Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Who Dares Set Foot on My Land? (2)
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"More importantly, what's that on your shoulder? A familiar?"
The count's gaze shifted to the top of Jamie's head.
For a moment, Jamie felt his heart drop.
He'd been careful with his expression, so it didn't show on the outside.
"...You can see it?"
Squeak?
He felt Black scrambling on his shoulder.
The little guy was flustered too.
Invisibility had been applied perfectly.
He couldn't stop the Full Body Breathing Method, so he was maintaining it, but that alone shouldn't have let anyone notice Black's presence.
"How cute. A bat? No, it's a bit rounder than a regular bat."
"...I made it myself in the shape of a bat."
"You made it yourself?!"
The count's eyes sparkled at the words "made it myself."
It wasn't a lie—he'd personally shaped it with black magic.
Of course, he had no idea how the count would react if he learned it was made with black magic.
'Fortunately, he can't sense the black magic.'
Well, Black was a familiar that Diablo Volpir had personally crafted with utmost care in his previous life.
Created by a being who could even slay gods—not just some grand mage—it was impossible for even a Sword Master to detect.
Jamie let out a quiet sigh of relief inwardly.
"I didn't mention it because I was worried you'd be shocked. I'm so young that I wasn't sure how you'd react if you knew I could do something like this..."
Jamie put on the most innocent face he could muster, speaking as if that was truly his concern.
Count Welton chuckled at his son's thoughtfulness.
"If my son possesses such outstanding talent, how could a father not be overjoyed? There's no reason for me to dislike it."
"Then I'm glad. Hehe."
Jamie flashed the most childlike smile he could manage, and the count nodded in satisfaction.
"You've done well. If there's anything you need, tell your father. I'll help with whatever I can."
"Really?"
"Of course."
"I'm so happy!"
'Argh!'
Jamie screamed inwardly but cheered with the most joyful voice he could fake.
"Ha. Being a good son is really tough work."
He'd started talking around age two to play the part, so it'd been about six years already.
Still, it was better than when he was a newborn baby.
At least he didn't have to pretend to be a complete infant anymore.
But tough was still tough.
"My condition should be back to normal now. Time to head out."
It was a night with a full moon rising.
His parents were asleep, and only the night watch guards remained on duty.
"Black."
Squeak!
Black spread its wing membranes wide above his head.
The wings gradually grew larger until they enveloped Jamie's entire body.
Jamie reached out a hand, and the window opened silently.
"Zenith Church bastards, daring to set up shop on my land?"
He didn't know what they were scheming, but he'd been glad no religion had taken root in Hais territory yet.
But allowing a religion—especially the ones he despised most in the world, the holy site of Zenith—to establish itself was unacceptable.
And among the Twelve Gods, Zenith was particularly insidious.
"Let's keep it light tonight. Nice and easy."
He wanted to slaughter every last one of their followers, but that would cause a massive uproar about serial killings in the territory.
If such a thing happened in a Sword Master's domain, who knew what fallout would come later.
"Black, up high."
Screech!
At his master's command, Black flapped toward the sky.
"What did Big Brother say?"
"Keep going if you don't wanna die."
"Haa... Damn it. Something bad's brewing."
The skinny man sighed deeply at the scarred man's response.
They were mid-level executives in Ribal, the largest crime syndicate in Hais.
One might wonder how a crime group could exist in a Sword Master's territory, but Count Welton tolerated them to a degree as long as they didn't cross the line.
Tolerated, that is, ignored.
At any rate, they'd always toed the line carefully.
Hais offered high risks but equally high rewards.
There weren't many places in the world as bountiful as this.
But that was about to end soon.
"Big Brother's willing to sacrifice half the organization for his own gain."
"Damn it."
How could curses not spill out?
Ribal was currently pursuing a highly dangerous venture.
No idea where they'd gotten such a risky job, but pushing it would definitely cross the line.
"We were told never to make an enemy of the Sword Master."
"If we're lucky, we might slip through."
"What's the point? Even if we get lucky once, we'll be sitting ducks eventually."
What Ribal was planning was human trafficking.
Human trafficking.
Targeting children, no less.
Any decent-sized crime group dabbled in it discreetly, but in Hais, it was an absolute taboo.
Count Welton was a doting father with two rabbit-like kids.
They said no one could match his love for his children, raising them like gold and jewels.
If word got out that kids their age were being trafficked?
"The day that happens, every shadowy corner in Hais will be wiped clean."
"He must think he won't get caught."
"You call that thinking? You don't really believe that, do you?"
The skinny man fell silent at the scarred man's words.
Who could escape if the lord decided to purge them all?
Especially when that lord was one of the kingdom's five Sword Masters.
The only ones who could face a Sword Master were another Sword Master or a superior mage.
But mages stronger than Sword Masters were legendary 9th class, nonexistent among humans.
"He says Hanni's on board."
"That mad bastard Hanni would, yeah."
"If we're pulling out, now's the time."
"Bounce from Hais?"
"Or report it first."
The scarred man sneered at the mention of reporting.
"Better to run than become traitors."
The underworld had rules.
Let the guilty bear their sins, but don't snitch on their plans.
"Then we run."
"Can we even escape?"
Ribal was the largest outfit in Hais.
Even in a Sword Master's territory, escaping an organization of that scale was practically impossible.
And even if they succeeded, they'd have to abandon their current identities entirely.
How hard it was for criminals like them to launder their identities was something anyone in the life knew.
"Why human trafficking, anyway?"
"No clue. How would we know Big Brother's mind?"
"Some scum must've sweet-talked the boss with sweet nothings."
"Agreed."
The boss did have thin ears.
But he wasn't the type to touch trafficking.
If he was doing it, some offer must've come in.
"I just don't get it. Big Brother wouldn't stoop that low."
"We need to decide fast."
"Damn it all."
The scarred man lit a cigarette.
Then, small footsteps echoed in the pitch-black alley.
"Who's there?"
The skinny man called out toward the sound.
No answer came.
The scarred man sensed something off too and ground out his cigarette on the ground.
If it was an enemy, no need to give away their position—even a tiny ember could do it.
With the cigarette out, the alley was utterly dark.
"If you won't speak, we'll treat you as hostile."
Shing—
The sound of a blade being drawn.
Thud, thud—
Footsteps grew closer.
The scarred man narrowed his eyes and slipped on his spiked knuckles.
These veterans of the underworld were no pushovers.
Tension hung in the air.
Gulps, sweat dripping, heartbeats.
In this silence, every sound was crystal clear.
Then the footsteps stopped abruptly.
"If you won't talk—"
The scarred man moved first.
He kicked off the ground and swung his fist full force at where the sound had stopped.
It was an attack that could send even an aura user flying if it connected solidly.
But the spiked knuckles whistled through empty air.
It was definitely here.
No other footsteps, so they couldn't have moved.
Slash—!
The blade cut through empty air.
The skinny man had swung his dagger low.
The dagger sliced nothing but air.
In the darkness, the two men's eyes met.
"Rookies."
A strange voice echoed then.
Neither distinctly male nor female, muffled and distorted.
A chill ran down their necks.
Like a snake slithering up their spines.
"I overheard some interesting talk. I'd like to hear more details."
In the pitch-black darkness.
A figure cloaked in shadow floated, revealing one emerald eye.
It was Jamie.
"...That's how it is."
A small orb of light now illuminated the dark alley.
There, the scarred man and skinny man knelt with dead eyes.
They had spilled everything about what their organization, Ribal, was planning.
To Jamie.
Jamie had been casually investigating the Zenith Church's Hais branch when he stumbled upon their conversation.
He'd ignore petty crime, but this was big enough to shake Hais—he couldn't let it slide.
So now he had Black concealing everything but his right eye in blackness.
"Human trafficking. Kids, no less."
Having watched the count for seven years, he knew exactly what he hated most.
The count despised anyone toying with children.
If trafficking happened, Hais's underworld would vanish without a trace.
Jamie didn't like it much either, though not as much as the count.
He was the one who'd tried to kill the gods out of rage at them toying with humans.
Yet humans doing it to other humans?
From his perspective, he couldn't really blame them.
How many atrocities had he committed to strengthen his black magic?
Remembering the past, he gave a bitter smile.
Not that he regretted it.
'Trafficking's bad enough, but the key is their boss accepted the proposal.'
Who had the guts to propose trafficking in Hais?
It smelled ominous.
Good thing he found out before it blew up.
Jamie placed his hands on the scarred and skinny men's heads.
They were currently stripped of will by black magic.
Puppets who would do anything ordered.
"Run to the count's estate right now and confess everything you're planning. Got it?"
"Understood..."
"We obey..."
Like zombies, they rose and shuffled toward the count's manor.
"Gonna be some noise at dawn."
He'd checked out the Zenith Church enough for today—time to head back.
Jamie ordered Black to shift to flight mode again.
Screech—!
The moment Black spread its wings wide.
Boom—!!
An explosion hurled the scarred man into the wall.
Soon, a second blast.
This time the skinny man.
"Hm?"
Both hit directly by the blasts, black smoke billowing from their bodies.
But without will, they felt no pain.
Checking if they were dead—thankfully, still breathing, barely.
Left like this, they'd die, but they had a vital mission to reveal the truth.
He extinguished the flames on them.
He also infused mana to briefly revive their necrotic skin.
'Delayed their deaths a bit.'
They'd die eventually, but they'd talk first.
That was enough.
Jamie had Black conceal him again and looked toward the explosion's source.
"Kehihihihi! You morons, conspiring in a place like this. You must be begging to die!"
Someone approached from the dark alley.
A shabby man in a gray robe, dark shadows under his eyes.
His hair hung to his shoulders, curly like wet rags.
"Big Brother!"
"That was loud! Guards might come!"
Five or six burly men followed him.
"Drag those guys to me."
Ignoring them, the man pointed at the scarred and skinny men.
"And that one too."
Finally, Jamie.
He grinned and pulled a small wooden wand from his bosom.
"Don't know what you are, but hanging with those scum means you've got something to say. Kekeke, kehihihihi!"
"A real lunatic."
Jamie let out a hollow laugh at the man with madness-glinting eyes.
Such crazy mages popped up now and then.
No clue why they went mad, but they treated human lives like flies.
"Today, I'll taste some proper blood!"
This guy was exactly that type.
"Jans, Philip. Kehihihi. Thought betraying the boss would save you?"
So the scarred man was Jans, the skinny one Philip.
The man's underlings eyed Jamie warily as they approached Jans and Philip cautiously.
The man yelled impatiently at them.
"What are you waiting for? Drag 'em here! Wanna die too?"
"Y-yes, sir!"
One underling grabbed Jans by the collar and dragged him.
Jamie watched the scene, then sighed shortly.
And spoke as if annoyed.
"Do I really have to deal with these vermin...?"
Boom—!
But his words didn't finish.
Jamie’s face exploded.
"Kehihihi! What're you babbling about, scum?!"
Bang—! Boom—!
Kaboom!!
Explosions erupted with every wave of the man's wand.
Jamie's clothes shredded, skin peeled away.
The skin vaporized instantly, leaving no trace.
Kaboom! Kwaaang!
The blasts grew stronger.
The man wielded his wand like a conductor's baton, as if leading an orchestra.
"Die, die, die!"
Any intent to extract confessions was gone.
The mad mage was consumed by the desire to kill with explosions.
"Kuhahaha!"
This was why he used magic.
The ecstasy of killing.
Yes.
This was his reason for living.
The man, Hanni, capped it off with a face of pure pleasure and one final blast.
Kaboom!!
Bursting flames.
Charred ground.
Billowing smoke.
Perfect finale—
"B-Big Brother."
Then a subordinate's trembling voice from behind.
Amazed by his artistic display?
Of course. Who wouldn't react like that to his magic...
"Big Brother, what the hell did you do?"
"What?"
"Why... why'd you blast Pin... Pin with magic..."
Pin was one of his loyal underlings, around third in line.
He'd told them to bring Jans.
Why mention Pin with that face?
"Huh?"
Hanni turned to where he'd caused the explosions.
A rag-like, shredded corpse lay there.
Face too mangled to identify.
But he knew instinctively.
Who it was.
"All done?"
A chilling voice from beside him.
Hanni turned trembling eyes sideways.
A single violet eye stared into his soul.
"Fun killing your own underling?"
Only then did Hanni realize.
He'd become this man's prisoner.