Chapter 19
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Palho
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‘We survived.’
Tom shook his tingling hands, expressing his joy.
To survive an encounter with monsters and demons… it was nothing short of a miracle.
But the reactions of those around him were strange.
Damian was just lying there, muttering about being hungry, while Gwen sat slumped over, staring blankly.
Her face was filled with guilt. She looked just like a soldier who had killed for the first time.
It seemed to be because she had used magic. Tom was well aware of Gwen's aversion to it.
Tom clicked his tongue softly and tended to Gwen first, who seemed to be in the worst state.
“We survived thanks to you. If it weren’t for you, Senior Gwen, we would’ve all been killed by that monster.”
“...Did I do the right thing?”
“Yes, of course. If not for your magic, Senior Gwen, it would have all been over.”
“But I used magic…”
Gwen’s voice was strained as she spoke. It seemed the weight of using magic was different for her.
It was understandable. In the North, mages were considered the cursed filth of the Demon Race. There were quite a few who had been tied to trees and burned to death.
However—
“You proved them wrong before, didn’t you? The blacksmith, the sword, the boy.”
“But if I’m a mage, the children…”
From Gwen’s small mumble, Tom understood the problem.
Gwen often talked about how cute and kind the orphans she cared for were. Her weakness for money was also to feed and support them.
She seemed worried that if rumors spread about her being a mage, the children would be bullied. As orphans, they were already more vulnerable.
The solution to that was clear.
“You just have to become stronger, Senior Gwen.”
Gwen blinked.
There was only one reason people suffered in the North.
“They suffer because they lack strength. Look at the Captain. He’s a mage, but because he’s strong, he’s actually—”
Tom swallowed the rest of his words.
As if his explanation had resonated with her, Gwen’s eyes widened.
Tom got to his feet. Gwen wasn’t the only squad member he needed to look after.
“I’m hungry…”
Damian was flailing around on the ground.
They had packed plenty of food, but it was uncertain if it would be enough to feed the starving Damian.
Then, the mole cricket carcass behind them caught his eye. Mole cricket meat tasted awful, but Damian wasn’t a picky eater.
‘Good thing I brought spices.’
“I’ll… I’ll help too!”
“No, it’s fine. Just staying there is help enough. Thank you.”
Tom firmly refused Gwen’s offer to help.
‘When is he coming back?’
Tom glanced toward the inner area where Galahad had taken the mage in the crow mask.
****
‘...My god.’
In his great shock, the Crow forgot even how to cast a spell.
The bastard was even stronger than before.
How was that possible?
If he were a black magician, it might make sense, but he was an agent of the Intelligence Bureau.
He despised enhancing mana with human lives with a passion. And yet, he had no problem punching holes in the heads of human mages himself.
Wasn’t that why the Crow had sought a way out using magic stones instead of humans?
And yet, he was even stronger now.
What he had unleashed was clearly...
‘Wasn't Hellfire the magic of the fallen Magic Tower?’
His hands trembled on their own. A sense of injustice washed over him. He had abandoned everything to come here, only to be chased all this way.
At the same time, his mind raced. How could he survive this man? There was only one answer.
‘The location of the Black Magic Society's branch... The demon forces' disposition...'
The Crow desperately sorted through the information he knew, picking out things the man would find valuable.
This should be enough to spare my life, right?
Just then, a familiar lemon scent wafted over.
The Crow desperately suppressed a scream.
As always, the man was looking down at him with indifferent eyes.
“I… I was waiting for you.”
The man frowned. He was clearly displeased about something.
Ah! Such a mistake.
The Crow quickly turned his cloak inside out and shook out everything he had. From his pockets to the small magic stones within—he offered it all without holding anything back.
“Ah, so it was Palho.”
The reply was odd, but the terror-stricken Crow didn’t notice.
The Crow immediately bowed his head to the ground.
“It’s been a while! Boss!”
****
‘So it was Palho.’
Galahad clicked his tongue softly.
“What is it?”
“An old informant of mine.”
Galahad clicked his tongue softly at Gilberton’s question.
Magic tended to warp the mind, so strange characters often popped up.
Placing informants to manage such impure organizations was standard procedure. Galahad was very thorough with the basics.
Palho was Galahad’s informant in the Black Magic Society.
He was a good source of information, but at some point, he disappeared.
‘So he was in the North. No wonder I couldn't find him.’
Did all my informants who went silent flee to the North?
It was quite possible. If they had hidden anywhere else, the Intelligence Bureau would have caught them long ago.
“...You extort money from your informants?”
“It’s evidence.”
Galahad examined the items Palho had handed over. There were two high-grade magic stones, some loose change, a piece of parchment, and other miscellaneous items.
‘He must think I chased him all the way here.’
Thinking that, he could somewhat understand why the man was trembling.
How terrifying must it be to think he was pursued into a deep cave on the northern front lines?
The situation was a coincidence, but there was no need to clarify.
If he let the misunderstanding stand, the man would surely never betray him again.
He had fled to the ends of the North, and still, he was caught.
Where else could he possibly run?
Having finished his calculations, Galahad smiled gently.
“Palho, I was worried you were dead. But look at this! You’re alive.”
“Haha...! Ha! There’s a story behind it. The organization grew suspicious of me and sent me to the North. They even assigned a watchdog, so I had no choice.”
Palho prostrated himself. If not for the mask, he looked ready to lick Galahad's boots. Galahad subtly moved his foot back.
“Of course, that couldn’t be it. You’re a smart one, Palho. You wouldn’t be foolish enough to think you could run from me.”
“How could you even say such a thing! My apologies for worrying you! Damn those black magicians!”
The Crow repeatedly expressed his outrage. Galahad forced a smile, swallowing the blood that rose in his throat. His insides were a mess, but composure was a weapon.
“Yes, I trusted you. We had a pretty good thing going, didn't we?”
“...Y-yes! It’s an honor!”
He gently pushed away Palho, who was trying to cling to his feet.
“I saw a magic circle on the mole cricket monster’s belly earlier, one that looked like a monster tamer’s. Do you know anything about it?”
“Ah, that! Of course, I know about it! To explain that, I first have to talk about those bastards from Dawn.”
Galahad belatedly remembered that Palho was quite talkative.
“Keep it short. Give me the details in a report.”
“Yes, to put it simply, Dawn, which has rapidly grown in power, distributed them!”
“...They distributed a monster tamer’s magic circles?”
It seemed they had distributed a degraded version, not the original, but Palho didn't appear to know that.
“Yes, Dawn distributed them to its subordinate organizations.”
“Wait, the Black Magic Society is now under Dawn?”
Galahad frowned.
Originally, Dawn wasn't a very large organization. But to think they had absorbed the Black Magic Society...
No matter how much Galahad had stirred up the Black Magic Society, it shouldn't have been enough to drive them under Dawn.
Palho had no reason to lie.
The fact that Galahad didn't know this meant one of three things.
Either Dawn was skilled enough to evade the Intelligence Bureau’s notice, or the information simply hadn't reached Galahad.
Because if Galahad had heard, he would have ripped them out by the roots.
It was also possible the Intelligence Bureau was using Dawn.
“Does Dawn have a monster tamer?”
“I don’t know about that. However, Dawn has been circulating remnants from the Demonic War. And not just the monster tamer's.”
The Demonic War was the name for the war fought between the Demon Race and the Empire in the past.
Galahad took a leather notebook from his coat and scanned its contents. An organization spreading remnants of the Demonic War should have been listed.
‘...Nothing.’
It was possible he simply didn't remember. The notes only contained major intelligence, after all. Still, Galahad felt as if the situation was somehow twisted.
‘Good news.’
It was a sign that his years of rolling in the dirt had meant something.
“Right, what were you doing here?”
“Mining magic stones. The plan was to feed them to that demon to create a crack in the front lines.”
“Feed magic stones to a demon?”
“When demons get hungry, they eat magic stones. The more they eat, the stronger they get, but they also lose their reason.”
“Is that information from Dawn?”
“Yes, that’s right!”
He knows a lot. An unusual amount.
“What is Dawn’s goal?”
“A second Demonic War, probably. The plan was to shake things up internally and bring down the front lines. They believe a true world will only open up once the walls fall.”
Just then, Gilberton laughed out loud. It was a clear scoff. Palho’s head turned.
“If it weren’t for my handler, you’d be dead, you arrogant knight.”
“Ah, it’s just that talk of bringing down the walls is so ridiculous.”
Unlike his laughter, Gilberton’s face was cold and hard.
“You’ve never seen what’s beyond the wall, have you.”
Palho didn’t answer Gilberton’s question.
“Anyway, Boss. What else I know is—”
No, he seemed to not care at all.
Galahad sent Gilberton out and took a moment to persuade Palho.
A much more docile Palho obediently spat out all the information he had.
He even brought up things he wasn’t asked about.
“Alright, you’re smart enough, so I won’t have to spell it out.”
“...Yes! Of course! I’m to go back and send information periodically! Especially centered on Dawn!”
Through the mask, Palho’s eyes wavered.
‘The misunderstanding that I chased him to the ends of the North played a big part.’
At this point, he would surely never run away again.
He was caught at the edge of the North; where could he possibly run?
Palho was cunning and resourceful, but he wasn’t a fool.
“Do you know how great the damages are? Palho, if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t be treating them this gently. The loss of magic stones... it was enough to buy a castle.”
“...Loss of magic stones? Did you use magic stones?”
Palho tilted his head stupidly. Galahad gestured to the side. The residue of drained magic stones lay on the ground.
It was the remains of the magic stones fed to the demon.
“...”
Through the mask, the Crow’s red eyes narrowed, then widened. *Son of a bi—.* A faint curse was heard.
“Haha. That’s right! I was saving them to give to you! But that stupid demon ate them all! That! Fucking! Bastard! Demon!”
“Right? I almost misunderstood. I thought you had broken our promise and embezzled them. You are my property, so everything you acquire is mine.”
“I… I remember. Haha!”
“Right? Since it’s you, I’ll graciously waive the interest.”
As if moved, tears streamed from his red eyes. Galahad patted his shoulder.
“Ah, but this is the last time I’ll be so lenient.”
At the soft whisper, Palho bowed his head deeply.
“And wear your mask properly.”
Palho nodded and adjusted his mask.
Not showing his face—it was one of the conditions for sparing his life.
With a wave of his hand, Palho disappeared into the darkness.
Only then did Galahad release the breath he had been holding. A long trail of black blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
‘Drinking too much demon blood is bad for your health.’
He muttered, wiping the blood from his mouth. His insides were a wreck. All his mana channels were twisted.
His muscles, which had been suppressed by mana, screamed in protest. Galahad leaned his back against the wall and put a cigarette in his mouth.
‘One speck left.’
It felt as if not his body, but his soul, was about to break. Galahad clicked his tongue and slid down to a sitting position.
‘I should sleep for a bit.’
His heavy eyelids drooped irresistibly.
How much time had passed? Galahad opened his eyes with a violent cough.
Gilberton was sitting there, his armor a crumpled mess.
“You look like a wreck.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to criticize me.”
“That’s true.”
Galahad chuckled softly. It felt like he had slept deeply for the first time in a while. His mana had recovered slightly, but it was still just a speck.
He picked up the cigarette from the floor, dusted it off, and put it in his mouth. He flicked his finger, but no flame appeared. Galahad shook his finger in annoyance. A small flame ignited.
“What in the world are you?”
Beyond the flame, Gilberton’s face was visible, looking quite serious. It was filled with tension.
‘My identity...’
Galahad briefly muttered the amusing word.
“An abandoned hound. Lucky not to have been devoured.”
The scent of lemon deepened. His hazy mind finally began to clear. He forced his mana to circulate. Every part of him burned with pain, but he didn’t stop.
“Is there anyone who could possibly devour you?”
“My goodness, what do you take me for?”
At the astonished voice, Galahad laughed like a cough.
“A mage who kills demons with magic… I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Didn’t I tell you? I have the disposition of a pioneer.”
Just then, boisterous laughter could be heard from outside.
Galahad forced strength into his weak legs and stood up. He refused the hand Gilberton unconsciously offered.
“I don’t like people touching my body. Especially men.”
“...It’s not like I enjoy it, either.”
Galahad chuckled and dragged his heavy feet forward.
The air was filled with a savory, roasting smell. A large pile of sizable meat chunks was stacked up.
Tom was diligently grilling meat in front of a large fire, with Damian and Gwen beside him. It had the atmosphere of a campfire.
“Oh, Captain, you’re here. I’ll get yours ready right away.”
Tom said, wiping the sweat from his brow. The pan in his hand spun with a flourish. He had the form of a first-class chef.
“This isn’t a company dinner.”
“...I’m aware.”
Gilberton replied sharply, spreading his tattered coat on the ground.
Galahad didn’t refuse and sat on it.
Seeing Gilberton’s crumpled face, it didn’t seem like he had laid it down for Galahad.
Just then, Tom offered him a metal bowl filled with well-cooked meat.
“Ah, thanks. Hold this for me.”
Galahad handed his lit cigarette to Gilberton and took the bowl. The meat had a strong, gamey smell. *Tastes like shit.* Galahad clicked his tongue softly and chewed thoroughly.
‘How many informants went missing again?’
Galahad briefly counted them up. For some reason, he had a feeling most of them were in the North.
‘About eight of them, I'd say.’
And on top of that, the information he got from Palho.
His to-do list was growing.
He felt even busier than when he was at the Intelligence Bureau.
Then, Adrianna suddenly came to mind.
“So, when the hell are the reinforcements arriving?”
“They should be here soon.”
“They’re slow.”
Galahad grumbled quietly.
****
“Move out, now. Everyone, abandon the wagons.”
At Adrianna’s command, a young woman’s eyes widened.
For the usually calm Adrianna to speak with such urgency, something must have happened.
The woman gripped her reins and sidled up next to her senior.
“What’s going on?”
“They say something came up on Gilberton’s end. The traces are similar to what the 7th Battalion faced.”
“Ah, you mean the recent demon attack on the 7th Battalion?”
“Yeah, and now the same thing has shown up where Gilberton is. We’re fucked. And that guy is there, too. The Imperial. If he dies, it’ll give the Empire a justification to act. Ah, this is so fucking twisted.”
The younger woman let out a small breath at her senior's coarse swearing.
Regarding the Empire, the North was largely divided into three factions.
The hardliners: ‘We can’t stand these Imperial bastards anymore, let’s wipe them out.’
The moderates: ‘Let’s be patient. How can humans fight each other when we have the Demon Race to deal with?’
The extreme hardliners: ‘Let’s just wipe out both the Demon Race and the Empire.’
It was divided into these three.
The moderates used to be the majority, but after the incident with Adrianna and the Crown Prince, the hardliners had grown in power.
If the Empire used his death as a pretext to apply pressure, the hardliners would surely gain the upper hand.
Of course, the final decision would be made by the Grand Duke, but he was a man who drank blood, not one who shied away from it.
“He’s more important than I thought, huh?”
“Then what the hell did you think he was?”
*Hey, why are you swearing at me?* The young woman held her tongue.
“But isn’t the situation already over? A demon stronger than the one that attacked the 7th Battalion, plus twelve mole crickets... even for Gilberton…”
“Yeah, they’re probably already dead. We’re just going to retrieve the bodies.”
At the sharp retort, the woman gripped her reins. Looking around, she saw everyone hastily packing their belongings.
Despite the urgent response, it seemed no one doubted that the other party had been annihilated.
“It’d be a relief if they even managed to hold out. A mid-tier demon on their first mission... the Special Attack Force is seriously unlucky.”
The woman’s lips twitched slightly. She looked like she wanted to say something.
“What is it now, you little shit? Spit it out.”
“Um... it’s not the Special Attack Force, it’s the Special Task Force…”
“Ah—fuck! Seriously!”
The young woman hastily pulled on her reins.