Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Puppet Master's Plea
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Caw, caw.
Beneath the fields as the sun dipped below the horizon, countless crows swarmed in like madmen.
A mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. There was no way those ominous black birds would pass up the banquet laid out by human hands.
Hurting people is exhausting, both mentally and physically. But there had been no choice in dealing with them from the start.
These were the guides who had betrayed the kingdom—no, the family—and their kin. Scum who had sold out the family to live in luxury under the Empire. Not a single one could be allowed to draw breath on this land.
Whish!
A water bottle came flying toward me from somewhere amid the gruesome scene.
"Good work."
The man who had tossed it approached slowly, flanked by his escorts, and spoke.
"...Saladin."
"This the guy? The vermin gnawing away at your family from the shadows."
I took a drink and nodded silently.
"Damn, you killed 'em good. Didn't miss a single one, right?"
"Of course-ning."
"Ah, that speech! Shit..."
Saladin glared at me for a moment, throwing a fit, then scratched his cheek with a regretful look.
"Hmm. Could've let one slip away, though. I had a real debt to settle with these bastards."
As I eyed Saladin, he waved it off and added,
"Nah, not a debt I owe directly. Long time ago, I was in deep with your brother. Figured taking one out myself as an offering to appease his soul would've been fine."
I gave Saladin an even more surprised look at that.
My brother was the epitome of a knight, fiercely upholding justice to a fault. But it was a warped justice. How much of the family's strength had been squandered on that stubborn rigidity?
"...Don't give me that look. I'm not defending the brother who nearly ruined the Shield Family. Just..."
Saladin continued, his eyes tinged with the faintest hint of wistfulness.
"That twisted sense of justice did save a precious few." ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Black Lions are strong.
That's an undeniable fact, beyond dispute. But numbers are their weakness.
Under the oppression of the continent's elite, Black Lions developed a way to subtly recognize and call for each other's aid over long years.
Telepathy.
The sound from this unique frequency could only be heard by those who wielded Heterogenous Powers.
Yet even Black Lions couldn't identify each other until they revealed themselves.
So they broadcast on this frequency to the void. Desperately hoping another Black Lion who could help was within range.
These days, though, modern Black Lions rarely used Telepathy. Even if they heard it, they mostly ignored it.
Unlike the era when it was useful, after the split into Clear Stream and Turbid Stream, it risked detection by rival factions—potentially leading to death.
I would've ignored it in normal circumstances too. But that familiar voice was the issue.
It was the voice of a comrade I'd heard endlessly in my past life. 🔮 TELEPATHY 🔮 <Damn it, this place is fucked too? Screw you—if you're hearing this and ignoring me, may you get nabbed by the Empire and live wanted forever!> It all fit perfectly, but I couldn't jump to conclusions. One more check needed.
I tuned my Telepathy, narrowing the frequency toward Saladin's direction. 🔮 TELEPATHY 🔮 -Hey. -Huh?! What?! You're here?! Hey, thanks. I take back the Empire wanted curse—cancelled! -Mimi and Nene doing well-ning? -Gasp?! You bastard! Who the hell are you? How do you know my darling girls?! And what the fuck is with that speech right now?! Speak straight! -OK, confirmed. Thanks-ning. -Kyaaak! Confirmed. That guy was 100% Saladin. True to his Heterogenous Power called Puppet, he was a puppeteer who commanded dolls.
Saladin, master of the combat puppets Mimi and Nene, had an extreme aversion to weird speech quirks for some reason.
His reaction sealed it. 🔮 TELEPATHY 🔮 -Joking's over. What's up? I'll help if I can. -Ah, before that. Thanks for answering, but I had to verify. -You Clear Water or Turbid Water? -Clear Water. -Swear on your power? -Obviously-ning. I swear on the myriad worlds within-ning. -You little shit...! Sigh, fine. Thanks anyway. Meet at the clock tower at midnight tonight. With that, Saladin's Telepathy cut off.
Well now.
"...Talk about a pumpkin rolling right in on the vine."
Now, how to roast this one?
The night after finishing greetings with Viscount Edwin alongside Sir Beskin. Few in the mansion were still awake.
They planned to depart early morning, so everyone turned in early.
The territory folk hit the hay at sundown anyway.
No one around the plaza clock tower was natural.
I sat leisurely, savoring the three full moons after ages.
How much time passed?
Thud, thud.
Three sets of footsteps approached. One clear, two oddly light.
Soon, the one with clear steps before me spoke.
"...Clear Water from earlier?"
"Yeah, hello-ning?"
"...Ha, this fucker."
A vein throbbed on Saladin's forehead, but he composed himself, bowed, and spoke calmly.
"First off, sincere thanks for offering help. But before that..."
Swish!
The two figures beside Saladin encircled me in an instant, blades aimed at my neck and gut.
They looked almost human in their refinement, but no human blades shot from mouths and bellies.
Sure enough, Mimi and Nene at their current stage.
Worlds apart from the iterated prototypes at Stigma Mercenary Corps, but impressive given Saladin's age.
"So, care to reveal what you are? How do you know Mimi and Nene?"
"Who among Black Lions doesn't know the famed Puppet?"
Saladin's lip curled.
"Bullshit. I didn't ID myself in Telepathy. Even knowing I'm a puppeteer, few know their names. And hating that trash speech? Even less."
"All that fuss when I'm helping."
"Can't borrow some unknown's hand and spark bigger shit."
Caution made sense with the Clear-Turbid split. Under puppet threats, I slowly opened my mouth.
"Edwin de Saladin. Black sheep young master of southern Viscount Edwin's house. Preferred playing with dolls named Mimi and Nene over swords or studies. Mother had weird speech habits; Viscount deemed pathetic, expelled from family."
"...!!"
"Later snagged by Black Lion eyes, gained Puppet Heterogenous Power related to puppetry, active far and wide. But frequent Mano visits hint at desire to return recognized someday. Am I wrong?"
Saladin's gaze sharpened.
"You... who are you? Depending on your answer..."
"Whoa, ease up. I have access to that level of info."
I formed a steel finger and gently pushed away Nene's tongue blade.
"Pleased to meet you, friend. I'm Third Young Master of the Shield Family, Jerome von Carviot. Also..."
I raised my flawless steel hand—no blood despite the blade.
"Like you, a noble who wields a Heterogenous Power." ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Being from a great house is awfully convenient. It lends plausibility even to fishy claims.
Of course. 🔮 TELEPATHY 🔮 -What? Carviot's infamous bug Third Young? You're the bug, and you wield Heterogenous Power? How to believe? -Then southern noble pervert young master is famed Puppet? Makes sense? -... -... We unintentionally jabbed each other a bit. Trivial. Saladin dropped his suspicions once he knew my identity.
"Orcs are coming."
"...Orcs?"
That incident, huh. I had a hunch but played dumb.
"Orcs from the northern Dragon Mountains. Heading straight for Mano territory."
"What's to eat here?"
"No idea. But their momentum's no joke. At this rate, they'll hit Mano in two days."
'Yeah. You clung desperately to my brother because that guy evolved into a High Orc, putting you in dire straits.'
A few days back, when Ravins first mentioned Mano territory, it tickled a memory. Saladin's voice made it crystal clear.
The High Orc crisis.
The event where Saladin—Edwin's disgrace—owed my brother big time.
It happened while my brother headed to Philador Kingdom.
A High Orc suddenly ravaged the south, nearly annihilating one territory.
Saladin's homeland: Mano territory.
His early Mimi and Nene got smashed blocking it.
With all means lost, desperate Saladin's last hope was my brother, en route to Philador for famine relief.
Thanks to Lightning Mage Raik among the accompanying Six Shields, they barely suppressed it—but Raik took heavy wounds.
Though my presence changed our arrival, companions, and Saladin's fate.
Thud!
"Help me. I want to protect this territory. My puppets are a bad matchup for that orc. Don't know your power, but if not... lend me the Shield Family's strength that guards the kingdom. Please."
"......"
I stared at the back of Saladin's head as he knelt and bowed.
If I refused, he'd face the same doom with his puppets.
No brother intervention this time—Mano would be obliterated.
Not what I wanted.
Besides, Saladin was essential for averting the great war this life.
I'd planned to track him someday; now he walked in. No way I'd pass up snagging Saladin—not some black sheep, but prime talent.
"Alright. I'll help."
"!"
Saladin's head snapped up.
"But nothing's free in this world, right? You're not that shameless."
I flashed him a grin.
"So, how much are you prepared to pay?"