Chapter 96
Chapter 96
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 96
Chapter Title: I'll Let You Live
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*
Partak watched greedily as Fernandez slowly drained his tea. The dark red liquid seeped between his lips like it was vanishing into him, emptying half the cup.
-Clink.
Just as Persitt's influence was starting to spread and become a real nuisance, the arrival of someone dispatched from her camp was a stroke of pure luck. As Partak cackled into his tea, Fernandez's head dipped slightly.
'Got him.'
Maxancho was the most potent narcotic truth serum in the material world. With leaves that steeped so thickly into the brew, two sips should have been more than enough to take effect.
'Does he have an unusually strong tolerance?'
Partak rolled his neck and hissed in a raspy voice.
"All right, little one. This old man's got a lot of questions. Heh heh heh. So, what's your name?"
"Feizashi."
Partak's eyebrows furrowed slightly. Feizashi? It was an ancient dialect from the Melacum Empire—the empire forged by demons who spilled into the material world during the War in Heaven.
Few remained who could even speak the tongue these days, but its meaning was 'traitor.' Ironic, if that was the name he'd chosen knowingly.
"Melacum tongue?"
"That's right. Feizashi. No need to know any other names. Partak Blackfang."
-Swish.
Through the black curls falling over his lowered head, blue eyes gleamed. Clear, steady eyes, showing no trace of the drug's haze!
"You little...?"
"If you hadn't pulled this shit, you might've lasted a few more days, my friend."
-Rattle. Clack.
Partak jerked back and swiftly formed hand seals. He didn't know how the boy had resisted the poison, but coming prepared meant he had some other agenda.
"Coming alone into a wizard's fully prepped workshop seemed wise to you, Feizashi? Huh?"
"Of course."
Partak's hands danced rapidly in the air. Almost simultaneously, Fernandez's fingers intertwined in complex patterns, sparking blue flames. Fierce light erupted from the circuits of the bronze throne bracelet on his wrist.
-Whoosh!
Partak bit his lip as a black crown-shaped halo surged behind Fernandez's head.
"Wizard! And here I thought you were just some sword-slinging punk with two blades!"
"I'm good at both."
Mistake! But no kid could outmatch the decades of spellcraft Partak had honed. If anything, he smirked inwardly as the boy opted for a magic duel.
It didn't take long for that smirk to freeze cold. Fifteen seconds to weave five seals, thirty-odd more before the mana trails faded from the air.
In that brief span, Fernandez had landed spell wedges, counterspells, and spell counts—a total of forty-five!
"Impossible...!"
Fernandez just grinned silently and kept moving his hands. Seals so fast they were a blur, nearly invisible to the naked eye, yet exquisitely precise, jamming up Partak's mana circuits.
-Thud thud thud!!
The wedges Fernandez drove into Partak's circuits shredded the flows into tatters. Total defeat! Partak twisted his bleeding lips, ready to scream.
-Shing.
Until the dagger pressed right under his Adam's apple.
"When?!"
"Now."
In his past life, dagger work had come before magic—and he'd mastered it over endless years. Throwing them, stabbing foes, even splitting firewood—it was vital survival skill.
The reflexes of a Demonica monk, paired with his vast experience, conjured an ensemble worthy of the finest Shaxisi assassins!
'Where the hell did this monster come from?!"
Partak clamped his jaws to stifle a shout, mind racing desperately. Seven steps to the tent flap. Break through, and his men were waiting.
Publicly, he was an elder and shaman of the Beastkin Tiger Alliance! Ambushed by an outsider barely half a day in the territory? The punk wouldn't leave alive. Reading Partak's gaze, Fernandez smirked darkly.
"Thinking of trying something stupid?"
-Crack.
The halo behind his head blazed with intense light. Mana thinly coated the tent.
"Windless Zone erected. You know this ritual, right? Tried mimicking your specialty. How's it feel? Close enough?"
"..."
Partak shuddered, groaning at the dagger's bite against his throat. Windless Zone—the basic ritual he always cast after inviting silence to his workshop, his signature sealing technique.
It literally halted the winds. A barrier veil ensuring no sound or presence leaked beyond the thin mana film.
'He stole my magic circle...'
No denying it now. This kid was at least five moves ahead. He'd read Partak completely before the first probe, slotted in spell counts preemptively, even hijacked the workshop's embedded arrays to wield them himself.
"Feizashi. You're no disciple of Al'Persitt."
"...Hmm?"
"That bitch wouldn't waste a wizard better than her on a mere assassin hit like me. Who are you?"
"Still sharp as ever at spinning theories. Partak."
Fernandez shrugged and withdrew the dagger. Partak hacked a dry cough, wiping blood from his lips.
-Creak.
"...?"
Fernandez nudged the Maxancho-laced teacup forward. As Partak stared blankly, Fernandez tilted his head.
"Drink."
"You knew what it was."
"Smelled it. Maxancho. You know alchemy—why boil the whole leaf?"
"Usually plenty effective that way."
"Hope it's enough for you too. Drink. Partak."
No choice. Partak grasped the cup with trembling hands. The lukewarm tea sloshed beneath his eyes. Fernandez smiled darkly at the sight.
Demonic. A grin reeking of scorched ruins and flames. In a voice slithering like a serpent, he said,
"If there's anything you know that I don't, I'll let you live."
A few more days, at least. He needed intel from this era anyway.
*
By the campfire, Abel and Kirhas stared blankly at the flames. Nearly an hour had passed since Fernandez entered the tent alone.
Kirhas's ears twitched constantly, scanning the tent. She figured her master wouldn't come to harm in there... but oddly, no sound emerged from beneath that thin canvas.
"Worried?"
"...No. Abel. Not worried."
Abel smiled warmly at Kirhas. Kirhas pouted, a bit annoyed at the sight.
"It's just weird."
"Weird?"
"No sounds at all... Not even voices. No presence."
As Kirhas spoke, a tribe youth by the fire snickered. His gleaming eyes raked over her lewdly.
Kirhas bristled at the rude stare, but the youth drawled slowly.
"Looks like our shaman's adding another underling."
"...What?"
"Heh heh, that human who went in—your husband, right?"
Kirhas flushed crimson as he leered. The youth grinned slyly.
"Your man's ensnared by the shaman now. Taking this long? Must be etching the slave brand real thorough. Heh heh heh."
"What bullshit...!"
Kirhas shot up, baring teeth in a growl. The beastkin youth flicked his tail and laughed.
"Sit, kitten. You're young... but you could fill in for hubby. Better learn to speak sweet from now on..."
As he spoke, the tent flap parted silently behind him. Kirhas perked her ears happily at Fernandez emerging, but the youth chuckled.
"Nice pose. Perfect for learning..."
"Yeah. One you need to learn too."
"What...?! Gah!!"
-Crack!
Fernandez, now behind the youth, stomped his back and pinned him. The youth choked out a muffled groan, knees buckling as he collapsed.
He could throw a punch or two—enough for shaman guard duty—but now he thrashed and screamed under Fernandez's foot.
"Gaaah!! Get—get off!!"
"You need to learn sweet talk. Beastkin."
-Crunsh.
He ground down until the youth's back nearly snapped. The youth swept his tail wildly, flailing. What strength?!
Then, gasping on the ground, he spotted Partak emerging slowly from the tent. He shrieked at him.
"Sh-shaman! Shaman, please, this damn bastard!!"
Partak stared silently at Fernandez. He glanced emptily at the youth, then stood by Fernandez and bowed slightly.
"Need this one?"
"...No."
"There you have it. Beastkin. Feel like apologizing to my wives?"
-Crunsh!
"Gaaah!!"
The youth was now chest-flat on the dirt, heaving. Why? Why abandon me? And why so deferential to that outsider kid?
But survival first. His crushed lungs gulped no air; bile rose in his throat. Tears streamed as he begged.
"Please! I will! Sorry! So sorry!!"
"Good. Kirhas. Feeling better?"
Kirhas giggled and nodded. Fernandez lifted his foot; the youth hacked dryly, scrambling to compose himself.
Kirhas eyed Partak warily, then ventured,
"Benefactor, that one...?"
"Oh, introduce yourselves. This is Partak Blackfang."
"Hello...?"
"Nah, casual. He's the new manservant."
Manservant...? The youth gaped up at Partak from the dirt. The cunning glint was gone from Partak's vacant eyes. Stunned, he watched Partak bow slowly.
Words Partak had never uttered in his life spilled from his lips.
"Yes, Master."
Fernandez laughed deeply. He placed a hand atop Partak's head. Partak bowed, dropping one knee.
In this silent encampment, the great shaman's secluded camp where none dared approach, Fernandez whispered into Partak's ear.
"Call the warlord council. Can you?"
"What pretext?"
"War."
Of course. Partak nodded.
"As you will."
Time to nudge history forward. Fernandez gazed down at the pledging Partak. Time was a precious commodity to him, after all.
*