Chapter 105: Ah, Right…

Gaderok fiddled with the Eye of Black Flame hanging from his ear.

Unlike usual, it wasn’t to send a signal or warning to someone.

What the hell is this!? What the hell is going on!?

He was barely resisting the urge to rip the earring off his ear.

The golden bracelet that converted its wearer’s life force into mana, the “Golden Vein” that Gaderok had acquired by sacrificing a huge portion of his life, was his ultimate secret weapon, his last resort.

Having used the Golden Vein, he had no choice but to succeed.

To expand and preserve his power.

And that goal had been just within reach.

He could feel the crowd falling back into fear and submission, just as he intended.

But then the damned earring ruined everything.

And it wasn’t the first time.

Looking back, it had been happening from the very beginning.

When the black fire that burned Brimport suddenly went out.

When Dajon’s escort was set ablaze without warning.

Whenever things were going smoothly, something unexpected would happen and throw everything into chaos.

Always pushing the situation in that bastard’s favor.

And now, it had reached its peak.

“Shit, what do we do…? Should we help Gaderok—”

“Help Gaderok!? Are you out of your fucking mind!? Didn’t you hear that devil’s voice just now!? Gaderok is a black mage! If we stay under him, we’ll end up devil fodder!”

“M-Maybe he’s been controlling us with black magic this whole time!”

These were the whispers among Gaderok’s own men.

Their fear of him no longer bred reverence or loyalty.

It was pure terror.

They could understand a criminal who pursued wealth and power as tangible goals.

But a black mage who served devils?

That was beyond comprehension.

Gaderok could feel it clearly.

It was over.

No matter how this incident ended, his power base would collapse completely.

The old Gaderok would have lost his mind in rage at this realization.

But the Gaderok of now was different.

“Listen!!!”

For he was already so consumed by rage that reason had left him entirely.

Only one thought remained in his mind.

To kill that bastard who had brought things to this point.

Thus, Gaderok now welcomed the fact that the room saw him as a black mage.

As long as they believed that, they would choose to avoid him rather than confront him.

“My goal right now is just one thing!!! To kill that deputy councilor! By my magic, I swear it! I’ll gladly wager my life, my very soul, and I will kill him!!! Even if I fail in life, I’ll accomplish it as a wraith! Anyone unrelated, get the hell out of my sight!!!”

Gaderok screamed with bloodshot eyes, his voice overflowing with malice.

He unleashed his power at full force, charged with killing intent and destructive mana.

It was a volatile, unstable force, a product of temporary power.

Clatter clatter

Unrefined energy shook the entire hall.

Tables rattled, windows trembled.

A display more than sufficient to evoke fear of a black mage.

“H-Hah…!”

“D-Demon!!!”

The criminals—mere thugs with no real power—were terrified.

They didn’t even look back as they fled in panic.

Out of the dozens of Gaderok and Dajon’s men, only five remained.

“…”

They, too, showed clear discomfort as they slowly backed away.

“A wise choice, you vermin!”

Icy flames burst upward, freezing the round table around which the rulers had sat.

Gaderok laughed maniacally and slammed the frozen table.

It shattered, sending shards flying.

“Step back!”

“It’s dangerous!”

The guards standing behind the rulers rushed in to protect them.

“Lord Risir!”

Likewise, Dogal had stepped forward but froze awkwardly in place.

Because the ice shards hadn’t touched him.

The meaning behind Gaderok’s action was clear.

Everyone except Risir should back off.

“Lord Saint, over here…!”

“Please retreat for now!”

“Lord Brimport!”

The guards hurriedly led the rulers away.

They escaped the hall into the corridor.

Thus, in the now vast and empty hall, only Gaderok and Risir remained.

Rok, the bodyguard of the merchant guild “Golden Barley.”

He was currently guarding the Saint, who had joined the back-alley meeting at the earnest request of the guild young lady, Caria.

“Let’s go.”

He urged the Saint in a low, urgent voice.

“He means it. A black mage ready to die? Nothing good will come from getting involved. For now, retreating is the smartest move.”

Everyone nearby agreed with Rok’s statement.

The rulers, their guards.

Even the subordinates of Gaderok and Dajon.

“…No.”

But the Saint shook his head.

From beneath his steel mask came the unique, androgynous, mystical voice.

“I will stay and help him.”

He then looked toward the Master standing next to him.

And she, too, nodded.

“I’ll stay and help him as well.”

“No—”

Rok clutched his forehead.

He was a bodyguard of Golden Barley, nothing more.

If the Saint got himself killed tangled up with a black mage, it would be none of his concern.

But what about Lady Caria, who was head-over-heels for this man?

She’d probably try to kill me… or hang herself if that failed…!

The thought of the young lady’s state made him shudder in frustration.

Then the Master spoke.

“If we abandon the deputy councilor and run, that’ll bring trouble of its own.”

“And you want to fight that black mage!?”

“Yes. If we all work together, I believe we can do it.”

“Sure! It’s possible, but—”

Rok glanced toward the hall.

There, Gaderok and the deputy councilor were locked in a tense standoff.

Gaderok, wary of the councilor’s hidden power and the people who hadn’t yet left the scene, remained still.

But the aura radiating from him, his pressure, his mana…

Rok was certain.

“Did you hear what he said earlier? That bastard’s lost it! If he charges, the deputy councilor’s going to die for sure! He could take a few of us with him easily!”

“…”

“…”

The Saint and the Master—

No, Rona and Fienne, showed hesitation behind their masks.

Because they already knew.

That Gaderok wasn’t truly a black mage.

If he were, he would’ve lost all his power the moment he clashed with Risir.

That’s where their dilemma began.

A 7th-tier mage…

They had some understanding of the nature of Risir’s power.

That strange power worked absolutely against corrupt, evil forces.

But against pure power?

The Risir facing Gaderok was just a pure, ordinary mage.

They recalled their last encounter with him, back then, he had been a 5th-tier mage.

Of course.

Given how absurd he was, it wouldn’t be shocking if he’d reached the 6th tier in that short time.

Still, it was far from enough to deal with this situation.

Which is precisely why…

They both thought.

That while Risir had been in the Mage Tower, they’d gained countless experiences outside.

Harsh, extraordinary experiences that couldn’t compare to life in the Tower.

From those, they had grown in ways Risir couldn’t imagine.

I have to protect him.

Their eyes burned with resolve.

And so their internal conflict deepened.

Rok wasn’t wrong.

If everyone worked together, they could probably bring down Gaderok.

But it would almost certainly cost lives.

Could Risir—barely scratching into 6th-tier at best—survive the onslaught of a 7th-tier mage bent on death?

Please…!

The two spun through possibilities in their minds.

Now, while Gaderok was still wary of Risir’s unknown power, this was their last chance to save him.

If they missed it…

“…!”

Then, Rona and Fienne both gasped.

So did Rok and the others.

Risir.

He had made the first move against Gaderok.

He formed a mana projectile and fired it.

Exquisitely controlled, but it dispersed instantly with a casual flick of Gaderok’s hand.

The difference in power was stark.

Seeing that, Rok sighed internally.

Dammit. Attacking first like that… was he just some clueless rookie mage?

Two things became more certain to Rok.

They had to avoid fighting Gaderok at all costs.

He’s even more of a monster than I thought—

When Gaderok deflected the attack, a mana barrier formed around him.

Rok could sense how solid that barrier was.

Is he still wary of the deputy councilor’s hidden power…?

Though driven by madness and a readiness to die, Gaderok still held onto enough reason to stay sharp.

As a veteran guard, Rok couldn’t find even a sliver of opening.

Then.

The hall erupted once more.

Risir, undeterred, attacked again.

In the exact same way as before.

We’re screwed…

Rok sighed, glancing at the Saint.

No matter how you looked at it, there was no way the deputy councilor was getting out of here alive.

He began looking for a way to escape.

—What are you doing!?

Clana, observing the situation from Risir’s inner world, screamed in alarm at his actions.

—That bastard has, however unstable, crossed the threshold of the 7th tier! You’re not in a state to face him head-on! You have to escape somehow, now!

Risir subtly nodded at Clana’s words in his mind.

He could feel Gaderok’s presence and power pressing directly against his skin.

And the person who most keenly understood that Gaderok couldn’t be defeated through conventional means… was Risir himself.

Then why…

Why was he acting against that very reason, even though his rational mind fully understood the situation?

I can do it.

It was because of an instinctive cry.

Look at his condition.

Gaderok was wary, guarded against Risir’s hidden power.

He was also keeping an eye on those still lingering in the hallway, who hadn’t fully withdrawn.

From the outside, his wariness seemed impenetrable, he looked like a fortress with no openings.

But that wasn’t how Risir saw it.

That’s not solid. That’s sloppy. He’s distracted, failing to focus on what really matters.

Risir felt the weight of the blue lotus at his waist.

He firmly believes I’m a mage. Just once… I only need one opening. He’ll be completely unguarded against a swordsman’s strike.

His gaze swept across the mana barrier wrapped around Gaderok’s body.

With my magic, I’ll never pierce that.

Having sparred countless times with Meltas, Risir knew well the difficulty of penetrating a mage’s mana barrier.

Even mages of equal tier found it extremely difficult to destroy such barriers in a single blow.

And him?

Barely at the late 6th tier trying to pierce through 7th-tier mage’s barrier?

In a single strike?

Impossible.

His reason cried out.

Totally possible.

But instinct, as always, claimed the opposite.

Instinct and intuition joined hands, pulling Risir forward, commanding his next move.

In that moment, everything Risir had ever experienced surged to the forefront.

Experiences that had nothing to do with magic.

Swinging a sword until his body gave out on the training fields of the Bendel family.

Catching an apprentice knight off guard during a duel and striking the opening.

Following the path of the Murderous Fiend, learning from her ruthless teachings.

It was a strange feeling.

Risir felt as if a command input had appeared in his mind, he knew exactly what to do, even if he’d never done it before.

He crouched low.

Just like when he’d fired a mana bullet earlier.

“Again with that!!! Hah! Still trying to hide your true power, are you!? Fine, let’s see it then! Just how great is this mysterious power of yours that you keep so tightly under wraps?! Let’s see if that black flame can save you again!!!”

Risir didn’t interrupt Gaderok’s rant.

He drew out Gaderok’s tension and battle-readiness as far as possible.

Specifically, his wariness toward magic.

Risir could see it clearly.

The opening in Gaderok’s guard.

It was wide open now.

The depth of his breath.

The blink of his eyes.

It was a fleeting moment that could shift with the slightest change.

Risir didn’t miss it.

His crouched body launched forward.

Just like when he had fired the mana bullet with a sweeping arm motion.

“Hah!”

That’s what Gaderok saw—a familiar motion.

The deputy councilor firing another mana bullet.

That cunning movement had thoroughly deceived him.

Risir’s body mimicked the Murderous Fiend’s deadly movements.

He was no longer in the spot Gaderok had focused on.

Gliding forward, led by his forward foot—

In his hand now was a drawn blade—the Blue Lotus.

It had already been swung.

There was no long window for deception.

In such a brief span of time, you couldn’t cover much distance.

But the Murderous Fiend had found a way to overcome that constraint, defying logic with unreason.

What bridged the final few inches was a manifestation of shaped energy.

The blade in Risir’s hand had subtly extended.

Sharply refined energy, a sword force.

A technique usable only to Sword Masters who had stepped into the realm of the superhuman.

“Kh—!”

Gaderok clutched his throat.

If he had noticed the strike in time and focused his mana barrier on that area, the first and last blow may have failed.

But a mage’s awareness couldn’t keep up with that movement, one that had even fooled Sword Masters.

Gaderok’s neck split open.

Blood and breath spilled through the crack.

The Murderous Fiend’s signature blow, turning her target into helpless prey.

For just for a moment, Risir’s strike brushed the domain of a Sword Master.

“Now’s your chance!!! I’m going down, take care of the rest!!!”

Having poured everything into the blow, Risir coughed blood and collapsed.

“…”

Even with Risir’s desperate cry, those in the hallway couldn’t act right away.

They were stunned, frozen, merely watching the spectacle.

Thankfully, that moment of delay did not result in tragedy.

“Ggh…!”

Risir’s strike had been deeper than even he expected.

Gaderok, clutching his neck, collapsed.

And finally.

The Saint and the Master looked at Risir and muttered as if remembering something important.

“…Ah, right…”

The back-alleys had fallen.

And with it, word of one man’s exploits slowly began spreading across the entirety of Bondalles.