Chapter 45 - Demon-Beast Tamer

'The Demon Realm...'

Galahad murmured as he gazed at the ash-shrouded fortress.

The Demon Realm that had opened at the Seventh Battalion filled the space between the inner and outer walls. It neither expanded nor shrank.

Mana flowed from areas of low concentration to high concentration. Thus, the Demon Realm drew in the surrounding mana.

When low-concentration mana entered, it mixed with the high-concentration mana, naturally diluting it. Once the difference in concentration fell below a certain threshold, the flow stopped, resulting in regional variations.

That was how mana flowed.

Yet the Demon Realm maintained its high mana concentration even as it drew in the surrounding mana.

'How on earth is this possible?'

Galahad narrowed his eyes and examined it, but could make neither head nor tail of it.

This was the biggest reason he had proposed the Demon Realm training camp. The Demon King would be somewhere deep within the Demon Realm. To reach him, Galahad needed to unravel its secrets.

And now he had even been put in charge of the training camp.

Galahad intended to make it brutally demanding, so that when they entered the real Demon Realm someday, they could display their skills without panicking.

Of course, the commanders would not cooperate willingly, but persuasion was his specialty. Besides, he had earned the Grand Duke's recognition.

'Hmm. I'm short on people.'

Galahad frowned. He needed more manpower to study the Demon Realm and maintain the training camp.

By manpower, he meant Mages, or people with comparable intelligence. Most of the people here were like Sir Gilberton. They were not manpower. Just power.

'Should I call in the people from the Black Magic Society's Fifth Battalion branch?'

He intended to begin running the branch in earnest now, to track down Dawn. Still, stationing Black Mages near the Demon Realm was not a particularly good idea.

Wasn't there somewhere he could find someone with a working brain?

'Ah, the Intelligence Bureau.'

Galahad was still a member of the Intelligence Bureau, and a fairly high-ranking one at that. He could bring a few people over from the safe house.

Of course, word would reach the Bureau.

'I just need to talk them around.'

Persuasion was his forte.

Just then, a soldier approached him.

"Where should I put this?"

"Ah, over here."

The soldier set down the luggage and snapped off a vigorous salute. It was even crisper than the ones Gilberton received.

'So this is what the Grand Duke's recognition does.'

Galahad gave a casual wave. The other soldiers saluted too. It was beginning to grow tiresome.

"Do you truly intend to manage the Demon Realm?" Adrianna asked in her usual impassive voice.

"I do."

"It will be dangerous," she said gravely.

She was right. Leaving a Demon Realm on their side of the front was extremely dangerous.

"All the more reason to train. How long do you intend to do nothing but defend? You cannot end a war by holding the line."

"You sound certain."

Galahad nodded. Even without the contents of his notebook, that much was predictable.

"And don't we need to be ready when something like this happens again?"

Adrianna considered his question for a moment, then nodded.

"You have a point. But maintaining the Demon Realm is still dangerous. I will assign personnel from the First Battalion."

"Thank you."

There was no reason to refuse, so he nodded.

Just then, Gilberton approached.

"Oh? Lady Adrianna, when did you arrive?"

Adrianna gave a small cough at his question. Galahad answered for her.

"She came with His Highness the Grand Duke."

"Ah, I see."

Gilberton bowed.

"Why aren't the rest of your unit here? Did you leave without telling the battalion?"

Adrianna's eyes widened slightly. Galahad's lips curled into a smile.

"I left a letter for her."

Adrianna relaxed a little in relief. Then she suddenly looked at Galahad.

"What did you write?"

"Hmm. That's a secret."

Adrianna began to feel uneasy.

"By the way, have you seen the rookie? I can't find him anywhere. I heard he went with you, Commander."

Gilberton frowned, his face full of concern.

"Ah, you mean Sir Noad."

"Yes. He's nowhere to be seen. He's a bit dim. What if he's gotten lost somewhere?"

"You truly are Sir Gilberton."

"... What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I sent him on an errand."

"What? You sent him alone?"

Gilberton heaved an exceptionally deep sigh. Adrianna's brows lowered slightly.

"That rookie can't do a thing except use a sword. He can't even handle the reins or light a fire. Sending someone like that on an errand? This could be a real disaster."

"... Surely he's not that bad?"

"Hm? Do you know our rookie, Lady Adrianna?"

Adrianna parted her lips, then shook her head.

"Haah. He does work hard. He's just never learned. If you teach him, he's willing and remembers it all."

Adrianna's eyebrows rose slightly.

"He's just stupid."

They immediately dropped again.

Adrianna's gaze sharpened. Oblivious, Gilberton continued talking about the rookie.

"Oh, but he's gotten quite famous in the Seventh Battalion."

"Famous?"

"Yes. Stupid as he is—"

Adrianna gave a small cough.

"Are you all right? Anyway, as I was saying, stupid as the rookie is, he must be good with a sword. Apparently he beat soldiers and knights without using aura."

Adrianna's eyebrows sank even lower. Galahad chuckled softly.

Gilberton was far better at getting under people's skin than he had imagined.

"But they say he's vicious. Doesn't even bother talking, just starts swinging his sword. That fellow's a man's man."

"A man's man?"

Adrianna gave two small shakes of her head in succession.

"Wouldn't the situation have been urgent?" she said hastily.

"True. The commander did say, 'I'll handle it alone, so get here as quickly as you can!' But that fellow..."

Gilberton trailed off.

"What is it?"

"They say he tears off his opponents' ears and chews them right up. Hah! I never knew he was that much of a man's man!"

A faint look of dismay crossed Adrianna's face. She shook her head quickly three times.

It was the sort of exaggeration common on the front. Galahad chuckled.

"I bet that rookie has a big bushy beard, too."

"... Sir Gilberton!"

"Yes, Lady Adrianna?"

"Spar with me."

The knight Gilberton grinned with delight.

His grin did not last long.

* * *

Tom had thought he was getting reasonably accustomed to the Special Operations Unit.

To Gwen, for instance, who cloaked herself in lightning and shot fire from her hands while insisting she was a maid. Or Damian, the boy who was always eating, yet killed demon-beasts with a single rusty sword. And, well, Sir Gilberton. He was gradually getting used to them all.

Except for their inscrutable commander, Galahad.

Every one of them was so talented that Tom hardly belonged in their company. Yet they were human, too, and had their shortcomings.

They were utterly ignorant of anything outside combat.

That was where Tom had found his use—a way for someone as ordinary as him to survive among these monsters.

Tom knew how miserable it was to be useless. So he did his utmost. He found work wherever he could, desperately making himself necessary.

Thanks to that, he had thought he was fitting into the Special Operations Unit quite well.

Until Adrianna put on a bizarre helmet and insisted she was their rookie.

Her long legs, which even the bulky armor could not hide, and her unmistakable nobility made it obvious to anyone that she was Adrianna.

Who else would Galahad have brought along from the First Battalion, anyway?

The strange thing was that no one noticed.

Every time Gilberton berated her for being a stupid rookie, Tom had to fight desperately to keep from screaming. Once, Gilberton had even left Adrianna with Tom and told him to teach her the rookie's duties.

Who was Adrianna?

The brilliant rising hero of the North, the Grand Duke's only blood relative. An exalted figure who would become the next Grand Duchess.

And Tom was supposed to teach her? Worse still, Adrianna had learned everything in earnest, without a single complaint.

Fortunately, they had deployed to the Seventh Battalion almost immediately, so it had not lasted long.

It had been a genuine crisis, but he had somehow survived it.

He had thought the greatest danger was behind him.

Until just now.

"Where is he?"

The moment Tom heard that voice, he froze. It was a deep voice no one could forget after hearing it once.

'Huh? Why?'

Why was His Highness the Grand Duke standing in front of him?

The sight of the Grand Duke effortlessly plucking off a demon-beast's head was still vivid in his mind. Even that dreadful beast, which had seemed like despair made enormous, had been nothing but a lump of meat to the Grand Duke.

No, even now...

'... He's holding one! A demon-beast!!'

SKREEEEEE!!

As the demon-beast struggled in the Grand Duke's grip, Tom desperately swallowed the scream threatening to burst out.

It was a Ssobeng. Smaller than other demon-beasts, but all the more dangerous for it. An intermediate-ranking demon-beast that required a knight, not a soldier, to face it.

And the Grand Duke was carrying it like some ordinary object.

When the Ssobeng opened its jaws wide, Tom could hold back no longer. He screamed.

* * *

"Aaaaaaah!"

At Tom's scream, Galahad tidied up where he was sitting and went down.

The Grand Duke stood holding a bizarre-looking demon-beast in front of Tom, who had fainted, foaming at the mouth.

'Carrying a demon-beast like it's some...'

Galahad frowned as he took in the scene. Even at a glance, it was no low-ranking beast. That meant it was intermediate-ranking at the very least.

And he was holding it like a chicken he had brought back from the market.

'He's a real monster.'

Galahad clicked his tongue in amazement.

"Found it," the Grand Duke said quietly.

The question of where on earth one could simply find an intermediate-ranking demon-beast rose to Galahad's lips, but he forced it back down.

SKREEEEEE!!

The beast twisted violently. On closer inspection, it did not even have a wound.

'Did he beat it into submission and bring it here?'

Galahad swallowed hard.

"Thank you. But isn't this an intermediate-ranking demon-beast?"

At Adrianna's firm insistence, they had decided to stock the place with low-ranking demon-beasts. Even those would be dangerous inside the Demon Realm.

Yet the Grand Duke had abruptly brought an intermediate-ranking beast. Apparently he felt low-ranking ones would not be enough.

Even so, to simply pick up an intermediate-ranking demon-beast...

"Is there a problem?"

The Grand Duke's brows lowered slightly.

"None whatsoever. If someone who cannot even overcome an intermediate-ranking demon-beast occupies a commander's seat, that is the greater problem."

One corner of the Grand Duke's mouth rose. On closer inspection, it was a scar, deep enough to expose a yellow fang through the gap.

'This isn't bad.'

Galahad had been curious himself, as it happened. He rolled up his sleeves and approached the demon-beast.

It opened its jaws wide and barked savagely.

"If you won't hold still, I'll have to neuter you too."

He meant it as a light joke, but the Grand Duke did not laugh. The demon-beast barked even louder.

Clicking his tongue softly, Galahad took a mana stone from Tom's bag.

"What are you doing?"

"I intend to inscribe the demon-beast tamer's magic circle."

A demon-beast tamer?

The Grand Duke's eyes narrowed.

THUMP.

Faced with the intermediate-ranking demon-beast, the Egg of agony began to churn. It shook as though demanding the beast right this instant.

'No. This isn't for eating.'

The Egg of agony quieted down. It seemed dejected.

The Grand Duke stared at Galahad as he reached toward the demon-beast.

He had thrust an intermediate-ranking Demon in front of the man, yet far from looking disconcerted, Galahad was smiling. As though this was just what he had wanted.

"Ah, do you happen to have any more?"

The scar at the corner of the Grand Duke's mouth deepened.

* * *

"... It's too much."

Jamit of the Intelligence Bureau frowned at the sudden outpouring of misery.

Seated across from her was James... no, Agent Galahad.

The eyes that had shone when James first joined the Bureau were now clouded with exhaustion, and his once-lustrous blond hair was thoroughly greasy.

He looked like any other new recruit at the Intelligence Bureau.

"I don't know what they think a Mage is. They keep giving me hell, asking why it takes me so long to cast a spell. It's magic! Of course it takes time! I have to calculate the mana concentration and recite the incantation! And they won't even let me use a staff."

James continued his woeful complaints.

"And when I explain, they say, 'But Galahad could do it.' Galahad! Galaaahad!! Aaaaagh! You genius of the century!"

James sprang to his feet and had a fit, shouting Galahad's name.

It was a typical reaction from a newly recruited Mage at the Intelligence Bureau.

"The division chief jumps up every time he hears the name 'Galahad.' Then he takes it out on me! Always shouting, 'I sent reinforcements!'"

Jamit silently watched James vent.

'What does this boy think I am?'

Even the Operations Division chief he feared deferred to Jamit. Yet here he was, coming to her to complain. She clicked her tongue softly.

If Galahad had not said that carrot-looking fellow was all right before leaving, she would never have indulged him like this.

"I don't know why they keep comparing me to the genius of the century. We're completely different people..."

James hung his head.

'Was I too cruel?'

Jamit clicked her tongue softly.

As James said, Galahad was certainly worthy of being called a genius. At the same time, 'genius' was inadequate to describe him.

"Do you know how Galahad casts magic without an incantation?"

"... Because he's a genius?"

"Only half right. You graduated at the top of the academy yourself, didn't you?"

"... Though I was at least six years older than he was when I graduated."

James looked somewhat sour for a moment, then nodded.

"I was curious, so I asked him once. How he cast magic so quietly and quickly."

Jamit paused. James leaned forward without realizing it.

"He said he kept casting until he could."

She gave her teacup a little shake, producing a tap.

"... Pardon?"

"Just as knights train until they can react to a sword flying at them without warning, he kept casting until he could do it with his eyes closed, without thinking."

James frowned deeply at her explanation.

"That's impossible. Casting magic doesn't just consume mana. It uses mental energy too. Doing it in such a crude fashion would inevitably drive you insane."

At his firm declaration, Jamit considered for a moment.

Was Galahad insane?

Perhaps he was.

"Believe it or not, that's your choice. So is bearing the weight of that name. Tell me if you want it changed, and I'll change it."

Jamit flicked a finger.

Changing an agent's name was uncommon, but not unheard of. Quite a few changed theirs after their name was exposed, or for an operation.

James's face twisted. Anguish surfaced through his deep exhaustion.

Jamit quietly sipped her tea.

A long time passed before James finally spoke.

"It's all right."

His blue eyes were clearer than before. He seemed to have reached a resolution.

"I'll become someone worthy of the name."

From what she had heard, he had only spoken briefly with Galahad in passing. Yet he admired him this much.

"Good. I'll look forward to it."

Though you'll never manage it. Jamit swallowed the rest.

He gave a broad, open smile. Still a greenhorn through and through.

Just then, the door burst open. An irritable-looking man entered.

"Jamit! What do you mean, Galahad's been dispatched to the North?"

He shouted sharply the moment he came in.

'Ah, I'd forgotten about this one.'

Jamit felt a faint weariness settle over her.

It was Agent First.

Ever since his academy days, he had always come second to Galahad. Later, he had somehow found out where Galahad had gone and followed him into the Intelligence Bureau.

'And he kept coming second to Galahad here, too.'

That was impressive in its own right. It meant he ranked directly below Galahad.

The trouble was that the gulf between them was far too vast for a difference of just one place.

"I would have beaten him this time!"

"Calm down. Taking it up with me won't accomplish anything."

"Damn it! Who dared send away Galahad, my destined rival? I'll never forgive—"

"It was an imperial order."

First stopped talking. His eyes darted about. Silence lingered for a moment.

"... Damn it! He received an imperial order before I did!"

Jamit frowned at his jealous outburst. Was that really the part he ought to be angry about?

"No, he cannot run from me until our rivalry is settled! Jamit! I'm going to the North too."

"Why are you telling me? Why not tell your father yourself?"

"I suppose I should."

First nodded emphatically.

His obsession with Galahad was infamous.

First was the Director's son. Ridiculously enough, he had never borrowed his father's influence, insisting on a 'fair' rivalry with Galahad. He was, quite simply, an idiot.

A vacancy had recently opened at the northern safe house, so he would find his way into that post somehow.

For Jamit, who had been planning support with the Deputy Director, he was an unforeseen complication.

"Galahad! Did you think you could escape me? Just you wait! I'll follow you even to the farthest reaches of the North! To finish our contest! Hm? A new recruit?"

In the midst of his shouting, First noticed James and asked.

"... Yes!"

"Right. What's your agent name?"

At First's question, James answered,

"... James."

He hung his head.

A question suddenly occurred to Jamit.

Would Galahad remember First?

Hmm.

... He probably wouldn't, would he?