WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Ceaseless
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Northern Grand Duke’s Mad Son-in-Law ◈
Chapter 18: Demonkin Water
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‘That bastard came all the way here!!’
The Crow bit down on his lip.
He knew that bastard was terrible, but...
‘He followed me all the way to the northern front line?!’
It was unbelievable. How could someone who operated in the central region pursue him all the way to the northern front line?
Once mages got their hands on magic, they began craving its unseen limits. They were the kind of people willing to devote their entire lives to that pursuit.
The Dark Magic Society suited that nature perfectly. They worshiped advancement and stopped at nothing to achieve it.
The Dark Magic Society believed that if it meant indulging in magic and gaining greater mana, they would even make a contract with a demon.
That was why the Dark Magic Society had grown quickly and in secret.
Until the Dark Magic Society encountered that bastard...
[The Karntel Castle branch has been destroyed.]
At first, it was minor news.
It was absurd that a branch had suddenly been destroyed, but the Crow thought it was possible. No matter how successful the Dark Magic Society was, it could not prosper forever.
But incidents like that kept happening.
[The Hermenia City branch has...]
[The Varma branch has...]
The Intelligence Bureau had clearly made its move.
The Intelligence Bureau’s security was so thorough that, if not for untraceable rumors claiming it stood behind every major event on the continent, no one would have even known it existed.
The Dark Magic Society devised countermeasures. Even the Intelligence Bureau could not expect to catch the Dark Magic Society defenseless. They consolidated their branches and increased security.
And the result was...
[The Hermenia branch head reportedly killed Mayor Kaliton.]
[Didn’t you say the Hermenia branch was gone long ago?]
[That’s what I’m saying. Isn’t it strange?]
As if mocking them, the Intelligence Bureau began eliminating the people who were thorns in its side under the Dark Magic Society’s name.
With the other side acting like that, the Dark Magic Society was helpless. Its members fled in fear before anything even happened, and its influence shrank by the day.
The Crow had thought they would at least show restraint. After all, they were making rather useful use of the Dark Magic Society’s name.
Then the Crow encountered that bastard.
[Hmm, you call this magic too? I expected something after hearing you called yourself a dark mage, but you’re just trash with large mana reservoirs.]
Never in his life had the Crow felt so powerless.
That bastard had infiltrated a branch alone, dismantling every spell, criticizing him, and getting angry.
Asking whether he really called such garbage magic...
Only then did the Crow realize it.
The one who had tormented the Dark Magic Society all along was not the Intelligence Bureau.
It was that bastard.
The Crow pressed himself flat against the ground.
The only reason he had survived was because he had a loose tongue.
That was how his terrible connection with that bastard began.
[Is this everything? You’re truly useless. Was I not persuasive enough?]
The Crow had never worked so hard in his life.
Then he found an opportunity and fled north.
Yet that bastard had followed him even here...
‘Terrible bastard! Fucking bastard!’
The Crow simmered with rage.
How much had he thrown away to shake that bastard off? He had cut things loose as though severing an arm, yet that bastard had chased him here anyway! What else was there left to take from him?!
What had he done so wrong? He had worked hard! He had given that bastard everything he could! That bastard should go after the people who had taken the Dark Magic Society’s place! What a goddamn bastard!
Rage he could not voice swelled inside him.
“Um... at least we woke it.”
The Crow narrowed his eyes at the voice from behind.
‘No. This time is truly different. There’s a Demonkin.’
What was a Demonkin? A mage’s natural enemy, a predator that devoured mages. No matter how skilled that bastard was, he was still a mage.
It had been fed an entire Magic Stone Mine, leaving it mindless, but its power was real.
It was a Demonkin prepared to bring down city walls...
‘And I have Magic Stones too.’
The Crow now had plenty of freshly mined, high-purity Magic Stones.
There was no way he could lose.
He had only been afraid because he saw that bastard’s face.
‘I’m not the same as I was then.’
He could no longer remain in that bastard’s shadow.
The Crow straightened his bent back.
Steeling himself, the Crow took out every Magic Stone and laid them out.
They were not ordinary Magic Stones. Every one of them was at least high-grade.
That was not all. The Crow spread his cloak. Magic circles had been densely carved into its inner lining.
The Dark Magic Society worshiped nothing but advancement.
They placed no restrictions on the process. That was why they had grown stronger at a pace other mages could not match.
The Crow was no longer who he had been then.
Heavy footsteps thundered behind him. The ground shook as though an earthquake had struck.
The Crow threw the Magic Stones forward, then quietly moved toward the rear.
That Demonkin was hungry enough to devour other Demonkin right now...
‘It’ll probably eat the mages first.’
The Crow smiled sinisterly.
* * *
‘There were two mages.’
Galahad scratched his cheek.
Then he sensed dense mana deeper inside. The ground shook as though it were trembling in fear.
‘This isn’t good.’
Galahad took a flask from his chest. When he shook it, the slightly coagulated blood immediately began to slosh.
“Sir Gilbert.”
“...It won’t be an ordinary opponent.”
Gilbert adjusted his grip on his sword. Sweat streamed down his forehead. He was not in good condition.
Gilbert was still better off than the others. Damian had sprawled flat on his back as soon as they arrived, while Gwen’s cheeks were sunken and pale. Tom was somehow still standing, but he swayed on his feet.
“Looks like the two of us will have to handle this. Think of it as a battle between commanders.”
“...That’ll be enough.”
The corner of Gilbert’s mouth rose, though his eyes remained fixed on the tremors coming from beyond.
“Right. What kind of knight gets tired from catching a mere mole cricket? A coachman.”
“Mole crickets are fairly troublesome Monsters in their own right.”
“Are they?”
“That’s enough.”
“Are you sulking?”
Instead of answering, Gilbert spun his sword.
He was sulking. Galahad clicked his tongue softly.
There was one Demonkin and two mages on the other side.
On this side were an exhausted fool of a knight and a genius mage.
This was manageable.
“I’ll deal with the two mages, so hold the Demonkin back. I’ll finish them as quickly as I can and come help you.”
“Can you handle two mages alone?”
“Easily.”
“Then I’ll deal with the Demonkin.”
“Are you confident?”
“If it’s a Demonkin, that’s my specialty.”
Galahad laughed out loud. Veins stood out on Gilbert’s hand gripping his sword.
“Fine. Shall we bet on who finishes first?”
“Sounds good. The loser treats everyone to dinner.”
“You should be careful. Damian said he was hungry earlier.”
Gilbert’s expression turned rather serious.
Then...
Kwoooong!
With a violent crash, the cave wall shattered.
What emerged was the form of a naked, gigantic man. It was half again as large as the Grand Duke. Thick muscles writhed across its limbs as though they were breathing.
The mana around it expanded and contracted as though watching the creature’s mood.
‘This won’t be easy.’
It was too huge to be a Demonkin, yet too small to be a Monster.
Put simply...
“Maybe it’s Demonkin Water. That sounds a little strange when I say it.”
Galahad curled his lips at Gilbert’s subtly stiffened expression.
“What’s with that face? Do you regret it?”
“Strictly speaking, that is not a Demonkin.”
As though venting its rage, the creature pounded the ground wildly. Every blow from its enormous fists came with a thunderous crash and left a deep crater in the earth.
The Demonkin from before had sent out invisible force, while this one seemed to use that force through sheer physical strength.
“At that level, it’s an upper-ranking Demonkin. Under normal circumstances, I could deal with it easily, but...”
“So you’re not confident?”
“...That’s not what I meant.”
“If you need help, shout, ‘Captain, help me!’ You are my one and only deputy commander.”
“I won’t need it.”
Gilbert’s face twisted as though he had bitten into shit.
“Burn! Break! Crush!”
With the incantation, enormous fireballs rose from the end of the cavern. There were quite a few.
It was not a number an ordinary mage could produce.
“Magic Stones, and high-grade ones at that.”
Magic Stones and mages worked remarkably well together. There was a reason mages in the capital carried those expensive staffs fitted with Magic Stones.
Magic was the act of using the mana within one’s body to gather mana from the air, form it into a formula, and create a miracle.
Magic Stones replaced the process of using internal mana to gather mana from the atmosphere.
In other words, a mage with Magic Stones only needed to form the formula to cast magic.
Some mages even practiced speaking quickly just to chant spells a little faster. Magic Stones could be quite deadly in a battle between mages.
Demonkin blood and Magic Stones had somewhat different natures. Demonkin blood was a substance containing deeply concentrated mana. To use that dense mana, one needed a fairly high level of mana suppression.
Magic Stones, by contrast, were simply lumps of mana with ordinary concentration. They were quite literally a quiet Gwen. Any reasonably capable mage could handle them.
Still, producing that many spells meant the enemy had considerable experience using Magic Stones. Calling them a Magic Stone specialist would not be an exaggeration.
“Getting scared?”
“No, I like this better. Otherwise, it’d be too boring.”
Gilbert clicked his tongue softly, apparently thinking Galahad was joking.
The Demonkin turned its head toward them. It had enormous eyes that did not suit its face. Those red, fly-like eyes blinked.
Galahad felt an odd sense of discomfort. The source of it was...
“Is it just me, or does that Demonkin Water seem to be staring at me?”
“...It seems you’re rather popular with Demonkin.”
The Demonkin kicked off the ground. The distance vanished in an instant. It was far too fast for its size.
Gilbert angled his sword and blocked it.
Kwoooong!
Sword and fist collided with a deafening crash. Gilbert’s blue aura shook violently. He took a step back.
‘Not good.’
Galahad clicked his tongue at the red eyes still watching him.
The Demonkin reached for Galahad. Gilbert swung his sword to stop it, but its arm was so thick that it was not easy.
“Sorry, but I don’t like anyone touching me.”
Galahad clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers. The Demonkin’s thick finger bent upward. An ice spear was lodged beneath it.
He had gathered a fair amount of mana, yet the spear had barely penetrated.
‘Not good...’
Galahad clicked his tongue again.
Kwooooaaar!
The Demonkin let out a cry. Gilbert followed up with another swing of his sword, but the creature’s gaze remained fixed on Galahad.
“Damian, I’m in danger! Are you going to make another mistake?”
“No.”
“Good. Then go up with Tom and deal with the mages. Don’t kill the one wearing the Crow Mask.”
“Yes!”
“Understood!”
Damian and Tom were not in good condition, but the magic was focused on Galahad’s side anyway. So was the Demonkin’s attention.
“I really am popular.”
“...Is this the time for jokes?”
“Humor is the oil of life. It makes even difficult situations run smoothly.”
Instead of answering, Gilbert spat. Blood mixed with the saliva.
The damage they had accumulated on the way here had left him in poor condition. Galahad was not much better.
That did not mean they could take a nap and fight afterward. Life was simply like that.
Galahad opened the flask. The revolting stench of blood rose from it. When he shook it lightly, the coagulated blood immediately began sloshing. It seemed to be thanks to the mana.
“Protect me. Then I’ll find a way.”
“Find a way...? Isn’t that too irresponsible?”
At that moment, the Demonkin swung its fist at Galahad again.
Without looking at it, Galahad brought the flask to his lips. It tasted even worse than before.
His head spun. The mana that went down his throat spread through him in an instant. His body went beyond merely feeling hot and began to burn. His mana channels expanded, and a groan escaped him from the agonizing pain.
Kwoooong!
Another thunderous crash rang out. Gilbert twisted his shoulder and blocked the fist with his sword. A pained groan escaped him.
Fighting while protecting someone was naturally twice as difficult as ordinary combat.
Even more so when the opponent ignored its injuries and the person being protected stood still.
Yet Gilbert did not complain. He adjusted his grip on his sword.
The fireballs had already reached the space above them. They seemed to whisper that one mistake would kill them.
The thrill of death brushed Galahad’s neck.
Yes, this was the feeling.
Galahad did not stop the corners of his mouth from rising.
When he snapped his fingers, a Mana Arrow appeared around his index finger. Using it as a reference, Galahad checked the concentration.
It was not calculation, but the realm of trained instinct. It took only an instant.
He snapped his fingers again, and sparks flew. As his fingers moved as though he were playing a piano, sparks erupted in succession.
To put out fire, there was only one answer.
‘Lightning.’
Sparks swirled densely between his fingers. Each one held densely concentrated mana.
So many fireballs poured down at Galahad that it felt as though the whole world had become a sea of flames.
‘A battle of quality and quantity.’
When he waved his spark-filled hand, the sparks shot out in an instant.
Compared to each enormous fireball, the sparks were only the size of small arrows.
At a glance, the sparks looked as though they would simply fade away.
But magic was about quality, not quantity.
The enemies might rain magic down with Magic Stones, but their fundamental ability could not raise its quality.
The sparks lightly struck the fireballs. The fireballs parted down the middle as though they were empty illusions. The sparks burrowed through them and vanished.
Tap.
That was the only sound. The fireballs were ground apart as though they had been fed into a blender. They collapsed into small fragments.
Fragments of fireballs struck Galahad.
The situation was not good.
They had to stop the spells pouring down while dealing with the Monster too.
He had sent Damian away, but Damian was far off.
Kwoooong!
The wind created by Gilbert’s clash with the Monster whipped Galahad’s hair around.
Even after using an ice spear filled with mana, all Galahad had done was pierce one layer of its hide. To hurt that Demonkin with magic, he would have to drink Demonkin blood and use Mana Compression as well.
Yet the Demonkin was targeting Galahad. Magic was pouring down as well.
Gilbert would be hard-pressed just to stop the rampaging Demonkin.
Letting either one slip through would be fatal.
Unless he had two heads, casting two spells at once...
‘Can’t I?’
A question suddenly came to Galahad.
It was not as if he had never heard of dual casting.
Still, dual casting was something novice mages used when they entered talent shows.
It was like drawing a triangle with one hand and a circle with the other. With simple spells, it could somehow be done.
But once one tried to cast high-level magic, the difficulty rose sharply.
It was harder than painting a portrait with the left hand and a landscape with the right at the same time.
But...
‘Then I can simply draw them.’
If he used a spell with his left hand that did not require attention while using Mana Compression with his right hand...
‘It seems possible.’
Deep interest rose within him.
Dual casting was extremely delicate work.
Magic itself always carried risk, but if dual casting failed, the internal collision would surely make him explode without even leaving a body behind.
So...
‘Then I just won’t make a mistake.’
Galahad nodded at the simple conclusion.
What he needed was a higher mana concentration. High enough that the spell he fired without attention would have far greater concentration than their spells.
“I just had a good idea. Sir Gilbert, hold on a little longer.”
“...Yes, understood.”
Despite his words, Gilbert’s complexion was not good.
It looked dangerous, but there was no other choice.
This was the option with the highest chance of winning.
Galahad poured every last drop of blood from the flask into his mouth.
His throat felt as though it were burning. It felt as if he had swallowed fire. Fire that danced wildly.
The mana already overflowing inside him began to rage as though it had nowhere to go. Galahad forcibly pressed it down.
The recoil made his heart feel as though it would burst. It was like swallowing a bomb. A single mistake would make his body vanish entirely.
It was thrilling.
Kwoooong!
Something exploded in front of him. Hot blood splattered across his face. Galahad kept his eyes closed and concentrated.
Then he heard an incantation in the distance. Galahad opened his eyes slightly. He did not think. His entire focus remained on the mana he was compressing in his right hand.
Sparks flew from his left hand.
It was like a skilled knight countering an attack without conscious thought. It was magic Galahad had repeated for so long that it had settled into his instincts.
‘It works.’
Without looking at the result, Galahad closed his eyes again.
There was no way he would miss.
Kwoooong!
An impact sounded in the distance. Stone fragments fell like rain and struck Galahad.
Gilbert groaned in pain. Something hard scraped Galahad’s nose. The creature’s fist seemed to have come right up to him.
Galahad continued concentrating. He pressed down the mana again and again. A creaking sound came from his body. It was a sign of overload.
His body warned him that it would explode if he went any further.
He did not stop. He compressed it further.
He could not breathe. His lungs were strong, so he would be fine.
An incantation sounded in the distance. He opened his eyes. His vision was completely red. It was fine. He could still see. He closed his eyes again and concentrated.
He pressed the mana down further.
Just a little more...
A little more...
“Captain!”
Then he heard Gilbert’s voice.
It felt like he only needed a little more time...
Gilbert’s groan grew distant. It seemed Gilbert had been pushed back.
Only then did Galahad feel the primal hostility.
He opened his eyes.
Through his red vision, he saw the Demonkin swinging its enormous fist at him.
It would not be easy to dodge, and even if he did, a disrupted spell would make him explode to death all the same.
What Galahad felt in that moment of death was...
Deep regret.
‘Just a little more...’
That was when it happened.
“Liiiiiight!”
Bright light burst out behind him. Even though it came from behind him, it was dazzling enough to hurt his eyes.
It was definitely Gwen.
The Demonkin’s movement stopped for the briefest moment.
And that was the tiny opening Galahad wanted.
“Hellfire.”
Galahad’s right hand twisted as though he were pulling something out.
Then the surrounding space began to melt. A small flame shot through the melted space.
It was far smaller than a fireball.
Yet everything in its path melted. Stone, air, even mana...
Everything bowed its head before Hellfire.
The Demonkin, which had been charging forward without pause, twisted its body for the first time. It seemed to sense danger.
It tried to dodge, but...
“Where do you think you’re going!”
Gilbert, battered all over, blocked it with his sword.
Hellfire struck the Demonkin’s chest with perfect accuracy.
The small flame instantly flared up. It devoured the Demonkin like dry firewood, rapidly growing larger.
Mana flowed from lower concentration to higher concentration.
That meant that if Hellfire’s mana concentration was higher than the Demonkin’s, the creature itself became fuel.
Kwooooaaar!
The Demonkin’s pained scream filled the cavern.
“That was close.”
Though Galahad said that, the corners of his mouth were raised high.
Then the fireballs above them vanished. It seemed the mages had been dealt with as well.
Gilbert, who had been expressionless the whole time, stared at Galahad with a face full of shock. He seemed to have many questions.
In response, Galahad...
“Didn’t I tell you I was an exceptional mage?”
He smiled as he pushed back his disheveled hair.
Ah, and he added one more thing.
“You lost the bet.”
Gilbert’s face twisted completely.
Footnotes:
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