Upon seeing Damon approach the horse assigned to him, Kasim gave the order to depart without delay. He had no wish to linger for even a moment longer in this sickening cave.
But Damon was different. Gazing at the cave where he had spent nearly five years with obvious reluctance to part with it, he grasped the reins.
“Hiyah.”
And so, having gained new—albeit troublesome—companions, Damon finally began his journey to Crosen, not knowing what hardships awaited him.
“I am Baron Romaine. But what brings you to me?”
In the eyes of the one watching the middle-aged man, who looked up with a puzzled expression, there was a light of pure delight.
“Found you at last.”
“W-what do you mean?”
Paying no heed whatsoever to the other’s reaction, the one whose face was filled with a smile was a young man. His pale skin was striking, and the combination of his deep black hair and obsidian-like dark eyes exuded an incomparably bewitching aura. In a word, he was an otherworldly beauty, with a visage so ethereal that a ghostly aura seemed to linger about him.
If one were to find a flaw, it was the infinitely cold air that settled upon his face. But that in no way diminished his charm. The most peculiar aspect of the young man’s appearance was his eyes.
Not a trace of the emotions of the five desires and seven emotions, which any human ought to possess, could be seen in his gaze.
The young man’s true identity was none other than the Black Dragon, Russelent. A dragon dispatched with the mission to eliminate Damon and recover Incresia. He had finally revealed himself in Arcadia.
The place he occupied was an extravagantly decorated room, and the one sitting before him was none other than Baron Romaine—or to be precise, the appearance of Zengart afflicted by a curse.
Russelent had finally grasped a single thread, a clue to catch Damon, after countless hardships.
Russelent’s gaze was fixed upon Zengart’s finger.
“No doubt about it. That ring is unmistakably mine. The one I had stored securely inside Incresia… Then the one who cast a curse on that fellow must indeed be the one I’ve been searching for.”
An antique, brilliantly lustrous ring adorned Zengart’s finger. Zengart flinched and quickly curled his fingers into a fist, but Russelent knew the identity of the ring better than anyone. The ring, adorned with a large sapphire, was truly beautiful. The craftsmanship surrounding the sapphire was so exceedingly intricate that one could tell at a glance it was the work of dwarves.
A treasure whose value could not be reckoned rashly.
Originally, the ring was something Damon had handed over to be disposed of. However, Zengart had taken a liking to it at first sight and kept it instead of selling it. Of course, he had paid the corresponding sum from Baron Romaine’s personal coffers. But now, of all things, it had caught the original owner’s eye.
The ring was, by coincidence, Russelent’s. Dragons possessed no concept of forgetfulness, so there was no way Russelent could fail to recognize a treasure that had once passed through his hands. Moreover, he had cherished it so dearly that he had stored it specially inside Incresia to prevent theft, making it all the more impossible for him not to recognize it. Thus, Russelent became convinced that he had taken a step closer to his target.
“You wretch. You won’t escape now.”
Russelent’s experienced cunning had played a major role in his pursuit of Damon. In truth, there was no doubt that finding one human in Arcadia, a place teeming with people, was an extremely difficult task. No matter what detection magic one used, it was useless if the opponent concealed their presence. Russelent had been tasked with a mission comparable to finding a needle in a desert. But he did not consider the mission so difficult.
“Most humans display common behavioral patterns. Therefore, if I backtrack the actions that wretch is likely to take, I will surely catch his tail.”
Russelent had flown across the ocean separating the two continents in his dragon form, showing due thoroughness by instantly sinking two whaling ships that had spotted him.
Having finally set foot upon the new continent of Arcadia, Russelent made for the Thieves’ Guild first and foremost, seeking to pick up Damon’s trail.
The Thieves’ Guild. A collective of night runners belonging to the underworld, so widely distributed that they existed wherever people lived. They were rooted throughout the world, and by the nature of their trade, an enormous amount of information was bought and sold. Having traveled extensively in the human world, Russelent was well aware of this fact. Thus, he did not hesitate to seek out the headquarters of the Thieves’ Guild.
The guild’s base was hidden deep within the darkness, but it was not difficult to find. After roughly “educating” a few humans who appeared to be guild members, the thieves revealed themselves of their own accord. Of course, they had appeared with revenge in mind, but they had never dreamed it would be the very thing to shorten their lifespans.
Russelent was able to extract the location of their base by appropriately “kneading” the thieves who had come to greet him. No matter how tight-lipped one might be, it did not work on Russelent. He was, after all, a 10th-circle master—perhaps not the equal of Verkis, but without a doubt an adept of mental magic that manipulated the human mind. Having found his destination, Russelent immediately made his way to the guild’s base. Naturally, guild members with murderous intent shone their daggers and rushed at him upon sight, but a single high-tier spell from Russelent turned most of them to ash.
“W-what do you want?”
Russelent stared into the ashen face of the guild master and handed him a sheet of paper. Drawn on it was the face Damon wore in disguise—to be precise, the face of Alcaris, Crown Prince of the Crosen Empire.
“Have you seen this man?”
Of course, the guild master could only shake his head. Even if Alcaris was the Crown Prince of Arcadia’s strongest empire, there was no way a guild master in such a remote region would recognize his face. Moreover, Alcaris possessed an intellectual disability. For that reason, the Crosen Empire had desperately kept it a secret, and Alcaris was thoroughly veiled from public knowledge.
“Is that so?”
Upon hearing the guild master’s answer, Russelent waved his hand without hesitation.
BOOM.
The Thieves’ Guild base burst into flames in an instant, consuming every last survivor, including the guild master. Russelent could not afford to let any human who had seen his face live. Though there was the option of erasing their memories, Russelent saw no need to go to such trouble.
After devastating several Thieves’ Guild bases in this manner, Russelent was finally able to find someone who had seen the face on the paper. The guild master of the trading city of Lorvein remembered Damon’s face.
“Ah, I know him. This man came here to sell jewels several years ago.”
Having witnessed the majority of his guild members slaughtered before his eyes, the guild master trembled uncontrollably and spilled everything he knew. A man with the same appearance as the drawing had come to sell jewels long ago, only to fall into Baron Romaine’s clutches and be sold as a catamite. Of course, the one who had entered and the one who had been sold were distinctly different beings, but the guild master had no way of knowing that. Even this information had been obtained with great difficulty because Antony, the manager of Baron Romaine’s jewelry shop, had been a member of the Lorvein Thieves’ Guild. But despite giving the desired answer, the guild master could not keep his life.
“I see. My thanks.”
With a cold voice, the Lorvein Thieves’ Guild base also went up in flames without exception, along with the unfortunate guild master’s life.
Having obtained crucial information, Russelent immediately sought out Baron Romaine to find out where the wretch had been sold. But the moment he laid eyes on the Baron, he discerned that the man was afflicted with a considerably high-level curse.
Russelent instinctively realized that the one who had been sold was not the one he sought.
“Well, a 9th-circle master wouldn’t be caught so easily…”
Watching the young man mutter to himself while glancing furtively at him, Zengart’s mood soured immensely. The youth’s attire and appearance were beyond reproach, but his actions were no different from those of a madman. He had shown no interest in the question of why he had come, and Zengart could not help but feel his anger rise at being scrutinized so thoroughly while the man muttered to himself. In the end, Zengart pressed the bell on the table, with the intention of calling the guards to throw the insolent young man out.
Clack.
The door opened, and more than ten fully armed guards poured inside. They were the very guards who had arrested Damon. At Zengart’s signal, the guards approached Russelent as if they need not think any further, hurling fierce threats.
“If you don’t leave quietly, you’ll taste real pain.”
The moment those words ended, Russelent’s gaze turned to the soldiers. His eyes grew coldly detached; he seemed to harbor a firm killing intent. To let a human who had shown him disrespect go unpunished was something the prideful dragon could never tolerate.
“Hehehe. Wretched insects dare?”
Russelent slowly raised his hand. Mana surged and coalesced around his pallid fingers, so white that his veins were clearly visible. He drew a straight line through the air.
Swoosh.
That was the end of it. There were no screams. With a simple gesture, the soldiers’ bodies were instantly bisected. Blood spurted violently from their severed waists, and their upper halves fell limply to the floor. Their faces, frozen in death, still betrayed terror and astonishment, as if they could not believe what had happened. Zengart’s eyes widened until they felt ready to tear as he beheld the sight.
“Th-this can’t be…”
Zengart shot to his feet in shock, but before he could act, his body trembled violently as if struck by lightning. Russelent’s mental magic had already burrowed deep into his marrow. Watching Zengart’s eyes gradually grow hazy, Russelent muttered softly.
“Now you are my servant. Therefore, you must divulge to me everything you know.”
No matter how strong-willed a human might be, they could not withstand a dragon’s mental magic. If trained knights could not resist, there was absolutely no chance that Zengart, an ordinary old man, could endure. His consciousness was already being sucked into an abyss.
“Then you mean that wretch is currently hiding in Sebain?”
“That is correct.”
“The reason?”
“He has never told me the reason, not even once. He merely said he has quite a headache because of the small fry swarming him.”
“Hmm.”
Having learned enough of what he needed, Russelent rested his hand on his chin. In truth, Zengart did not know much about Damon—only that he was hiding in Sebain and researching something. But for Russelent, that alone was sufficient.
“In any case, it does not matter. Now that his tracks are revealed, he is as good as dead…”
Russelent muttered softly and turned his head to look at Zengart. His fingers were already glowing with gathered mana. Had he drawn the line, Zengart’s body would have been split in two like the soldiers’. But Russelent, just as he was about to move his hand, soon changed his mind.
“No. I must keep this one alive for the time being, in case that wretch escapes. I need only erase his memories.”
Looking at Zengart, who was staring blankly at him, Russelent dispersed the mana from his fingers. He had to leave a thread to track the wretch in case he failed to capture him. That was the reason Zengart kept his life.
“Limited Remembrance Seal.”
As the spell deployed, Zengart’s eyes, already hazy, went completely blank.
“You now have no memory of me whatsoever. So live as you have until now. Of course, only until I visit again.”
Russelent muttered quietly and turned around. Seeing the soldiers’ corpses and the blood pooling on the floor, he frowned slightly.
“Did I kill them for nothing? When he comes to his senses, he’ll think it strange, so I have no choice.”
With a wave of his hand, the soldiers’ corpses melted away, seeping into the floor.
Sssss.
Even the pooling blood decomposed and disappeared. His work done, Russelent leisurely vanished from the room. But he had not the faintest inkling that Damon had already left Sebain.
It was long after Russelent had disappeared that Zengart came back to his senses.
“Strange. Why is my head so heavy?”
Zengart shook his head and found, to his astonishment, that he could not remember what had just transpired.