Chapter 37
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Mother
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“It was a pleasant date.”
“…It was not a date.”
Adrianna turned away, her reply firm. Her spotless white coat whipped around her.
“An anomaly has been detected in the Miasmic Realm. I'm calling a meeting.”
After giving the curt order, Adrianna left. The men from the 1st Battalion, who had been sending heated glares Galahad's way, hastily followed her.
She was a rather considerate woman, despite her attempts to hide it.
“Why on earth do you keep provoking her?”
Gilberton asked, his face aghast. Galahad flicked the ash from his cigarette as he answered.
“When did I provoke her?”
“Making Lady Adrianna take out a cigarette for you—”
“Ah, that wasn't a provocation. It was about establishing our relationship.”
“…Pardon?”
“Besides, my hands were in this state, so I couldn't help it. Were you going to get it for me?”
“I'd rather not.”
“My thoughts exactly. The mere thought of it ruins the taste of the cigarette.”
Just then, the knights who had gone out with them approached. The same men who had glared so fiercely on the way out now had the gentlest of eyes.
“We're sorry.”
The men suddenly bowed their heads. It was an unexpected apology.
“For what?”
“We thought that as a mage, you would be a burden. But we were the ones who were a burden. We're sorry.”
The men bowed their heads deeply once more.
Galahad hadn't cared what they thought of him in the first place.
They hadn't openly picked a fight like the others.
It was something he could have easily let slide, yet here these knights were, bowing their heads in apology.
Such a thing would be unimaginable in the capital.
‘So there are still true knights left here.’
Galahad shook his head with a bitter smile.
“It's not something you need to apologize for. The chances of a mage from the Empire not being a burden in demon territory are extremely low, after all.”
“…Pardon?”
“It's just that I happen to be an exceptional mage.”
The knights' expressions turned peculiar. There was a hint of admiration mixed with a look of distaste.
“…Just take the apology, will you?”
“If I were to accept it carelessly, some other perfectly good mage might end up in an unfair situation. This was only possible because it was me. Any other mage wouldn't have even been able to cast a spell.”
Galahad was pointing out a precise fact. It was to prevent any potential harm.
“Ah, yes. That… Yes. A genius mage, you say. Yes, we understand.”
The knights nodded. Only then, satisfied, did an idea pop into Galahad's head, and he spoke.
“Perfect timing. You've all worked hard, so you deserve a good meal. I'm planning a Special Task Force dinner, and you're all invited. Sir Gilberton is paying.”
Gilberton's face contorted into a deep scowl. However, he nodded without a word.
“Yes, we'll go if we have time after the meeting.”
“Tell Adrianna, too.”
“Yes.”
The knights walked away. They didn't mingle with the others who had gone ahead, but disappeared separately.
“Lady Adrianna won't come.”
“We'll see about that.”
Galahad walked on at a brisk pace. Gilberton followed close behind.
Galahad's mind was moving as busily as his feet.
‘The Egg of Pain—’
The biggest mystery right now was the Egg of Pain. Ever since feeding it a considerable amount of demon blood, it felt as though the thing had developed a sense of self.
Though, that self was limited to burning with determination upon seeing Adrianna, or fearing her when she came close.
‘A remnant of the Great Demon War, he said. The egg of a high-ranking demon.’
He recalled Korton's words. It was an item that came from Dawn. They were using it as a tool for making vows.
Indeed, the moment it saw Adrianna, it had exerted enough pressure to shake his mind.
But after feeding it demon blood, the Egg of Pain had changed.
The Egg of Pain, which extracted only highly concentrated mana from demon blood, was now very important to Galahad.
However, since it was embedded in his body—right next to his heart, no less—he needed to be certain of its true nature.
‘You, what are you?’
The Egg of Pain was quiet. It seemed it didn't show much of a reaction unless Adrianna was nearby.
Around that time, he arrived at the tavern where he had left his squad members.
Only Tom was in the tavern. He was sitting on a high stool in the center of the room, playing a guitar-like instrument. His skill was quite impressive.
“Ah, you're back.”
“Your playing is quite good.”
“It just happened to be here in the tavern, so I was practicing.”
“Is that so. Where are the others?”
“Damian is running around out back, and Gwen is helping people around the 1st Battalion's area.”
Before Tom could even finish his reply, Gilberton headed for the back door. Though he tried to act nonchalant, his eyes held a strange longing.
‘Competing with Damian—’
A knight through and through. Galahad clicked his tongue and sat down.
“Have you eaten?”
“Not yet. I'm feeling a bit hungry.”
“I'll prepare something right away.”
Tom stood up and went inside.
Galahad took out the cigarette Adrianna had transferred for him, placed it between his lips, and lit it. A deep lemon scent filled the air.
A moment later, a splendid spread of food was brought out. It was delicious even to Galahad, who had only eaten fine cuisine in the central region.
Tom sat back down on the high stool and began to play the instrument again. It was so natural that it didn't feel strange at all.
It was quite some time before Damian and Gilberton returned.
‘They're late.’
It had taken longer than Galahad expected.
It was one of two things.
Either Gilberton had gone easy on him to prolong the spar, or Damian's skills had improved.
Judging by Gilberton's crumpled face, it seemed to be the latter.
Damian immediately lunged for the food. His face slammed right into a plate with a loud thud! Gilberton hastily grabbed a dish for himself.
“By the way, where's the owner? Why is Tom cooking?”
“Ah, Mr. Hetrick wasn't feeling well today, so I'm filling in for him.”
“…Hetrick is too suspicious to let just anyone work here.”
Instead of answering, Tom just smiled and plucked a string on his instrument. Twang! It was a rather pleasant sound.
Gilberton nodded dubiously and looked at Galahad.
“Damian, this kid has gotten better.”
“Has he? Damian, you've worked hard. Good job.”
“Yeah.”
Gilberton narrowed his eyes at Damian's casual reply.
“All he does is eat and run around, so it's a real mystery how he's getting stronger. Does it even make sense?”
Gilberton stared at Damian with a complicated expression. Damian paid him no mind and continued to eat. He was as ravenous as ever.
“That's how beasts of prey are. Feed them well, let them sleep, and they get stronger. Besides, you're sparring with him, aren't you?”
“Even so…”
Gilberton, who had been muttering under his breath, gave a reluctant nod.
Gwen returned later. Her face was black with soot, as if she'd been busy with something outside.
“You're back! You must be tired!”
“Looking at your face, it seems you've worked harder. What have you been up to?”
“I was practicing my Explosion Orbs while helping the people here.”
A look of pride appeared on Gwen's face. Tom wiped her face with a cloth.
“Blow.”
“Hmph!”
Gwen's face was back to its usual fresh, clean state.
“Have you gotten used to the Explosion Orbs?”
“Yes! I'm getting the hang of it now. Explosion Orb.”
As she chanted the spell, a large fireball appeared in her hand. Its size was considerable, likely due to her absurdly large mana pool.
“Perfect.”
“Ahh! Thank you!”
“You copied my magic, so of course it's perfect.”
Galahad nodded. Since she had copied his magic, it was only natural that it would be perfect.
Gwen, who had been expressing her gratitude, twitched her lips.
Just then, Gwen's eyes went wide. Her gaze was fixed on the left side of Galahad's chest.
“………What?! I didn't hear you. What did you say?”
Gwen suddenly tilted her head in confusion.
“I didn't say anything.”
“No, just now you said something…. There! You just said it!”
Galahad's eyes narrowed in the direction Gwen was pointing. She was pointing directly at the left side of his chest.
Right where the Egg of Pain was.
“What did it say?”
“Uhm…”
“Yes?”
“Uhh…”
“Yes?”
Gwen frowned.
“What did it say?”
Galahad urged her impatiently. Fear appeared in Gwen's eyes. She seemed to have realized something was wrong.
Galahad shook his head and looked at Gwen.
“Ignore everything else and trust yourself. Focus. Can you still hear it?”
“…What?! That—”
“Speak honestly. Lies only weigh down the tongue.”
Galahad leaned over the table, bracing his hands on it. Gwen was startled by how close he was.
“What's going…”
“Sir Gilberton, please be quiet. Now, Gwen. Can you still hear the voice?”
Galahad's eyes were calm and deep—black irises with a faint hint of blue.
Facing him, Gwen felt as if a hand were tightening around her throat.
She bit her lip hard and nodded.
Uhm… Mo… ther…
Gwen answered, looking like she was about to cry.
“…It's calling me 'Mom'? I'm not a mom!”
“Mom?”
Galahad hurriedly unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Gwen's eyes widened at the gruesome scar visible underneath.
It was a horrific scar, as if something had been gouged into burned flesh. A scar that didn't fit Galahad's clean-cut appearance at all.
How much must that have hurt? Tears welled up in Gwen's eyes.
“Gwen, you can cry later. Now, focus. Can you still hear it?”
The slurred voice grew louder. It rattled her mind.
The impulse intensified in an instant. Gwen's pupils dilated.
Gwen reached out her hand unconsciously.
“Hmm.”
Galahad narrowed his eyes. The Egg of Pain throbbed violently.
More violently than when it had seen Adrianna. Gwen let out a breathy gasp. Seeing her unfocused eyes, Galahad clicked his tongue softly.
“Gwen, focus. Don't let it pull you in.”
“…Huh? Yes!”
“What is it saying?”
Gwen ducked her head low.
“It's asking me to be its mom. I'm not a mom!”
Gwen whispered, so only Galahad could hear. Her eyes were filled with indignation.
“Accept it.”
“…What?! But I'm not even married!”
“You raise orphans anyway, don't you? In a way, this thing is an orphan too. It won't be dangerous for you. If it does become a threat, I have a way to get rid of it.”
The Egg of Pain vibrated violently. A flicker of pity crossed Gwen's face. Soon after, she nodded.
The Egg of Pain pulsed strongly. Something moved from it toward Gwen. It wasn't mana. It was something unknown.
Galahad felt a deep sense of intrigue.
Gwen lifted her head stiffly.
“Hey, Captain—”
“Sir Gilberton, please be quiet for a moment.”
Crack. With a crisp sound, Gwen's right arm thickened ever so slightly. It swelled as if her muscles were expanding, then quickly returned to normal.
It was only for an instant, but Galahad, who was right in front of her, didn't miss it.
Galahad doubted his own eyes.
What Gwen had just done—
‘That belongs to the Demon Race.’
It was similar to what he'd seen the demon in the cave do, back when he met Palho.
It was the ability to strengthen the body with something close to the origin of mana. She had used what the Demon Race calls an 'Authority.'
The Egg of Pain stopped its frantic pulsing. Gwen let out a deep breath. Her breath was remarkably hot.
‘Is this related to her ability to copy magic? Is the power of demons the origin of magic?’
Galahad's mind grew complicated once more. Did Gwen have a secret? Or was this possible for any female mage?
“Captain.”
Gilberton called out to Galahad again.
When he turned his head—
“…Ah, I came to deliver a letter from His Grace, the Grand Duke.”
Adrianna was standing there. She wore her usual expressionless face. The knights behind her looked aghast.
Only then did Galahad take in the scene.
Gwen had her hand inside Galahad's shirt. She was even drooling.
It wasn't a pretty sight.
“I see. Gwen, would you mind removing your hand?”
“Huh? Ahhh! Yes!”
Gwen yanked her hand back with a fluster. Galahad buttoned up his shirt.
Adrianna held out an envelope right in front of Galahad. It was so close it nearly touched his nose. Her sense of distance is strange.
“Thank you.”
“…”
Galahad tore open the envelope without hesitation.
[Galahad, Captain of the Special Task Force, is to tour the battalions and take responsibility for identifying any holes in the front line.]
It was a short sentence. The thick script, as if written with a fist, was unmistakably the Grand Duke's.
‘Take responsibility, he says.’
It meant I was to take responsibility for the issue I'd brought up. For a man his size, he had a petty side.
However—
‘Good. Is this a reward?’
The Grand Duke's seal stamped at the bottom of the letter was a rather nice reward.
‘Take responsibility and inspect the battalions' holes.’
It was a crude sentence, but it was the Grand Duke's way of empowering Galahad. He had given Galahad the authority to interfere with the other battalions.
Not that the battalion commanders would welcome him with open arms, but it was the perfect pretext Galahad needed.
It was a chance to find this person from Dawn.
“Good.”
Galahad smiled in satisfaction and put the letter away.
“His Grace has ordered all battalions to re-examine the front line. Since abnormal signs have also been detected in the Miasmic Realm… the 1st Battalion plans to lock down and conduct an internal inspection for the time being.”
Adrianna said in an indifferent tone.
“Understood. I'll look forward to our next date while I catch the bugs that have crawled inside.”
“…It was not a date.”
Adrianna's brow furrowed. She never let it slide, not even once.
In response, Galahad raised the corners of his mouth and threw out a joke.
“Why such a strong reaction? Don't tell me that was your first date?”
Adrianna didn't answer. Her brow remained frozen in place.
A moment of silence followed.
Galahad cleared his throat quietly.
“Ahem… on second thought, it wasn't a date. Right, how could that have been a date?”
The edge of Adrianna's eyebrow twitched upward ever so slightly.
“I was busy. I have to defend the front line.”
“I understand.”
“The demons will cross over if I let my guard down for even a moment. And I am the commander of the 1st Battalion. The first shield of the North—”
“I said I get it.”
Adrianna continued to insist.
****
“I heard an executive came in person.”
“An executive made a move? Is that guy really that important?”
The noisy conversation prompted the old man to lift his heavy eyelids.
In a prison that reeked of dampness and filth, a dim light flickered beyond the iron bars.
‘Damn noisy bastards.’
The old man grumbled. They were mages from some black magic whatever, and they never shut their mouths.
The old man spat—phtoo. It was a thick glob of phlegm and blood. Clink. The shackles on his arms rattled.
“The business site, and the fact that Dawn is involved—”
“I see.”
Just then—
“Oh! You're here!”
“Ah, yes! Understood! Please, speak freely!”
He heard the sound of them scurrying away.
“Are you conscious?”
A peculiar voice spoke up. It sounded like it could belong to a woman or a young boy. When the old man didn't respond, the person tapped on the iron bars.
There was a shadow on the other side of the bars. A torch behind them made it impossible to see clearly.
“Commander of the 7th Battalion… no, the former commander, Bellogrim. Is that you?”
Right, that was the name. This was the problem with getting old; he kept forgetting things.
“So it is you. I have a few questions. Are there any secret passages into this place, or…”
The person chattered on. The old man didn't have anyone else to talk to, so he answered.
Just then, footsteps echoed from a distance.
“Ah, one last thing. If I were to get you out of here, do you have anything to offer?”
The old man chuckled at the strange question.
“Get me out? Do you have any idea how many men are out there?”
“Yes, probably better than you do. I'm in a hurry, so please answer quickly.”
The old man chuckled at their bold insistence.
“Alright, if you get me out, I'll even lick your feet.”
“Ugh… that's a bit gross. Oh, I'm not the one who'll be saving you. So, if you were saved, you'd be willing to serve under another commander?”
What a silly conversation. The old man gave a slight nod.
“You can't go back on your word later, okay? That person is very scary.”
“By the way, are you a woman? Or a man?”
“That's confidential.”
At that moment, the footsteps drew near.
The approaching torch illuminated the person's figure.
‘A crow mask.’
The old man clicked his tongue softly.
“Shh—”
The crow-masked figure, a finger pressed to their lips, vanished.