Chapter 50
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Trust
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Galahad tapped his fingers as he watched Damian shove meat into his mouth.
When they first met, Damian had been wearing tattered clothes, sitting in a shabby hut, and eating snow.
Compared to then, his face was now clean. The noble air he couldn't hide, even at his most disheveled, now shone through, making him look like the son of a high-ranking aristocrat. It was all thanks to Gwen and Tom’s care.
The strange thing was that despite eating so much, he was still stick-thin.
Damian was peculiar. He knew so little that he held his sword in a reverse grip, yet his skill was genuine.
There wasn't the slightest hesitation in his blade.
Damian was a natural-born beast. It was strange, if you thought about it, but this was a world where people threw fireballs and imbued their swords with aura.
That level of anomaly was understandable.
In fact, the Intelligence Bureau had an agent similar to Damian.
The problem was—
‘A gray aura.’
It was Damian’s aura.
That wasn’t something he could simply overlook.
“Damian, what’s your dream?”
“My dream?”
“Is there something you want to be when you grow up?”
Damian mumbled for a moment, his stuffed cheeks moving diligently. *He eats so much,* Galahad muttered under his breath.
“Not really.”
“Then how did you manage the aura?”
It didn't make sense for him to awaken an aura without a clear dream.
“I pooped with my hands.”
“Did Sir Gilberton teach you that?”
“Yes.”
Even if it was about aura, saying he pooped with his hands—
Galahad clicked his tongue softly.
“Alright, what were you thinking while you were pooping?”
“I was thinking about pooping.”
“I see. Can you show me now?”
“I don’t feel like pooping here.”
“Hmm.”
Galahad was at a loss for words again. Then, seeing Damian pick up the meat with his hands, Galahad handed him a fork and knife.
“My hands are more comfortable.”
“It’s always awkward at first.”
Galahad kindly cut the meat for him. Damian looked a little dissatisfied.
“How many fathers did you say you have?”
“Four. Schrödinger.”
“Right, Schrödinger. Your memory is better than Sir Gilberton’s.”
Galahad smiled faintly, impressed that Damian still remembered the name Schrödinger from their first meeting.
“Do you know the identities of your four fathers?”
“Two of them.”
“What about the other two?”
“They were outside guests. One was a complete stranger.”
“Your mother must have been very popular.”
“Yes, she used to be.”
“Your handsome looks must come from your mother. Here, you eat it by stabbing it like this.”
Having cut the meat into bite-sized pieces, Galahad offered the fork again. Damian stabbed a piece of meat with the fork, put it in his mouth, and chewed.
‘Two out of four.’
Galahad repeated Damian’s answer to himself.
Damian’s birth was surely connected to his gray aura.
The most suspicious possibility was a connection to the Demon Race.
“Did your mother tell you anything about the complete stranger?”
“She said he was extremely short.”
Galahad coughed violently. Damian picked up five pieces of meat with his fork and stuffed them into his mouth.
Tom brought a cup of warm water to the incessantly coughing Galahad.
“Ah, thank you, Tom.”
Tom bowed his head and stepped back.
Galahad wiped his mouth and stared at Damian, who was casually eating meat as if nothing had happened.
“Well, he must have been an unpretentious man. Did she say anything else?”
“She said he gave her a wad of cash, like someone paying for the first time.”
“I see.”
“Yes, though she lost it all gambling the next day.”
“Your mother is quite the gambler.”
“She always lost, though.”
“You just have to win at the end.”
“She lost at the end, too.”
Galahad habitually put a cigarette to his lips before putting it back in his pocket.
“That’s a shame.”
“I know.”
Damian continued to put meat in his mouth, eating voraciously as if he’d never had it before in his life.
‘Is his father a demon?’
There was nothing unusual about Damian’s mana. If anything, he had less mana than average.
The last thing left was the story of the platoons Damian had been a part of—
‘He said they were taken out by demons.’
Gilberton had already finished investigating that. Damian was one to answer questions honestly. If there was anything to find, it would have come out during the interrogation.
He needed more information—
‘Ah, there’s First.’
The Intelligence Bureau was undoubtedly interested in Galahad’s movements.
They would have gathered information on Damian, a member of Galahad’s unit.
First would have brought it with him.
‘I should ask him for it.’
First might have seemed foolish at a glance, but he was merely straightforward, not stupid.
There was no way he didn't understand the situation.
To get information from him, a proper trade was necessary.
A proper—
‘Ah, there’s that.’
His calculations complete, Galahad rose from his seat.
****
“...A training ground usage fee?”
First’s face stiffened at Galahad’s sudden demand.
“That’s right. As you know, the effects of the Miasmic Realm training ground are quite significant, are they not?”
What Galahad said was true.
The effectiveness of this Miasmic Realm training ground was incomparably better than the ones First had spent a fortune on back in the capital.
However.
“Didn’t you say the Black Magic Society created this?”
First had already assessed the situation with Pumpkin before going to Galahad.
According to the information they had gathered, this Miasmic Realm was opened by the Black Magic Society to target the 7th Battalion.
And now he was asking for a usage fee? First narrowed his eyes.
“You’re correct. The Black Magic Society did create it. However, I was the one who suggested we use it as a training ground instead of destroying it.”
“Can you destroy that thing?”
“Of course. Can’t you?”
“...I can!”
First nodded for the time being.
If Galahad could do it, so could First.
It was only a matter of when.
Just then, Galahad flicked his finger. First’s eyes widened at the brilliant sparks that flashed between Galahad’s fingers.
The crackling sparks soon took the shape of a flower.
Such precise magic within the Miasmic Realm—
Back at the Intelligence Bureau, the gap between him and Galahad had been gradually closing.
It was inevitable; the higher one’s mastery of magic, the slower their growth became.
By the end, Galahad was finally within his sights.
‘That just now—’
It was a simple trick Galahad had shown him, but First could fully sense the skill it contained.
The gap between them had widened even more than before.
Far more distantly—
He couldn't even see that level of mastery anymore.
The reason—
‘It must be the North.’
He must have grown stronger in the North, where the mana density was high.
First didn’t despair at the gap that had grown even more vast.
‘This is the Galahad I know, my rival.’
First was genuinely pleased by his rival’s advancement.
“Now then, I turned a Miasmic Realm that should have been destroyed into a training ground. The Grand Duke even appointed me as its manager.”
Galahad said, dissipating the lightning flower.
There was a flaw in Galahad’s explanation.
Although Galahad was practically on leave, he was still affiliated with the Intelligence Bureau.
Anything Galahad obtained during a mission belonged to the Empire through the Bureau.
The North was no exception.
However, First didn’t point that out.
The Miasmic Realm training ground was a fruit of Galahad’s labor.
Obtaining it without paying a price wouldn't be fair competition.
“I see.”
First nodded.
“What kind of usage fee do you want? I doubt you want money.”
“Information.”
“Information? Ah, I see. You don’t have information clearance?”
Galahad flicked the ash from his cigarette at First’s question.
“The Grand Duke was involved, after all.”
First nodded at the subsequent explanation.
In a way, it was a natural course of action. Since they sent Galahad to be the Grand Duke’s son-in-law, they would have revoked his information clearance to prepare for any unforeseen circumstances.
Still, to revoke an agent’s access to information—
‘They’ve cast him aside.’
It wasn’t enough that they pushed him out to the North; revoking his clearance was a clear sign of abandonment.
After all the achievements Galahad had made for the Intelligence Bureau, to be treated like this—
First’s insides churned with anger.
“My father has done something unnecessary again. I apologize.”
“I doubt it. This wasn't a personnel decision the Director could make on his own.”
First forced a smile as Galahad simply pointed it out instead of accepting the apology.
“My father’s influence couldn’t have been entirely absent.”
“That’s also true.”
Galahad’s agreement was quicker than expected, but First nodded.
Leaking information was a grave crime at the Intelligence Bureau. If Galahad ever got into trouble later, he could be tied to it and punished as well.
However, that wasn't a problem for First.
If Galahad fell off a thousand-foot cliff, First would leap after him, even if no one else believed in him.
Just as he had followed him to the North.
“Alright, I accept the deal.”
First took out a small notebook. It was a magitool that, when touched with a key, would reveal the compressed information within.
“Thank you.”
“It won’t take me long this time.”
First grinned fiercely as Galahad took the notebook.
He now had the Miasmic Realm, a perfect training ground.
This time, he would definitely catch him.
“Well then, I wish you luck.”
Galahad replied lightly.
His gaze was already fixed on the notebook. Though he hadn't been given the key, the notebook was already open.
“Hmm, I see.”
Galahad let out a small sigh after reading the notebook. Having already memorized its entire contents, First knew which part Galahad was reading.
“Damian, was it? The platoon that boy was in was certainly strange. Four platoons were taken out by demons, yet the boy himself was unharmed?”
It wasn’t that rare for a platoon to be attacked by demons in the North. There were also quite a few cases of sole survivors, and not just boys—
However, four times in a row was almost unheard of.
“So I checked, but there was no evidence. Nothing came out of the interrogation either.”
The quality of information from the North wasn't very good.
It wasn't just that the Intelligence Bureau invested little in the North; the North itself didn't handle information with much accuracy.
What little information they had was only because four of the boy’s platoons had vanished.
He had read through it all, and most of it was useless.
But since Galahad was looking at it so intently, First became curious.
Galahad’s information analysis skills were exceptionally sharp.
“Is there something?”
“The time frames are similar.”
“The time frames shouldn’t be written in there.”
First frowned. The information on Damian didn't include any time frames.
It only mentioned things like which mission number the incident occurred on. Even that was just an estimate. There was nothing related to time frames anywhere.
“The number of platoon members is written, isn't it? If you create a mission schedule based on the number of companies and platoons in the battalion at the time, you can calculate a rough duty roster.”
First nodded. He questioned whether it was necessary to dig that deep, but the method wasn't wrong.
It was, as Galahad said, a rough calculation.
However.
“There’s a margin of error.”
“What’s important is the shortest period. Did the problem not occur after a certain period? For instance, no platoon was attacked on the first mission. That means—”
Galahad tapped the notebook in response to First’s objection.
“The margin of error must be the time spent at the battalion base before the last mission. So they’re not capable of touching the battalion base itself.”
First nodded at Galahad’s continued words.
“Then it’s roughly similar. The timing is similar, almost as if the demons observed before attacking. Wait. Isn’t this similar to the period he joined the Special Task Force?”
At First’s question, Galahad closed the notebook.
Just then, the sound of a crow cawing was heard from somewhere. Galahad nodded in response.
“Something’s come up. I have to go somewhere for a bit. Since you’re the one using the training ground, manage it well.”
The calculated timing was similar to when Damian joined the Special Task Force.
But to say he had to go somewhere—
“You plan to lure it out.”
Galahad disappeared without answering.
First watched him for a moment before gripping his sword again.
“Everyone, get up! You’ve rested enough!”
The fallen soldiers flailed about.
“No, what in the world is that guy...”
Faced with someone even worse than Gilberton, Hines whimpered softly.
****
“Alright, get ready. We’re leaving immediately.”
Tom, who had been playing an instrument, shot up from his seat at Galahad’s command.
“I’ve already prepared everything!”
Galahad was puzzled by Tom’s brisk reply.
He knew Tom was ridiculously good at odd jobs. Still, he had just given the order, so how could he be finished with preparations?
“Ah, I always keep things ready! And it seemed about time for us to leave!”
“I see. Good! Load it onto the carriage right away.”
“Yes! Then I’ll go get Sir Gilberton!”
Tom moved diligently.
Galahad sat across from a dazed Damian and organized his thoughts.
Just in time, a message came from Palho. The Society President hadn't moved yet, but a high-ranking executive directly under him had come to the 5th Battalion’s branch.
He planned to head there first.
While diligently shaking his rear end—
“Can’t we not go?”
“Why is that?”
“Just because.”
Damian had already been through this four times. He must have instinctively felt the time approaching, making him anxious.
“I see. I’m sorry, but we have to.”
Damian’s face fell. Galahad clicked his tongue and drummed his fingers on the table. Damian’s gaze, which had dropped, returned to Galahad.
“Do you like being in the Special Task Force?”
“Yes, very much.”
As he answered, Damian’s eyes were unusually clear.
He still didn't know what the gray aura meant, or what kind of conviction Damian held.
It could be dangerous, but that was something you only knew after you opened the box.
You should worry about how to roll a higher number, not be so afraid of losing that you don't roll the dice at all. There was nothing more foolish than that.
“Protect it yourself. I’ll do my best too. You’ve trained hard, haven’t you?”
“...That’s true.”
Despite his words, Damian still looked crestfallen. Galahad didn't press him.
An egg was always more valuable when it hatched on its own.
Just then, the door flew open and Gilberton entered. Tucked under his arm was Gwen, covered in black soot.
Gwen was in charge of the intermediate-level demon beast the Grand Duke had left behind. The beast, inscribed with a monster tamer's magic circle, had been entrusted to Gwen, who could communicate with the Egg of Pain. Gilberton was protecting her.
“Gwen, how’s the demon beast?”
“It was calm! Until Sir Gilberton beat Kkingkkang up!”
“So it has a name. Sir Gilberton, why would you beat up Kkangkang?”
“It’s Kkingkkang!”
“Right, Kkingkkang.”
“I mean, it’s a demon beast, isn't it? But where are we suddenly going?”
A strange urgency was visible on Gilberton’s face. It was because his position had narrowed with First training the soldiers.
“We’re returning to the 5th Battalion. The Special Task Force headquarters is complete, so I need to go and check on it.”
“What? Then what about this place?”
“I’ve left it to someone suitable.”
“...Someone suitable?”
Galahad nodded at Gilberton’s question.
First had been the agent directly under Galahad at the Intelligence Bureau.
Though the gap between them was considerable, it was true that among the Bureau’s agents, First was second only to Galahad.
Plus, the 7th Battalion’s commander was here, so there was no need to worry about this place.
‘It’s also a good place to get research results.’
The Miasmic Realm was an extension of First’s existing training methods.
Besides, wasn’t he the type to endure the risk of his own body exploding? Leaving it to him would surely yield good results.
Therefore, there was no need for Galahad to stay here.
“Preparations are complete!”
Tom’s shout came from outside. Galahad rose from his seat.
“Damian, did you eat something?! Your cheeks are all hollow!”
Damian, his cheeks grabbed by Gwen, stared at Galahad. Galahad put a cigarette to his lips.
“Protect it yourself.”
Galahad headed for the carriage.
Just as Tom had said, the preparations were complete.
Galahad went to the driver's seat. Gilberton, looking a bit bewildered, took the reins.
“Are we leaving just like this?”
“What, should we have thrown a farewell banquet? You’re quite the hedonist.”
“No—that’s not it.”
“Everyone’s on board!”
“Alright, let’s go.”
At Galahad’s light command, Gilberton pulled the reins before he even realized it.
The horses began to move slowly.
“The one acknowledged by the Grand Duke!”
Salutes came from all around.
Unlike when they arrived, the salutes were directed at Galahad.
Gilberton swallowed a bitter lump in his throat at the fanatical respect on the soldiers’ faces.
“I’m quite popular, it seems.”
It was the same joke he’d made when they arrived, but unlike then, Gilberton couldn’t argue.
Because it was true—
Amid the fervent cheers, the carriage left the 7th Battalion.
“It’s strange, though. That Lady Adrianna just left the Miasmic Realm behind.”
Galahad flicked the ash from his cigarette and answered Gilberton’s question.
“She said she trusts me.”
“I see.”
Lady Adrianna trusting someone and leaving—it was a foreign concept to Gilberton, who had served her for quite a long time.
‘Well, he is the Captain.’
Muttering to himself, Gilberton suddenly felt something was off.
So—
“Lady Adrianna trusted the Captain and left the Miasmic Realm training ground this morning, and you’re ditching the 7th Battalion that same evening?”
“Ditching? I’ve placed a suitable person in charge. Trusting me means trusting my judgment as well.”
Gilberton frowned at Galahad’s relaxed response.
Didn’t Adrianna trust that Galahad would protect the 7th Battalion well?
Various thoughts came to mind, but—
“I see.”
Gilberton just held the reins.
Trying to understand Galahad would only give him a headache.