Chapter 532 - Junk Dealer (1)
It had not been long since the leader had been replaced, so confusion should have been expected, and yet, thanks to the ceaseless efforts of many, the Great Hall of Black Hour had regained at least a minimum of stability only a few weeks after the usurpation.
'By now, I've grown used to this place.'
Isabella walked along the corridor streaked with the bright blue light of magic-stone lamps.
A vast passageway, footsteps echoing aloud.
The feeling was entirely different from the time she had infiltrated the Great Hall through demonic power. The tension had long since vanished without a trace.
Having lived here continuously, she gradually felt at ease. It was more like staying at a villa than a home.
At that moment, two of Black Hour's Mages appeared approaching from the opposite side.
Familiar faces.
They were among those who had accepted Verden as the new leader and had actively cooperated in stabilizing the Great Hall.
"We greet Lady Isabella."
"…Oh, yes."
Isabella replied somewhat awkwardly to the exceedingly polite greeting.
Only after she had gone completely past them did the two Mages exhale tense breaths, straighten their bent backs, and continue on their way.
Once more alone, Isabella resumed walking forward, grimacing as she lightly rubbed her arm.
"Ugh, being treated like an executive still feels uncomfortable."
Even if she was a commoner from a fallen noble family of the old Magocracy, even if she was a Magus of the upper 6th tier and possessed weaponry crafted from dragon material, being regarded as a superior was nothing but awkward.
'Well, while working with the family head Adrian in the Ownerless Land, I did adapt somewhat to power…'
But the Mages affiliated with Black Hour were a completely different matter.
Most of their gazes toward Isabella carried a clear sense of fear—an instinctive dread.
The day of the usurpation.
Through magical linkage, Isabella had frozen and then outright shattered Adwan, a high-ranking executive of Black Hour, seizing the atmosphere in an instant.
In a conventional war, that alone would have been enough to break the enemy's morale, but it was far from sufficient to make the remnants submit.
The punishment Isabella declared… permanent damage to the mana circuits, was practically no different from having one's head cut off by the guillotine.
For if a Mage could not wield magic power, what worth remained in their existence?
Thus, those of Black Hour who had broken the rules, who had committed human experimentation or acts akin to it, resisted fiercely.
Bombardments of indiscriminately cast spells.
A sight that far surpassed the wars she had seen in the Ownerless Land, and yet, the victors were naturally Verden's faction allied with the Society.
Even if they were outnumbered, there were as many as seven Mages of the 6th tier. Among them, Isabella had shown extraordinary feats.
The strength with which she alone disposed of nearly half of over a hundred dead.
It had been possible because the Mado of Corrosion, already specialized in mass slaughter, had been further strengthened through [Elderron].
Thanks to that, the rest—who had been rolling their eyes nervously in the rear—eventually abandoned resistance and meekly allowed their mana circuits to be destroyed.
'Did I go too flashy?'
That thought crossed her mind for a moment, but soon she shook her head inwardly. To minimize allied casualties and to make the enemy lose their will to fight, it had been the best choice.
Had she handled things more gently, she might have ended up having to face nearly forty percent of Black Hour head-on.
What always mattered was 'us'.
Turning a corner, Isabella reached her destination… the place she had chosen as a meeting point. There, stood a man whose stern face was half covered with burn scars.
"Have you been waiting long?"
"I just arrived, Isabella."
It was Alderneys, once one of Black Hour's high executives, who had also served for quite some time as a professor of alchemy at the Academy.
"It's been a while since we've seen each other properly, as we've both been busy. So, what business made you call me here?"
"There's something special I'd like to ask of you."
"A request…?"
"Yes. For a very important research, and no matter how I think of it, there's no one more suitable than you, professor. Let's talk while we go down."
Isabella activated the secondary control authority of the Great Hall. The massive elevator before them rumbled into motion, its entrance opening.
Thud.
The professor and the student boarded the elevator and descended into the deep layers of the Great Hall.
"How is the task you were entrusted with?"
"The cleanup is done, but saying the future progress is smooth would be questionable."
Alderneys was in charge of dealing with the Mages who had lost their mana circuits. They were to remain in Black Hour and devote themselves to magical research.
Yet, apart from the former high executive Olnord, who had been the first to surrender his mana circuits voluntarily, the others were nothing but sunk in despair.
Having lost their circuits overnight, it was only natural.
Merely surviving was not enough to overcome such an ordeal. The heavier their past sins, the more unbearable it was.
"Still, things will gradually improve, without a doubt."
The voice of Alderneys, speaking thus, was truly hopeful. And indeed, so it was with all the former members of Black Hour.
"That's a relief."
Isabella smiled and nodded toward one of the few precious bonds she had in her life.
Then she broached the main topic.
"Professor, have you ever heard of something called the Fruit of Lysandro?"
"The Fruit of Lysandro… No, I've never heard the name. What is it?"
"When we visited the Great Forest, Verden received it as a reward from the Elven Administrator. It can be considered a kind of natural potion, but its recovery mechanism is highly unusual. A certain eccentric alchemist from the Eastern Continent even said, in theory, it could revive the dead."
The Great Forest, the Administrator, a recovery that could resurrect the dead.
Unable to ignore such crucial keywords, Alderneys whipped his head around. The student gazed at the teacher.
"About sixty-five percent of the fruit remains. We tried to save it as much as possible, but there have been many occasions where it absolutely had to be used. Now, I plan to reserve twenty percent for emergencies, and invest the remaining forty-five percent into long-term research."
"..."
"But it's so full of mysteries that alone I can't achieve much more than I already have, at least not without it taking a long time. Or I may simply fail."
Isabella made her request.
"So please, help me, Professor Illite."
The pseudonym Alderneys had used at the Academy echoed in her ears.
At first, he had become a professor to disguise his identity, but no longer. He truly understood what kind of occupation it was.
To teach others, to ponder over a problem together and finally solve it—that was supremely rewarding.
Surely Harkan Dazest, who had taught alchemy to Alderneys, had felt the same.
Whoong.
The elevator stopped.
The door opened and the deep layers spread out.
"Let's begin at once."
Though he had left the Academy, Alderneys, still very much a professor, stepped outside first.
***
The Confederation of Iderat.
Not only humans and beastkin, but even elves and dwarves—every humankind coexisted in this multi-race nation of the Central Continent.
Considering that humans usually lived in cities, beastkin in tribes, elves in the Great Forest, and dwarves in volcanic zones, it could not be anything but a most unusual form of country.
In such a confederation's great city, "Mirediol", a Transcendent and a golem paid a visit.
Alpha, using
Step, step.
The glow of sunset filled the air. The moment they entered the main avenue, the bustling atmosphere welcomed them. On the paved street of polished stone, not a speck of dust stirred.
[Curious.]
With the memory golem embedded within him activated, Alpha looked around. Scenes unfolded of many races harmoniously mixing.
It was a landscape unfamiliar to Verden as well, so he too paid close attention.
And in doing so, he recalled a conversation he had had with Legrit after the Ark's exchange battle.
───Hmm, "skull, rib, femur, he who gathers the three golden bones shall open the path of gold", was written on them, you say? Just from the grandiose inscription alone, it reeks of an ancient relic.
───Have you ever seen anything like it?
───No, but there is a merchant who specializes in such relics. In the Central Continent, there's one called the "Junk Dealer", a despicable swindler who cheats people, buys relics dirt cheap, and then sells them at outrageous prices.
The first piece of information, the existence of the Junk Dealer.
───Until a few years ago, he wandered without settling, but I once heard he finally took up residence in the Confederation of Iderat. Personally.
The second piece of information, the Junk Dealer's location.
───If you want to find him, it shouldn't be hard. He's a rather flamboyant fellow. Ask around a little in the confederation, and you'll surely hear of him. Well, has that helped?
The third piece of information, part of the Junk Dealer's personality.
'Moreover, having met Serlo Broden earlier, I confirmed that the Junk Dealer is indeed in Mirediol of the confederation.'
Broker knowledge like this was undeniably convenient. Especially when searching for a specific figure with some name value.
Truly, he was a talent.
Anyway.
'All I need do is find out exactly where in this city the Junk Dealer has set up shop.'
A simple enough matter.
If he began asking around in likely places, he would quickly find him.
It was while he was preparing to stroll about leisurely, as though sightseeing, that it happened.
[Your Majesty Verden, many people ahead.]
"Indeed."
Just as Alpha whispered, a considerable crowd came walking toward them in groups. There was hardly room for even one person to pass through.
Turning into a side alley, Verden heightened his senses.
"Man, wasn't today's match incredible? A beastkin and a dwarf clashing, pounding away at each other, my body was trembling, it was like…"
"No, no, that guy was the real deal! Those triangular metal shards flying all over, blocking every attack. Wasn't that an artifact? And I hear that man's a dragonslayer."
"Huh…? Really? I thought the ones who slew the bone dragon were the Saint of the Eastern Continent, the Nameless Swordsman, the Blood-soaked Sword, the heir of Dark Warton Tower, and the Archbishop of the Luas faith."
"I heard this participant fought alongside them at the Republic of Beldirn. It just didn't make it into the papers."
"Sounds like nonsense… Well, whatever, with the level of participants chosen in the preliminaries, it looks amazing anyway. Next year's 'Confederation Tournament' is going to be worth looking forward to."
The same words repeated again and again.
While Verden quickly understood what was happening, Alpha only blinked his single eye-light.
[Confederation Tournament?]
"It's a tournament the Confederation of Iderat holds every three years. One year for preliminaries, one year for finals, the remaining year as rest. The scale and schedule change each time, but it seems this is the period."
Back in the tower days, Verden had only known of it as common knowledge, never the details. He simply hadn't been interested.
And even now, it was the same.
The thing that drew his attention was not the tournament itself, but… the participants.
'Flying triangular metal shards, the Republic of Beldirn, and a dragonslayer.'
He had a good idea who it was.
With the Demon King's method of mana control, Verden subtly spread his mana. It washed over the entire Mirediol, crossing streets and walls.
Among countless presences, a familiar one was sensed.
Found him.
***
A cheerful tavern filled with music.
In the dim light, a man sat on a sofa, women on either side of him, chatting with great delight.
From their appearance, all had long since succumbed to drink and atmosphere.
The beastkin woman close to human, and the precious young lady, though meeting him for the first time tonight, had already fallen past interest into love.
It was a passion that would scatter like dust the next day, but that was why it was fiery.
For desire honestly expressed could never be a crime. Ah, naturally, within legal bounds.
"Hey… aren't you getting tired?"
The woman cast the first lure.
But the man did not succumb immediately. He wished to savor the envy, the jealousy radiating from those around them.
"Well, it's night already… Hm, then how about one more drink before we go? Hey! Bring a bottle for everyone here. Not just every table, but every person!"
"Y-yes!"
With a snap of his fingers, the bartender rushed off carrying armfuls of bottles. The customers cheered, unable to hide their envy.
That was the fate of a man blessed with looks, wealth, and strength alike.
It was then.
"May I have a drink too?"
Someone approached the man and asked. Still embracing the women tightly while tipping back his cup, the man nodded without hesitation and lifted his gaze.
"Of course…"
And there he met azure eyes gleaming from beneath a black robe's hood.
An unforgettable color.
"Pfffooooooohhh!!!"
The man—Lone Wolf, Romer.
Back in the Southern Pits of the Republic of Beldirn, he had once been beaten to a pulp by Verden, even robbed of his artifact. And now, he spewed his drink.