Chapter 12
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Lightning
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“...What in the world have you been doing?”
Gilberton asked, his face pale at the sight of Galahad’s wretched state.
“I ran into a few things.”
“A few things, you say—. Have you been treated?”
“I’m fine. Mages are sturdy, you know. A few pats and I’ll be good as new. ...That was a metaphor. A metaphor. Get your hands off me.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“At least have the decency to lie convincingly.”
Gilberton clicked his tongue and sat down opposite him. Galahad pushed the cold stew toward him.
“The stew here is excellent. Have some.”
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Then give it to Damian.”
Damian quickly took the bowl. Gilberton clicked his tongue again under his breath and looked around.
“Were you attacked by Hermun or something?”
“Who’s Hermun?”
“A big, ignorant brute who carries a steel axe.”
“Then it wasn’t him.”
Thanks to drinking the demon’s blood, his condition wasn’t at its worst.
The blood didn’t heal his wounds, but it did stop the bleeding. It felt similar to applying a caustic solution to a cut. Excruciatingly painful, but undeniably effective.
The problem was his mana, which was now boiling over. The highly concentrated mana he’d gained from the demon’s blood was rampaging inside him.
It felt like an unleashed hound was trapped within him. If he lost focus for even a moment, he felt the mana would explode.
Galahad tried to leash the mana, but his poor physical condition made it difficult. All he could do was suppress it.
“What’s that?”
“Something good for the body.”
Galahad tucked the flask into his coat. Gilberton’s eyes narrowed, full of suspicion.
Just then, the tavern door burst open with a clatter.
“Why did you ask to meet at a tavern so early in the... What! What happened to you!”
Gwen rushed over and grabbed Galahad. The proximity was a bit startling.
“What... What happened? Did someone hit you?! Who was it! No matter how unlucky you are, how could someone beat a person like this!”
“I won, so calm down. And what do you mean, unlucky?”
“You don’t have to hide it just because you’re a man! Everyone has their struggles! The other maids bully me too, calling me a useless burden who can’t even clean properly!”
“Isn’t that less bullying and more a statement of fact?”
“To do something so horrible, no matter how unlucky you are!”
“You’ve said ‘unlucky’ twice now.”
It was like talking to a wall. As Gwen examined his wounds, her eyes suddenly welled up with tears.
“*Sniff*—Just wait here. I’ll go get a towel to wipe you down.”
She didn’t seem to believe him at all. Gwen disappeared inside.
Galahad wondered. *Me, getting beaten up? Is that how I look?*
“Do I have the face of someone who gets beaten up?”
“You do look rather frail.”
“It’s you people who are absurdly thick. In the Central territories, I was considered quite well-built.”
“Ah, is that so.”
Gwen returned with a soaking wet cloth. Despite his protests, she insisted on cleaning Galahad’s wounds.
“There’s really no need for all this.”
“My salary is ten times higher. So I have to work ten times harder.”
“A fair point. Scrub harder, then.”
“By the way, who is this child?”
Gwen asked, wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead.
“Ah, that’s your junior, Damian.”
“...My junior! Really? I’ve always dreamed of having a junior!”
When Damian bowed his head, Gwen’s eyes sparkled. She looked as if she’d just received a gift.
“Are you an orphan, by any chance?”
“No. I have a mother. She’s a prostitute.”
“Oh, what a relief.”
Tom arrived soon after.
“Is he my junior too?”
“Private Tom! Reporting!”
“Wow! Two juniors! I finally have juniors of my own!”
With Tom and Damian seated on either side of her, Gwen’s shoulders puffed out with pride.
Galahad tried to tune out the dizzying conversation next to him and focused on his mana. It still wouldn’t settle.
*It would be better to just let it out once, cleanly.*
It seemed best to vent the boiling mana. However, since he couldn’t control its strength, he’d have to do it outside the castle walls.
It was time to move.
Time was not on Galahad’s side.
“It’s about time we went to see the Lady.”
Everyone nodded, their expressions hardening.
***
A considerable number of soldiers had gathered in front of the inner castle gate.
They were clearly curious about the Special Task Force. As the soldiers laid eyes on them, laughter erupted.
“Isn’t that a maid? Are they taking a maid to the front lines? They must be mad.”
“That’s Damian, the squad-eater. I heard he’s gone through ten squads already.”
“Is that the mage, the captain? Looks like he’s already been in a fight.”
Harsh comments rained down from all around.
Galahad casually ran a hand through his hair. A spark jumped from his fingertips. The untamable mana was incredibly irritating. Forcing it down, he observed his unit.
It wouldn’t do for them to lose morale over something like this right from the start.
“They’re calling me a maid! A maid! I guess I really don’t look like a soldier! Because I’m a maid!”
Gwen was thrilled to be called a maid, and Damian was completely oblivious.
*It’s not affecting them at all.*
Tom’s face was tense, but that didn’t really matter.
“Now that we have an audience, I should show them some splendid magic.”
“This is not the Central region, sir. Here, magic is regarded as little more than demon filth.”
“If their perception is poor, then it’s my duty to improve it.”
Galahad clicked his tongue at Gilberton’s attempt to dissuade him. He really wanted to vent this mana.
“What worm dares to covet Lady Adrianna!!”
Just then, a low voice echoed from the front. The resonance of the voice was so powerful that every word struck the ear.
The startled soldiers hastily parted. Through the gap, a man of enormous stature approached.
The man seemed impervious to the cold, wearing only a fur loincloth that barely covered his essentials.
His massive, muscular body was completely exposed and covered in scars. He carried a great axe as large as a man, and strangely, even its haft was made of iron.
The man’s eyes, fixed on Galahad, were filled with killing intent. It was so palpable it made one’s skin prickle.
“Let me guess. This is that Hermun you mentioned?”
Gilberton nodded with a grim expression.
“Yes, that’s Hermun. He’s from the 1st Battalion, and his loyalty to Lady Adrianna is excessive. He once tore out the tongue of a man who made a lewd comment about her.”
*Tore out his tongue? How gruesome.*
“So why is this fellow glaring at me?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
“Ah, because I’m to be her husband? What vile jealousy.”
“You said that a bit too loudly, sir.”
“You baaaastard!”
The man named Hermun slammed his axe into the ground. *KABOOM!* The sound was like an explosion.
“He’s incredibly strong.”
“Is this really the time for admiration?”
“One must first learn to acknowledge others to be acknowledged oneself.”
Galahad gave a small cough. He was feigning composure, but a flicker of annoyance was rising within him.
“This is no time for games. Hermun is a recognized talent in the 1st Battalion.”
*KRAAANG!* Hermun’s axe struck the ground again. Several soldiers lost their balance and fell. It was an unbelievable display of brute force. *Did this man eat a demon’s sinew?*
“Gilberton! Step aside! Are you protecting that Imperial dog?”
“It is an order from His Grace, the Grand Duke.”
“I don’t care! I will take full responsibility, so move!”
Gilberton glanced back at Galahad. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Are you actually considering it?”
“Um, no, sir.”
“Fine, this is perfect. I was needing to let off some steam anyway.”
“It’s dangerous.”
At Gilberton’s serious warning, Galahad scratched his cheek.
*Dangerous? For me? Against this naked primitive?*
Galahad let out a hollow laugh, finding the notion absurd.
“I’ve been wondering for a while now, why does everyone here look down on mages?”
He was genuinely curious.
It made sense for the Demon Race to despise mages. The matchup was so one-sided they were practically natural enemies.
But here, even the thugs in the tavern looked down on mages. He could understand hating them, but dismissing them was beyond his comprehension.
It was something unimaginable in the Central region.
“Because mages are weak in combat, aren’t they?”
“What kind of mages have you people been seeing? Then again, for a mage to crawl all the way to the North, I can imagine their caliber.”
“……”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Ahem.”
“I didn’t crawl here, I was dragged.”
“Yes, I am aware. However, you struggled even against that lord, did you not?”
“That was because he was part demon. The Demon Race has a poor affinity with magic.”
*CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!* As if to show off his strength, the man named Hermun repeatedly smashed his axe into the ground. In response, the soldiers roared with jeers and cheers.
“This won’t do. It seems I must take the lead in improving the perception of mages. I shall show these ignorant fools the terror of a mage.”
“Will you be alright?”
“I’m the captain. Don’t you know the captain is always the strongest?”
“…But you’re in terrible condition.”
He had a point. The bleeding had stopped, but he’d lost a lot of blood, making him dizzy, and his mana was running wild. However—
“Even with just one finger, I can beat a naked primitive with a steel axe.”
Stepping forward, Galahad slowly sized up the primitive.
He wasn't clad in aura, nor was he wearing leather armor.
*I don’t know where he gets this confidence.*
Galahad flicked his finger. A wild spark flew out.
His mana was out of control. It was running rampant from having drunk the demon’s blood.
*I don’t think I can control my power.*
Galahad watched the primitive beating his chest and nodded.
He decided to let it all out in one spectacular blast.
*The snow has stopped.*
Galahad looked up at the sky.
Though the snow had ceased, the sky was filled with long, dark clouds.
The focused gazes of the crowd, his slightly intimidated unit members—
*I’ll have to make it a really spectacular one.*
Galahad snapped his fingers.
Thanks to the primitive, who was kindly waiting for him, he even recited an incantation for the first time in a while.
***
“Sh-shouldn’t we stop him? He’s not in good shape!”
“If it’s Hermun, isn’t he the one who won a contest of strength against a demon…?”
Hearing the worried whispers from behind, Gilberton scowled.
They were right. Hermun was no easy opponent.
Simply being in the 1st Battalion was proof of one’s ability in the North.
In contrast, Galahad had struggled against a half-demon lord.
Furthermore, Galahad’s physical condition was at its worst. He had wounds all over from whatever he’d been doing during the night, and his back was covered in burns.
Logically, he should have stopped him, but what could he do when Galahad himself had stepped forward?
“Khahaha! The Imperial dog has lost his nerve!”
A coarse laugh escaped Hermun’s lips. He seemed thrilled at the prospect of taking a head.
“Executioner! Executioner!”
The chant echoed from the crowd. No one doubted that Hermun would take Galahad’s head.
*This is not good.*
The Special Task Force had already become a laughingstock from the very beginning. If their captain were to be defeated here, their reputation would plummet to rock bottom.
On the front lines, reputation was crucial. If Galahad lost, the Special Task Force could be broken before it even began.
Galahad stood perfectly still, as if he couldn’t hear the jeers and concerns raining down on him.
His face, unlike usual, was slightly contorted. His customary composure was gone, replaced by a sharp edge of irritation.
“I, Hermun of the 1st Battalion, challenge the Imperial dog who dares to presume himself a match for Lady Adrianna!”
*A duel. He’s being clever.*
Gilberton narrowed his eyes. He’d wondered why Hermun had waited patiently through his conversation with Galahad; this must have been his aim.
In the North, a duel was a sacred affair. Anyone could request one, and there could be no repercussions for the outcome.
“Duel! Duel!”
Cheers erupted from all sides, urging Hermun to tear the head from the cursed, filthy mage. A thick killing intent filled the air.
Just then, Galahad raised his right hand. The boisterous jeers gradually subsided.
Galahad had a strange power to command attention.
“May I ask a question?”
“...A dead man walking has questions! Just offer your neck quietly!”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, I ask you. Are you a demon?”
Gilberton’s jaw dropped.
To ask someone in the North if they were a demon—it was an insult more grievous than slandering their parents or wife.
The unimaginable question silenced even the soldiers who had been jeering quietly.
“How can he say something so horrid—!”
Even Gwen, who had been worried, stammered in shock.
*Ggrind, ggrind.* Hermun’s muscles rippled, making a terrible sound. *This is bad.* Gilberton gripped the hilt of his sword.
If it came down to it, he would intervene. His honor would be tarnished, but Adrianna’s orders came first.
“From your reaction, I take it you’re not. You’re not a demon, you’re not wearing leather, you have no aura—so what gives you the nerve to challenge me?”
“...Youuuu scoundrel!!”
Hermun lowered his stance. His thick legs tensed, making a cracking sound as the ground beneath them buckled slightly.
His dense killing intent spread through the area. The faces of the soldiers turned pale.
Hermun kicked off the ground. *BOOM!* With a deafening roar, the spot where he stood caved in, and his form shot forward.
“My apologies, but I can’t seem to control my power right now. Do try to endure.”
Galahad flicked his fingers. It was a tiny motion, but it had the power to draw every eye.
A small spark flew from Galahad’s fingers. The single spark bounced between his fingers, then rapidly swelled in size.
It wasn't refined. Galahad himself seemed to be struggling to control it, his eyes narrowed in a grimace. The spreading sparks grew larger still, until they enveloped his entire arm.
It looked as if it was consuming him. Black lines etched themselves haphazardly across his skin.
Galahad’s lips parted, and a spark flew out.
“Divine Punishment.”
Galahad’s low murmur was heard, clear as day. The sparks enveloping him shot upward and vanished in an instant.
*Thump!*
In the blink of an eye, Hermun was right in front of him, his axe raised high. The muscles on his axe-wielding arm bulged thickly. A roar burst from his lips.
“I’ll tear off your head and bathe in your blood!”
Hermun swung the axe down at Galahad. It seemed a foregone conclusion that Galahad would be split in two.
At that moment, the sky trembled. The dark clouds that filled the sky parted. Through the rift, a colossal spark erupted.
It was lightning. A bolt that tore the heavens asunder, its domain rapidly expanding.
The lightning reached the ground in a fraction of a second.
For an instant, everything became vividly clear. Hermun, laughing as he swung his axe; Galahad, an irritated look on his face; the horrified soldiers—
The lightning flowed through Hermun’s axe. His figure was engulfed in a shroud of white light.
It truly looked as if the heavens were delivering punishment.
*KRA-KA-KABOOOOM!*
The sound came a moment later.
The lightning was instantaneous, yet it felt agonizingly long.
Then, the vivid world slowed and darkened once more.
*Clink.*
The axe clattered to the ground.
Hermun stood frozen, charred black.
His hair was burnt to a crisp, standing on end. His eyes were rolled back, showing only the whites, and his skin was covered in a dense network of black marks.
A haze of grey smoke rose from his entire body.
“Ah—”
Hermun let out a small sound and pitched forward onto his face.
There were no jeers, no cheers.
Only a heavy silence filled the space.
That Hermun had fallen without even landing a blow—
“Hoo—that’s a relief. Hermun, was it? Thank you. I feel a bit lighter now, thanks to you.”
Galahad, his usual composure restored, smiled and patted Hermun on the back, as if telling him to get up.
The strange dissonance of the scene made the soldiers flinch and take a step back.
“...Are mages usually that strong?”
At Tom’s question, Gilberton shook his head.
*Of course not.*
There was a reason Gilberton had looked down on mages.
It wasn't that mages were strong. It was that Galahad was a monster.
*What is his true identity?*
Gilberton’s eyes gleamed with a cold light.
***
*He’s so excited.*
Jamit, an agent of the Intelligence Bureau, smiled faintly as she watched the fidgeting rookie.
“Are you that happy to have joined the Intelligence Bureau?”
“...Sir? Yes! I’m ecstatic!”
At the booming reply, Jamit gave a wry smile. She remembered being like that once. It was when she had first met *him*.
*What was it he said back then?*
[Pray that you never have to face me again. It won’t be for anything good.]
At first, she’d thought he was just some kid acting tough, but it had been genuine advice, in its own way. Considering the role he played in the Intelligence Bureau, it was only natural.
“I’m going to become an agent just like Sir Galahad!”
The rookie exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement.
Jamit’s brow furrowed instinctively.
*How dare he mention Galahad?*
[Jamit, you need to control that temper of yours.]
A phantom voice seemed to jest from somewhere, and Jamit let out a low breath.
Right, what would this fledgling know? He likely had no idea what it meant to become an agent like *him*.
“...It’s probably best if you don’t say that name too often.”
“Huh?”
At the rookie’s startled face, Jamit smiled wryly.
*Did I scare him too much?*
“...It’s just that he’s my idol. I’m sorry.”
*Idol.* He would laugh if he heard that. A small smile touched Jamit’s lips.
“Did I make some sort of mistake…?”
The rookie asked cautiously, looking as if he were about to cry.
Jamit smiled leisurely and shook her head.
“No, the tea is just hot. It slipped out. Now, let’s give you an agent name. James, was it? Your agent name will be—”
The rookie swallowed hard. He looked like a puppy waiting for a bone.
Jamit gave a mischievous smile and said,
“Galahad.”
A name completely unsuited for a rookie.