Chapter 182
Chapter 182
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 182
Chapter Title: The Slayers' Domain
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“What do you mean? Miria’s dying?”
The female swordsman answered my question.
“I’m... Slime Slayer... Linkland. That means... Miria’s hometown friend...”
Normally, I would’ve taken her to an inn or a hospital and laid her down on a bed, but with Jeronics’s mana having appeared, I couldn’t leave Aki behind and step away.
Still, the spectator stands at Teritos were a cauldron of cheers and chatter, so there was no worry about this story leaking out anywhere.
Instead, I wrapped Selesia around her body. Selesia transformed into something like a bed, allowing the girl to lean back comfortably against the side.
“I fled from there all the way here... Got attacked on the way because they caught wind of my second thoughts... Ha, but thanks to all the slime hunting, I know the sewers of <Terbenopl> like the back of my hand...”
“Fled? Why? Isn’t it your hometown?”
“It was... Ever since our ancestor, Demon Slayer, settled on that island...”
Demon Slayer, Kassel Linkan’s descendants and their hometown...
Meeting one face-to-face felt utterly bizarre.
Once again, the fact that I alone had been thrown 300 years into the future hit me anew.
“Not anymore?”
“The ghosts took it over...”
“Ghosts?”
“Ghosts.”
Pipi repeated the word ominously.
“Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts, ghosts.”
“Those bastards... 10 years ago... no, 11 years now... suddenly showed up on our island... Can you believe it? The Slayers from 500 years ago...”
Slayers...?
As someone from 300 years ago, I knew their story better than any modern person.
“The Slayers? There’s only one Slayers I know of.”
The greatest mercenary band in history.
And the worst adventuring party in history.
Arthur Brius, known by the moniker Uruk Slayer, had subjugated the eight strongest mercenaries of his time under him and bestowed upon them the Slayer title as well—that was how the Slayers were born.
He then gathered a hundred more mid-tier mercenaries, and with just 109 men, they swept through the border battlefields.
But killing demons wasn’t enough to satisfy them; they’d pick fights with other mercenary bands or even the Republic’s army over the pettiest grudges.
‘Everything was on a whim.’
If someone paid more gold, if fighting this side seemed more fun, if there was someone they wanted to fight over there...
When border skirmishes quieted down, they’d head to the petty kingdoms up north, take commissions from kings, and ‘legally’ ravage other nations.
Their atrocities were so heinous that about three years later, the Papal Court issued a subjugation order.
‘But they hunted down over a dozen wyverns sent to take them out...’
This wasn’t the current era—it was the golden age of dragonkin at its peak.
Before [Flame Frontier] was established, when border experts fighting demons were desperately needed, they issued that order.
Rumor had it that if paid well and there was plenty to plunder, they’d even side with demons against their own kind.
‘That’s why before the Dragon Slayer moniker, he was called Uruk Slayer or Kin Slayer (Kinslayer; kin murderer).’
The Slayers, infamous even among their own for their horrors, were finally subjugated through an unprecedented measure: all three FakeWarriors of the era(!) and a cardinal stepping in personally.
Yet no FakeWarrior, with mere mortal flesh, had ever hunted dragons—Arthur Brius was the only one in history.
Whispers said there were even warrior cults worshiping him like a religion.
That’s why they were called the strongest mercenary band of their time, and the worst adventuring party in modern days.
“Not some new Slayers from 500 years ago?”
“It’s those Slayers.”
“That’s ridiculous...”
“I couldn’t explain earlier because of the bell. That’s why I told you to avoid the Tershy Archipelago—they’ve conquered it.”
“What?”
At that moment, cheers erupted from the arena. It seemed Selene’s fist had flattened her opponent in one hit.
“I told you. He even revives specters to use as minions. He’s a specter himself from the start.”
“...!”
“The Slayers are one of the Black Church’s top nine organizations, just like Luzaijen. In terms of raw power, they’re the strongest of the nine.”
I clamped my mouth shut.
A horrific imagining writhed and spread through my entire brain.
“So, they took Demon Slayer’s homeland and now rule the entire Tershy Archipelago?”
What were the Papal Court and the witches doing?
Then, Valensidis’s old voice echoed in my ears. What if the Papal Court had his spies too—would you believe it?
“They control the underworld of the archipelago and the entire green city <Karshiko>... My kin are their slaves now...”
“Slaves? Slaves? Slaves? Slaves.”
It was impossible to believe.
But with Jeronics alive, accepting the Slayers’ revival solved every mystery at once.
Why Miria always had those sad eyes.
Cora sneered through her pain.
“We earn money like mercenaries... To show Linkland has no issues...”
“...”
“And above all, to make it look like we’re the ones using the Slayers name...”
I recalled the captain of the merchant ship saying the new Slayers were gouging prices.
Miria, you fool...
Why didn’t you tell me? If you’d just explained, I wouldn’t have dithered at Lake Bellisor.
“It’s the mark.”
Valensidis answered my unspoken question.
“The moment you even think of spilling Slayers’ secrets, the mark activates. The one you erased.”
My bitten lip split open.
Jeronics... A smoldering rage slowly burned my heart.
- I’m just in it for the money. Hunting goblins pays surprisingly well since no one else does it. Don’t you get it? It’s all just fancy talk. Forget it.
The mark I’d erased from Miria in <Altarius> had been the chain binding her life...
“So to sum up, erasing Miria’s mark put her in mortal danger now?”
“No, not that... We scraped by on built-up trust... The reason Miria’s in danger is...”
“Did Miria tell you to find me?”
“No, someone else... A mage who helped me. Said... if I said ‘Jer,’ you’d know...”
Jer?
At the name, Valensidis’s eyebrows shot up, and he turned to me.
“It’s a trap. See, we shouldn’t go to the Tershy Archipelago. They let this woman go on purpose to lure you. Slayers and Jeronics together? Zero chance of winning.”
“...”
“You know, right? Dragon Slayers are monsters beyond FakeWarriors.”
500 years ago, there was no adventurer or party system, so no ranking system either.
The current gold, platinum ranks absorbed and refined the old mercenary system.
Unlike today’s adventurers who value personality and contributions, old mercenaries ranked purely on strength and feats.
“I know. Dragon Slayer was a diamond-rank mercenary 500 years ago.”
Only one per era, diamond rank meant one thing in mercenary or adventurer eras alike.
Supreme.
The other eight Slayers were all platinum-rank too—no need to explain their prowess further.
“So what?”
I’m the great archmage of the hero party.
And the dragon incarnate with the dragon bead in my soul. Past life or this one, I’ve wielded power on a different plane from mercenaries.
And fought alongside others on that same plane.
- Link, here.
300 years ago, probably the day before our final battle.
I’d collaborated with head craftsman Nils Blantz to make Link a magic tool.
It was a hood that, when infused with mana, sent electric signals to the language areas of the frontal lobe to cure aphasia.
- I was researching it for Tureina originally, but that tomboy got better on her own. No one to give it to, so here, Link.
If Kies’s tongue wasn’t cut but his brain damaged, we could’ve tried this.
- Hey, you cheeky brat! Who skips over Nils Blantz’s heroics? What about my feelings? My skills?
- Ow! I wasn’t done! Fine!
Nils bonked my head with a tool, we tussled, and meanwhile, Link donned the hood and spoke.
- L-Lin, N-Nils, th-thank, you.
The laughter that burst from Nils and me as we stared in shock...
But celebration was brief. Due to imperfect gear or ritual, he could only speak in broken syllables.
Feeling guilty, before battle, I told Link:
- When you marry and have kids, I’ll teach ‘em reading. You’d struggle with that.
- K-Kids, teach, Lin?
- Yeah. And as the hero party’s archmage, I’ll tell tales. How this big lug uncle was the real Demon Slayer. Up till the hood was done, anyway.
Link smiled innocently and promised tons of kids.
- K-Kids, lots, then Lin stays, teaches reading.
He kept it—his descendants formed a whole clan. Now it’s my turn.
Can’t teach reading.
Can’t tell the tales.
But I can make a world where they learn freely and hear such stories in peace.
- If you really want to save Aki, you’ll need my help. I know the Red Mountains’ terrain like my palm.
Above all, I owe Miria. Without her, no saving Aki.
“You said it once, Valensidis. What’s Aki learning from a guy like me?”
“Learn, learn, learn, learn.”
“What does she learn from a guardian who won’t help one friend in need? What kind of adult will she become?”
Valensidis’s eyes widened, then softened into a sighing smile of agreement.
“Yeah, this is who you are. My mistake.”
Slayers and Jeronics together... Oppressing Link’s descendants? The thought chilled my mind.
Good.
Clear your throats and wait.
This time, I’ll kindly dump you undead scum into hell together.
“Cora, right? Guide us to your island. Details later.”
* * *
Green City, <Karshiko>.
<Karshiko> is famous for harmonizing stunning nature and man-made architecture.
This spot overlooks the city’s scenery at a glance—the mayor’s office.
Mayor in <Karshiko> means old consul, top dog of Tershy Archipelago... Yet now, he wore a servile smile.
“Hmm, the ‘Golden Children’ are here?”
To the black-haired pretty boy perched on his desk, peeling and eating tangerines. Tershy’s tangerines are world-renowned for sweetness.
“Yes. Came in droves, all disguised as merchants, so they slipped the first net.”
“And you just let them go?”
“Th-that’s, they submitted the Papal Court’s investigation order for Linkland and 17 islands! You know! Once presented, I have no way to block it...”
The mayor flapped his arms wildly, pleading innocence.
The boy nibbled the last tangerine, juice trickling down his thin lips.
Meanwhile, cold sweat poured down the mayor’s brow and back.
Only after the boy wiped the juice with a finger, sucked it clean, and smiled did it end. The gesture was oddly lascivious.
“Eh, no big deal. My sisters are always stationed two at a time on Linkland. Weirdly, the girls love that island.”
As the boy grabbed his bizarrely shaped sword leaned against the desk and stood, the mayor flinched and babbled.
“I-I’m innocent! I d-didn’t do anything!”
“Who said otherwise? Why so scared? I’m hurt~ We’ve been pals ten years.”
“H-ha, haha, y-yes, right! Haha, hahahaha.”
The boy, seemingly fourteen or fifteen, pinching the cheek of his dad-aged mayor was grotesque.
But knowing his true name—or moniker—made it less surprising.
The boy, Eren Ludwig.
Moniker: Mage Slayer.
Not modern, but a legendary mage-killing demon from 500 years ago who slew over a hundred battle mages.
Erased from his family registry for his horrific personality and deeds, but the noble Ludwig features on his face couldn’t be erased.
“B-Boss!”
As Eren playfully twisted the mayor’s ear, the door burst open. The man clasped hands in greeting.
“Dur-Moris, Raven Slayer here. Death to all crows. Big trouble.”
“Dur-Moris, Mage Slayer. What now? ‘Golden Children’? Just heard from Mayor Uncle.”
“Not that! Escapee! Slime Slayer bitch... ran! Mark vanished suddenly.”
The mayor screamed.
“Gaaah!”
The ear Eren pulled tore halfway, blood gushing.
“Slime Slayer? Original?”
“Yes, the marked one, not brainwashed. For show.”
“P-please! Gyaaah!”
“Jeez, spoil ‘em lately and they climb. Always my job for annoyances.”
“Mage Slayer! Y-you said friends! P-please!”
“Huh? Sorry, got distracted mid-prank.”
He released just before the ear ripped off, fussing dramatically.
Apologizing curtly, like bumping shoulders on the street.
The boy’s red eyes burned redder than the blood.
“No worries. Tell Spiela sis, she’ll fix it perfect. I’ll beg nicely.”
He tossed that consolation to the writhing mayor, then scratched his head in annoyance.
“Told the bros and sis back then—tear that Goblin Slayer bitch limb from limb as example... Where’d the mark vanish?”
“<Terbenopl>.”
“Ugh, annoyances always mine. Prep the fastest ship and round up the kids.”