Chapter 168
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 168
Chapter Title: The Philanthropist's Truth (1)
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"Most of the Noctanium has vanished over the past two days."
This was the basement of Cannavaro's mansion.
A sub-basement below the basement, protected by countless magical security measures.
Cannavaro and thirty black mages had gathered there.
The only light on the large, long table around which the total of thirty-one sat was a single flickering candle.
In that dim and sinister scene, Cannavaro raised his gaze.
His two hands placed on the table.
Above them flew a single housefly.
"......"
This was a space that permitted no intruders—how had that housefly gotten in?
No, perhaps houseflies were beings that randomly spawned out of empty air.
It was a mystery even his vast magical knowledge couldn't solve.
But Cannavaro quickly dismissed the thought.
Houseflies weren't important right now.
The Noctanium was gone.
He continued speaking to the black mages.
"As you all know, it was placed in a spot that accounted for every factor. A location untouched by the eyes and footsteps of those coming and going from Namaran. Yet one where the mana resonance needed to erect the barrier would be strongest. And yet, all the Noctanium we buried there has disappeared."
"Has the Namaran Count caught on, perhaps?"
The black mages, their hoods pulled low.
One of them moved his lips to ask.
Cannavaro shook his head.
"No. He hasn't shown any movement yet."
"But the skulls and Noctanium buried underground were all dug up in just a day or two?"
"Hard to believe, but yes."
"......"
A heavy silence from all.
Through it flowed Cannavaro's voice.
"I don't know who's behind it yet. But it's clear that some organization or individual with abilities beyond our expectations has intervened."
"That makes sense. The skulls were laced with anti-theft spells, including ones that nullified detection, among countless others."
It was true.
That's why they'd felt secure.
No one would find it.
Even if they did, they couldn't dismantle the spells on the skulls.
They'd trusted that with full certainty.
But reality had lied.
'The spells on those skulls dismantled. All the Noctanium gone.'
It was absurd.
It was futile.
Was this how a farmer felt after having a full year's harvest stolen overnight?
Cannavaro and the thirty black mages clenched their fists in bitter rage, recalling the blood, sweat, and tears they'd poured into creating and burying the Noctanium.
But now wasn't the time for anger.
Cannavaro composed himself and looked around at them all.
"Come, let's think calmly. What's gone is gone. No need to cling to what's left our hands."
"Then what do you plan to do from here?"
"We can't let a minor setback like this hinder the great undertaking."
"What do you mean?"
"The ritual proceeds as planned."
"But is there a way?"
One black mage asked.
The others nodded along.
It was Noctanium they'd invested countless hours and efforts into placing.
They'd been awaiting the day of the ritual, now so close.
They'd been finalizing the last preparations.
"Without Noctanium, we can't perform the ritual. You know that better than we do......"
"Of course I do."
"Then?"
"We activate the barrier ourselves instead of using the skulls. That way, we can carry it out without delaying the date."
"But......"
The black mages' lips twisted in distress beneath their hoods.
But no objections formed.
Cannavaro had seized the initiative.
"The skulls were merely proxies to erect the barrier without us moving directly."
"True. That's how we avoid exposing our identities even when performing the ritual."
"But think about what's truly important."
"......"
"Is keeping our identities hidden more crucial? Or executing the ritual on schedule and achieving the great undertaking?"
"......"
"Surely no one here would claim their personal safety matters more. Right?"
"That's......"
"Right?"
"......"
A flash of madness gleamed in Cannavaro's eyes.
The black mages' mouths shut all at once.
"It wasn't a choice we'd have made originally, but now we have no option. The ritual must proceed as planned. You all know this isn't just our affair. We're cogs in a far grander scheme. Any delay on our part grabs the ankle of the entire undertaking. We can't dawdle. We can't postpone. We must step forward ourselves. But that doesn't mean we take risks blindly."
"You have some clever plan in mind?"
"What if we time it for the safest moment to activate the barrier?"
"The safest moment being?"
"When Namaran's knights and soldiers are all inside the city walls."
"......Ah!"
The black mages' mouths fell open in admiration.
Yes.
The Noctanium barrier they planned to erect.
It was a massive, potent curse that absorbed the life force of all living beings inside it and concentrated it in one place.
Once erected, no one could cross the barrier.
Not from inside to out.
Not from out to in.
Unless they wielded the power of a Swordmaster or higher, passage was impossible.
So if they erected it while Namaran's knights and forces were all within the city walls?
No knight inside.
No mighty army.
Could escape outside the barrier.
They'd have their life force fully drained.
That alone would eliminate any threats to them.
"And what if we each bring enhanced zombies as escorts?"
"Good idea."
"But I'm still worried. We don't know who dismantled the Noctanium, and if we expose ourselves too......"
"Don't fret over that."
"You have a countermeasure?"
"I'll protect you all."
"You're volunteering to escort us personally?"
"Of course. You deserve that level of protection."
"Ooh......"
Relief finally spread across the black mages' faces.
If Cannavaro protected them, they could trust it.
He was that powerful a black mage.
"Once the barrier activates, its own defensive spells will shield you further. Magic that not even a Swordmaster could harm a hair on your head. Add my escort to that—what's there to fear?"
"Quite right. Now I can rest easy."
The black mages smiled faintly.
Seeing them, Cannavaro smiled contentedly too.
'Foolish idiots.'
His promise of personal protection.
A blatant lie, of course.
They were mere expendables.
Their talents were a slight waste, sure.
But once the barrier activated, they could die for all he cared.
The curse of an activated barrier wouldn't stop until the barrier itself shattered.
"Now, let's refine the details of the plan."
Hiding his viperous true intentions.
Cannavaro smiled even more warmly.
♣
A few days passed.
'Alright, let's review the plan once more.'
Haviel thought quietly.
And glanced at his apron.
The water jug he'd deliberately spilled just now.
Thanks to it, his apron was soaked through.
Not just the apron—the skirt and shoes beneath were too.
"Oh dear, what a mess."
The matron stamped her feet.
She seemed to think it was her fault the jug spilled.
Which made sense.
He'd bumped her subtly.
Pretended to drop the jug at that moment.
That was the point.
"Oh no. What if you'd watched where you were going, ma'am."
"We nearly had a disaster. Ella, miss? You hurt anywhere?"
The people carrying rations from the distribution center with her scolded the matron.
The matron, blaming herself, apologized profusely.
Haviel feigned a soft smile.
"I'm fine."
"Fine? Your skirt and shoes are a total wreck. Goodness. I nearly ruined those pretty feet of yours too. Anyway, do you have spare clothes and shoes?"
"Well......"
"Guess not?"
"......"
The matron's face filled with more guilt.
Haviel felt a prick of conscience too.
But he didn't show it.
He just bowed his head.
And fidgeted his hands.
That alone had the desired effect(?).
"Then how about borrowing some of mine if it's okay? You know the little room by the food warehouse entrance? I left them there."
"......"
"Won't fit perfect, but better than working in wet skirts. Hurry and change. Okay? I'm doing this 'cause I feel bad."
"Thank you."
"No thanks needed. It's my fault."
"......"
I'm truly sorry, ma'am.
Haviel bowed sincerely.
He slipped out of the distribution center.
But he didn't head to the warehouse.
Instead, his steps turned toward Cannavaro's mansion.
'Every day at this time, he heads down to the sub-basement.'
A fact he'd learned from observations over the past few days.
One he never could have uncovered without cross-dressing and working at the distribution center—without using odd errands as excuses to peek into the basement.
That's why.
Today, he planned to probe Cannavaro's mansion sub-basement.
He'd just created the pretext by spilling the jug to slip away briefly.
Tadap!
Soon he moved like the wind.
The wet apron and clothes posed no issue.
A single squeeze with his astonishing grip strength drained most of the dripping water.
Thus, he arrived at Cannavaro's mansion in an instant.
Between blind spots in people's vision, blind spot to blind spot.
He crossed the garden through those perfect gaps.
Entered through the side door at the back.
Fortunately, he encountered no one on the mansion's first floor.
He slipped in like a shadow, descending the stairs to the basement.
The basement door blocked his path.
Locked with a magical padlock.
He raised his hand.
Keeeing!
He spun one mana circle.
Recalled the mana pattern he'd seen days ago.
The mansion steward who came and went through this magical door.
The mana pattern in the magical key he used.
Tzzzz......
A mana glyph formed from Haviel's fingertips.
Precise and exact, following the mana pattern.
It seeped into the padlock.
Illuminated the padlock.
Click.
The padlock opened.
'Good.'
A gleam lit Haviel's eyes.
Of course, with his power and skills, he could smash or dismantle such a magical padlock easily.
But he couldn't.
It would leave traces.
Alert the enemy.
This was the moment his days of effort—to enter without a trace—paid off.
Thus, Haviel entered the basement.
"......"
He crossed the dark, empty basement.
Soon, he spotted stairs to the sub-basement.
But he didn't advance.
He stopped in a corner.
Halted his breathing.
Stilled his pounding heart and blood flow.
Assimilated his body's every rhythm and energy signature with the surroundings.
Erasing all signs of presence.
And waited.
Ten minutes, thirty minutes.
The unfamiliar presence descended into the basement nearly an hour after he began waiting.
Step, step......
Someone approached with cautious steps.
Scanning surroundings with each step.
For any hidden watchers.
For any tails following.
Vigilance beyond excess.
'Cannavaro.'
Haviel's pupils contracted slightly.
Cannavaro, with a wary expression, had come down to the basement.
He stood before the sub-basement door that Haviel watched.
Drew something from his bosom.
A key infused with mana.
Wooong......
The key's mana entered the padlock.
Resonated with the magic circle inside.
The magic circle spun.
The padlock opened.
Clank.
Cannavaro scanned around once more, then descended to the sub-basement.
The door closed, the magical padlock locked.
Until then, Haviel remained still in the dark corner.
He didn't move after.
Even thirty minutes later, when Cannavaro emerged, passed by, and ascended from the first basement.
Even as he left for the first floor.
He stood like a statue, assimilated with the surroundings.
Only when Cannavaro's presence fully vanished upstairs did he finally move.
"Hoo."
By then, Haviel stood before the sub-basement door.
He reached for the padlock.
Recalled the earlier memory.
Cannavaro's magical key.
The flow and pattern of mana it emitted.
He'd thoroughly sensed and memorized it via the Asrahan Heart Method—now perfectly replicated. Duplicated. Success.
Click.
The magical padlock opened.
"......"
Haviel caught his breath.
What lay in the sub-basement?
Was what he was doing right?
This shameless act of snooping behind someone's back.
"......"
If Cannavaro's sub-basement held nothing noteworthy.
Just a typical rich man's secret vault or such.
He'd go back, grab Lord Lloyd by the collar once, declare surrender to the bet.
With that thought, Haviel grasped the doorknob. Turned it. Opened.
Creak.
Beyond the door opening with a dissonant screech.
The sub-basement scene revealed.
No—the truth revealed.
"Grulk?"
A headless zombie wandering limply spread its arms toward him.