138 - A Certain Mage’s Soliloquy (2)

The town of Lecorl—

We had made it back, paying in blood, but the other three looked ghastly.

The mage at least understood he’d been dead weight, but the priest assigned as my overseer didn’t even seem aware of it. He hadn’t prepared himself for danger touching him at all, and he was still dragging around his minor injury like it was the end of the world.

And the worst of all was the collared ex-mercenary.

He’d gone as far as openly doubting my ability. The moment we returned, he sneered,

“So is that holy sword just a decoration, or are you simply too weak to use it?”

Honestly, I couldn’t even be bothered to argue back.

Who could have predicted that situation?

No matter what, we had to bring this information home.

That was exactly why—even if it cost a life—we had to get the overseer back safely.

My steps toward the lord’s manor felt heavy.

His deed had to be recorded properly.

That was the least I could offer as a tribute.

“…So you come crawling back with your tail between your legs.”

“Yes. We obtained information that cannot be ignored under any circumstances, so we returned to report and to establish countermeasures.”

In a room inside the manor, with the overseer standing behind me, a stern, middle-aged man seated across from me spoke first.

After I gave him a brief outline, the steward—an administrator entrusted with this matter in the lord’s absence—rendered a judgment without choosing his words, and I denied it plainly, though gently.

“The information we secured, even at the cost of a life, is too significant. That is why a higher decision is required.”

“So you’re saying you want help because you think you can’t handle it yourselves?”

“That’s part of it.”

I nodded without hesitation at the steward’s snide tone.

Behind me, the priest let out a small sound, but I didn’t want him interrupting, so I continued.

“If you call it a lack of strength, then yes—I have no choice but to admit it. However, to avoid any misunderstanding, I will state this clearly… If I cannot do it, then no one can.”

When I asserted that there was no one better suited than me, the steward snorted and spoke without hiding his exasperation.

“People these days love to talk big. Fine—tell me what that confidence is based on. Frankly, I think someone at your level is replaceable.”

“The new species of monster named Argos… that thing has either fled from the elves, or it has beaten them back.”

If I reacted to his barbs, this would go nowhere.

So I tried to start with only the essentials, but the steward laughed under his breath like I’d said something ridiculous.

“Elves, of all things.”

I hadn’t expected him to believe me, but the blatant dismissal still made me want to sigh.

Of course, that was precisely why I’d brought the overseer here.

“Shurin, tell him in your own words. Our opening move should have been perfect. Then why was that monster able to react to me right before this holy sword severed its neck? Why did Argos respond as if it already understood the holy sword’s power?”

The priest—suddenly put on the spot—flustered.

But then, as if steeling himself, he clasped his hands at his chest as though praying, closed his eyes, and spoke.

“The holy sword grants power beyond what a human should possess. That is why the Church has concealed it for so long. Yet the new monster we encountered moved from start to finish as though it clearly understood that threat. There is no other explanation—it must have previously fought someone who wielded a holy sword.”

He said exactly what I needed far better than I’d expected.

He was hopeless in a fight, but there was a reason he’d been appointed an overseer.

“It knew the presence of the holy sword. That explains the impossible responsiveness I mentioned earlier. As a result, our entire tactical plan was rendered useless. To be honest, far too many things happened this time that were beyond expectation.”

“And you want me to believe that? If I’m being blunt, it sounds like you and the Church are inventing an excuse for why you fled.”

“So you’re saying you doubt my ability?”

“You may interpret it that way.”

We were technically dispatched from a marquis’s house… but it seemed the local lord had grievances about this forced assignment.

I didn’t know exactly what relationship existed between this lord and the marquis, but with the Church involved, they couldn’t take too hard a line.

(And yet he’s being this openly hostile… Does he have something he’s willing to risk even souring relations with the Church for?)

Still, regardless of local politics, there were things that had to be said.

“The new species—Argos—without question has experience fighting a holy sword. And its opponent was the elven hero from the Great War. A holy-sword bearer, praised as a sword saint, who cut down the armies of the Great Empire again and again, and was even called the ‘Sword Demon’—a legend.”

“Absurd. That’s a story from over two hundred years ago. Even if he were alive, there’s no reason to think his strength would be unchanged.”

The steward scoffed—yet his complexion had clearly worsened.

“At the very least, there has been no report of the holy sword changing hands. In that case, we have no choice but to consider it. Even I do not have the arrogance to place myself on the same level as that sword saint. And I have no intention of charging in without a plan against something that appears to have escaped from—perhaps even defeated—that legendary wielder. That is why I prioritized returning.”

A living legend with no confirmed death—an individual said to have annihilated an imperial army alone—once that comparison was raised, the steward’s posture stayed stiff, but his thoughts clearly shifted away from me and into grim calculation.

If the records were correct, Canaan had one chance to witness that strength—just before I was born.

Even his earlier line sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.

Perhaps he had been involved in that incident.

“Finally, regarding Argos’s armaments.”

This was the other main point.

I regretted pressing so hard, but he had to understand how serious it was.

Yet the steward dismissed it lightly. “It probably picked them up in some Old Empire ruin.”

“If only that were true… The worst case is if it isn’t. Consider this: why would the Old Empire forge weapons for a monster of that size? The Empire had no reason to produce close-combat weapons like those. And they’re far too refined to assume a monster made them.”

“…I see. So that’s why you say elves.”

“Yes. I’m glad you understand why we had no choice but to return, assuming the worst.”

He really was sharp—he grasped my intent quickly.

“Impossible. Why would they make a move against us? Those shut-ins—why would they attack now?”

But as if to say that understanding and acceptance were separate matters, he rejected my conclusion.

Some speculation was unavoidable.

All our information came from a monster that couldn’t speak with us.

“Still, it isn’t impossible. And if the source is the elves, then many details start to make sense.”

“And that is precisely why it’s the most dangerous scenario.”

I added, then exhaled and looked up at the ceiling.

I waited in silence.

He was surely imagining the worst.

“…I’ll connect you to Lord Kyrias. Wait.”

Next would be a one-on-one with the lord himself.

How much fear I could instill—that would decide everything.

Leaving the manor, I let out a long breath.

The hardest part was over.

Not completely as I’d wanted, but one way or another, we could repay the old mage.

(The problem is that collared man…)

I did have material to persuade him.

The question was whether he’d accept it—and that worry proved correct.

“You really expect me to believe that?”

As expected.

In a rented room at our inn, I told him what happened at the manor.

But the moment the holy sword came up, his attitude shifted completely.

“We didn’t know each other long, but it’s a fact we survived thanks to that old man staking his life. So I decided I’d stick around by my own will until I repaid that debt. But you’re telling me that?”

Honestly, I knew even as I said it that it sounded unbelievable.

But it was the only explanation that fit, so I had no choice but to tell it as it was.

“Fine. I’ll grant you the possibility elves are involved—hard to swallow, but fine. And to confirm whether there’s really a plot, you propose we approach the elves about jointly subjugating Argos. I don’t know a thing about nations’ schemes, so sure—that part I can accept.”

Arms crossed, eyes closed, Orlando nodded as he carefully replayed each point in his head.

“But this—‘you couldn’t use the holy sword properly because its power was being obstructed’—I don’t buy it. I’ll be blunt. If you’re going to make excuses, if you’re going to lie, couldn’t you come up with something less stupid? It’s like you’re making a fool of me.”

He leaned back hard in his chair, furious.

“Yeah, fair. I know. Even I know this sounds like something nobody would believe. But if I don’t think that way… then what happened makes no sense.”

I gestured helplessly, trying to get him to understand how dire things were—but he wasn’t the type to be swayed by hand-waving.

“Hey—do you know the fairy tale called the ‘Glutton Chimera’?”

The ex-mercenary frowned like my topic had suddenly derailed.

“Is now really the time for that?”

“Do you know it?”

Pressed again, he spat,

“No.”

It was a fairly famous story, but mercenaries didn’t exactly live the kind of life that involved reading books. I shook my head.

“Simple version: long ago, a chimera was born from an experiment. It had the ability to claim the abilities of whatever it ate. They fed it all kinds of creatures, and it devoured them.”

Perhaps the content made the danger click, because his mouth hung open as he listened.

“After it gained countless abilities, it became something humans could no longer control. It eventually bit through the chains that bound it and became free—and then it turned its fangs on people. It swallowed whole towns. And in the end, crushed under its own bloated body, it collapsed and destroyed itself.”

The end—and I clapped lightly.

The ex-mercenary stayed with his mouth half open.

“In that story, the glutton chimera is said to have been ‘made by humans.’ But didn’t you ever wonder? Was it really something humans made?”

“…What are you getting at?”

“You—no, you in particular should be able to see it. You fought that new species three times. That’s why I want to ask you.”

-How much stronger had that monster become compared to when you first met it?

At my words, he breathed out only, “Ah…” and looked up at the ceiling.

“It starts to fit too well. If that monster fought elves, if it faced that sword saint… and if it was the kind of creature that kept evolving every time it experienced battle… then everything is explained. It all makes sense.”

That ordinary weapons couldn’t hurt it was conceivable.

But magic barely working, and the holy sword’s power being hindered—that was different.

Unless we thought this way, it would mean the creature had been born with an ability that could respond to a power we haven’t even fully understood.

“Did we… make it stronger?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Actually… this was the first time I brought up the holy sword at all. Partly because there were too many uncertain factors. But also because I couldn’t shake the fear that we might be creating a new fairy tale right here.”

He stared straight at me.

“It’s a ridiculous idea. That’s why I wanted to confirm it with you first. Then I’ll meet the lord again and speak to him. For that, I need your opinion.”

His answer was silence.

And that silence turned one suspicion into certainty.

He was hiding something.

“I want to make Teacher—Mage Kyrias’s death mean as much as possible. Please help me.”

I bowed my head.

And I regretted it almost immediately.

There are countless things in this world you are better off not knowing.

This was one of the clearest examples.

“…Fine. I’ll talk. About the information on that new species… the truth I—no, we—have kept hidden.”