Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 75
>Chapter Title: Because I Received an Invitation
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While he wandered in a daze.
Flen had a terrible nightmare.
Or was it a nightmare?
He found himself alone in the heart of the Hamern Great Forest, heading somewhere.
He pushed through the underbrush, his face scratched by twigs, stumbling over and over.
‘But... where was I going?’
A question bordering on subconscious.
The answer came easily.
‘...Right. The 1st Base Camp. Where those mercenaries who don’t act like mercenaries—those idiots—are.’
But why had he been heading there?
He usually didn’t have good feelings about the 1st Base Camp.
No, not good? It was negative.
‘After two hundred years, isn’t it time to quit?’
Petty jealousy. Honestly, it was envy.
So why had someone like him been going to the 1st Base Camp?
Why had he run so desperately to meet Fixer, that old fogey?
He couldn’t remember.
All he knew was that he’d been frantic.
- Kieeek...!
- Krraa!
With every step, monsters of the Great Forest blocked his path.
He barely survived their clutches, fangs, and claws time and again, but only one thought filled his mind.
‘I have to meet Fixer. Meet Fixer.’
He had to meet the chief of the 1st Base Camp.
Meet that chief who wasn’t like a mercenary...
‘Meet the chief and... what was I going to do?’
Wait.
‘Chief? Chief... Ah! Chief.’
It was then that a sunken scene suddenly surged to the surface like a hook pulling it from the depths.
Chief.
Leader.
Why had he been trying to meet another camp’s chief instead of his own?
- Live.
His chest pierced, those eyes were losing their light.
Like a cup soaked in ink, time rewound in a rush, black energy draining away.
Eyes clouding to gray.
- You’re the chief now.
‘The chief... is dead.’
The master of Victima had breathed his last.
There’d been no warning signs.
Just a pale hand shooting out from somewhere, stabbing through his chest.
And then...
- Srrk.
Beyond the slumping body, a figure appeared.
The black robe wrapping its entire form seemed steeped in all manner of evil, pitch-dark, but the eyes glinting beneath the hood were innocent.
Like a child observing a bug out of curiosity.
‘...A demon.’
If demons from myths took that form, maybe.
Instinctual fear welled up, soon drowned by a wildfire of rage.
‘That bastard...’
No, he had to avenge the chief.
Light flooded Flen’s retinas right then.
“Huhk!”
A deep breath drawn deep into his lungs, then expelled through his throat in an instant!
In that moment, a voice stabbed into his ear.
“No, Mr. Wizard. Even so, hitting an unconscious person like that... Huh? You’re really awake?”
A voice that sounded familiar.
This frivolous tone... Right, the pathfinder who frequented the Great Forest shamelessly yet somehow always kept his own skin intact.
‘Riley... was it?’
But why did his cheek hurt so much?
As he absentmindedly touched his cheek, his retinas, now adjusted to the light, formed a clear image.
And the image...
“...Huhk!”
If the previous gasp had been exhaling, this one was inhaling.
The instinctive sharp intake when facing unexpected terror, breath control failing.
“...Wh-who are you?”
Flen calmed his pounding heart and looked at the one gripping his collar.
The appearance was quite distinctive.
Dark gray hair and a black-based mask.
But those eyes...
Gulp.
Under an indescribable pressure, Flen swallowed hard as a voice rang in his ear.
“Let me ask you something.”
“Wh-what...”
“What happened here? Answer honestly, and I might spare your life... Ah, wrong line? Anyway.”
“Here, you mean...”
Flen frantically scanned his surroundings.
But it felt familiar.
From the wooden barricade behind the masked figure to the watchtowers spaced at intervals.
And the tents below them.
“No way... 2nd Base Camp...?”
Why was he here?
‘I was definitely heading to the 1st Base Camp...’
But Aster’s group didn’t wait for Flen to fully grasp the situation.
“I understand your confusion. But we’ll explain step by step. For now, you should answer the wizard’s question.”
“What the hell are you all... Ah, no. Fine... I understand.”
Flen summoned superhuman discernment to suppress his inner turmoil.
Whoever this masked man was, those eyes were downright chilling.
“But first... what happened to our chief?”
“He’s dead.”
“...”
Flen clamped his mouth shut at Fixer’s reply.
But only for a moment.
“As I thought. But what happened, you say...”
From the nuance, it seemed the chief, Harig, wasn’t the only victim.
Likely, something had befallen the entire 2nd Base Camp...
“For now, I’ll tell you what I remember.”
Flen wanted to shake off the hand and check on the other members right away, but he answered the masked man’s question first.
And when that explanation ended.
“Hmm, so that’s how it went?”
That’s when the masked man released his collar.
The masked man then casually strolled off somewhere.
Flen stared blankly after him, expression like he’d seen a ghost, then turned his gaze.
“...I’d like to inspect the 2nd Base Camp. Is that alright?”
“It’d be better if you didn’t...”
“...?”
Fixer’s incomprehensible reply.
Flen furrowed his brow slightly and stood up, brushing himself off.
“I don’t know what you mean, but I have a duty to confirm.”
- You’re the chief now.
He was Victima’s chief now.
Even if left alone, the responsibility his chief had placed on his shoulders wouldn’t fade.
The name Victima hadn’t lost its shine.
Seeing that resolve, Fixer nodded toward somewhere.
“Then... head to the central plaza.”
“...Yes, alright.”
Flen glanced at Fixer’s worried eyes, then bowed his head briefly.
And soon after.
...!
A single scream echoed through the 2nd Base Camp.
...! ...! ...........!
It didn’t sound human at all—an animal’s howl stripped of language.
* * *
As that scream echoed in the 2nd Base Camp.
“...There you are.”
Fixer spotted Aster atop the rear gate watchtower and approached.
Aster was staring fixedly into the Hamern Great Forest. Fixer watched him for a moment before speaking.
“You... are quite cruel.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Can’t you hear that scream? Was there a reason to show Flen that horror?”
Originally, Aviot’s mercenaries had tried to recover the bodies immediately upon discovering the scene.
But.
- Let’s leave it for now.
Aster stepping forward to block them.
The mercenaries tilted their heads in confusion.
Some even showed faint resistance to Aster’s orders.
Yet Aster’s will remained firm.
- Just leave it. We’ll clean up by the end of the day.
At first, they thought it was to search for traces of the beast...
‘But no.’
Aster had only glanced at the horror once, at that initial moment, and that was it.
“My comrades’ final moments—they should see them with their own eyes.”
“...Not a good choice.”
“It seems that way now. But isn’t it better than letting it linger in the mind forever?”
“That’s... somewhat... Hm. No, it’s not.”
Fixer swallowed his words.
Somehow, Aster’s back, gazing into the forest, looked hollow.
‘As if... he’s lost comrades countless times before.’
Who hasn’t lost comrades?
But the wizard before him felt different.
Like someone who’d lost many but never witnessed—or even heard of—their ends.
But that was that.
“Now you should tell me.”
Fixer voiced the question he’d held from the day he picked up Flen until arriving at the 2nd Base Camp today.
“That day, what did you see? What’s this ‘rat bastard’? Is it connected to the black-robed man Flen mentioned earlier?”
The black-robed man Flen described.
The one who’d appeared out of nowhere, without warning or presence, piercing Harig’s heart.
That’s who he was asking about.
Aster turned from the forest right then.
“Probably one of the group.”
“Group?”
“Not just one or two.”
“Hm... True enough.”
Fixer nodded as if convinced.
The 2nd Base Camp massacre.
No one had escaped; all had perished in the central plaza.
Total annihilation.
Even a master of profound realms couldn’t slaughter every mercenary in one spot like that.
So it had to be a group.
“Then, what did you learn that day?”
“What I learned...”
Aster crossed his arms, gazing at the ground.
Truth be told, he hadn’t learned much.
- Heh, hehehe. Th-the name of the Foreseer. That one’s just bait to lead us to more sacrifices.
- Bait?
- Tremble in fear, puny wizard. He’s marked you. An eternity of unrestful death awaits.
He hadn’t even started the real interrogation.
Yet the words ended with a death rattle.
Suicide.
Of course, ‘death rattle’ was figurative; it was far from ordinary.
- Psssh—
Like all moisture had evaporated.
The body crumbled to sand.
All that remained was an ominously charred pile of ash and some clothes.
The ash scattered in the wind.
Ultimately, proof of its existence was just the blood on his hands and the pathetic rags.
But.
‘It’s not like I learned nothing.’
The stealth magic it used.
Different from standard stealth spells.
Not hiding in shadows, but melting into them.
‘Stability seemed low, though...’
The Collision Formula interfered with its mana, easily breaking the fusion with the shadow.
That’s how he’d dragged it out.
Anyway, there was another clue.
The ominous aura it emitted while suiciding.
‘Definitely... demonic energy.’
No, refined, so black mana.
Aster relayed all this to Fixer.
Of course, omitting anything about ‘demonic energy.’
“Hmm... Mysterious wizards, huh.”
Fixer’s face twisted slightly after hearing the details.
“Of all times... Why now? What’s their goal?”
“...Who knows.”
Aster shrugged.
Of course, he had guesses.
‘Those who accumulate demonic energy are black wizards only. So...’
The Forbidden Magic Society, Salvatium.
Karma from his past life. The sinister shadows he’d tangled with while dealing with Frizen.
They were prime suspects.
Aster recalled what Professor Pellina had told him several times about Salvatium.
- Not all black wizards belong to Salvatium. But regardless, Salvatium stands above all black wizards. The reason is...
‘The existence of their Prohibited Sorcerers?’
They’d mastered forbidden magic like black wizards, but on a different level.
‘Then...’
One figure came to mind.
The black-robed man Flen described.
‘Is he a Prohibited Sorcerer?’
He could be just one of many black wizards, but Aster’s intuition screamed otherwise.
If all these guesses were true.
‘Their goal is probably...’
Destrow.
No doubt.
From what Professor Pellina said, Salvatium pursued demonic realms and other foul things.
‘No, does it matter?’
Aster cleared his thoughts and looked up.
Ahead of the watchtower.
Overlooking dense underbrush, massive trees blocked the view.
And between them.
Chirrup, chirp.
Grasshoppers crying at intervals.
Whatever their goal, pondering a thousand times was slower than seeing with his own eyes.
Especially when they’d...
‘Extended such a blatant invitation.’
Aster flashed a predatory grin at the familiars lined up like guides.
“Set aside the complicated thoughts for now. We’ll stay here today.”
“...Yeah. To handle Victima’s mercenaries, we have to. But...”
Fixer trailed off, lowering his gaze.
Aster was already down from the watchtower, beyond the barricade.
“Where are you going?”
Aster replied without turning.
“Because I received an invitation.”
“Invitation?”
Fixer tilted his head in confusion, then realization dawned. “No way...”
“Those... mysterious wizards? Then I’ll come with—Hm.”
Fixer couldn’t finish.
Aster had vanished.
Only a message spell lingered in his ear.
[If I’m not back by morning, head out first. I’ll catch up without delay.]
“What the...”
Fixer stared blankly in the direction Aster had likely gone.
‘...Full of secrets, that guy.’
He spilled most info, but hid the core tightly.
Impossible to read.
“Tch.”
Fixer thought that far, then turned and leaped down from the watchtower.
‘Not my business to worry.’
His job was just escorting and guiding the group to the 4th Base Camp. That’s it.
But why?
“...”
Fixer kept glancing back.
In his eyes lurked a faint worry he himself didn’t notice.