Chapter 220 - Damn Reincarnation

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Those two stirred all sorts of old emotions in Eugene, regret among them.

Regret, of course, that he had failed to kill them three hundred years ago.

To be fair, he had never really had the opportunity.

When Hamel encountered Incarceration’s Sword, Gavid Lindman, he had been alone with Senya. Senya had already been an extraordinary mage, and Hamel had been at what could be called his prime—but they had nearly died.

He had even used Ignition, determined to get at least Senya out alive somehow. Honestly, he had been prepared to die. With the Demon King of Incarceration’s castle just ahead, Hamel had believed that if he had to weigh the value of their lives, Senya was the one who had to survive and return to their companions.

... Fortunately, Gavid had withdrawn first. Had the battle continued, Hamel would have lost his life without even reaching the Demon King of Incarceration’s castle.

The queen of the dream demons, Noir Giabella. He had never had an opportunity to kill her, either. From midway through their travels in Helmuth, Noir had slipped into their dreams whenever she found an opening, using her Demonic Eyes of Fantasy to turn reality into a dream. Each time, Anise and Senya had helped him escape those dreams within dreams and dreams imposed on reality.

Both demons, already troublesome and powerful three hundred years ago, were still alive. Regret was inevitable. If only Hamel had been stronger back then, he could have killed Noir Giabella and Gavid Lindman.

“... Their attention, huh.”

But regret was not all Eugene felt now. He felt a sense of alarm, too. He could not help thinking about it.

Three hundred years ago, Hamel had been weaker than Gavid Lindman. He had never actually fought Noir Giabella, but honestly, even at his prime, Hamel could not have defeated the queen of the dream demons alone.

Even Iris had trained and grown stronger over those three hundred years. In an empire of demons ruled by a Demon King, Eugene knew all too well how much demons valued rank. Gavid and Noir had held their positions as dukes for three hundred long years, reigning over countless demons.

‘I heard Iris left Helmuth after losing a territorial war against Noir.’

Even so, he did not think Noir was merely a few steps above Iris. She was certainly ahead, but the gulf between them had to be unimaginably vast.

In other words, she was more than Eugene could handle now.

“The dukes of Helmuth must have an awful lot of time on their hands, taking an interest in someone in a distant country.”

“You are hardly ordinary, Sir Eugene. A descendant of the illustrious Lionhearts... And you, in particular, are even called the second coming of Vermouth the Great.”

“Well, I suppose that explains it. I can’t do anything about rumors.”

“The problem is that rumors are not the only reason the dukes have taken an interest in you.”

Balzac regarded Eugene through narrowed eyes.

“... The dukes know that the Holy Sword has acknowledged you.”

Instead of answering immediately, Eugene searched his memories.

Had he ever drawn the Holy Sword in public? No. He had never drawn it at all in the Great Forest of Samar. When Eward performed his ritual at Black Lion Castle, though—he had drawn it then. Afterward, he had proven to the inquisitors that he was its master.

And then there was the Spring of Light.

“I am not telling you this to ascertain whether you truly are the Holy Sword’s master. That holds little interest for me. However, I do genuinely wish you well... I merely wanted to warn you.”

Watching the silent Eugene’s eyes, Balzac continued.

“Although, perhaps I can hardly call it a warning. If those two dukes decide to act independently, what could someone like me possibly do? And if they wish to meet you... how could you avoid them?”

“Surely they wouldn’t kill me.”

“As long as the Demon King of Incarceration remains committed to maintaining peace, even the dukes will not kill you. But isn’t attracting the attention of beings of their stature a burden in itself?”

“It is, but I don’t think it can be helped. If I really wanted to avoid attention, I should have kept my head down and stayed quiet as a mouse. I don’t want to live like that.”

He considered it a question of sooner or later. Had word not gotten out that he was the Holy Sword’s master and the Hero, the dukes in distant Helmuth would not have noticed him quite so soon.

“But how did they find out?”

The question amounted to admitting he was indeed the Holy Sword’s master, but what was the point of hiding it when he already had their attention? Eugene asked without hesitation.

“I do not know how, but it seems Edmond Codret, Incarceration’s Staff, told the dukes about you.”

“I’ve never met him.”

“Of course not. Edmond never leaves Helmuth. Nevertheless, it is a fact that Edmond told them about you, and that the dukes took an interest as a result.”

Balzac smiled wryly.

As one of Incarceration’s Three Demons, he belonged to Loyalty, a social circle connected to Helmuth’s Three Dukes. He had not attended Loyalty’s regular gatherings since becoming Aroth’s Black Tower Master, but he still occasionally exchanged letters with his fellow black mage, Edmond Codret.

Yet Balzac did not consider their relationship warm enough to call a friendship. If anything, it was a sense of kinship between colleagues... or a business relationship. It was by no means a casual association, and anything one wanted had to be paid for with something of equal value.

That was why Edmond had not asked Balzac much about Eugene. Even this time, he had casually mentioned what had been said about Eugene at Loyalty’s regular meeting without asking for anything in return.

Balzac knew why. He had no interest whatsoever in what was discussed at Loyalty’s meetings. Edmond had nevertheless volunteered the information in the hope of coaxing something out of Balzac, who had already established a connection with Eugene in Aroth.

“Did you sell information about me?”

“I have no information to sell, do I?”

“And if you did?”

“Hmm. I would have to consider that when the time came... But I have little desire for, or expectation of, whatever Edmond might offer. My interest in you and my hopes for you are greater.”

“You’re a strange man.”

“I am quite fond of you, and quite curious about you, but those are not the only reasons I have decided not to accept whatever deal Edmond may propose. My own ambitions play a part as well.”

“Ambitions?”

“I would rather not lay bare the desires at the very bottom of my heart. What I can say with certainty is that fondness alone has not motivated the warnings and goodwill I have shown you.”

Balzac smiled and sipped his tea. Eugene could not read the emotions in those untroubled eyes, but he could sense that Balzac stood apart from Helmuth’s inner circle.

‘Otherwise, he’d have no reason to come all the way to Aroth to become the Black Tower Master.’

Eugene considered it for a moment. Balzac had some objective, and it had prompted him to warn Eugene of danger several times. At least for now, Balzac was not his enemy.

“You asked about the uprising at Black Lion Castle earlier.”

He did not show Balzac the spell formulas. Instead, he told him what Eward had wanted and what he had done. He condensed the unnecessary details, so the account was not particularly long.

“Hah.”

Balzac, who had listened in silence throughout, let out an exclamation of wonder.

“Reconstruction of the Soul and Creation of a Physical Body... Both are considered taboos in magical scholarship, but they are avenues of research pursued by many black mages.”

“Including you?”

“Neither subject particularly interests me. Reconstructing my soul would ultimately mean transforming it into something else, and creating a physical body would mean changing the vessel I have inhabited since birth... In other words, changing my very essence. I have no desire for such magic.”

After answering, Balzac fell silent for a moment. The deeper he concentrated, the more his brow furrowed.

“... So it was the remnants of Demon Kings that incited and manipulated Eward Lionheart. That is entirely possible. The Demon Spear and the Crushing Hammer in the Lionhearts’ possession were weapons cherished by Demon Kings. I also believe it possible for those remnants to have become a spirit of darkness. Primal spirits are not so different from mana, after all, and change according to their surroundings.”

Balzac’s conclusions matched Lovellian’s and Melkith’s. Without seeing Eward’s formulas himself, he had to reason solely from what Eugene had uncovered, so his answer could hardly have been unexpected.

“Hector Lionheart’s escape is surprising.”

Perhaps because Eugene had quietly steered him toward it, Balzac took an interest in Hector’s escape as well.

Really, that was inevitable. Lovellian and Melkith had examined the forest, but neither had been able to offer any theory as to how Hector had escaped. The same was true of Atarax, the inquisitor who had first realized Hector had fled. He had discerned the escape, but had failed to work out how it had been accomplished.

“You said he possessed a rare artifact. Do you remember what sort of artifact it was?”

“Yes.”

A necklace containing seventeen spells. Eugene could not remember its exact shape, but he clearly remembered the arrangement of the spells engraved into it. He had previously reproduced that arrangement of magical formulas for Lovellian and Melkith as well.

Inscribing so many spells into a single artifact, especially a necklace that was not particularly large, would ordinarily be impossible. But the capacity of such crafted objects varied according to how they were made, so it could not be declared categorically impossible.

Melkith El-Hayah’s White Tower had many accomplished alchemists. She had shown them the schematic of the artifact’s formulas that Eugene had provided, but they had only told her they could not reproduce it.

“... Hmm...”

Stroking his chin, Balzac looked to the side. The formulas Eugene had traced in the air filled one wall of the spacious room.

“You are saying that all these complex, abstruse, and lengthy formulas were contained in a single necklace?”

“Yes. I analyzed it with Akasha, so I’m certain.”

“But there are no spells relating to spatial transportation among these formulas.”

“That’s what puzzles me. Is ultra-long-range transportation magic—not just Blink—even possible for a human in the first place? And even if it is, how could anyone put it into an artifact?”

Eugene struggled to understand even that much. Lovellian and Melkith had shared his opinion. Even archmages used warp gates to travel long distances; they could not warp their own bodies with their own magic. Yet Hector had escaped unseen from a forest where the Moonlight Sword and magical power were clashing. It might have been different had he been an exceptional mage, but Eugene knew from fighting him that Hector was no mage.

“How interesting.”

After studying the formulas for a long while, Balzac laughed.

“Now, Sir Eugene. Speaking as an archmage, no matter how extraordinary a mage may be, long-range spatial transportation is impossible. Warp gates make it possible because the connected gates fix the coordinates at each end. A directly cast Warp cannot do that. The only form of such transportation possible in this world is a dragon’s Teleport.”

“I know that.”

“Of course you do. Therefore, Hector did not escape through spatial transportation.”

“Then what was it?”

“Didn’t the inquisitor who was there describe it? Long-range teleportation without passing through a gate. To be precise, that inquisitor could not explain the magic Hector used to escape, either. Naturally so. What was used for Hector’s escape was indeed spatial transportation magic, but it was not teleportation.”

Balzac stared at Eugene as though enjoying his frustrated expression. When Eugene could bear it no longer and started to speak again, Balzac quickly forestalled him.

“Hector died.”

“What?”

“I do not know what sort of battle took place there, but Hector did not escape. The artifact he carried failed to protect him.”

By then, Eugene could guess what Balzac meant. His expression turned cold.

“Even when the body dies and disappears, the soul remains. Ordinarily, it leaves this world, but if it is bound by a contract, it no longer has sovereignty over itself. It must obey the commands of the ‘master’ with whom it contracted.”

“... A demon?”

“Or a black mage.”

Balzac smiled.

“Either way, someone in Helmuth was behind Hector. If it is a soul rather than a body, and that soul is held by a contract, it can be summoned from anywhere in the world. Strictly speaking, I did not witness this myself, so I should not call it certain... But seeing the artifact’s schematic convinces me.”

“What about it?”

“Sir Eugene. Helmuth’s magical engineering is beyond anything you imagine. I acknowledge that the White Tower’s alchemists are excellent artisans, but when it comes to technology rather than alchemy, they cannot match Helmuth.”

“...”

“I pity the dwarves forced to labor in Dragon Demon Castle’s mining district, but they are Duke Raizakia’s property, so there is nothing to be done... Even excluding them, Helmuth is home to more dwarves than any other nation on the continent.”

An object crafted by a skilled dwarven artisan, combined with Helmuth’s technology, could compress that extensive schematic into an artifact.

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

“There are many black mages and demons in Helmuth. It would be difficult to identify any one of them. And... wasn’t Hector Lionheart formerly an honorary knight of Ruhar’s royal knightly order, the White Fangs?”

Ruhar had originally enforced a strict ban on entry from Helmuth and on demons, but it had opened its borders five years ago, allowing countless demons into the country. There was ample possibility that one of them had contacted Hector and made a contract with him.

“... I cannot be certain, but if Hector saw the formulas Eward Lionheart drew, he may have reported them to his master after his soul was retrieved.”

“...”

“Of course, those formulas used the remnants of Demon Kings and a spirit of darkness, so reproducing them would be impossible. But someone might be able to imitate them by extracting their underlying framework.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

Eugene gave a crooked smile and folded his arms.

“As you said, Black Tower Master, those formulas won’t work properly without the Demon King remnants and the spirit of darkness. Even if someone copies the framework, it won’t be more dangerous than those remnants coming back to life.”

“Quite so.”

“Since I don’t know who Hector’s master is and can’t even make a guess, whatever they wanted or gained is none of my concern. If they use it to get in my way or cause me trouble, I can cut their head off then.”

“Would you not like my assistance?”

Balzac tilted his head, a broad smile on his face.

“If you share the formulas you saw with me, I should be able to predict how they might be imitated through black magic. And I have an established position in Helmuth, so I could also help you search for Hector’s master.”

“That’s quite tempting, Black Tower Master. But Incarceration’s Three Demons are my first suspects for Hector’s master. Naturally, that includes you. You’re sitting here talking to me, but couldn’t all of this actually be a scheme you devised to divert suspicion from yourself?”

“Me?”

“Maybe I’m overthinking it, but regardless. I don’t think you’re a good black mage, but I do think you’re a fairly decent one. That doesn’t mean I intend to trust you completely and work with you on something.”

As he spoke, Eugene rose from the sofa.

“You’re not going to be petty and tell me I can’t take these research books just because I turned down your offer, are you?”

“Please, take them.”

“I knew it. You’re the most decent person out of all the black mages I’ve met.”

Eugene beamed and opened his cloak. After making sure to pack away all the research books, he bowed to Balzac.

“Thank you for the warning. Honestly, knowing doesn’t give me much I can do to prepare, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“May I ask one more question?”

Balzac rose to see him out, tilting his head.

“What is the difference between the most decent black mage and a good black mage?”

“The difference between a person and a corpse.”

“Pardon?”

“As far as I’m concerned, the only good black mage is a dead black mage. Oh, and by ‘dead black mage,’ I don’t mean a lich. Liches are f*cking bastards who need to be torn limb from limb and killed.”

In his past life, Hamel had been killed by a lich. That was why Eugene hated liches. No, he hated undead in general. Being killed by a lich was infuriating enough, but Hamel’s corpse had also been turned into a death knight.

“No need to see me out.”

Eugene strode toward the window as he spoke. Momentarily stunned by his words, Balzac came to his senses and looked toward the window, only to find Eugene had already thrown it open and placed a foot on the sill.

“Let’s meet again sometime in the distant future. Not anytime soon. I wouldn’t mind never seeing you again, either.”

That was what Eugene said after taking everything he could get, hearing the warning, and even extracting an opinion about Hector.

Then he jumped out the window without waiting for Balzac’s farewell.

“... Hah.”

Screams rose from the couples admiring the rose garden outside. When Balzac leaned out the window, Eugene, who had landed soundlessly, was already striding across the garden. Watching his retreating back, Balzac let out a disbelieving chuckle.

“Such an entertaining man.”

Murmuring to himself, Balzac returned to his chair and sat down.

For a while, he was lost in thought.

He had mostly told Eugene the truth, but he had told one lie.

Balzac had a suspicion as to who Hector’s master was.

‘... I see.’

He had reached a conclusion. Balzac smiled as he reconsidered the thought that had come to him.