WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

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Chapter 56: 10. Stalker vs Stalker (11)

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“First, we stop the bleeding.”

When people lose a limb, they are usually rendered helpless. Really, calling it incapacitation is generous. It is an injury severe enough to kill them.

Considering that the refined method of suicide in this era involved filling a bathtub with scented candles and slitting one's wrists, it should be easy to imagine how serious it was to go beyond cutting a wrist with a kitchen knife and hack through an arm with an axe.

That was why even one of the Four Emperors, who had ruled the seas of the world on distant Earth, had been unable to project any real force after losing an arm. All he could do was howl like a child and glare at Big-Moray.

So, stop the bleeding before the victim died.

-Click.

Ivan expertly removed the cap from a healing potion with one hand. The viscous red liquid rippled ominously.

With delicate hands, he opened the wound and slowly poured the healing potion over the bleeding stump.

Naturally, a scream echoed through the corridor.

“Guaaaaaagh!!!”

“Now, now. I told you to save your breath.”

Ivan was a civilized man, so he offered the advice politely. Dionar was no child, but this junior of his seemed remarkably prone to dramatics.

“Tell me what you heard from Alexander. What did he want?”

“A man of Droan... does not yield... to torture...!”

“Torture? This is medicine.”

Ivan shook his head at the absurd accusation and put the cap back on the healing potion. Then he raised the axe in his other hand and laid it against the stump.

“Ghk...?!”

“The bleeding has mostly stopped. Good.”

He nodded coldly and began to press the axe forward. Thanks to the remarkable effects of the healing potion, the stump had been cauterized, literally seared shut across the entire wound. The axe blade dug half an inch into it again, drawing fresh blood.

“That was treatment. This is torture.”

“Y-You bastard...!!”

“Let's see.”

Ivan checked the remaining potion and gave it a brief shake. The still-full bottle sloshed heavily.

“I can probably do this five more times. So I'll keep it brief and question you five more times.”

“Kill... me...!”

“I intend to. Dionar Erikson, what happens to you will be handled according to orders, but the process is up to my discretion. Answer me.”

What had Alexander hoped to gain from this mess?

Where was Alexander now?

How many of them were there, and from where had they infiltrated this country?

One at a time, slowly and without rushing.

Ivan possessed modern ethical sensibilities, so he did not enjoy torture. It would be fair to say he despised it.

At the same time, he had lived in this era for thirty years, and he had spent nearly all that life as a soldier on the battlefield.

Regrettably, for the efficiency of carrying out his orders, he had no choice but to sacrifice some measure of ethics.

Kim Seonwoo had agreed with that decision as well, so Ivan raised the axe blade without hesitation.

He cut.

Then healed.

Screams echoed through the corridor. It was a rainy summer night in an unlit hall.

Superhumans had sharp vision, so this darkness could hardly be called dark to them. Even in extreme pain, Dionar could see Ivan's face.

If Ivan had smiled, or shown anger. If he had revealed any emotion at all, there might have been something human about him.

But the Ivan Dionar saw was as indifferent as a woodcutter swinging an axe into a tree. As a fisherman hauling in a net. As a farmer cutting grain with a sickle.

There was work to do, and he had the means to do it, so he did it.

That was all the emotion in the mechanical act repeating before him.

By the time Dionar's blood and sweat had evaporated, leaving behind the scent of terror.

By the time Ivan had finished the second round of “treatment.”

Dionar had become the kind and sincere speaker of a civilized society, explaining everything he knew to Ivan with remarkable fluency and clarity.

Healing potions only treated external injuries. Everyone who had tried using them on internal injuries had died. Still, kind medical care itself could bring the added effects of psychological counseling and psychiatric treatment.

Satisfied to see this age-old truth proven once again, Ivan listened closely to Dionar's logical statement.

* * *

Leaving behind a junior who would have been a troublesome opponent if his skill had matched his spirit and initiative, Ivan climbed the stairs.

He had used up every healing potion. He would not need one again tonight, but it was still regrettable to lose an essential weapon he always carried.

Ivan was a careful man, so to confirm that Dionar's first statement had been truthful, he had repeated the same questions several times to improve the clarity of the testimony.

Dionar had finally breathed his last during the process. Fortunately, his testimony had proven truthful from the beginning, so Ivan could at least pray for his soul.

-Step, step.

The heavy footsteps rang through the empty corridor. No hostile presence remained, so Ivan deliberately made his steps louder.

Once he rescued the people who had been kidnapped, the mission would be over. That was fortunate.

Since he had handled the stage that they should have overcome themselves, Ivan felt obliged to personally train Aesidis, Isabelle, and Oscar.

As always, there was never enough time.

Ivan gave a quiet snort as he walked over and grasped the handle of the first office door in the corridor...

“...?”

He let go and stepped back.

There was no presence, yet he could sense mana. It came from the office at the end of the corridor.

It was not the mana of an artifact or a magitech device. It was mana emitted by a living being, mana like that of a mage preparing a spell, but he could not sense the presence of any living creature.

He took a deep breath and circulated mana through his body. His nerves accelerated, and the sound of raindrops slowed.

Even after focusing his hearing, the only sound in this corridor was the strained breathing of students inside the office directly ahead.

A mage preparing magic while simultaneously concealing their presence so completely that even he could not notice it?

That was not strange. It was impossible. Even Beolgreen could not do that. Magic was not a simple discipline that could be practiced while controlling one's breathing and heartbeat.

A mage capable of that would be practically equal to the Demon King. It made no sense for the Demon King, who had died four years ago, to suddenly return and hide in the Foreign Ministry residence in Pritchenkaya.

“Ah.”

Ivan gave a faint laugh and nodded.

A hidden piece. Right, there had to be something like that.

Whether it was a special item or a story hook, a main-story stage naturally needed something hidden that could not be discovered through ordinary progress.

Once he saw it that way, it felt perfectly natural.

Only someone capable of sensing traces of mana would notice this blatant clue and follow it.

Otherwise, the Hero Party's children, having successfully escaped, would naturally sprint full speed toward the first floor.

Imagine that kind of stage.

They avoided Dionar's pursuit, defeated the mercenaries blocking their way, and barely reached the first floor.

If the chapter was designed so they would fight Dionar and then successfully retreat to the safety of the city, there was no reason at all to search the deepest office on the fifth floor, where they had been imprisoned. So, a hidden piece. An Easter egg of sorts.

Once he thought of it that way, everything became obvious. Ivan strode to the last office and grasped the handle.

-Foreign Minister's Office.

Crown Prince Alexander, the Foreign Minister, could not possibly have handled his work here. Therefore, Ivan inferred that there would be information about Alexander inside, or at least something equivalent.

-Click.

He turned the handle and opened the door.

“...!!!”

Ivan immediately threw his axe at the face visible through the open doorway.

-Whoooong!!

The axe passed through the face, smashed the chair with a crash, then tore into the bookshelf on the opposite wall and embedded itself there.

The man whose face the axe had passed through gave Ivan a faint smile and spoke.

“I think this is the first time I've seen that expression on your face.”

“Alexander...!!”

“It has been nearly ten years since we last spoke. Come in, Ivan Petrovich.”

The tall young man with short silver hair smiled brightly and gestured toward him.

Spirit projection. A long-range spirit projection, at that, one too distant to trace.

Ivan ground his teeth and stood across from him, glaring crookedly.

Four years ago, the order detailing the Annihilation Unit's final mission had borne two seals.

The royal seal of Krasilov.

And the seal of the Commander-in-Chief of the Northwestern Front, who had commanded the military in the king's place at the time.

The seal of Alexander Kirillovich Krasilov.

“You must have many questions, but answer this one first.”

“...What?”

“If the Lord loves us, why is the world still so full of evil, even now that the Demon King is dead?”

It had been ten years since he had faced this young man in person, and four years since they had communicated in writing.

With the same face he had worn ten years ago, Alexander began trying to enlighten the masses.

Ivan crushed the axe handle in his grip and ground his teeth.

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Footnotes:

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