Chapter 40
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Ghost
-----------------------------------------------------------------
‘…He really only brought six people?’
Crow tapped his mask.
He’d had his doubts, but the man had truly come with only the Special Task Force. Crow had confirmed it himself.
The building the man had entered was surrounded by several layers of the 7th Battalion's knights and soldiers. On top of that, there were even executives from the Black Magic Society.
‘Even for him, this is impossible.’
The scales had tipped decidedly in the Black Magic Society’s favor.
Just then—
“Your skills seem to have gotten rusty.”
A low voice sounded from behind him. It was a relaxed voice, one that didn't fit the tense atmosphere of the castle. Crow couldn't believe his ears.
How did he get out of there? No, Crow erased the word ‘how’ from his mind. This was *him* he was dealing with.
“Handler, I’ve been waiting for you.”
Crow immediately bowed his head. A pair of familiar black shoes stopped in front of him.
“Your report was subpar. Have you gone rusty?”
There was no emotion in the man's voice. It was utterly dry. That was what made it all the more terrifying. It felt as if he could replace Crow as casually as one would discard a rusted tool.
“Haha, it’s not that—. It’s just that the Black Magic Society has become so secretive…”
“Is that so?”
Crow’s thoughts trailed off as the shoes remained planted before him.
The man silently reached out and grasped Crow’s mask. It was a vow never to remove the mask in his presence. To show one’s bare face was to signal the end.
“I-It’s true! It took time to find the location of the 7th Battalion Commander and the route to him! And also… the fact that they call it a Sanctuary!”
Crow’s mask was lifted slightly. The chill that seeped through the gap felt like it was freezing his face. The cold air was as sharp as a knife.
*Tap, tap.* The man tapped the mask.
“A Sanctuary, you say?”
“…Yes!”
“Oh, how interesting.”
At that sliver of interest, Crow began to explain frantically, like a drowning man gasping for air.
“I see. Lead the way.”
The man took a step back. Crow offered him his sincerest thanks.
He had been fooled by the man’s demeanor in the Special Task Force and had forgotten this chilling side of him. This was his true nature.
*Foolish—.* Crow bit his lip.
“The 7th Battalion Commander is in the basement of the Black Magic Society’s branch building. There are two gates inscribed with magic circles on the way, with thirteen mages guarding the path between them. All of them are armed with high-grade staves.”
Crow reported quickly. It was an absurd number of troops. In comparison, Galahad was alone. Objectively, it was madness, but—.
“I see.”
The man answered curtly.
The castle was quiet, filled with a silent, taut tension. Torches moved briskly in one direction.
Crow was heading in the exact opposite.
‘He’s drawn all their attention.’
Everyone in the castle was focused on the building the man had entered to “wash up” and the inner castle beyond.
Because of that, the Black Magic Society’s building was relatively empty.
Who would have predicted that the man would move to rescue the 7th Battalion Commander as soon as he arrived?
“There are two soldiers guarding the main gate—”
Before Crow could finish, the soldiers collapsed.
Each had a single hole pierced through their neck. A precise ice pick. Once the ice melted with time, not even a trace would be left.
Just like a ghost.
“I’m in a hurry, so keep walking without stopping.”
The man whispered. Despite having just killed two people, his voice was devoid of emotion.
“Yes.”
Crow forced down a creeping fear and moved forward.
He opened the door. The sickening smell of blood tickled his nose.
“…Hmm? What brings an executive here at this hour—.”
*Thump.* The man who had been speaking collapsed. He hadn’t even had time to close his eyes. Crimson blood spread from the hole in his neck.
*Snap.* The sound of fingers snapping was all there was. To kill a mage with just a snap of the fingers, without even a staff—.
‘I tried to pull a fast one on a monster like that? Shit. I must have been crazy.’
Crow bit his lip and kept walking.
“Ah, you’ve arri—.”
Someone who recognized Crow opened his mouth. He collapsed. Warm blood soaked Crow’s feet. It was a simple, repetitive task. Unemotional—.
‘…Fucking crazy.’
His feet felt heavy, but he had to keep moving. The moment he stopped, the monster would point at him.
The man’s plan was simple. He had Crow enter first, then pierced the necks of anyone who reacted.
The sound of snapping fingers was all that could be heard.
Crow finally stopped in front of a magically secured door.
“Th-This… I don’t have the authority for this! The one who used to manage the 7th Battalion’s branch never gave it to me!”
Crow pleaded desperately.
The man’s steps grew closer. Though he was walking on a hard basement floor, his shoes made no sound. Just like a ghost—.
He silently placed a hand on the door. Crow swallowed hard.
This was a security device the Black Magic Society had painstakingly developed after fleeing to the North. Even for him—.
*Click.*
The door opened before Crow could finish his thought.
He knew the man was incredibly good at dealing with mages. It was due to his freakishly fast magic and unhesitating judgment.
However, this door was a different story.
Crow knew just how tricky the magical security on it was.
But the man had opened it with just a few taps.
As if he knew it well—.
“Are you not walking?”
At the man’s question, Crow startled and began to walk again.
He felt a cold breath on the back of his neck.
It was just like—.
“This area is off-limi…”
It was as if the grim reaper was standing right behind him.
*Gulp.*
Crow walked onward, his heart in his throat.
****
“Commander, the Emperor has deceived us. He plans to fatten his own pockets by making the North go to war with the Demon Race. The real enemy isn't the demons, it's the Emperor.”
The old man, the Commander of the 7th Battalion, blinked his tired eyes. One of his company commanders was spouting strange nonsense.
Was he going senile and hearing things? That was highly likely. No matter what, there was no way a warrior of the North would join hands with the Demon Race.
Yes, that had to be it.
“You foolish old man, you don't even realize you're being deceived. With an old man like you as commander, of course there was no progress. Always starving, always cold—. It’s all your fault.”
The old man couldn't hold back his reply.
“The North has always been cold, you whelp.”
“No, it won’t be cold any longer. We have—”
The man rolled up his sleeve. A complex, unfamiliar symbol was tattooed there.
“—been chosen.”
The old man squinted his eyes.
“Your brain has melted. To think you still haven’t learned. The Empire is only trying to fill its own belly by turning us against each other. This is a manufactured grudge—.”
The man’s confident declaration, his better-than-before armament, and his well-fed face—.
The old man let out a hollow laugh.
“I’m sorry, but the demons are indeed your enemies.”
Just then, a relaxed voice cut in.
It was a man in form-fitting clothes with his hair slicked back. A noble? His sophisticated, clean appearance was out of place in the North.
“Who are you?”
“Can’t you tell by looking? An intruder.”
“…An intruder?”
“Yes. I know I’m handsome enough to be confusing, but for now, I’m an intruder.”
“You dare jest—.”
The knight’s face crumpled in anger. He rose violently, drawing his sword. An aura flared from the blade, but its color—.
“Oh, it’s ash-colored. An ashen aura—. Is that power you received from the demons?”
“Fool, you came down here without a weapon? I don’t know what tricks you used, but this is the end of the line.”
“Hmm, what a shame. I’m short on time right now.”
The man clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers.
The knight moved. His movements were incredibly fast. It wasn’t the speed of a mere company commander.
His swift movements and the violently flaring aura—.
At a glance, it looked threatening.
“Foolish.”
The old commander’s eyes widened. The man had spoken the words he was about to say.
“Aura is the power of conviction. That’s why it’s so difficult to awaken and so slow to grow.”
The knight swung his sword fiercely. The shimmering ashen aura looked like a monster opening its maw.
The man didn’t flinch, even as he faced it head-on.
“That is why aura can cut through the thick hides of beasts and shatter magic. But—.”
*Snap.* The man flicked his hand.
The knight’s sword was inches from the man’s neck, but he didn’t even blink. Instead, he clicked his tongue as he looked at the sword.
“You can’t even break through a simple barrier like this, can you?”
The knight’s ash-colored sword was stopped by a translucent wall. The knight’s face turned pale.
He struggled desperately, but the sword was stuck as if it were embedded in stone.
For an aura to be unable to cut through magic—.
Finally sensing that something was wrong, a look of urgency appeared on the knight’s face.
“To willingly taint your own noble conviction—. Thanks to that, your conviction has lost its light.”
The knight slumped forward. A horizontal gash opened across his chest. Split in two, the knight collapsed futilely.
The old man was quietly impressed. The man was right. Aura was the power of conviction. That was why it could cut through anything.
But that fool had added an impurity to his conviction.
What mattered in conviction wasn't its size, but its roots.
Even so, it was clear he had become stronger in the short term.
To be able to dispatch such an opponent in a single blow—.
“Impressive.”
“A clever knight is not a difficult opponent.”
“A clever knight… You have a point.”
The old man nodded.
A knight should be foolish.
‘Because a foolish conviction is the strongest.’
Just then, the man placed his hand on the iron bars. The thick bars crumbled without a sound.
“I’ve come to rescue you. Let’s go.”
The man took the waterskin from his waist and brought it to his lips. The familiar scent of blood filled the air. It wasn't human.
“You drink the blood of demons?”
“It’s surprisingly tasty.”
The old man chuckled at the man’s reply. Demon blood tasting good? What a madman.
“So he was an opponent you couldn't possibly win against. How could someone who received a demon's power beat a hunter who devours demons?”
The old man coughed harshly. A mage who drank demon blood—. You really did see everything if you lived long enough.
The man stood before the old man. His clothes were neat and his hair was slicked back, but his face was etched with exhaustion.
The old man was quietly impressed. Eyes without a hint of hesitation—only those who believed in themselves could possess such eyes.
Like the Grand Duke—.
‘No, is it a little different?’
“Are you not getting up?”
The man asked, looking at the old man.
His restraints had all been released at some point, but the old man’s body still felt heavy.
He thought of all the things he would have to do once he left this place. He would have to kill all those who had conspired with the demons. They were men he had spent many long years with.
The old man was too old for such things.
But what could he do?
This, too, was his fault.
The old man pushed his stiff body up.
“Where is your weapon?”
At the man’s question, the old man chuckled and grabbed a staff leaning in the corner.
“A staff is best for an old man.”
The staff fit snugly in his hand for the first time in a long while.
****
*BANG, BANG!!*
Someone was pounding violently on the door.
When Tom opened it, he was met with a barrage of stinging glares.
“The Vice-Commander and the Company Commanders are all gathered and waiting. How long do you intend to keep them?”
A gruff-looking knight asked harshly. Behind him stood a long line of soldiers.
Tom’s back grew damp under the sharp, pressing gazes. Sweat poured from his palms. He forced a smile.
“Ahaha, our commander is a very meticulous bather, you see. He believes it’s a matter of courtesy. I think he’s being extra polite because of the 7th Battalion’s renowned reputation.”
The knight’s expression softened slightly at the compliment.
“Hmph, acting all prim and proper just because he’s from the Empire. Tell him to hurry it up.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
Tom bowed and scraped as he closed the door.
Only after the door was shut did Tom finally take a full breath. His back and hands were drenched in sweat. He felt like he’d just lost a chunk of his lifespan.
“We can’t hold them off much longer.”
Tom said, looking at his squad mates.
They had already been sent away several times. Each time, their knocking grew more violent.
“We have no choice.”
Gilberton drew his sword.
“When the door opens, I’ll cut the knight’s throat. Damian will charge through the gap, and Gwen will throw fire.”
“An explosive fire?”
“Yes, fire. The rookie will cover the rear.”
*Nod.*
Gilberton’s orders were clear. Tom was horrified to see everyone nodding.
“Are you saying you’re going to break through that?”
There were dozens of soldiers stationed outside. Not to mention the crossbows among them—. How could they possibly break through that?
Just then—.
*BANG, BANG, BANG!*
The door shook as if it would break.
Gilberton gestured. Adrianna gripped the hilt of her sword. The atmosphere was ripe for a fight.
“What are you doing in there! Come out now!”
Their patience at its limit, the knocking was rougher than before. The door shook as if it would shatter any second.
“I’ll try to stop them.”
Tom hurried to the door.
He grabbed the handle and wracked his brain. What would Commander Galahad have done—?
“We are here under the Grand Duke’s orders! Forcing your way in like this is an act of rebellion against His Highness!”
The aggressive phrasing made the knocking pause for a moment.
However, it was only for a moment.
“Stop spewing nonsense and open the door! How dare you use the Grand Duke’s name?!”
It didn’t work.
Gilberton gestured. Everyone finished their preparations.
*They’re really going to fight—.* Tom screamed internally.
“Open up! We can’t wait any longer!”
*CRACK!* A small crack appeared in the door. Tom bit his lip.
He’d used the excuse that someone was bathing, so he had to prove it.
“Everyone, please look away.”
At Tom’s request, they all turned their heads.
Tom didn’t hesitate to take off his armor. Every last piece—. Spotlessly—.
Tom gently pulled on the doorknob. The shaking door was thrown open violently.
Countless eyes from beyond landed on him simultaneously. Tom let out an unfeigned scream.
The fuming knight was taken aback by Tom’s stark nakedness.
“Didn’t I say I was washing up!”
“Ahem, finish your preparations. We cannot wait any longer. Orders have come from above.”
The knight took a step back.
Tom knew this was the end.
Quickly putting his armor back on, Tom took up his shield and blocked the door. Gilberton stood beside him. Damian prepared to charge out.
“You bastards!!”
Just then, a knight pushed his way in. Tom held his ground desperately, but he was no match for the knight. Kicked away, Tom rolled across the floor. Gilberton took a sharp breath.
In that hair-trigger moment—.
“The 7th Battalion is certainly an impatient lot.”
A relaxed voice was heard. Everyone’s head turned at once.
Galahad was casually running a hand through his hair. His neat attire and clean face were undeniably those of someone who had just washed up.
Even Tom was confused for a moment.
The knight, flustered, took a step back.
“Lead the way.”
As Galahad spoke, there wasn't a single drop of sweat on his brow.
****
In the banquet hall, armed men and figures in black hoods sat around a table.
The table was laden with uncooked meat and alcohol. They tore at the meat, which dripped with blood.
“Just how much longer do we have to wait?”
Devlian, an executive of the Black Magic Society, narrowed his eyes.
His voice was laced not with anxiety, but with irritation.
Now that his stomach was starting to feel full, he was beginning to remember their original purpose.
“He said he was bathing to show proper courtesy before coming.”
A mocking voice came from the side.
“Bathing, he says—.”
Laughter erupted here and there.
“Don’t you think he has some other trick up his sleeve?”
Someone raised a doubt.
A brief silence followed, then laughter burst out again. The one who had spoken was the first to laugh.
They had over a hundred troops stationed around the man. If anything unusual had happened, a report would have come up long ago.
And even if he somehow slipped through—.
“What can he possibly do? This is already our domain.”
Devlian chuckled.
Whatever the man did, the outcome was already decided. It was nothing more than a meaningless struggle.
That was why they could afford to dine at a leisurely pace without rushing things.
“The Sanctuary will soon open.”
At Devlian’s declaration, gasps of awe erupted from all around.
“We will usher in a new era.”
A vice-commander chimed in, his voice full of confidence. Everyone nodded in agreement.
In the darkness, red eyes gleamed ominously.
‘We’re almost there. The full-scale launch of the Society.’
Devlian muttered under his breath.
The situation was perfect.
They had summoned Galahad, the one muddying the waters of the North, to the 7th Battalion.
They would kill him and twist the relationship between the North and the Empire.
Through that, they would open the gate and—.
‘Usher in the age of black magic.’
They would hide no longer.
“Still, isn’t he taking too long? I don’t see the executive in the crow mask either.”
Another executive muttered hesitantly. It was the one who always showed a weak spine.
*Tsk, what a mood killer—.*
“The Sanctuary is about to open. What does any of that matter?”
Devlian said with conviction.
“Adrianna? It wouldn’t matter even if she came herself. The Sanctuary is a tomb for the unchosen. And we have plenty of chosen knights right here, don’t we? Adrianna isn’t enough!”
Laughter erupted at Devlian’s words. “Shh!” Devlian put a finger to his lips. Everyone waited for what he would say next.
“They’d have to bring the Grand Duke himself for it to matter!”
The Grand Duke!
The laughter grew even louder than before.
Just then, the door was thrown open violently.
A clean-cut, handsome noble who looked like he belonged in the capital walked in.
“Oh, so everyone was gathered here. My apologies for being late. Things took a bit longer than expected.”
A barrage of stinging glares fell upon the man.
The man met each of their gazes, one by one.
As if he were inspecting something, very meticulously—.
“So it was a banquet after all.”
The man uttered a cryptic phrase and headed for an empty seat.
In an instant, he became the center of attention.
It felt as if the man was the host of the banquet.
“Hmm, raw meat. Such barbaric taste.”
Clicking his tongue, the man poured the wine from his cup onto the floor. He then took out a waterskin and filled the cup.
A red liquid filled the cup to the brim. The smell it gave off was incredibly familiar. A metallic, cursed, and terrible smell—.
It was demon blood.
The man swirled the cup, and the scent spread throughout the hall.
The knights on either side of him recoiled in horror. Others grimaced.
The man leisurely brought the cup to his lips. He savored it as if it were a fine wine and drained the cup.
‘He calls *us* barbaric?’
Putting down the cup, the man wiped his mouth with a cloth.
“Well, since it’s getting late, let’s get straight to the point.”
The point? His confidence was that of someone who had found what they were looking for.
‘What is this—.’
Devlian narrowed his eyes, a strange sense of displeasure welling up inside him.
Just then, the man picked up a fork and knife.
He looked as if he were preparing for a meal.
And then—.
“Now then, where is the high-ranking demon?”
The man’s lips curled into a smile, as if he were awaiting a fine delicacy.
A heavy silence descended upon the banquet hall.