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Orthes sat down by Tarknia's bedside. Tarknia could barely move his remaining left hand.There was a cautious movement of magical energy. Somehow, the circuits inside the control panel connected to the microphone were salvaged.
"…."
A sudden wave of doubt swept over him. Even if he informed the subordinates outside about this situation, could they subdue the intruder?
As Tarknia weighed the abilities of his subordinates against those of the intruder, Orthes spoke.
"I have a few questions."
The microphone's connection was crudely restored.
***
"Have you seen a blonde child around this tall recently?"
I raised my right hand to indicate an approximate height. Given that Cretone had no interaction with the main tower of the Torres Faction, the probability of Astraphe being delivered was extremely low. However, it was a final check for the one-in-a-million chance.
"What… are you babbling about? I've handled thousands of slaves. Do you think I remember each one?"
"But you personally manage the special ones, don't you? Like wild mages. There must be procedures you handle before delivering them to the main tower."
It was a procedure to suppress the magical circuits of a mage to prevent them from acting up during the transport process.
If Astraphe was among the slaves Cretone had just delivered, she would still be undergoing this procedure.
Although the odds were ridiculously low, I didn't want to miss this chance and risk Carisia's life.
"So, you're a slave hunter, huh? Trying to claim back a slave that was sold to our mage tower? Must be a precious one."
"I'll introduce myself properly next time we meet. I'll ask again. Among the slaves you're currently managing, is there a wild mage particularly gifted in lightning magic? Probably blonde."
"It'll be hell if we meet again…. There isn't one."
Tarknia answered without even opening his eyes, fully resigned. His tone suggested a certain detachment, as if he realized there was no way to avoid death.
In the original story, Tarknia burned with the desire to get promoted by offering slaves to the main tower. Astraphe's potential as a wild mage was extraordinary, and his offering of her led to his promotion.
However, Tarknia underestimated Astraphe's potential. As a result, he incorrectly set the intensity of the magical circuit suppression, allowing Astraphe to regain her will.
Later, in the battle against the Torres School, Astraphe mocked Tarknia, revealing this fact, which he couldn't conceal his rage.
Based on his emotional display then, if he were lying now, it would be noticeable.
"Good. Then lastly."
***
"Where would you like it?"
The question I asked at the beginning of the fight was thrown back at me. He persistently asked how I wanted to die.
Tarknia, breathing blood-tinged breaths, murmured.
"Just make it easy. Just cut me down."
His response wasn't out of loyalty to prevent the Torres School from suffering losses due to his corpse's wounds. He merely wanted to thwart the intruder's intention one last time. Tarknia opened his eyes, waiting for the last scene he would see.
The intruder, who hadn't revealed a piece of his name, finally smiled. He slowly raised his high-frequency blade and brought it down.
Without a sound, Tarknia's head was severed.
Orthes meticulously retrieved the brain chip implanted in Tarknia's head and activated the magical engraving drive.
A basic fire spell, Fireball, was released. Thanks to the broken control panel, the fire prevention system didn't activate.
Confirming that Tarknia's corpse was engulfed in flames, Orthes stepped outside.
It was time to return from this business trip.
***
In the midst of a slave escape. Although they had a magical engraving drive, the captured slaves were not proper mages.
However, the numbers were overwhelming. The mages of the Torres School had not yet managed to suppress the escape.
If it were a group of powerless people unable to use magic, the situation would have ended long ago, but magical engraving drives were endlessly pouring out, threatening the mages.
When one was subdued, five more appeared; when ten were subdued, twenty more sprang up.
Until now, only nerve-severing spells had been used to preserve the value of the goods, but just as they were about to start using truly destructive magic—
A sudden, crackling broadcast sound echoed. An unstable, static-filled voice dropped into the midst of the rebellion.
"Have you seen… a blonde child… around this tall?"
The mages froze at the familiar voice. The broadcast transmitted from the manager's office, and a strange voice came from it.
What could that mean?
There was no sound of battle on the broadcast. Only dry, monotonous questions and answers.
The mages hurriedly tried to contact their superiors. No responses came.
In their confusion, the slaves saw hope.
Finally, when Tarknia's words, "Just kill me quickly," rang out, the mages began to flee.
Among the slaves shouting with joy for their freedom was a child with golden hair.
Crackle.
A flash of lightning sparked at the child's fingertips and then disappeared.
The child repeated the words heard on the broadcast. Someone had murmured that it was fortunate they hadn't been captured here.
The voice sounded similar to that of the nameless man who had been distributing the magical engraving drives to the people.
Could it be?
It was an incredibly slim chance, but…
'Were they here to rescue me?'
Astraphe looked towards the open exit, thinking of their far-off hometown.
Etna City. A decaying city of vice.
***
Waiting for me upon my return from the business trip was an executive meeting.
How could they expect me to attend a meeting right after coming back from a trip? I shook my head at Carisia's flawed work ethic.
I thanked the driver who had brought me here and straightened my clothes.
Though my clothes were stained with blood, changing them here would be a rookie mistake. Considering Carisia's temperament, she would likely be more annoyed by tardiness due to changing clothes than the smell of blood.
I should have prepared a change of clothes from the beginning.
I tidied my appearance as best as I could and headed straight for the meeting room.
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
Carisia's cold voice. I opened the door quietly, worried about what whim she might exhibit this time.
***
Upon seeing Orthes enter, Cretone shuddered, the scent of blood clear.
No need to ask whose blood it was. It had to be the Torres faction he had been dealing with.
'I had a hunch when he asked to leave only one seat next to the driver's…'
Had he really annihilated a faction by himself?
Orthes, gliding in silently, took his place behind Carisia, just like at the founding ceremony. Cretone noticed the faint twitch at the corner of Carisia's mouth.
Was it satisfaction or displeasure?
The lingering scent of battle on Orthes' clothes might be annoying. Conversely, she might be pleased with her loyal subordinate's successful mission.
Before Cretone could analyze her expression further, Carisia's face settled into a neutral mask.
"Orthes."
"Yes."
"You advised me not to include death in my plans, yet you don't follow that advice yourself."
Reprimand? It was hard to read her expression.
With a calm smile and without a hint of hesitation, Orthes replied smoothly, as if he had prepared in advance.
"The duties of a servant and a master are different. My methods are not suitable for you, and vice versa."
Carisia nodded calmly.
"Did you hear that, Geryon?"
***
Wow. This place is really beyond imagination.
The first words I hear at a meeting I couldn't even change my clothes for after a business trip are criticisms.
Oh, boss. This was unnecessary.
What I meant was to have some attachment to life. It seemed my words were misunderstood due to poor timing.
I'll have to explain it properly when we're alone.
As I replied that my duty as a middle manager was to inspect the field unlike the boss, who made employees nervous, a strange word caught my ear.
"Did you hear that, Geryon?"
Geryon?
That was the name of a mage lord who occupied one of the three mage towers before Baek Mu-myung took over Etna City.
A mage with six arms modified through mechanical means. Each arm was embedded with different magical cores, enabling him to manifest up to seven elements simultaneously in combat.
Come to think of it, there weren't nine people in the meeting room.
I looked at the shadowy figure in the corner.
Two arms on the right. One on the left. The remaining three arms had vanished, leaving mechanical stumps near the shoulders.
Carisia's cold gaze pierced him. She pronounced her judgment as if reading a verdict to the bowed Geryon.
"The reason you're alive."
…What?
To read over 200 fully translated episodes, patreon.com/Denji02