...
Ian squinted. He had a rough idea what it portrayed.
The fall of the Golden Empire...?
Probably spot on. The ancient Golden Empire's people believed apocalypse followed their empire's collapse. The scene showed Judgment Day dawning as the Golden Empire crumbled.
"Something wrong?"
"Belenca, this picture. What vibe do you get?"
She answered bluntly.
"Masterfully done."
"..."
"Gold thread and all. Must cost a fortune."
Ian just laughed at the knightly response. A mage like him pondered hidden meanings, but to a knight like Belenca, it was just expensive loot.
"Ian. Grab what we can and let's go."
"Yeah."
Ian rolled up the tapestry and tucked it away.