Chapter 30. Doctor Chrombell (2)
Episode 30. Doctor Crombell (2)
Beneath the Inspection Bureau headquarters lay a training ground for agents.
The facility was divided into six sections:
Male agents only, female agents only, male recruits only, female recruits only, male knights only, and female knights only.
For commoners who weren't nobility, there were few places where one could openly practice marksmanship, weapon techniques, or hand-to-hand combat. Most civilian agents trained in the underground facility.
Truthfully, there was little reason for noble-born youths to join a rigid organization like the Inspection Bureau, so over 90% of its members were commoners.
Meaning, a considerable number of agents trained underground.
As a result, the mingled stench of sweat and body odor lingered in the air, leaving it perpetually stale.
Ventilation fans spun tirelessly, but they weren't enough. The windows near the ceiling were too small, and the underground itself was too enclosed.
One might wonder why they didn't just install air conditioning, but that wasn't as simple as it sounded.
Technicians and architects had been consulted, and their response was:
"Given how old this structure is, drilling holes into the walls or ceiling isn't easy. Worse, even a small breach could destabilize the entire building. We don't recommend installing air conditioning underground. Why not lease another location instead?"
So, conditions never improved. The agents simply accepted it—This is just how it is. Training in harsh conditions is real training. Combat is always worst-case anyway. We have to endure this too.
Even those who said as much weren't truly bothered.
Despite technological advancements, how many commoners in the North lived in comfort and abundance?
They had endured worse—starvation, abuse. This discomfort didn't even register. If anything, they were grateful for the spacious, well-lit facility that stayed open late into the night.
Louis Dykken, a knight of common birth, was among them, training diligently from the early hours.
Sshhk!
He swung his sword, aura-infused, replaying the fight from that day in his mind.
'Young Master Sion pulled his back foot first, then stepped forward.'
Louis visualized his opponent and slowly adjusted his stance. Normally, he would lead with his front foot while swinging, but this time, he pulled his back foot first.
The posture looked awkward at first glance, but when executed fluidly in sequence, it became frighteningly fast and aggressive.
Whoosh—! Sshhk!
The thrill of refining something as fundamental as footwork—closing and creating distance—left him both exhilarated and dazed.
Sshhk!
Then—
"Oh. Louis. You've improved."
Someone called out to him. Louis turned toward the voice.
Ashen hair. Hazel eyes. A face and smile that made him look like nothing more than a simple country boy.
"Aidan."
Instead of armored steel, Aidan wore casual clothes as he greeted Louis.
"Been well?"
"Uh... Brother. What brings you here?"
"I said I wanted to see you, so they let me in."
"...Must be a Platinum Knight privilege."
Like Louis, Aidan was a common-born knight who had risen from the rural outskirts of the North. But unlike Louis, his talent and relentless effort had earned him the rank of Intermediate Knight at a young age, along with a place in the [Platinum Knight Order]—the strongest knightly force in the North.
'He used to be my role model.'
"Anyway, I had business in Seyren. Thought I'd drop by."
"Wait a sec. Let me pack up, then we'll go."
"Sure. I'll wait."
The two were close enough that Louis didn't hesitate to cut his training short.
Outside the Inspection Bureau, daylight still bathed the streets. The pair chatted as they walked to a nearby restaurant—a modest but delicious place that served freshly grilled meat, crisp vegetables, and tangy dressings.
Perhaps because it was slightly pricey, the atmosphere was quiet, perfect for conversation.
"What brings you to Seyren?"
"Can't say."
"Hm. Got it."
Knights always had missions. And half of those missions were classified—even from fellow knights.
Louis, being an Inspection Bureau knight himself, didn't press further.
"Shame about the Golden Star Tournament."
"I wasn't winning anyway. Whatever."
"...You okay?"
"Huh? Why?"
"Young Master Sion. You hated him, didn't you? But that day, after you dropped your sword... Sorry. Forget I said anything."
Aidan held back, but his meaning was clear.
On the first day of the tournament, Louis had fought Sion—and lost. Worse than just losing, he had been disarmed, beaten unconscious.
"It's fine. Louis, you're still young. You'll get your revenge later!"
"Hah. Revenge?"
"You're really fine with that? Doesn't it piss you off?"
"I'm a knight. I can lose, but I won't walk a dishonorable path."
"Really?"
"Huh?"
Louis gave Aidan a puzzled look. Aidan shrugged innocently.
"Knights walk the path of honor, right? But does a defeated knight really keep his honor? What do you think people see when they look at a powerless knight?"
"..."
Louis mulled it over before answering.
"People's opinions don't matter. I'd rather die a Beginner Knight than stray from the path I believe is honorable."
Aidan's expression flickered with concern before he broke into a bright smile.
"That's why you're a knight, Louis. That's all that matters."
It was his way of comforting him. Let it go. It's fine.
But for some reason, Louis felt an odd dissonance. Why seek me out just to say this?
Yet, as if to dispel his unease, Aidan reverted to his simple country-boy smile.
They finished their meal with small talk. By the time they stepped outside, the sun was dipping low.
"Well, I'll be off. Good seeing you, Louis."
"Yeah. Take care, Brother."
Aidan turned, waving over his shoulder as he walked into the sunset.
Louis watched his retreating figure, backlit by the fading light, before turning away. The sunset painted Louis in gold as he walked in the opposite direction.
As the distance between them grew, Louis' face remained bright.
Aidan's was swallowed by shadow.
After parting with Louis, Aidan wandered Seyren's streets for hours.
The sun sank below the horizon, dusk settled, yet he didn't stop.
Only when the moon and stars glittered like jewels did he slip into a deserted alley.
He moved from one alley to another, deeper into the labyrinth, until he reached a dead end. There, he knocked on the wall.
Thud-thud-thud—
The bricks split apart, revealing a hidden passage. Aidan stepped inside, descending for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, he reached a large chamber. A woman's voice greeted him.
"How'd it go?"
"Failure. He won't turn."
In the dim, lantern-lit room stood masked men and women. The woman sighed, exasperated.
"Shame. He was your favorite, wasn't he?"
"...Whatever. Liena, what about Sylvia?"
Liena shrugged.
"No luck. She just cursed me out. Like she'd ever betray the Karsen family."
"Fair point. Baron, what about him?"
A man named Baron shook his head.
"...The epitome of trash nobility."
"And he still didn't turn?"
"No. He folded immediately. I gave him the Seed of Corruption."
"The incantation?"
"It'll feed on Guseto's hatred. When his rage toward Sion Karsen peaks, it'll consume him and ignite."
"...Good. Even if he's a beast hiding its claws, he's just an Intermediate Knight at best."
Baron nodded in agreement. Liena pouted.
"Hey~ How much longer do we have to keep up this act? I'm getting tired of pretending~"
Aidan cut her off sharply.
"Not yet. At least until 'that expedition.' Play your part perfectly. We can't afford mistakes."
Baron nodded again, silent as ever. Liena stuck out her tongue.
"Yes~ Yes~ As you command~"
"Just endure a little longer. Once the expedition's over, this tedious knightly farce ends too."
"Then, after that, can we kill Sion Karsen? I've always wanted to slaughter a Grand Duke's son."
Her chilling words hung in the air. Aidan smirked, watching the flickering lantern light.
"If he survives that long."
In the guest room, sunlight streamed through the curtains like prison bars.
Sion Karsen and Doctor Crombell spoke of traitors.
Sion shared what he knew from his past life—how they were tied to the North's corruption, how they had infiltrated Central Empire corporations, nobility, even the imperial family.
Crombell listened intently, agreeing fervently before sharing his own story.
Like fruit ripening under summer sun, their trust deepened with each word.
The doctor began lowering his defenses, one by one.
No longer guarded, the pain buried deep within him surfaced.
At first, it was the story he told everyone.
Then, the one he told no one.
The story of that day, seven years ago.
He hadn't always been an eccentric scientist.
Once, he was the Imperial Chief Researcher of Valhalla, personally appointed by the emperor as the foremost scholar of magical engineering.
Academia hailed him as "The Star of Magical Engineering,""Pioneer of Civilization,""Genius Engineer."
Juniors idolized him, aspiring to be like "Senior Crombell."
He was also a husband, a father to a young daughter, a dependable family man.
Diligent by nature, he neglected neither work nor home.
His daughter's small, soft hands. A beautiful garden. Steam rising from home-cooked meals. His angelic wife. Shared laughter.
He had been happy. Content.
But tragedy, as always, strikes without warning.
When the "Dimension Capsule" project neared completion, Crombell threw himself into research, working late nights.
Just a little more. Just a little more, and it'll be done.
And when he finally succeeded—
His chest swelled with pride.
He couldn't stop smiling.
Now we'll secure more funding. I can't wait to tell my wife and child.
Excited, he hurried home. But the closer he got, the heavier the dread in his chest grew.
The metallic tang in the air.
The stench of blood.
His heart pounded as if struck by a fist. His breath quickened.
No. Impossible. This is the heart of the Valhalla Empire. The Imperial Knights guard this place—the safest in the world.
Yet when he reached his doorstep, blood seeped from beneath the door, staining the stone steps.
"N-no... Please. No."
A chill wracked his body.
His hands trembled violently.
When he finally forced the door open—
Two severed heads lay on the crimson-soaked floor. Their bodies were gone.
"GAAAAAAAAH!"
His scream echoed through the empty house. That day, his life shattered.
For days, Crombell sat clutching his wife and daughter's heads.
He stroked his daughter's face, brushed his wife's hair. But the family that once smiled at him was gone. He felt himself breaking.
Imperial investigators came, cleaned up, but never found the culprit.
It was absurd. Infuriating. Looking back, perhaps rage was the only thing that kept him from collapsing entirely.
Refusing to trust their methods, he stayed behind, analyzing the residual mana in the house.
And there—
He discovered something foreign.
Black Magic.
From then on, Crombell devoted his life to tracking that anomaly, warning everyone about it.
This isn't human. It resembles demonic energy. There are humans colluding with demons.
But demons were creatures of history books.
The empire dismissed him. Scholars ignored him, labeling him:
"A scholar driven mad by grief."
"An eccentric clinging to delusions."
Mockery didn't matter.
"One day, others will learn the truth. Until then, I'll keep researching alone."
So he secluded himself in the mountains.
And now—
He had met a noble who spoke of Black Magic.
The third son of the Northern Grand Duke.
Sion Karsen.
Extending a hand, asking for his help.
"Let's wipe out humanity's traitors together."
How about that?
"...So there was another madman after all."