Chapter 677: The Internal Agent
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 677: The Internal Agent
"Too much curiosity will only bring you trouble."
At some point, the armory had grown exceptionally quiet.
It was so silent that the only audible sounds were the breathing of two people and that ghostly voice rasping from behind...
Muen’s body suddenly tensed, a deep, eerie light flickering in his eyes.
However, before he could act, a black hand reached out ahead of him, swiping across the corner of the wall Muen had been about to touch.
"When items containing large amounts of mana are stored for long periods, these cramped corners develop what we call mana crystal precipitation."
Only then did Muen realize the hand was made of metal. Intricate mechanisms controlled the joints, allowing it to mimic the movements of a natural hand to a remarkable degree.
But there were differences, after all.
For instance, the hand swept through the area of mana crystallization without hesitation, allowing rust-like stains to instantly spread across the palm. The owner didn't seem to care in the slightest.
A metal palm felt no sensation.
"These mana crystal deposits are highly corrosive to flesh and blood. If you don't want to peel a layer of skin off your hand, I suggest you stop poking around randomly."
Old Robert shot Muen a warning glance and shook his metal hand. He straightened his back, pulled an iron shovel from behind him, and began to chip away at the black crystals in the corner, bit by bit.
"Youngsters nowadays... never doing anything productive, only looking for trouble..." Old Robert grumbled, his face full of displeasure.
"I see. Thank you for the lesson."
Muen didn't mind the old man’s grumbling. Instead, he began to seriously analyze the structure of the mana crystals.
"I’ve never seen this mentioned in any magic textbooks."
"Heh, to put it bluntly, this stuff is just byproduct trash, like coal cinders. You think it deserves to be written about in those 'noble' magic textbooks?" Old Robert sneered.
"That makes sense."
Muen nodded.
Even with his meager, less-than-proficient grasp of magic, he could quickly determine that these black crystals were indeed just mana residue—useless garbage.
"Are you the one who handles all this waste, Lord Robert?"
"Lord?"
Old Robert’s eyebrows shot up, and a mocking smile curled his lips. "What a peculiar way to address me."
"There’s nothing peculiar about it. According to military rank, Mr. Robert, your position is higher than mine. You’ve earned the title," Muen replied with a frank smile.
That handsome smile was bright enough to light up the dim armory, and certainly enough to make many sheltered young girls swoon...
Unfortunately, the only one there to see it was a cranky old man.
"Hmph."
Old Robert gave a cold laugh. "This is exactly why I hate you brats. Every time you open your mouths, it’s nothing but annoying nonsense."
"I’m only telling the truth."
Muen stood up and watched Old Robert shovel the crystals away, centimeter by centimeter. Perhaps due to his age, or perhaps because the hands and feet weren't his original limbs, he seemed to be struggling, and his progress was agonizingly slow.
"Does this sort of thing require you to clean it personally?"
Muen asked, reaching out to give the wall a gentle tap.
An exquisitely controlled vibration rippled through the wall. Almost instantly, large patches of black crystals were shaken loose and fell away.
Old Robert’s movements paused for a second, but he quickly resumed his work. However, his task had shifted from heavy shoveling to much easier clearing.
"Normally, it wouldn't. But as you can see, is there anyone left in this fortress for an old fossil like me to order around? Those idiots who have nothing but killing demons on their minds can't wait to transfer my last few subordinates away, leaving me to watch over this massive armory all by myself."
"It’s understandable. These are extraordinary times, after all. Every general wants their own forces to be stronger. They don't just want men; they’re probably hounding you for supplies constantly."
"Hmph! I manage the supplies, I don't manufacture them! Where am I supposed to find extras for those morons?"
The more Old Robert spoke, the angrier he became. It was as if a dam had burst; he began cursing every high-ranking officer in the army except for the Duke. His vocabulary was so rich and his metaphors so sharp that even the finest literary masters in Belland would have been put to shame.
"Since you manage this armory, Lord Robert, I assume you have a thorough understanding of every item within these walls?" Muen asked suddenly, waiting for the old man to calm down.
"Hmm? What are you implying?"
Robert narrowed his eyes, looking at Muen warily.
"Don't misunderstand, I’m just asking," Muen smiled. "I simply feel that managing such a large armory alone must be far too exhausting for you."
"What do you mean 'manage'? The armory is under the jurisdiction of the Logistics Department. At most, you can call me one of the supervisors."
"But in reality, you’re the one who signs off on everything coming in and going out, aren't you?"
Muen’s gaze swept across the neatly arranged shelves. Though they were mostly empty now, they had been packed to the brim for a very long time.
To manage this armory so excellently without being bribed or intimidated by other powerful figures... it was no wonder his father felt safe entrusting such a vital task to this eccentric old man.
But it was precisely because of his father’s trust and this old man’s stubbornness that his authority within this armory... seemed a bit too vast.
Vast enough to cover the sky with one hand and deceive everyone.
"I only do what I’m supposed to do." Old Robert raised his metal hand expressionlessly. "I’ve been a soldier for fifty years, from the Imperial Central Army to the Northern Garrison, the Southern Garrison... and finally winding up here at the Abyss Defense Line. Aside from my now-useless combat skills, the only thing I’ve learned since those demon bastards took my limbs is how to keep books."
"Now, I don't know how to do anything else but count."
"Is that so?"
"Heh, 'is that so' my foot. You didn't come here for a tour, did you? You’re investigating something." Old Robert reverted to the hostile stance he’d held when they first met, staring warily into Muen’s eyes. "Are you suspecting me?"
"...No, you misunderstand. It’s just a routine inspection."
"Stop pretending. I’m not an idiot." Old Robert sneered. "I know full well that in my position, if even a single item in this armory goes missing, I’m the one who takes the fall."
"Then..."
"Get out, get out! Investigate all you want! I have a clear conscience. If you want to drag me before the Duke and chop off my head just because I skimmed a bit of alcohol to water down my drinks, then go ahead! My worthless head is a bargain if it buys me a bit of wine money!"
Impatiently, Old Robert shoved Muen aside and went back to his work.
"Truly, there are no issues at all?"
"None! As long as the supplies pass through my hands, there are absolutely no problems! I’ll stake my life on it!"
But as he spoke, Old Robert suddenly paused, his voice dropping an octave.
"As for the things that don't pass through my hands... I wouldn't know."
"What do you mean by that?" Muen’s gaze sharpened.
"Who knows? But at the very least, in this armory, there are only two people in the entire Abyss Defense Line with higher clearance than me."
Old Robert gave a cryptic smile.
"One is the Duke, the highest authority here. The other... I think you know who that is."
*
"Mr. Muen!"
As Muen stepped out of the armory, Abel and the rest of the squad were already waiting outside.
"How did it go?"
"We got it!"
Abel gave a meaningful look, and Vik hurriedly stepped forward, pulling out a very small magic device.
With a light press from Vik, the device emitted a faint glow, weaving together pages of dense text. Most of it consisted of numbers, annotated in different colors.
"Good work."
"It was nothing. I knew a few of the guys in there—they were subordinates of that fellow from before. A little small talk was all it took to get them to lower their guard," Abel said.
"Still, I appreciate it."
Muen nodded and took the magic device, flipping through the images at high speed.
Page after page of ledger fragments, captured via image-recording magic, flashed into Muen’s mind. Once the entire ledger had been scanned, Muen closed his eyes.
Black Book.
Search. Detailed records of supply movement for the last ten days.
Fast.
【...】
Swish.
The sound of pages turning echoed in Muen’s mind. The dense clusters of numbers were rapidly simplified until only rows of clear, easy-to-read comparisons remained.
"No problems."
Muen opened his eyes.
"Based on a detailed comparison of the ledgers, the data from Robert and the Logistics Department matches perfectly."
"So Old Robert is clean?" Abel frowned. Based on their current deductions, Old Robert was undoubtedly the prime suspect.
"He’s clean on the surface, at least. Besides..."
Muen rubbed his chin, lost in thought. Looking at the flickering glow of the magic device, his tone shifted as he murmured, "Heh, now things are getting interesting."
"Then... Mr. Muen, what do we do next?" Abel asked.
"Don't be in a rush. Go to—"
Muen was about to give an order when a low, heavy horn blast cut him off.
The sound was deep and resonant, seemingly coming from a vast distance, yet it carried a mountain-shaking pressure.
"It’s the demon war horn!"
The faces of Abel and the others paled. "Those demon bastards are attacking again!"
"To the city wall!"
Muen made an instant decision, leading the group as they sprinted toward the wall.
Along the way, they saw soldiers rushing to their posts with urgent but disciplined movements.
As the demon attack horn sounded, the entire fortress woke up to the shrill cry of alarms. Armor clattered, swords hummed, and a murderous aura almost pierced through the dust clouds above the sky.
Muen reached the top of the wall and looked out into the distance.
A massive, dense army of demons stretched out from the horizon, turning the earth black in an instant.
Giant One-Eyed Demons beat massive drums. Banners fluttered—strange flags made from the pelts of various magical beasts, scrawled with chaotic scripts Muen didn't recognize at all.
Clashing against the fortress's killing intent was a terrifying wave of ferocity and death.
This time, compared to the previous assault, the demon army appeared far more organized.
At the very front were the lowest-ranking demons. They were deformed and unintelligent—less "people" and more "beasts." They had no concept of death, charging toward the fortress with reckless abandon.
...Only to fall into pre-set traps, where they were torn apart or buried.
But the demons following behind didn't spare a moment of grief for these low-tier casualties. Perhaps they were incapable of grief.
Despite the obstacles set outside the walls over the past few days, they were like insignificant ripples against a tsunami to an army of this scale.
They trampled over the corpses of their kin, crossing trenches filled with bodies, and continued their relentless advance, slamming into the city walls with brute force.
"The demons are serious this time."
Even though he had prepared himself, the sight still made Muen’s expression turn grim. "Get ready. This might be a war of attrition."
"Yes, sir!"
The squad members straightened their backs. Even Vik showed no sign of fear.
But before they could join the defense, a massive explosion rocked the entire wall, making it shudder violently.
"What happened?"
Muen frowned. After a moment’s thought, he turned and ran toward the source of the blast.
Halfway there, he ran into Verner, who was also rushing over with his men.
"What’s the situation?"
"It’s an internal agent!"
Verner gritted his teeth.
"Damn it! There’s a mole in the fortress! They used alchemical bombs to blow a breach in one of the southern gates from the inside!"