Chapter 88 - Teeny-Tiny

Galahad arrived late at the lodgings. Everything was quiet. Gwen and Damian were nowhere to be seen, presumably upstairs in bed, while Tom was cleaning up.

Galahad sat in a shabby chair, puffing on a cigarette. The chair rocked with a creak. It was quiet enough to hear Gwen snoring upstairs.

Across from him, Gilberton poured himself a drink. He did not offer Galahad a glass. He simply emptied his own and filled it again.

[The world will be destroyed by the Demon King.]

Galahad ran his fingers over his battered leather notebook.

“Is something wrong, sir?”

Galahad looked up at Gilberton's question. Gilberton was watching him with that face of his, like an ugly fennec fox. Galahad tapped the ash off his cigarette and spoke.

“Sir Gilberton, what would you do if you knew the world was going to end?”

“Why would the world end?”

“It's hypothetical.”

Gilberton narrowed his eyes, apparently giving the question serious thought.

“I suppose I'd just take up my sword.”

“An answer worthy of you, Sir Gilberton.”

“What would you do, then, Commander?”

“Stop it.”

“Can you?”

“I'm a brilliant and capable Mage, after all.”

Galahad curled his lips into a smile. Gilberton's eyes narrowed.

“Come to think of it, didn't you say the Special Operations Unit's mission was to save the continent from destruction?”

“That's right. We're going to save the continent.”

“That hardly seems like a mission for a unit of six.”

“That's what you call a small, elite force.”

“Isn't that a little too small and elite?”

Muttering his complaint, Gilberton refilled his glass. He looked quite content.

Gilberton had two hobbies: swordplay and drinking. Truly knightly pursuits.

A little later, Tom returned from cleaning up, carrying a steaming dish. He must have cooked again.

“That's our Tom.”

“It's nothing special. Just some stir-fried meat and vegetables.”

Gilberton grinned and promptly grabbed a handful.

“Even Damian uses a fork. Tsk.”

“This is how we eat in the North.”

Gilberton answered Galahad's criticism without a hint of shame, smacking his lips as he ate.

“Aren't you having any, sir?”

“I've already eaten. I'm fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom took out his instrument as a matter of course. The music was quite pleasant. He had improved since last time.

“Tom, what do you think you'd do if the world were ending?”

The music stopped abruptly. Tom considered the question seriously. Gilberton went on smacking his lips.

“I think I'd cook something delicious for the whole Special Operations Unit to share,” Tom said with a gentle smile.

“May I change my answer? I'll swing my sword while eating Tom's cooking.”

Gilberton's bizarre answer drew a quiet burst of laughter.

“That smell...”

Just then, Damian shuffled down from upstairs, his eyes half-closed as though he was not fully awake. Gwen followed him.

Tom slid the plate over to Damian without hesitation. Once Gwen sat beside him, the round table was full.

“You're still hungry after eating all that aura of mine?”

Suddenly deprived of his food, Gilberton clicked his tongue at Damian.

“I didn't get much. Your aura's teeny-tiny.”

“Teeny-tiny! What kind of way is that to talk?”

“Why are you getting angry at a child?”

“But he called it teeny-tiny! It's not teeny-tiny, you brat!”

“It was, though.”

“You little runt!”

“Why are you yelling at a child?”

The room grew boisterous in an instant. Galahad chuckled and tapped the ash off his cigarette.

“Oh, we were talking about what we'd do if the world were ending. What would you do?”

Tom changed the subject. Gilberton snorted hotly and shouted, “It's not teeny-tiny!”

“I'd eat.”

“I'd go out and have fun with all the children! But why are we suddenly talking about the end of the world? Is the world ending?!”

Gwen's voice quickly grew tearful, taking on a goatlike bleat.

“The commander asked us—”

At Tom's words, everyone's eyes turned to Galahad.

The Special Operations Unit had finally begun to shed its shabby appearance. Under their warm gazes, Galahad tapped his cigarette.

After a moment's consideration, he spoke.

“The Demon King will destroy the world.”

A heavy silence fell. Faces that had worn faint smiles only moments ago twisted into scowls. The atmosphere turned icy in an instant.

“There is no such thing as the Demon King.”

They all answered in unison.

“I'm joking.”

Only then did laughter break out again. Warmth filled the room once more, as though that conversation had never happened.

[“It must have been difficult, bearing it alone.”]

Galahad took a deep drag on his cigarette, his lips twisting.

* * *

“Whew...”

Adrianna slowly lowered her sword and released a long breath. Steam rose thickly from her heavy armor.

The sun was beginning to rise.

'That feeling...'

Her hand twitched. The sword stroke she had unleashed while escaping the Demon city filled her thoughts.

Turning dozens of Demons to ash in a single stroke—that had not been swordsmanship.

It had been a manifestation of her innate nature.

Adrianna did not consider her mana-burning nature a blessing.

It was a curse. A vicious curse that burned everyone her hands touched, inflicting terrible pain.

One that had even burned her mother...

Adrianna bit down hard on her lip.

[“Imagine burning them away.”]

What she had wielded at Galahad's instruction was the very nature she had tried so hard to ignore.

At her core, she was a curse.

Strangely enough, admitting it left her feeling oddly unburdened.

Then her hand shook. Aura surged up as though doused in oil, blazing wildly as if it would devour the world.

'I can't control my power...'

Biting her lip, Adrianna shook her sword to disperse the aura.

It had been like this ever since that day. Her nature kept running wild, as though it meant to devour her too.

“Commander.”

She turned toward the gentle voice to find her adjutant, Lunabirn.

“The situation on the front has been troubling lately. You must return.”

It was true.

The front line was where she belonged. A battlefield blanketed in ash and reeking of blood was the place that suited her.

“Understood. I'll leave immediately.”

Adrianna nodded.

Just then, a commotion arose off to one side.

“Is there a problem with my seeing my fiancée?”

“Who says you're Lady Adrianna's fiancé—what bullshit!”

“What's your name?”

“Belharn!”

“Right, Belharn. I'll inform His Highness the Grand Duke that Sir Belharn of the First Battalion called it bullshit.”

“When did I—”

At the familiar voice, Adrianna took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

After a brief commotion, the knights of her personal unit parted. To think men so utterly devoted to her would back down...

“Wouldn't it have been better for everyone if you'd moved aside to begin with?”

Galahad entered, brushing off his collar. Behind him, a knight opened and closed his mouth in disbelief.

Spotting Adrianna, Galahad waved. She bowed her head in return.

“Good morning. You're beautiful even drenched in sweat.”

“Yes.”

As always, Galahad spoke shamelessly. Adrianna nodded.

He looked as relaxed as ever, but there was something tired about him.

“You don't look well.”

“I didn't sleep very well.”

His lips curled upward as he answered, but the smile was faint.

“Some moderate exercise before bed should help you sleep soundly.”

“Is that so? I'll keep it in mind.”

“Overly strenuous exercise would only make it harder.”

Galahad laughed heartily at her earnest advice. Adrianna, who had been about to demonstrate some exercises, quietly stopped.

“Are you going back?”

“Yes. I've been away from the front too long.”

“I see.”

He nodded lightly, as though he had expected it.

“What will you do about the wager?”

Adrianna lowered her voice a little as she asked. She meant his wager with the man named First.

In her judgment, First and Pumpkin were highly skilled. Without crossing swords with them, she could not assess them precisely, but they were clearly formidable opponents.

“Hmm... Oh, that. It'll be fine.”

“Didn't you give them all the information you had?”

“That way they'll catch more of them, won't they?”

“But the wager—”

“Are you worried about me?”

Adrianna nodded at once.

Galahad's expression turned peculiar. A brief silence followed.

“You've gotten better at this.”

“Better at what?”

“Nothing.”

Galahad slipped a cigarette between his lips. He reached for a cigarette whenever he was at a loss for words. Adrianna waited without pressing him.

“I don't make bets I'll lose.”

He spoke with his usual confident smile. Adrianna tilted her head.

“But you gave them all your information, didn't you? And I can't help you now. They have the advantage.”

“Do you know how enticing the Demon Realm is to a Mage?”

There was something dangerous about him as he asked.

“... Pardon?”

“His Highness put quite a lot of pressure on them this time. The commanders will want to get rid of those troublesome fellows. And if word of the Demon Realm suddenly spreads at a time like this...?”

Galahad explained as he tapped the ash off his cigarette.

Adrianna slowly went over what she had just heard. In other words...

“You intend to lure Mages to the Demon Realm training camp?”

Galahad snapped his fingers at her question, as though to say she was right.

“A crisis becomes an opportunity once you overcome it.”

It sounded quite reasonable. A crisis did become an opportunity once overcome.

But...

“... Isn't this a crisis you created yourself?”

“You don't wait for opportunities. You make them.”

As always, Galahad had a ready answer.

Adrianna considered his words seriously. So, since overcoming a crisis made it an opportunity, he would create his own crisis and turn it into an opportunity? Wasn't that strange?

Just then, Galahad held out his hand.

“Now, give me your hand.”

At his assured request, Adrianna instinctively reached out.

“Ah!”

Belatedly remembering that she could not control her nature, she tried to pull back, but he had already taken her hand.

“Ghhh...!”

Adrianna froze at the warmth she could never get used to.

Galahad's reaction was more violent than usual. His whole body shook, and groans he could not suppress kept escaping his lips.

It was because her nature had grown stronger. She tried to withdraw her hand, but he even interlaced their fingers.

Veins stood out all over his skin. Burst capillaries turned his eyes red, and his body trembled violently.

Adrianna hastily pulled her hand free.

Galahad swayed. He staggered, but did not fall, bracing himself against the golden rod.

He looked dreadful. His eyes were blood-red, and his body kept shaking as though he were having a seizure. His normally tidy hair was a complete mess.

He had only held her hand for a moment, yet he looked as though he had been through hell.

Adrianna bit her lip.

'Just as I thought...'

Then Galahad's dry lips slowly parted.

She feared what insults might emerge. Would he call her a cursed witch? A Demon harboring destruction?

It was familiar enough to Adrianna.

But...

“You really are incredible. Always a new thrill.”

The words that left his mouth were nowhere near what she had expected.

He grinned broadly.

“... I'll be going.”

Only then did Adrianna flee.

* * *

[To all commanders. The Demon Realm training camp is complete. The Demon Realm is a region deep within Demon territory, where the mana concentration is so high that even breathing is difficult. We plan to use it for Demon Realm acclimatization training. Strict secrecy is required, as this information could fall into the hands of Mages. Should a Mage enter the Demon Realm, their sensitivity to mana would increase, they would be able to contain highly concentrated mana, and the efficiency of their staff would...]

Mark, commander of the Fifth Battalion, squinted at the orders sent down from headquarters.

At first glance, they concerned the Demon Realm training camp, but...

'Isn't this an advertisement for the training camp?'

Below was the seal of Staff Officer Theodore.

“Did you write this?”

Mark lowered the orders as he asked. Galahad sat at ease before him, the golden rod in his hand bobbing this way and that.

“No, I only dictated it. Theodore wrote it. His penmanship is quite good, isn't it?”

“... Is that really the issue? The commanders will be wondering how to dispose of their Mages with His Highness watching them, and sending this now... Oh... That was your aim.”

Mark sighed softly. Galahad was the cleverest person he knew. He could not possibly have been unaware of the repercussions of this letter.

The Grand Duke had personally torn off the Sixth Battalion commander's head in front of the other commanders. Even they had no choice but to tread carefully.

Those who had secretly operated magic-stone deposits would be struggling to dispose of their operations.

With orders like these arriving at such a time, they would surely send the Mages they could not deal with to the Demon Realm training camp.

“... How much of this did you plan?”

“Plan? You're exaggerating. All I did was steer things in a favorable direction, more or less.”

Galahad answered with a smile.

'Could singling out the Sixth Battalion commander at that meeting have been... No, did it start with leaving the Demon Realm training camp there?'

Just how far back did his plans go? It felt as though he could move the North at will. Mark coughed softly.

“... Can you handle them?”

“Do I need to?”

Mark frowned as Galahad pointed the golden rod at him and countered his question.

“It's just like the Black Magic Society. I'll offer them fairly good terms. They have nowhere else to go anyway, do they?”

“... And if they refuse? It would be dangerous if the Demon Realm training camp fell into their hands.”

Galahad's lips curled into a broad, untroubled smile.

“Winning people over is my specialty.”

His voice brimmed with confidence.

Watching him, Mark gathered his thoughts. Quite apart from Galahad himself, the Seventh Battalion already possessed considerable fighting strength.

And besides...

'The Black Magic Society is effectively part of Galahad's forces too.'

Having finished his calculations, Mark nodded.

“Good.”

Galahad rose with a hearty smile.

“Where did you get that golden rod? It looks fine.”

At Mark's question, Galahad curled his lips upward.

“It was a gift.”

* * *

'All the orders have been sent, and First is out of the way... '

Galahad reviewed his progress, running his fingers over the golden rod.

He had never intended to travel around looking for Mages. The North was far too vast and desolate. Hunting them down one by one would be a waste.

Instead, he had used the Demon Realm. For a Mage, it was an offer impossible to refuse.

Especially under the present circumstances.

Of course, he did not expect every Mage hiding in the North to come. Still, this would clearly be more efficient than searching for them himself.

First, he would secure as many workers as possible. Then...

'I'll announce the legalization of the magic-stone business.'

Galahad nodded.

Simply making the North great was not enough. He needed to expand his own influence as well.

'Once I have the workers, my influence is bound to grow.'

There was much to prepare for that, however.

“The man who earned the Grand Duke's recognition!”

Passing soldiers saluted with fierce shouts. Galahad waved back. This was the North, where the cold seeped in even through a demon-beast-hide coat. Why on earth did they go about half-naked?

He clicked his tongue softly.

Striding briskly along, Galahad abruptly stopped.

Something felt oddly out of place. The sensation was so slight that anyone else would have ignored it, but he trusted his instincts.

Instinct was a warning from the unconscious mind.

Nothing was more foolish than failing to trust yourself.

Galahad tapped the ground with the golden rod and spread out his mana.

It detected nothing.

Yes, nothing at all.

'Interesting.'

That was strange.

If there was nothing there, why was his mana disappearing at that spot?

“Come out.”

Galahad pointed the golden rod at empty air.

There was no response. A cutting gust of cold wind teased his hair as though in reply.

“How tiresome.”

He pointed into the air and snapped his fingers.

Then the air rippled.

What suddenly appeared out of thin air was...

“Are you really the first human Mage's disciple?”

A fox mask.

'That spell is definitely from the fallen Mage Tower—'

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

At that moment, the Egg of agony began beating madly.

The emotion within it was not its usual excitement.

It was fear.