WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Ceaseless
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Northern Grand Duke’s Mad Son-in-Law ◈
Chapter 73: Munch Munch
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‘Mana Arrow.’
Galahad’s eyes gleamed coldly.
It was not a matter of compressing mana. It was honing it sharp.
‘It’s like the hierarchy of magic.’
Magic originally worked by adding strokes.
If a first-tier Mana Arrow moved mana, then a second-tier Fire Arrow added the stroke of an attribute to Mana Arrow. A third-tier Fireball added the stroke of weight to Fire Arrow.
That was how magic advanced, with another stroke added at each tier.
He called them strokes for simplicity’s sake, but they were not a trivial concept.
Higher-tier magic consumed lower-tier magic.
Mana concentration played a part in magic, but no ordinary mage could compress mana enough to overcome a difference in tier.
That was why tiers were an absolute status among mages. They were the standard by which mages were divided.
Yet that Demonkin had honed Mana Arrow.
‘No, that must be the origin.’
Honing was not the act of adding another stroke. Like Mana Compression, it was an additional element.
An ordinary mage would not have paid it any attention.
Mages only obsessed over raising their tier.
Still, mages who had reached a high level knew such little tricks could make the difference in a split second.
Galahad was an excellent mage.
‘Honing mana.’
He recalled the sensation from earlier. He had even deliberately let himself get hit in the shoulder to understand it.
As he looked at the small hole in his shoulder, he considered the idea of honing.
Compression felt like pressing mana down. Then honing meant...
‘Making it sharp, like a sword.’
He understood the concept, but it still did not make sense.
How could mana be honed? Mana was formless.
‘One more time.’
Without realizing it, Galahad took a step forward. The Demonkin frowned.
“Can’t you make it any sharper?”
“Don’t act tough...”
He had asked in earnest, but the Demonkin’s face twisted as though it had been insulted.
It seemed to work. The Demonkin waved its hand more violently than before, as if throwing a dagger.
Galahad focused without blinking. The mana he had spread around them shaped the creature’s authority moment by moment.
Then the barrier was easily pierced.
‘That was it.’
Galahad’s lips curled up.
Just then...
‘Hm?’
A sharp pain shot up his back.
He turned his head slightly and saw Gwen glaring ahead with a face that looked ready to burst into tears.
Gwen’s finger was buried in Galahad’s back.
“What are you doing...?”
Instead of answering, Gwen swung her other hand.
As though she were throwing a dagger.
Small holes opened in the Demonkin’s shoulder and thigh. Blood burst out, and the creature staggered.
Galahad’s eyes widened.
All he had expected from Gwen was a simple imitation.
Yet what she had just used...
‘That’s genuine authority.’
It was not another stroke. It was authority.
It was exactly the same as the Demonkin’s.
Since she used it through the Egg of Pain, it was even more powerful than theirs.
“Excellent, Gwen! That was truly impressive!”
“W-What? Yes...”
“You may be confident. Look at those holes. That was perfect authority. You surpassed my expectations. Your aim was a little lacking, though. Their authority is like an arrow. It’s sharp and fast, but its range is narrow. How should one use an arrow effectively?”
“I... I don’t know.”
“You aim for vital points. For example... Come here. Ah, don’t pull your finger out just yet.”
Gwen found herself being dragged along by Galahad. He stood before the fallen Demonkin and explained while pointing at it.
“For a Demonkin like this, aiming for the neck, heart, or groin would be effective.”
“...What?”
“Go on, try again.”
“Urk.”
Gwen sharply turned her head away. Galahad clicked his tongue.
“Fine. I’ll handle the cleanup.”
He turned his gaze toward the Demonkin.
The creature was struggling, but there was no fear on its face. It was still filled with longing for Gwen.
‘Like a zombie.’
Galahad crouched in front of it and wiggled his finger.
“Thank you. That was a valuable lesson.”
“...A lesson?”
The Demonkin’s face twisted. Galahad smiled at it.
“This is your reward.”
Galahad uttered a brief incantation. It consumed a considerable amount of mana, so he only used it when necessary, but for some reason, he wanted to use it now.
“Hellfire.”
A small fireball appeared over Galahad’s finger.
He flicked it forward.
“It was all thanks to your lesson.”
As Galahad offered his sincere gratitude...
“I never taught you anything like...”
The Demonkin screamed as though in a seizure. Of course, it could not finish speaking because it burned away.
“Ah, thank you once again.”
Galahad thanked the ashes again.
Around then, Gwen finally stopped vomiting. Galahad looked at her and asked,
“Can you use it?”
“If I get some help.”
“Help?”
Thump! Thump!
“It says... to leave one hole open.”
Gwen’s request made Galahad frown. Even for a mage, leaving a hole open like that...
‘No, it’s already filled.’
Dark red flesh filled the hole. It was the Egg of Pain.
I really need to break this habit of yours.
Galahad hid his thoughts and nodded.
“Are you all right?”
At the urgent voice, he turned to see Gilbert and Adrianna. Behind them, Tom was collecting Demonkin blood.
Was he all right?
At Gilbert’s question, Galahad chuckled.
“I’m feeling excellent.”
Galahad pressed down on Gwen’s round head and smiled.
Rattle.
* * *
“Human blood is a meal, sleep, and a sweet drink to Demonkin.”
Adrianna silently watched Galahad as he explained.
Galahad had been treated like a Demonkin by the Demonkin. They had entertained him. He also moved through the Demonkin City as though he knew it well, and just now...
‘That was a Demonkin’s power.’
Was that magic too? Adrianna felt strange.
The more she learned about Galahad, the less she understood him.
“After looking into it, I found that humans supply blood here. Like merchants.”
Galahad pointed ahead. Some distance away stood a building noticeably larger than the others. Several men were chatting in front of it.
‘The smell of blood.’
A familiar scent filled Adrianna’s nose.
“I checked it out, and the security is rather tight. Blood must be the most popular trade here. House Proxel has two warehouses.”
Galahad remained relaxed, as though their current situation was nothing.
“Now, the plan is simple. We cleanly destroy House Proxel’s blood warehouse, then leave traces of House Vans behind. Any questions?”
It was not simple at all. Gilbert raised his hand.
“How do we get inside?”
“What do you mean, how do we get inside? That’s such a Sir Gilbert-like question.”
Gilbert tightly shut his mouth. Galahad openly clicked his tongue.
Adrianna quietly lowered the hand she had half raised.
“Obviously, we go in as guests.”
“...Pardon?”
Going in as guests?
Galahad was certain the Demonkin would see him as one of their own.
Adrianna’s eyes darkened.
“Sir Gilbert and the youngest will stay here and watch the surroundings. Let us know if any Demonkin approach. Gwen and Tom are coming with me. Ah, Tom, do you have a spare shirt?”
“What? Of course I do.”
“That’s Tom for you.”
Galahad casually took off his shirt.
It was impossible to guess what he had gone through from that scar-covered back.
Then their eyes met.
Adrianna had done nothing wrong, yet she looked away for no reason.
“How lecherous.”
Rattle! Rattle!
* * *
“Aren’t those Proxel bastards being too much?”
Gourmet Venta grumbled quietly.
“We’re already stretched thin, and now they want us to increase the supply even more. Are those bastards pigs or what?”
“This is fucking ridiculous. Do they think we’re servants?”
Conditions in the North had already grown strained. They could barely meet the original supply quota, yet House Proxel wanted even more.
Of course they were dissatisfied.
“Wouldn’t it be better to side with House Vans? House Proxel hasn’t been doing so well lately. They failed badly last time and got wiped out together.”
Venta shook his head.
House Vans was a rising Demonkin house, but it could not compare to House Proxel.
“The Proxels here are only a branch family. The main house is true nobility, based in the Demon Realm. House Vans can’t stand against Proxel.”
This was a den for Demonkin who had been cast out.
True Demonkin lived in the place called the Demon Realm. This was where the losers driven out of the Demon Realm settled.
Then someone approached.
It was a handsome man dressed neatly. The refined air around him came naturally, and the people who had been talking hurriedly straightened up.
‘I’ve never seen him before.’
Venta did not know every face in House Proxel, but he knew the people who came to the warehouse. He had never seen this Demonkin before.
Still, the man’s composure and refinement were not something anyone could fake.
He even had a pretty maid and a porter with him. Walking around a place filled with Demonkin like that meant he was confident he could protect himself.
“Why are you standing there instead of opening it?”
The man spoke coldly. His voice was filled with the arrogance unique to nobles.
Venta hurriedly opened the door and stepped aside.
The man naturally entered. The door slammed shut behind him.
Only then did Venta let out a breath.
“I’ve never seen him before... Was it really all right to let him in?”
An uncertain question came from beside him. Venta openly clicked his tongue.
“You could tell he was a high-ranking Demonkin at a glance, idiot. Do I need to spell it out for you?”
“How would you know that?”
His companion frowned at Venta.
“Are you saying some non-Demonkin would come to a place crawling with Demonkin, without a weapon, with only a pretty maid and a porter, swagger into a warehouse run by House Proxel, and even know it was a Proxel warehouse?”
Venta’s scolding made his companion shut up.
“There’s no way a lunatic like that exists.”
Everyone nodded together.
* * *
‘Hm.’
After entering the building, Galahad frowned.
A disgusting heat brushed against his face.
The thick smell of hot blood filled the air. It had been a long time since he had smelled blood this foul.
Boiling cauldrons stood everywhere. Blood bubbled and popped on their surfaces.
The faces of those moving between the cauldrons were drenched in sweat. To someone unaware, they might have looked like diligent workers.
One of them, wearing a large hat, approached Galahad.
The man removed his hat and bowed.
“You must be new.”
“Good to meet you.”
Galahad nodded and flicked his finger.
A small hole opened between the man’s eyebrows. He collapsed immediately. Galahad flicked his finger again.
The mana he had prepared spread out. It was a spell that prevented sound from escaping.
“Call me if anyone comes through the door.”
“Yes.”
Tom answered as he drew his shield close. Tom would not need to step forward.
There was no way Galahad would miss a target in a building without windows.
Galahad flicked his finger again.
A man clutched his throat and fell backward. The cauldron behind him tipped over, spilling red blood. The stench grew thicker.
The man writhed in the blood. A long scream erupted from him.
Only then did everyone around them turn to look. Galahad flicked his finger.
“Hard Shell!”
Perhaps he was a mage. The man chanted a spell. Hard Shell was a fairly high-tier defensive spell.
Galahad’s Mana Arrows struck it.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A bright smile spread over the mage’s face.
“This bastard isn’t a Demonkin!”
“Correct.”
Galahad flicked his finger once more.
“Attacking Hard Shell with Mana Arrows? What an idiot...”
The mage’s voice faded. Instead of words, blood poured from the small hole in his neck. The mage fell backward.
Crash!
A cauldron tipped over, and blood poured out like a waterfall.
Galahad clicked his tongue and flicked his finger again.
Another man drew a sword. Seeing aura rise from it, Galahad guessed he was a Gourmet.
“How dare you...”
Instead of answering, Galahad flicked his finger.
The man snorted and swung his sword. His aura was quite good. At least good enough to sneer.
Tap.
His sword cut through the Mana Arrow. The spell vanished in an instant.
The man snorted.
Knights who could use aura were certainly troublesome.
Aura cut through any spell.
Tap.
A small hole opened in the man’s left foot. It was beyond the path of his sword, so he could not block it.
Unless he had two swords.
“When...?”
The man’s eyes widened as if they would split apart.
Galahad did not answer and flicked his fingers in quick succession.
The man gritted his teeth and swung his sword. Aura cut through the Mana Arrows. His sword path was so obvious it was enough to make Galahad yawn.
Tap.
A hole opened in the man’s thigh. His sword slowed.
Tap.
A hole opened in his heart. His sword tipped forward.
“Should a knight take off armor just because it’s hot?”
There had been twelve people in the building. Four were mages, three were knights, and the rest were laborers.
Because they were working in the heat, none of them were properly equipped.
That made things fairly easy.
What mattered was leaving traces behind.
Even if he had learned how to hone mana from the Demonkin’s authority, the traces of Galahad’s honed mana would inevitably differ from Demonkin authority.
That was why he needed Gwen.
From the moment she entered, Gwen had repeatedly vomited. Galahad thought her soft heart might become an obstacle, but...
Contrary to his expectations, Gwen did not hesitate.
“Let me borrow it for a moment!”
Puff.
Even as Gwen kept vomiting, she did not say anything weak like she could not do it. She steadfastly scattered authority.
‘She’s becoming useful.’
Then Tom moved around and shoved over the cauldrons, breaking them.
There was so much blood that it overflowed even after soaking the entire floor.
Galahad watched the blood flow in a long trail toward the door and moved his mana.
The overflowing blood soaked the floor and kept flowing.
It soon reached the front entrance.
“What?! What’s happening in there?!”
The door was violently thrown open.
A hole opened between the eyebrows of the one who entered.
“What the...”
The heads of the ones on either side rose into the air at the same time.
Gilbert and Adrianna had cut them off simultaneously.
“It’s a success. Ah, Gwen, could you move your finger?”
“Yes!”
Pop!
* * *
‘Hm...’
Gilbert had learned something while traveling with Galahad.
There was no need to force himself to understand Galahad.
Galahad was a mage. Trying to understand him would only give Gilbert a headache.
Still, Galahad’s results were always good. So Gilbert usually followed him without question.
Even Gilbert could not help but ask this time.
“Why?”
Some distance away, Demonkin were tangled together.
Humans caught among them screamed at length.
The Demonkin did not stop even after their limbs were cut off. Until their final breath, they swung their hands or swords.
Demonkin from House Proxel and House Vans were fighting.
So...
Why?
“Why are Demonkin fighting each other?”
“What do you mean, why? What have you been doing all this time?”
Gilbert frowned at Galahad’s clicking tongue.
“All we did was attack one warehouse, didn’t we?”
It was not even a large warehouse. It was a shabby place guarded by humans, without even a Demonkin.
They were fighting like that because they had struck such a place?
“What nobles need is justification.”
“Justification?”
“That’s right. Justification is worth less than dirt, but sometimes it is more valuable to nobles than gold.”
“What does that... Never mind.”
Gilbert shook his head. He would not understand even if he listened. It would only give him a headache.
“Hmm, did around twenty Proxel Demonkin come out? Fewer than expected. It seems Damian is more valuable than I thought.”
Galahad ran a hand through his messy hair.
The Demonkin City was originally quiet and cold. There was a reason Galahad had ordered the unit members to keep their mouths shut.
Yet that city...
“Argh! Kill them! Kill them!”
“You bastards...”
Blood splattered, and screams rang out. The clash brought down the walls of buildings. Aura sent blood spraying in long arcs.
The city had become deafeningly loud.
The cause was obviously Galahad.
Yet Galahad was smoking a cigarette.
As though it had nothing to do with him.
He was completely at ease.
“Now then, shall we go rescue Damian?”
Galahad said this as he flicked away the finished cigarette.
The corners of his mouth had risen slightly.
Gulp.
Gilbert had thought Galahad was an exceptionally capable man whose mind had broken because he was too talented.
He had no choice but to change that assessment.
Galahad was not simply capable.
He was...
A disaster.
A disaster that swept through everything without caring about the means.
“Yes, Commander!”
Gilbert was sincerely relieved that he was on Galahad’s side.
* * *
Munch munch! Muuunch! Munch!
Helsington, the deputy head of the House Proxel branch, frowned at the vulgar sounds.
Damian kept picking up meat with a fork and stuffing it into his mouth.
He held the fork so close to its tines that it was no different from eating with his hands.
There was no point in using a fork, yet Damian insisted on using one until the end.
The clothes they had carefully provided were covered in oil and seasoning. There was not a trace of dignity.
It was because half of his blood came from uncivilized humans.
Disgusting, but that was why he had value.
They coveted humanity’s fangs, their aura.
That was why they had planted their seed. Once a child was born, they intended to eat it and obtain its aura.
Only House Proxel could do such a thing.
And the only fruit of that effort was before him.
‘We will obtain aura.’
Helsington’s lips curled up.
His House Head had been unfairly relegated to a branch family, but obtaining aura would change everything.
The House Head would eat Damian.
To think they would be able to wield both human weapons and Demonkin weapons.
‘Our age is coming.’
It was determined by the purity of blood, so there was no chance Damian would eat the House Head.
And if that did somehow happen...
‘A pointless thought.’
Helsington shook his head.
The time was approaching.
‘He has put on enough flesh. Soon.’
Helsington nodded as he watched Damian.
Then...
Munch munch. Munch. Muuunch!
“Give me more.”
At this rate, they would go bankrupt first.
They needed to hurry with their grand undertaking.
Munch munch munch.
Footnotes:
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