Chapter 382
Chapter 382
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 382
>Chapter Title: Doesn't Look Lame
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Behind Urbona's defensive lines.
“P-Please... spare...”
“...me.”
Amid low groans of agony, a brilliant burst of light erupted.
The pained moans subsided right after, and the medic let out a faint gasp at the sight.
It was astonishing.
The tent used as a ward held just over twenty wounded soldiers. They were all barely stabilized after emergency treatment.
More than half were clinging to life by a thread, no exaggeration.
Yet they were all healed in an instant.
How was this possible?
The cause was simple.
There... that...
‘...mage.’
Yes, the masked figure who called himself simply a ‘mage.’
It was him.
“Are we done with the patients?”
“Y-Yes...! There are more coming in this afternoon, but for now, that’s all.”
“Got it, then.”
The medic jumped at the masked man’s question and answered hastily, then called out to stop him as he turned to leave the tent.
“B-But... are you from the Blandoga Family by any chance?”
“Blandoga?”
“Oh... sorry. I got too excited.”
The medic quickly realized his mistake and bowed his head. If the man wanted to reveal his origins, there’d be no point in wearing the mask.
The masked man regarded him for a moment before stepping out of the tent.
“The weather’s...”
Not bad.
Mild for the north.
Perfect for a stroll, but instead of wandering, the masked man... Aster... headed toward the Grand Duchess’s tent.
To be honest...
‘...didn’t expect it to drag on this long.’
The war between the Lamburg Duchy and Urbona was dragging on far longer than anticipated.
He’d thought it wouldn’t last as long as the Lode War, but at this rate, it just might.
Not exactly pleasant.
Where had it gone wrong?
‘If I had to pinpoint it, probably from when I escaped the Urbona family.’
The first infiltration attempt on the Urbona family.
Bad luck.
Who’d have thought they’d be on guard for spies.
It wouldn’t have stung so much if they’d always been that vigilant, but according to the Grand Duchess, they’d gotten wind of their spy plans.
Anyway, no giving up.
So he let himself get caught on purpose.
‘Figured I’d endure some torture and find an opening.’
He was numb to interrogations by now. Not fun, but tolerable if it meant getting the Fragment of Reverse Heaven.
But what?
- He won’t talk anyway.
- Show him to the Patriarch and chop his head off.
He hadn’t realized then.
What “won’t talk” really meant.
Turns out it referred to a ‘Vowbound of Halaborg.’
‘Never imagined they’d use a Vowbound as a spy.’
They must’ve figured a vow-bound body wouldn’t crack under torture, no matter what.
So what to do?
‘Bounce.’
And sow some confusion while at it.
- For Decullan.
That’s where that line came from.
Anyway.
With things tangled up like that, Aster didn’t have many options.
First.
‘Wreak havoc, find it, and bail.’
Second.
‘Wait for a better moment.’
He’d chosen the latter.
Makes sense.
Even for Aster, storming a prestigious family with two grand mages was too risky.
While biding his time, he joined up with the duchy’s forces...
‘...not looking good.’
An endless war.
He’d hoped the family’s defenses would slacken during it, but Urbona kept them tight.
Scouted several times on Yoyongi, and damn, they were hardcore.
In the end, waiting without end.
...That’s why Aster was heading to the Grand Duchess.
To see if the ‘bait’ to end this wait had shown up on the battlefield.
But.
“No news yet.”
“...Still?”
The Grand Duchess nodded silently at Aster’s question and continued.
“It’s unexpected for us too. I thought they’d respond within a week at latest, but it’s dragging. In cases like this, it’s one of two things.”
“One of two?”
“Either the Patriarch hasn’t joined the front... or he’s preparing something else.”
“Hmm.”
Quite the pickle for Aster.
The original plan was:
1. Capture Black Stone’s Seat Gite.
No other Black Stone would do.
Judging by the death of the Black Stone agent, grabbing small fry wouldn’t move the Patriarch.
Anyway, snag Black Stone’s Seat Gite...
2. Lure out the Patriarch.
But.
‘Gite isn’t moving.’
Even knowing he had to move personally to counter the Four Vowbounds.
But could it be?
‘...Gite can’t move because the Patriarch hasn’t deployed?’
If so, then what?
...There was a way to draw out the Patriarch holed up in the family.
Not pleasant, though.
“Not good.”
“Don’t be too hasty. More than that... I want to ask if you’re alright.”
“With what?”
If it was about the situation, he’d say ‘not alright,’ but it didn’t seem like that.
As he tilted his head, the Grand Duchess gazed at his chest with hollow eyes.
“You’re pushing too hard.”
“Pushing?”
“Yes. That wasn’t ordinary healing magic. Even if your realm is truly transcendent as you claim, the war’s only been days. And yet...”
The Grand Duchess recalled the antics of that carefree mage.
He seemed like a loafer with nothing better to do, but his actions were anything but light.
Not just treating the wounded shipped to this camp.
“They say you ride a black wyvern? Rumors are spreading. Some madman heals wounds without regard for friend or foe.”
She’d heard it shortly after the war began.
When the black wyvern blocks the moonlight, a masked saint descends to save us.
What nonsense.
Wyverns aren’t black, saints don’t wear masks, and what’s this salvation crap?
“At first, I thought it was Urbona propaganda with some agenda. But no.”
Doppleganger intel said the same rumors circulated on Urbona’s side.
- Doesn’t seem like intentional spread from our side. Our commanders are baffled too.
So something rumor-worthy had happened...
The Grand Duchess investigated the source herself. Fortunately, witnesses weren’t hard to find.
And there were more than one or two.
Piecing their testimonies together, she reached a conclusion.
The identity of the saint on the black wyvern.
“It’s you, isn’t it.”
“Me?”
“Yes. That mask, the black wyvern, and... the healing magic spewing light.”
No clue why the black wyvern came up, but those two traits alone pointed to the madman before her.
Not speculation—certainty.
But.
“Whatever, fine.”
The Grand Duchess didn’t press further.
Why?
If he wanted to brag, he’d have done it already.
Those who do good deeds tend to hide and humble themselves, and she respected that.
So she decided not to pry into the masked saint on the black wyvern.
“Anyway, what I want to say is this: No matter your realm, you can’t save everyone. That’s it.”
“...”
Aster trailed off at her sincere advice.
She smirked at his evasive look.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep it to myself.”
The Grand Duchess thought.
I figured he was just a lunatic, but he’s more than that.
Anyone doing such deeds would want to puff up and boast, but this madman says nothing and just keeps at it.
Truly profound...
“You could brag about it.”
“...?”
“You could go around telling people.”
“...Why?”
“Why? That’s how good deeds work.”
“If I go around telling people myself, I’ll look lame.”
“...So it’s fine if others do?”
“Yep.”
Ideally, let them spread it far and wide.
Hell, more than fine—as long as he didn’t look lame, he’d love a nameplate or a plaque slapped on his back.
But why?
“...”
The Grand Duchess’s face twisted oddly.
Aster smirked.
“Kidding. Just trying to make you smile. Anyway, let me know if there’s any real news.”
After Aster left the tent.
The Grand Duchess shook her head.
“Guess it was a joke. Makes sense... I’ve been too stiff lately.”
War pains more than just foot soldiers.
Especially a defensive war like hers.
Her face had been set in stone lately, and he must’ve noticed.
‘Gotta keep that secret.’
She resolved.
Then turned back to reports from the camps.
For the war still raging.
...The communication orb brought bad news the next morning.
[...Grand Duchess.]
“What is it?”
A voice chilled to the bone... no, hollow as an empty void.
From the supply officer at Kortis camp, delivering goods.
[Kortis camp... has fallen.]
“Kortis has?”
As the Grand Duchess puzzled over the sudden fall, multiple orbs chimed in unison.
And the voices from them all...
[Grand Duchess, Arok camp...]
[Grand Duchess...]
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen.
All from supply officers, and when the reports ended, she sorted the situation with a grim face.
“...”
In just one night.
‘Three.’
Three camps fallen.
And survivors...
“None.”
How?
‘Oto? Did he step up? No, even then...’
Transcendent mages aren’t gods. Even all Black Stone mages couldn’t hop camps and raze three in a night...
‘No, no.’
Her eyelids twitched. She slammed the fountain pen onto her hand.
No time for impossibilities now.
What to do next.
“...”
Blood trickled from her hand.
The Grand Duchess summoned the commanders.
One thing was clear.
...Oto.
He’d made his move.