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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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“Is this it?”
“N-no.”
“Then let’s move on.”
“….”
Uthmund had never seen such a brute-force method in his life.
Sensing traces of dark magic through spirits was a common practice among elven shamans. There was nothing unusual about the method itself.
The problem was Elliot’s purpose. He wasn’t using it to analyze existing traces of dark magic; he was using it to find dark magic. There was a world of difference between the two, in terms of effort required.
For the past five days, Uthmund had been deprived of sleep, constantly sensing the movements of spirits.
He had walked so much that his legs had given out, so much so that Elliot had started carrying him on his back.
“How about this place?”
“No. The concentration is higher than average, but still within the margin of error.”
“Tsk. A faulty dowsing rod.”
“What in the world is a dowsing rod?”
“It’s a thing.”
Uthmund glared at him, but Elliot ignored him.
“This is madness! Do you realize we’ve been searching for five days and have only covered half of the area north of Nua Dhil?”
“Then we’ll just search for another five days.”
“What about the other directions?”
“We’ll spend another month on that.”
“….”
Uthmund felt a wave of despair.
“Sir Elliot, if I may offer a piece of advice… such a brute-force method rarely yields good results.”
“Then we’ll just keep going until it does. If your body is weak, your mind has to work harder.”
“It’s usually the other way around.”
“Do you want to test that theory?”
“…No.”
Uthmund had tried to reason with him, but Elliot was unyielding. He had no choice but to continue sensing the spirits. His eyes ached, and his back felt like it was about to break from being carried by Elliot, but if he complained, he risked losing his other testicle.
Even for an elf with a low reproductive drive, his reproductive organs were still precious. So, Uthmund kept his eyes open, searching for evil spirits.
“…I found it.”
“See? I told you we’d find it.”
Five days later, miraculously, Uthmund found a place where evil spirits were concentrated.
“…It actually worked.”
He muttered in disbelief.
A cave. There were dozens of caves like this near Nua Dhil.
But the dark red aura emanating from this cave was ominous, even to an untrained eye.
“Miasma.”
“Miasma?”
Elliot, who had finally set Uthmund down, muttered in a low voice.
“An energy similar to the mana used by the Demon King’s minions. Evil and violent. Even monsters possess a faint miasma.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve crossed blades with the Demon King’s army, close enough to see their pores.”
“…Excuse me?”
“It’s a long story.”
Elliot wrinkled his nose, as if the memory was unpleasant.
The Demon King’s army was located north of the Ice Palace, the northernmost nation. A massive wall prevented them from advancing south, so ordinary people rarely encountered them.
When would a Knight of the Holy City ever get the chance of encountering them?
Uthmund was about to question him, but Elliot started walking towards the cave.
“Are we going in already? Shouldn’t we call for reinforcements…?”
“Ask the dark elves for help? What do you think Titania’s reaction would be if I asked her to help us defeat a dark mage?”
“….”
“You can go back now. I’m the one who extended our contract. Tell your chieftain, Erwin, that I apologize. This is your compensation.”
Elliot tossed him a pouch. Inside were several valuable jewels. Enough to make even a materialistic elf gasp.
Uthmund looked at Elliot, then at the jewels, and sighed.
He stood up. His legs were shaky, but he could still walk.
“I’m coming with you.”
“You might die.”
“I know. But I can’t turn my back on this, knowing that the Demon King’s influence has reached the Great Forest. Not with the name of Binheim on my shoulders.”
High elves were guardians of the forest, protectors of its balance. He couldn’t let an outsider face a dark mage’s lair alone. It was a matter of pride.
Elliot scoffed.
“Suit yourself. I won’t save you if you die.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
They entered the cave. The unsettling miasma intensified as they went deeper. And then…
“Kreee!”
Monsters. As Uthmund nocked an arrow, Elliot’s sword flashed.
Slash!
The monster, its body bisected, collapsed on the cave floor, spraying blood.
“….”
Uthmund stared at the scene in disbelief. They had encountered dozens of monsters, both in groups and alone, of varying sizes and numbers. But every encounter ended with a single swing of Elliot’s sword.
Uthmund hadn’t even had a chance to fire his arrows.
Elliot hadn’t even used his sword aura. He had simply cleaved the monsters in two with his mana-enhanced strength.
“Sir Elliot, have you really… fought against monsters, against the Demon King’s army?”
“More times than I can count.”
Elliot’s eyes looked incredibly tired. Uthmund realized that the power Elliot had displayed when subduing his ranger unit hadn’t even been his full strength. These monsters were hardly a challenge for him.
“Here we are.”
After walking for about an hour, they reached a place where the miasma was incredibly dense.
A stone door blocked their path. Elliot cleaved it in two with his aura-infused sword. Uthmund’s fists clenched.
A dark mage’s lair. He had heard stories, but seeing it with his own eyes… the stories hadn’t done it justice.
It was a scene straight out of hell. Mutilated corpses of various races hung from hooks like slaughtered animals.
Jars filled with human organs lined the shelves.
The floor was covered in a magic circle drawn in blood. A still-beating human heart rested on the altar. And in the center of it all stood a man with a sinister aura.
“…How did you get in here?”
The man, the dark mage, asked, looking at the broken stone door. Before Uthmund could react, Elliot stepped forward.
“I walked in, you bastard.”
Elliot’s face was contorted in disgust, an expression Uthmund had never seen before.
Dark mages. Traitors who served the Demon King.
Murder, kidnapping, cannibalism, human experimentation, human sacrifice… they committed every imaginable atrocity.
They were also the ones who created monsters, those grotesque hybrids of human and beast.
“Nice to see you, asshole.”
And to me, he was the bastard who killed the hero in Loren. I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything but hatred for him.
There were supposedly “good” dark mages in the game, but judging by the state of this lair, this one was nothing more than a target for extermination.
“…Who are you? No, we’re not on friendly terms, are we?”
I stopped myself from asking his name. I flicked the blood off my sword and took a step forward.
“You’ll tell me eventually.”
“Damn it! Kill him!”
The dark mage waved his hand, and chains shot out from his wrists. The magic circle on the floor glowed red, and monsters hanging from the ceiling descended with horrific roars.
I raised my sword, deflecting the chains, and plunged it into the nearest monster. It died without a sound. Uthmund shot down the next monster before I even had to swing my sword.
“What?!”
If he thought he could stop me with these pathetic chimeras, he was sorely mistaken.
The dark mage’s face paled.
He wasn’t a high-ranking mage. A dark mage who set up his lair in the Great Forest, within the Empire’s territory, couldn’t be that powerful.
In any case, I would subdue him and interrogate him. I charged forward, swinging my sword.
Clang! Chains shot out from the dark mage’s other wrist, forming a shield. I sheathed my sword and punched the shield with my mana-infused fist.
Even if I couldn’t break through, I could still stun him with the impact.
The dark mage’s face turned white.
“Y-you madman!”
He cast another spell, and massive black thorns erupted from the ground beneath my feet. I leaped back, but I couldn’t avoid the chains.
I blocked them with my sword, but the force of the impact made me stagger back, my hand numb.
“Die!”
More black thorns erupted, filling my vision. I couldn’t block them all. I dodged what I could, deflected what I couldn’t, and prayed for the rest. I swung my sword wildly.
My swordsmanship was crude and unrefined. It was a style born out of necessity, a style meant for survival.
But it was more effective than any elegant sword technique when it came to staying alive.
“…What?”
The dark mage’s eyes widened as I emerged unscathed. I was surprised as well. Black thorns. A spell used by high-ranking demons.
I had assumed he was a low-level mage, but he was far more powerful than I had anticipated. He wouldn’t have been able to infiltrate the Empire’s territory otherwise.
Perhaps this was why Titania, despite knowing of his presence, hadn’t been able to defeat him.
“Golden mana, blond hair… I know you.”
The dark mage, having barely managed to defend himself, said,
“Elliot, the mercenary! The mad dog of the Black Eagle Mercenary Group! The slave swordsman who slaughtered hundreds of demons! Many demons seek revenge against you!”
“Glad to know I’m famous. Spit.”
I spat out a mouthful of blood. A slave famous among demons. What a meaningless title. I hadn’t come here for fame.
“Why has a powerful warrior like you come to the Great Forest?!”
The dark mage seemed genuinely bewildered.
“Why?! Who told you about this place?!”
I raised my middle finger.
“Loren.”
“Loren…?”
“The village you destroyed. I’m here for revenge. You ruined my plans for a peaceful retirement. So, I’m going to ruin yours.”
The dark mage’s eyes widened in shock.
“…Don’t tell me, you’re…”
I didn’t let him finish. I swung my sword.
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Hi Lord Fourth here!
I’m still new to translating as this is my second novel to pick up, so if you find some mistakes or inconsistencies let me know about it on the dedicated channel on discord.
