<Chapter 9>

Laren’s complaint was punctuated by ragged breaths bursting from his lips. Dealing with the mercenaries appearing at every turn in the corridor had accelerated his mana consumption drastically. The only silver lining was that most of the mercenaries had fled thanks to the magical barrage Laren had unleashed.

The fabric wrapped around him had left his back drenched in sweat. Naias, who had been summoning an undine, asked with concern as she noticed Ren’s breathing growing labored.

“Ren, are you okay?”

“Yeah… Naias! Get down!”

‘Too late!’

As Naias turned, a mercenary wielding a spear was charging at her from behind. Gasping in alarm, Laren hurriedly gathered mana in his hand.

“Aaaah!”

“Kyaa!”

Splat. The mercenary, deeply slashed across the back in an instant, tumbled across the corridor. Naias clamped her mouth shut at the sight of blood spraying behind him. Laren, not yet grasping the situation fully, widened his eyes in surprise. I haven’t attacked yet?

“Wh-what…?”

Behind the collapsing mercenary, Kar landed lightly on the ground. Glancing at Laren’s dazed face, Kar shook the blood from his sword without any change in expression. To wield a short sword longer than his body with such ease—and it even gleamed with a red sword aura.

The image of the expressionless child holding a bloodied dagger formed a truly bizarre harmony. Kar passed the stunned Laren and pushed forward to the lead.

“H-hey, Kar. Let’s go together!”

As Kar ahead swung his sword horizontally, a mercenary slashed at the waist slumped against the wall. Laren’s pupils dilated at the follow-up strike that severed the legs of the one behind. His gaze was stolen by the sword draw too swift to track with the eye, but Laren gathered his mana once more.

‘I did suspect he’d learned swordsmanship, but…’

“Fire Arrow!”

With Laren firing spells at distant mercenaries and Kar cutting down those at close range, their pace through the corridor quickened. Fighting alongside a child who barely reached his solar plexus felt extraordinarily strange.

What kind of life had he lived to make a child slice through people without hesitation? As Laren stared at Kar’s small back of the head, questions swirled in his blue eyes.

“Lord Ren, over there!”

A subtle light was leaking into the right corridor that Her Helian pointed out. Turning direction and sprinting down it, a massive door blocked their path.

The heavy door, seemingly made of bronze, wasn’t something brute force could handle. As Kar facing the door readjusted his grip on his sword, Laren stepped forward.

“Stand back.”

Laren had the others retreat to avoid getting caught in the magic. Sensing the flow of mana being channeled, Kar also took a step back.

“Fire Missile!”

A stream of flames slammed into the door, producing a tremendous roar. As the smoke cleared from their obscured vision, half the door had melted away.

“Wait, Kar. Let’s go together!”

Laren quickly followed Kar, who darted through the gap first. How could someone with legs half his length be so fast? Emerging from the door, the cold night air enveloped them.

“What? This is in the middle of the city?”

The slave trading post, which he’d assumed was in a remote area, was unexpectedly situated right in the heart of the city. Passersby eyed the group that had suddenly burst through the shattered door with suspicion as they walked by.

‘Tsk.’

Laren clucked his tongue as he scanned a passerby in pristine attire. This exceeded expectations by a mile. For a slave trading operation to run in the middle of a street like this went beyond mere audacity on the merchant’s part. It was clear he had a reliable backer.

‘To carry this out so brazenly, it must be a noble around the level of this territory’s lord.’

Laren stroked his fist with a smoldering gaze. At any rate, it was fortunate it wasn’t in the middle of a forest or far from the city. Amid his relief, he turned his head at the gaze he felt upon him.

‘Hm?’

The source of the stare was Kar. Compared to Laren’s panting breaths, Kar’s breathing remained utterly steady. How had a child of such skill ended up captured by slave traders? Pushing the question aside, Laren approached and knelt down.

“Kar, are you some kind of genius? Like a swordsmanship prodigy or something?”

Even after witnessing the swordplay, Laren cooed coaxingly, prompting Kar to let out a light sigh. Kar’s hand tapped the top of Laren’s bent head a couple of times before withdrawing. As the small hand passed over his head, waves of emotion surged in Laren’s blue eyes.

“Could this be praise?”

“…Since we’re out, just go eat.”

“Of course—I’m planning to stuff myself.”

“Pig.”

The somewhat low voice pricked Laren’s ears. Our Kar doesn’t even praise nicely. As Laren flapped in protest, Kar took a step back. One step, then another. Kar was gradually moving farther away.

“Kar, where are you going?”

Taking yet another step back, Kar met Laren’s eyes without answering. Kar’s black hair rustling in his ears and the cold night air suited him terribly well for a child—so much so that it was almost cruel.

“Huh? Kar!”

Kar turned and dashed into the crowd. How could a kid’s legs be that fast? Not even getting a proper goodbye left Laren’s expression deeply crestfallen.

They probably wouldn’t meet again now. Those plump cheeks and navy eyes seemed destined to linger in his mind. As Laren smacked his lips in disappointment, Naias tugged at the hem of his fabric.

“Did Kar leave?”

“Uh, yeah… Wait? Kar?”

“He saved me earlier.”

Naias pursed her lips regretfully as she stared at Kar’s retreating figure. He must have faithfully carried out the request to look after Naias, as she’d upgraded him from “human male” to “Kar.” Good job, our Kar.

“Um… where are we?”

How long had he been watching the direction Kar vanished in when the curly-haired woman approached and asked. Of course, he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know himself. Laren grabbed a passerby who was glancing curiously.

“Where are we?”

“Gasp! T-Teperon.”

Teperon was a small city adjacent to Reditern. For something like this to happen in a somewhat well-known urban area—Laren sank into thought, and in that moment, the passerby shook off his hand and fled. Meanwhile, Her Helian sidled up and gently tugged at the end of his fabric.

“Um… Lord Ren.”

“Yes?”

“If it’s Teperon, my uncle resides here. How about… we go to him first?”

“…!”

Laren nearly committed the rudeness of impulsively grabbing Her Helian’s hand once more. He was already fretting over what to do with such a large group, and a sigh of relief escaped through the folds of his fabric.

* * *

In the predawn hours at the Tatio Ducal Estate, where all life slumbered in profound silence, a faint light flickered only in Ensiss Tatio’s study.

“Hoo…”

Ensiss took a sip of his strongly brewed coffee and lightly massaged the muscles around his neck. He was currently preemptively handling three months’ worth of work for the Tatio Ducal House.

He had interrogated Khan at the Mercantia Ducal Estate and finally extracted the truth. Ensiss, who spared no means or methods to achieve his goals, had threatened that if Khan didn’t confess, he’d kiss him—and Khan, horrified, had thrown up his hands in surrender.

Laren, who had been frequenting the grand library, had gasped upon reading an article about the Reditern Municipal Academy and run away from home the very next day. The full circumstances were unknown, but it was an undeniable fact that he’d headed for Reditern—no need for speculation there.

‘This is going to be fun.’

As Ensiss rolled his pen with a smirk curling his lips, his aide, who had been observing him openly, secretly furrowed his brow. What’s he planning this time, burying himself in work like a madman? Noticing the aide’s disgruntled expression, Ensiss chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

“Chepello, what’s with that face?”

“Well, it’s just suspiciously out of character. Until recently, you despised paperwork, didn’t you?”

“Hmm, what about Idein?”

At the blatant deflection, Chepello’s expression twisted even further. What good did trembling his ponytail do? Resigned, Chepello hung his head low.

“Idein Tatio is currently confined in the Marun Kingdom. He caused a minor commotion at a noble social gathering there, and the duke has issued a temporary entry ban against him.”

“Father did?”

“It wasn’t exactly a ‘minor’ commotion, you see.”

Ensiss’s smile deepened at Chepello’s shrug. So his troublesome younger brother, ever the meddler, was locked away in another country. As Ensiss even began humming a tune, Chepello’s eyes narrowed further.

Without erasing his smile, Ensiss waved his hand dismissively. It was a clear signal to leave. In the end, Chepello trudged out of the study without uncovering his lord’s true intentions. Click—the moment the door closed, Ensiss wiped the amusement from his face and propped his chin on his hand.

“…I can’t miss this.”

He roughly swept back his bangs, causing his curly golden hair to spring up before settling over his forehead. He gripped the pen once more. He had always demonstrated flawless efficiency in his duties, but since taking on the Tatio Ducal House’s affairs, he had been exerting his utmost concentration.

“Laren…”

The hand holding the pen trembled faintly. Ensiss rubbed his face dryly, steeling his resolve to accelerate through the work.

“I can’t miss the scene of Laren causing a spectacle.”

Laren’s very antics were among the most entertaining things in Ensiss’s life. No troupe of performers could display feats more amusing than this. Could Laren have been born solely to make him laugh?

Moreover, this time the stage wasn’t confined to Mercantia but the grand arena of the Reditern Municipal Academy. That alone sent his expectations skyrocketing. The light in Ensiss’s study burned unwaveringly through the dawn.

To witness Laren’s eccentricities in real time, he had to clear the paperwork in advance. For the sake of that rare downpour of refreshment in a life parched by duties and interpersonal entanglements.

* * *

Immediately after parting from the group, Kar returned to the auction hall and was left speechless by the unfolding spectacle. Finding an undamaged spot was a challenge, and the fact that the building itself hadn’t collapsed was nothing short of miraculous. What’s more, in one corner of the stage lay what appeared to be a monster, charred black and sprawled out.

‘A troll…?’

Approaching for a closer look, the fallen creature seemed to be a troll—a beast one might expect in the depths of a forest. The presence of such a massive troll in a slave trading building was astonishing enough, but the shock of whoever had reduced it to this state was even greater.

‘He fought this thing?’

Kar had assumed the boy’s ragged breathing stemmed from severe mana depletion, but a troll changed everything. While orcs or boltas might be manageable, a troll was no monster a first- or second-circle mage could handle alone. As Kar examined the troll, a black-clad figure masked in shadows appeared at his side.

“My lord.”

“The backer behind the slave traders?”

“We’ve captured him alive.”

“…And this troll?”

“My apologies; we were occupied with pursuing the backer.”

The masked figure had also been considerably startled upon returning to the auction hall. The last sight had been the white-haired boy summoning Fire Arrows, after which they’d left to track the masked backer. Upon return, the hall was in ruins, and the troll’s corpse, absent before, now occupied the center of the stage.

“Hiiik! Spare me!”

“Release them!”

Amid the commotion, the merchant and the emcee were dragged in by the masked figures. Hauled before Kar and flung to the ground, the merchant looked up at the figure before him.

“Who the hell are you? You think you can touch me and get away with it?!”

“Watch your tongue.”

“Keeek!”

One of the masked men roughly kicked the merchant in the abdomen. As the merchant collapsed, coughing futilely, the emcee, trembling, crawled over on all fours and clutched at Kar’s leg.

“Spare me! I’ll do anything!”

The emcee’s pleading face was smeared with tears. Having witnessed the guards’ necks severed in a single stroke, he had long since lost his sanity.

“Who?”

“Wh-what?”

Failing to grasp the question’s intent, the emcee lifted his gaze. The navy eyes he met indifferently were chillingly subdued. A warning of danger blared in his mind. Fear surged, overwhelming even his instinct for survival.