Chapter 52
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Hostage 2
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"Don't move a muscle! Move, and I'll stab him!"
A tall, clean-cut man shouted, pressing a cold sword to a small child's neck.
The scrawny child, clearly malnourished, swayed precariously in his rough grasp.
Everyone froze at the sudden development.
'......?'
Harold, the First-Class Gourmet, blinked.
So, right now—.
'Is he threatening us with his own comrade?'
As the situation slowly dawned on him, Harold frowned.
The woman's sobs as she clung to the man's leg were too raw to be an act.
She was weeping, pleading with the man. That couldn't be faked.
And then there was the clean smile on the face of the man holding the knife to the skinny child's neck—.
This didn't seem like a simple performance.
That raised a question.
'But why threaten someone with their own comrade?'
Harold clicked his tongue at the fool threatening them with his own ally.
"Stop."
The demon issued a low command.
The demon's face was slightly contorted.
"Stop?"
Harold asked, readjusting his grip on his sword.
"That's right, stop! If you want to prevent a hole from appearing in this boy's neck, that is!"
The man shouted, shaking the boy. Harold's brow furrowed.
"The child's safety is our top priority."
The demon actually took a step back. The expressions of all the demons were identical, as if they were a single entity.
"A wise decision! I am quite ruthless, you see!"
The man shook the boy excitedly.
'What in the world is—.'
Harold's eyes narrowed at the situation, where the roles seemed to have been completely reversed.
'This is why demons are......'
The demons' calculations were precise. There was no room for error, hesitation, or compromise.
It was true the Gourmets had come on the demons' request, but that wasn't the only reason.
Their target was that man, Galahad.
Ever since that Galahad fellow came to the North, the region had fallen into disarray.
Quite a few people wanted him dealt with. The Gourmets were among them.
Most importantly—.
'It's a request from Dawn.'
Harold's mouth went dry. The problem was that they had accepted multiple requests.
He never imagined the demons would suddenly decide to back down.
'If we decide to continue—.'
Harold studied the demons.
They remained as emotionless as ever.
The demons obediently stepped back.
If their priority was that boy.
'I suppose we'll have to fight the demons as well.'
It had been a perfect, inescapable trap.
To ruin it with a single move—.
'He's a remarkable one.'
Harold felt a small sense of admiration for the man smiling with a sword to the boy's throat.
However—.
"Do you really think he'll stab him? Humans are different from demons. Could he truly bring himself to stab a young boy, his own comrade?"
Harold asked, pointing at the man.
The demon's head turned.
The man who was now the center of attention raised the corners of his mouth.
"What do you think?"
The man twirled his sword.
The blade drew an elegant arc.
Normally, it would be obvious he couldn't stab the boy. He was his own comrade, a young and skinny boy.
However.
"Ah! No! Please!"
The pleading woman at his side, the man holding her with a tragic expression, and even the knight who had turned his head as if unable to watch—.
'......Why does it look like he'll actually do it?'
"The child's safety is the top priority. We have no intention of taking risks."
The demon said firmly, his expression still blank.
Harold chewed his lip for a moment, then nodded.
Things would get complicated, but.
'First, let's get the demons out of the way.'
There was no need to fight the demons as well.
Harold gestured to the Gourmets. Annoyance filled their faces. There was nothing more humiliating than retreating with meat right in front of them.
Just then.
"Oh? Their expressions are quite sinister! This must be the face of someone who plans to get rid of the annoying demons and then ambush us at the right moment! 'Since they ruined our request, we'll deal with the boy too!' they're saying!"
The man began to spout strange nonsense.
"And Gourmets never give up on prey they've set their sights on. Isn't that right?"
The man spoke as if he knew the Gourmets.
At his relaxed voice, so out of place in this situation, Harold swallowed hard.
The demons' heads turned toward Harold.
"......That's not true."
"Hmm, look at his eye twitching. When humans lie, their eyes twitch. You, sir, are lying."
At the man's continued prodding, the mustached demon drew his sword.
The demon's blade was aimed not at the man, but at the Gourmets.
"This son of a bitch—."
Harold spat out a curse in frustration.
There was no backing down now.
The demons and the Gourmets clashed.
****
'.....?'
Tom was struggling to keep up with the situation.
They were ambushed, surrounded by demons, and then even stranger people had appeared.
In a moment of dire crisis, Galahad had suddenly put a sword to Damian's neck—.
And the ones who had surrounded them began fighting amongst themselves.
"That one's swordsmanship is considerable."
"Indeed. It seems he learned from a promising knight in the capital."
Watching the fray, Gilberton and Galahad were conversing as if nothing were wrong.
"Damian! Damian!"
"Gwen, get a grip. You're a mage now, you can't be so easily affected by mental interference."
"Huh? Ahh?!"
Galahad snapped his fingers, and Gwen blinked. The tears that had been streaming down her face stopped. A docile look came over her.
It seemed Galahad had done something when he had casually touched Gwen's head while taking Damian.
Shouts and screams erupted from all sides. The men called Gourmets were fighting the demons with various weapons.
"They fight well."
Galahad said in a relaxed voice, as if it were no concern of his.
"Aura? Were those men knights?"
The men called Gourmets were each emitting a different aura. Gilberton asked, pointing at them.
"To be precise, they are failed knights."
"......Failed knights?"
"They mass-produce knights in the capital. Defects occur during the process. Like them."
Gilberton's brow furrowed at Galahad's nonchalant answer. He seemed to take offense at the idea of mass-producing knights.
"Can knights be mass-produced?"
"Farmed knights. Even the successful ones are weaker than naturally-grown knights, and they can't develop any further. Still, they're stronger than soldiers."
"What on earth are such things used for?"
"They're used for this and that."
Just then, a long scream tore through the air. It was the mustached demon from earlier.
The mustached demon moved ferociously, like a wolf in a flock of sheep. But the Gourmets didn't just take it.
They pressed the mustached demon from all sides as if hunting a wild beast. A series of attacks and defenses followed.
The demon was stronger, but the Gourmets were more numerous. The resulting balance was quite effective.
"Everyone, get ready."
"Sir? For what?"
"They'll notice soon enough."
"Notice what?"
"That I'm not that cruel."
Galahad squinted.
Tom nodded and loosened his body. Gwen mumbled an incantation. Gilberton took a long breath and readjusted his grip on his sword.
Just then—.
*Whoosh.*
"Whoops."
At the sharp sound, Galahad snapped his fingers.
*Thunk!* A sharp arrow aimed at Damian was blocked by something and fell to the ground.
"Look at that! What kind of hostage has someone protecting him with magic!!"
One of the Gourmets shouted, brandishing a crossbow.
The battle came to a halt.
All eyes were fixed on Galahad.
"You, you tricked us."
The mustached demon said in a flat voice.
In response, Galahad—.
"Oh dear, I've been found out. Here, catch. Gwen."
He casually tossed Damian backward. Damian's neck, which had been hidden by the sword, was pristine. There wasn't a single scratch.
"Such a pathetic trick—."
The mustached demon narrowed his eyes and aimed his sword.
"Don't chide me. You're the fools for trying to negotiate with a kidnapper."
Without hesitation, Galahad snapped his fingers.
Something flew silently, and one of the Gourmets collapsed.
"This magic....... You......!"
The largest of the Gourmets shouted in horror.
"By the way, how's that bald Gourmet doing? With his tongue torn out, I doubt he can taste much anymore."
Galahad nonchalantly placed a cigarette between his lips.
"Now, let's all work together to protect Damian."
At Galahad's calm words.
"Exploding Fireball—!"
Gwen shouted louder than ever before.
A fireball, larger than usual, flew rapidly forward. A skinny Gourmet tried to slice it with his aura-clad sword.
The fireball exploded violently. Fierce flames instantly consumed the surroundings.
"Gyaaaahk!"
A harsh scream was the signal.
"You used it well. It's a fine sword."
Galahad smiled, smoothly handing the sword over.
"You protect Damian."
Tom took the sword and nodded firmly.
****
'They figured it out sooner than I expected.'
Galahad clicked his tongue as he pulled out a cigarette.
It wasn't as much as he'd hoped, but their numbers had dwindled a bit while they fought among themselves.
Galahad once again formulated a plan and ran the calculations.
He quickly finished his mental arithmetic and nodded.
"Sir Gilberton, capture that fancy mustached demon. I'll buy you some time."
"Yes."
At Gilberton's short reply, Galahad chuckled and snapped his fingers.
An ice pick shot out rapidly.
Though it was a dark night and hard to see, one of the Gourmets twisted his sword and blocked it. He was quite skilled.
*Crack!* The Gourmet who sliced the ice pick smirked. It was a clear taunt. Galahad smiled back.
Just then, something lodged in the Gourmet's neck. *Gack—.* With a choking sound, the Gourmet fell backward. It was an ice pick.
How—. The Gourmet's eyes filled with shock.
*I have two hands, you know—.* Galahad smiled, waving his left hand.
Galahad took a deep drag from his cigarette and looked around.
The men who had been fighting just moments ago had reconciled at some point and were now approaching together in a mixed group.
"Such faithless bastards."
Galahad clicked his tongue softly and snapped his fingers again.
Another ice pick shot out—.
This time, the target swung his aura-clad axe in a short arc. He seemed wary of a second ice pick. He was certainly a quick learner.
Just as expected—.
The aura-clad axe struck the ice pick. However, because he was wary of a second one, he had put less force into the blow.
Unfortunately for him, there was only one ice pick this time.
But it was thicker. And it carried twice the force.
The axe was pushed back, and a look of shock appeared on the man's face. The ice pick that had shoved aside his aura-infused axe plunged into his stomach.
*Keuk—.* A low groan was all he could manage.
A biting wind ruffled Galahad's hair.
The Pain Egg throbbed violently.
Just then, the Gourmets formed a formation. One stood at the front, with two behind him, and three behind them.
It was a method where the one in the lead would strike first, and those behind would take turns blocking the magic.
It was a formation originally designed to fight groups of mages.
It seemed they had taken Galahad's rapid magic into account.
'They're certainly quite something.'
They weren't called mage hunters for nothing.
A typical mage would certainly have had trouble.
Unfortunately for them—.
Galahad was not a typical mage.
'This should be fun.'
Galahad snapped his fingers.
Sparks flew continuously between his fingers.
*Crackle, crackle—.* With a cheerful sound, the sparks grew in size in an instant.
It was a fleeting moment. A magnificent lightning flower bloomed.
"Let's see you split lightning, then."
Galahad muttered the jest and snapped his fingers.
The magnificent lightning flower bloomed fully, flowing from Galahad's fingers.
Sparks stretched out, growing through the dark night. Like the branches of a flower—.
Even seeing the approaching lightning flower, the Gourmets did not stop their advance.
The man in the lead summoned his aura and swung his sword valiantly.
The blooming lightning cast a yellow hue on their faces. What filled those faces was confidence.
The basis for their confidence was the aura enveloping their swords.
Aura could typically slice through magic.
After all, there was nothing conviction couldn't cut.
However, there were a few problems right now.
First, these men were not naturally-grown knights, but farmed knights. Their conviction was an injected one.
The roots of an injected conviction could not be deep.
Second, as I said before, Galahad was not a typical mage.
*Thump!*
'I know, I know, just calm down.'
He clicked his tongue at the prodding Pain Egg.
Just then, the aura-infused sword split the lightning perfectly. A look of elation appeared on the man's face.
How amusing.
"Bloom."
Galahad muttered softly.
The sundered lightning scattered into wild tendrils.
The branches of the lightning flower split into hundreds, fanning out.
The brilliantly blooming lightning was despair.
The vigorously charging cluster of Gourmets came to a dead stop. Behind them, unspent lightning arced wildly.
Fragments of lightning, scattered across them, illuminated the surroundings.
Shock appeared on the Gourmets' faces.
In the silence—.
"Hoo— that's refreshing."
Galahad coolly swept his hair back.
Galahad's eyes were following Gilberton.
No, to be precise.
'The mustached demon.'
He was observing the mustached demon exchanging blows with Gilberton.
****
'What in the—'
The mustached demon, Bell Urtang, frowned.
This was Gilberton, one of Adrianna's close aides. He knew he was a skilled knight.
That was why he had brought seven of his vassals.
He had calculated that seven vassals would be more than enough to handle him.
As the situation took a strange turn, only five vassals remained.
In truth, five were still sufficient.
The reason he had brought seven in the first place was because of the man named Galahad.
But.
'Why is it not working?'
Bell Urtang muttered, pulling his sword back.
Even now, Bell Urtang's power was greater than the man's aura.
So why.
"Knight Gilberton!!"
He couldn't understand why he was being pushed back.
Bell Urtang's authority was stronger than the man's aura. Furthermore, Bell Urtang's swordsmanship was orthodox.
Bell Urtang should have been the clear winner of this fight.
But the man simply wouldn't fall.
The reason was.
'His sword is faster than mine.'
Gilberton's sword was subtly faster. Bell Urtang could not comprehend it.
How could that man's sword possibly be faster than his?
The exchange of blows continued rapidly.
Finally.
Bell Urtang's right arm soared into the air. Blood sprayed in a long arc. His sword clattered to the ground.
"How anticlimactic."
Gilberton's sword was at Urtang's neck. Gilberton himself wasn't in great shape either. His armor was cut in several places from his reckless charges.
In contrast, his eyes were still sharp as ever.
"Why is your sword faster?"
At Urtang's question, Gilberton tilted his sword.
"You are an intelligent knight. That is why your sword is slow."
Intelligent, so his sword is slow?
Then the reason Gilberton's sword was fast was...
"Are you saying your sword is fast because you're an idiot?"
"What? You damn bastard."
Bell Urtang frowned at Gilberton, who had suddenly flared up in anger.
Didn't he just say that himself?
Just then, a violent explosion erupted. The hot blast tickled Urtang's cheek.
He turned his head to see the Gourmets retreating. Through the gap, a disheveled Galahad came running. The hair he had neatly swept back was now a complete mess.
"Sir Gilberton, might I borrow that for a moment? I have an urgent use for it."
Galahad said, pushing his hair back. Behind him, the pursuing Gourmets and vassals were visible. Though their numbers seemed to have been thinned, the enemy still outnumbered them.
The advantage was on Urtang's side.
"Yes, here you are."
Gilberton handed Urtang over. Urtang, treated like an object, frowned.
Just then, Galahad roughly grabbed Urtang by the neck.
The grip was so strong that for a moment, his breath caught in his throat.
Galahad lifted Urtang high.
And then.
"Now, you've seen this once, so I trust you'll understand quickly. Well! Move, and this man's head will explode."
He repeated his polite threat from before.
The approaching figures halted at the sight of Urtang being held by the neck and shaken.
A few of them narrowed their eyes. Some readjusted their grips on their weapons.
"It's the same bullshit as before! Don't stop!"
"Ah, right."
At someone's shout, Galahad whispered softly and grabbed Urtang's left shoulder.
He tapped the shoulder with his fingers—.
A fierce flame erupted from Urtang's left shoulder.
At the sight of the intense flames, bright enough to push back the darkness, and the smell of roasting flesh, everyone's movements ceased.
Urtang's left arm, instantly charred, fell off.
In the heavy silence—.
"Ah, this time, it's for real."
Galahad added casually.
'What is this.'
Urtang frowned.
Just then, Galahad pulled Urtang closer.
As if observing him, Galahad pulled Urtang right in front of his face and—.
He looked at Urtang with sunken eyes and asked.
"So, does it still feel like a game?"
There was not a trace of laughter in his voice.