The scarred man snickered as he pressed his ear to my face.
"Say it again. What?"
"I'll count to ten. Get out of here."
He glanced back at his subordinates.
"You heard that, right? He just told us to leave?"
"Yes, elder brother. We might have to cut out his tongue instead of his fingers."
"One... two... three..."
The man pressed his knife to my neck.
"Go on, keep counting. Once you reach ten, I'll slit your throat."
"Four... five... six..."
"Elder brother. These guys aren't scared."
"Be quiet. These drifters don't even know who we are."
"Seven... eight..."
The scarred man's eyes were wavering. He sensed that sothing was going wrong!
"Nine..."
"You son of a—!"
Thud—
My fist crashed into the scarred man's face. Instantly, his nose, mouth, and eyes caved in.
Crash—
He flew backward, slamd into a wall, and collapsed. Donnie was already standing, and Urald had his hamr ready.
"You lunatics!"
Two more n rushed at .
Almost at the sa ti, Donnie's long arm slamd into their solar plexuses.
Thump— There was a sound, and the two n crashed through the tavern door.
Donnie and I grabbed our bags and left the tavern. Urald was handing a few silver coins to the tavern owner.
Even outside, their gang was waiting. Two of them drew daggers.
"Call the boys!"
Fweeeet—
One of them blew a small whistle.
We just kept walking. The two slowly backed away.
When we reached a point where we could see the plaza, their gang mbers began filing out from the alleys, one by one.
They carried all sorts of weapons—clubs, daggers, even hand axes.
Urald spoke.
"This is a pretty big gang."
"Urald, keep the materials safe."
"Don't rough them up too much."
"I know."
Before we knew it, they had surrounded us.
As we tried to head into the plaza, they blocked the way. Then a man with curly hair stepped forward.
"You set the boys loose over just these three?"
"Second elder brother got hit."
"By whom? That giant?"
"No, by that kid."
"You ssing with ?!"
The curly-haired guy shouted.
Middle boss, maybe.
Half of his front teeth were gold.
I spoke to Donnie.
"Do it with your sword sheathed."
"They won't die, right?"
"That's up to their luck."
Curly spat.
"What are you, kids? You don't even know who we are?"
"Never seen them before."
"Elder Brother! We'd better wrap this up before the patrol shows!"
"You deal with patrols on your own! Am I supposed to micromanage everything?"
"Sorry! Block the alley, a few of you!"
Curly ca right up to .
He looked us up and down, then squatted crookedly. Flowery embroidery on his shirt, slippers on his feet.
Gangster tastes are the sa across worlds, huh.
I sat down in front of him, too.
He stared and snickered.
His lackeys laughed along.
"What do you think you're doing right now?"
"Are you the boss?"
"The boss? Hahaha!"
Curly laughed and spoke.
"Whatever's in the bag, just leave it. My boys are a bit savage, so I can't guarantee your lives. So—"
"How many gold teeth do you have?"
"Hey, kid, this mister's talking here!"
"Seven, huh. Donnie."
"Yes!"
Donnie took the greatsword off his back.
At the sa ti, soone shouted from behind.
"Boys! Get them!"
The mont the shout rang out, Donnie launched forward. No, he spun as he flew.
It was then that I heard the "huh?" sounds.
Thwack-thwack-thwack— sounds erupted.
There were screams, shouts, and the sound of drums bursting.
"What the—! What is this guy?!"
"That big thing was a sword?!"
"He's coming! Get out of the way!"
"Stop him! Ughhh!"
Thwack-thwack— bang-bang-bang.
Crunch— crash—
All sorts of sounds overlapped.
Donnie spun rapidly, sending gangsters flying with his greatsword.
Unconscious gangsters began to pile up against the alley walls and storefronts.
So had broken ribs, others had smashed heads, bodies jamd in doors, or arms twisted backward.
And right in front of
was one man who couldn't move at all—Curly, trembling and bound by my magic power.
His eyes looked about to pop out from shock.
"M-m-mmm..."
He tried to say sothing, but it was too faint.
Smack—
I slapped him hard, loosening his paralyzed mouth.
"Who... who are you?"
"Where is your boss?"
"You're making a huge mistake right now."
"The mistake is yours."
"You think you'll walk away after doing this to us? You won't make it one step out of this city."
"That's why I'm looking for your boss."
"Ugh, crazy..."
Thwack— thwack— thwack—
I smacked Curly's mouth repeatedly. Once from both sides, once from the front.
He groaned and spat out his teeth.
Six gold teeth and two natural ones.
He'd lost all his front teeth.
Urald picked up the gold ones.
He's got a strong stomach.
"Urald, let's go now."
"To catch the boss?"
"Or should we just run?"
"Maybe running's better."
"Donnie! Back out down the alley!"
I shouted, then grabbed my bag and ran. Donnie followed behind us.
About twenty n were sprawled out in the alley. Curly was slumped on the ground.
But our escape was cut short.
Patroln blocked the other end of the alley. Having witnessed our force, they looked a bit intimidated.
"Stop!"
"They tried to kill us. We fought back."
"You are under arrest for assault and disturbing the peace! If you explain yourself under investigation, you'll have a chance to defend yourself, but if you resist, you'll be dealt with under imperial law! Arrest them!"
"Yes, sir!"
The patroln approached.
When I looked at Urald, he shook his head. aning, we shouldn't try to push through.
If we ran, we'd be wanted n. It'd just be a matter of ti before they found out who we were and where we ca from.
If we're lucky, they'll release us after questioning, and even if they don't, we can try to escape later. Either way, we'd be wanted.
///
I was locked in a room, all alone.
I'd been prepared to fight, thinking the city authorities and the gangsters were in cahoots, but that didn't happen.
All I got was interrogated in this room.
Just before being arrested, I synced stories with Urald and Donnie.
We t and beca friends in the east mountains, and traveled to the city by land.
I had the materials.
I was a bit concerned since they confiscated the bag with the materials. So administrator was bound to recognize the divine ore.
I heard footsteps, and an administrator appeared. This wasn't the sa one who'd interrogated
before, but a man in his late thirties.
He looked at
for a while.
He studied my face carefully, checked my body and hands, then looked at my identification plaque placed on the table.
"This is your plaque?"
"Yes."
"Amazing. I heard the whole Hader family died in a fire."
"Luckily, I survived."
Curiosity filled his eyes.
"Where did you find the divine ore?"
"I discovered it in a distant northern cave. I didn't know what the ore was, so I ca here to check."
The administrator tilted his head.
"Divine ore is matter ford by the prayers and faith of priests, embodying the power of divinity. Only the order should possess it."
"There's an old sanctuary up north. I just found sothing that caught my eye and mined it."
"Old sanctuary?"
"It had ancient priests' sacred gold coins. That's why I guessed it was a sanctuary."
"Hm..."
If the order's claims are true—
Divine ore doesn't form on its own; it requires priests.
So, if there was a sanctuary in the far north long ago, and ancient priests created divine ore there, logically, it can't be denied.
Divine ore doesn't contain divinity. It isn't true that a priest's authority linking to the divine created it.
The divine order has been hiding that truth, and can't overturn their own claims for secrecy's sake.
Still, the order mustn't find out. Whatever they believe, if the order finds out I've stolen divine ore, they'll hunt
down.
"Regardless, the divine ore must be sent to the order. Only then can you be released."
"This has nothing to do with the order."
"That's not true. It could cause trouble."
Maybe we should have shaken off the patrol and run. No, being fugitives would be more exhausting. Worse, word could spread about my house's circumstances.
Looking back, we didn't do anything wrong. There was a reason to bring the materials, and there was no reason to fear gangsters.
If divine ore was sothing money could buy, I wouldn't have stolen it. Things just got complicated.
The administrator spoke again.
"I understand your frustration, but you'll have to give up the divine ore. It's not sothing you can process or sell anyway. What would you do with it?"
"I don't understand why I'd have to give the order sothing I found."
"The sanctuary is the priests' authority. If they say you stole it, then you're a thief. You might find yourself suffering at the hands of the divine order."
"Can't you just turn a blind eye?"
"You started a fight here, word has already reached the lord. My looking the other way won't cover it up. Other administrators recognized the divine ore."
I studied his eyes.
He avoided any questions about the fight, only asking about the divine ore. Soone else must have already interrogated
about the violence.
"What do you want from ?"
"I don't want anything. Those you fought with have power in this city. If the administrators and they lie together, you're in serious trouble."
No wonder the questioning felt off.
This man wasn't a regular administrator.
He continued.
"That's why I ca here. With the excuse of handing over the divine ore to the order, I can persuade the lord. But you don't seem willing to give it up. It's frustrating."
"The lord only cares for what benefits him, huh."
"What kind of lord cares about a back-alley brawl? The only thing he'd care about is divine ore."
Now I understood.
Who this person was.
"Are you Count Mals's secretary?"
"No. I am the steward of the count's house."
I was surprised inwardly.
If a house is large enough, the steward is called the chief steward—the chief administrator of a noble house.
"What brings the chief steward here?"
"I saw the report that there was sothing looking like divine vessel among the confiscated goods. Then I saw your na. So I hurried here."
"To see ?"
"Of course. The one who introduced
as the butler for the count of Mals was Lord Hader. I couldn't forget that debt."
I see.
No wonder he seed intent on helping.
"So please take my advice. It's the only way I can help."
I can't give up the materials. Even if I did, my na would still be reported to the order.
I need a way to cover it all up. There's only one possible way. But could the steward persuade...
"The lord has arrived."
"The lord?"
The steward quickly stepped back.
I was just as surprised. I'd been hoping to see the count any way possible, and here he ca to .
A man in his forties entered.
He wasn't unpleasant to look at: a plump fra, a bright face, always with a smiling look.
"Is this one the house's second son?"
"Yes, my lord."
This man in his forties was Count Mals.
He stared at
as if puzzled.
"I heard the fortress was reduced to ashes, and the family all died. How can the second son be here? You're not faking your identity?"
"It's possible, but he does resemble him. Last ti I saw him, he looked terribly ill; now he's grown into a healthy young man, so it's hard to recognize."
The count looked at
again.
From his eyes alone, I couldn't guess his thoughts. Was he displeased, bothered...?
"What's your mother's na?"
"Erine."
"What about your maternal grandfather?"
"Nobai."
The count gave
a sharp look.
He spoke quietly.
"Steward. Please speak in the distance with the administrator outside."
"Yes, my lord."
The steward left the room.
Once the door closed, the count approached.
He still looked at
without expression.
Then, suddenly, he sat down right in front of .
Now, looking a bit dazed, he gazed at .
"The sickly child..."
Emotion rose in the count's face.
"You've grown up so splendidly."
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