WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Ceaseless
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Northern Grand Duke’s Mad Son-in-Law ◈
Chapter 75: Puberty
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‘Inheritance.’
Galahad shook the blood from his hands.
The information he had obtained from the Demonkin was fragmentary.
All they knew was that the old man intended to perform something called an inheritance on Damian. Ask anything beyond that, and their heads exploded.
‘That’s quite a disturbing word.’
It was not an unfamiliar term.
‘Sounds like something that bastard used to do. Sihan, was it?’
Sihan had been an agent with a very good reputation. He had a warm appearance, and there were even rumors that he raised orphans.
That was why Galahad investigated him. People who looked after orphans in this place usually had impure intentions.
Surprisingly, the man’s home was clean. There was not a single trace of an orphan anywhere.
Galahad searched the house thoroughly and eventually found a massive red magic circle in the basement. Small corpses lay atop it, dried out completely.
The man had been stronger than his records suggested. Of course, not strong enough to face Galahad.
The details of the case were rather ordinary.
He gathered orphans and taught them magic. He did not teach them much, only enough to read the necessary letters and move mana.
And then...
‘He absorbed their mana.’
The man absorbed the children’s mana. That was why he had been stronger than his records suggested. He called it inheritance.
What a joke. It was not something passed from above to below, yet he called it inheritance...
Galahad retired him.
The official reason was illegal magic lessons. That carried a harsher penalty than kidnapping and murdering orphans.
‘The origin of magic is the Demonkin...’
Galahad tapped his fingers as he searched through his memories.
It had been an interesting magic circle, so he still remembered it. The circle had been crude. Looking at it now, that was likely because it imitated something used by the Demonkin.
‘If it was Demonkin magic...’
Galahad reconstructed the magic circle in his mind.
‘They intend to absorb blood.’
He could not be certain, but it seemed to use House Proxel’s authority.
Damian, however, was half Proxel and half prostitute.
There was no way the inheritance would be complete.
If so...
“Bleurgh.”
“Gwen, are you all right? Try drinking this. It’ll settle your stomach.”
Clatter.
The bustling noise broke Galahad out of his thoughts.
“Commander, they keep coming.”
Gilbert asked as he flicked blood from his hand. Behind him, the headless corpses of Demonkin lay scattered across the floor.
“Strange.”
“Yes?”
“Even when we kill them, the Demonkin’s power doesn’t noticeably decrease. Going by the calculation, their power should decrease proportionally...”
“Couldn’t you be wrong, Commander?”
“Sorry, but I’m never wrong.”
At Galahad’s firm response, Gilbert swallowed dryly. It was remarkable how someone could be so certain.
“Even when the Demonkin die, their power doesn’t decrease. If anything, the concentration seems to be rising. Why?”
As Galahad examined the surroundings, he suddenly realized something was odd about the stains on the wall.
At a glance, they looked like ash, but the stains were unusually dark.
As if someone had deliberately smeared them there...
“Ah, so that’s it.”
“What is?”
“This estate is Proxel as well. They put some thought into it.”
“The estate is Proxel? What does that mean?”
“Sir Gilbert, you aren’t ashamed to learn. A very admirable attitude.”
Gilbert considered Galahad’s words for a moment. Was that praise?
“Look at the walls. There are stains everywhere. They look like ordinary stains, but... Try it.”
Gilbert removed his leather glove and scraped the wall with his finger. A small, dust-like stain clung to it.
“Ptooey! Damn it! Doesn’t it taste fucking awful?”
“Correct. These walls are made from Demonkin corpses. Demonkin from House Proxel, most likely.”
“You mean they made it out of their ancestors’ corpses? Those Demonkin bastards are insane...”
“Clever, aren’t they? It seems that even when Demonkin die here, the estate absorbs them. An authority related to domain, perhaps. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“...What?”
Galahad brushed back his disheveled hair.
The estate itself was Proxel.
‘They let us in so easily because they were confident.’
Even when the Demonkin were burned, the estate appeared to absorb them.
It was not a good sign.
One strange question remained.
‘Why isn’t the old man stepping in himself?’
Even if the estate absorbed the power, its efficiency could not be perfect.
Yet the old man had not appeared.
‘Does he dislike using his power?’
Was he afraid of Galahad? It did not seem that way.
House Proxel was a large organization in the city. Why would the leader of such an organization hesitate to act?
‘Is it because of that Ruler?’
There were many rumors about the Demonkin who ruled the city, the one called the Ruler.
One rumor was especially famous.
Anyone who caught the Ruler’s attention disappeared, Demonkin and humans alike...
Rumors were often exaggerated, but caution was necessary.
Galahad casually turned his gaze. Adrianna was watching him.
Adrianna was suppressing her power as much as possible because Galahad had asked her to.
If Adrianna acted and drew the Ruler’s attention...
‘Someone even the old man fears.’
Galahad put a cigarette in his mouth.
He raised his assessment of the Ruler’s danger level.
If the old man was wary enough to sacrifice his own flesh, avoiding the Ruler’s involvement was the right choice.
Dealing with the Proxels here alone was exhausting enough. They needed to be as careful as possible.
‘I should hold Adrianna in reserve.’
Galahad calculated again.
There were two clues.
The first was that the old man intended to perform an inheritance on Damian.
The second was that the estate itself was Proxel.
Galahad combined the two clues. Before long, a solution came to mind.
“This time, we’ll have to trust Damian.”
Saying it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Unfortunately, Galahad was not the kind of person who trusted others and left things to them.
‘The concept of inheritance should be similar.’
Galahad looked at Gwen. She was still vomiting.
“What? You’re trusting the little brat?”
“That’s right. Still, we can’t just stand around. We should help him a little...”
“How?”
“By catching the Demonkin. The problem is that even when we kill them, their power goes to the estate. To sever that connection... it’ll take quite some time.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Didn’t I just explain it, Sir Gilbert?”
“No, that’s not what I meant...”
Gilbert asked again, sounding frustrated.
Galahad narrowed his eyes.
“I know you aren’t ashamed to learn, but sometimes shame is necessary.”
Gilbert shook his head at Galahad’s rebuke.
“No, if the estate is the problem...”
Galahad frowned as Gilbert kept speaking.
Then Gilbert’s next words drew a quiet look of admiration from him.
“Why don’t we just destroy the estate?”
It was an idiotic thing to say, very fitting for Gilbert.
‘Destroy the estate.’
It was an incredibly simple-minded method, but...
‘It certainly is effective.’
Galahad nodded.
“Sir Gilbert, you’re like a broken clock.”
“What? I’m a knight.”
“I didn’t know that. Very well, then let’s destroy the estate.”
“If I knew this would happen, I would’ve brought a hammer.”
Galahad smiled broadly at Gilbert’s grumbling.
“Ah, there’s a hammer here!”
Tom pulled out a massive hammer.
As everyone looked at him, Tom smiled awkwardly, as if making excuses.
“There was someone using a hammer. I thought it might come in handy, so I took it.”
“I was joking. A sword will be enough.”
Gilbert shook his head uncomfortably. Tom waved the hammer.
“Then should I smash everything?”
Gilbert asked as aura surged around him.
Galahad nodded.
* * *
“What’s all that noise downstairs?”
“I heard there are intruders.”
“Those Vans bastards?”
“No, apparently they’re humans.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.”
“I’m only telling you what I heard.”
At the blunt response, Venta the Gourmet frowned.
Had humans really invaded? How did they get in?
Even if they had entered...
“They walked into the Proxel Estate on their own? Are they crazy?”
Venta muttered with a sour expression.
House Proxel was a peculiar bunch. The Proxels used bizarre powers. All Demonkin used bizarre powers, but House Proxel was especially unique.
Their power became stronger within the estate. It was well known that an upper-ranking Demonkin had entered the Proxel Estate and vanished without a trace.
Yet they had entered the estate on their own...
“They are crazy.”
“Yeah. Still, they must be pretty capable. It’s been noisy for a while.”
Rakran spoke with a long yawn. As she said, loud explosions continued to erupt below.
‘They’re holding out well.’
Venta nodded.
Then the explosions stopped. Silence returned after a long while.
“Looks like it’s over. How much time passed?”
Venta hurriedly checked the hourglass.
“I won.”
Venta shook the mana clock. Its color was yellow, signaling that it had been shaken twice.
“They were nothing special.”
“Ha ha, don’t take your frustration out on strange things.”
Venta chuckled as Rakran scrunched up her face.
“A bet is a bet, isn’t it?”
“Tch. They said these guys could fight.”
Rakran replied with a sour expression as she undid her shoulder armor. At the sight of the pale skin revealed beneath it, Venta swallowed.
“Just one bite.”
“I know.”
Venta drew the fork and knife from his waist. Rakran offered her neck. It was an ordinary bet among Gourmets.
Then...
The wall trembled slightly. Venta and Rakran turned toward it at the same time.
Rakran grabbed her sword hilt. Venta hurriedly drew his sword as well.
The wall shattered violently. Broken fragments flew everywhere, obscuring their sight.
Through the dust...
“Knight Gilbert!”
An ugly knight burst through. Blue aura blazed along the knight’s sword.
Venta thrust out his sword. Rakran moved smoothly to support him.
At that moment...
A cold pain ran through Venta’s shoulder.
‘When?’
A razor-sharp shard of ice had embedded itself in Venta’s shoulder.
It was sharp enough to pierce his armor.
It was too thin to seem threatening. Its placement, however, was the issue. It had struck the perfect spot, precisely where the muscles connected.
Venta’s sword slowed for an instant. It was a moment close to nothing, but in a sword fight, an instant was long enough to decide victory and defeat.
“You cowardly...!”
The ugly knight’s sword struck directly at the opening.
Venta’s head rose into the air.
His vision shot upward. It spun...
He saw Rakran crossing swords with the knight in the foolish helmet.
The other side had no aura, yet Rakran’s sword was being forced back. Blood sprayed from Rakran’s exposed neck in a long stream. Another one of those razor-sharp shards of ice.
Again, it had struck a perfect spot. Rakran’s movements stopped for an instant, and...
Rakran’s head rose into the air. The foolish helmet bowed its head, as if showing courtesy.
His freed vision continued to spin.
Beyond the ugly knight, he saw a man. A man with a cigarette in his mouth, expressionlessly snapping his fingers...
The man met Venta’s eyes and waved.
‘Demonkin...?’
Venta’s vision fell. Then it spun again, revealing what was behind him.
The ugly knight swung his sword at the wall. Blue aura split the entire wall apart. It was truly an idiotic sort of aura.
Between the split walls stood a well-dressed Demonkin. The Demonkin opened their mouth wide.
“We caught six, so six remain.”
“Isn’t it eight?”
“Hmm. Sir Gilbert, just swing your sword.”
That strange conversation was Venta’s last memory.
* * *
Boom!
‘What is this...?’
The old man looked down and scrunched up his face. Unlike before, he had lost his composure.
Boom!
It was because of the continuous explosions.
He had urged them to give up, though he had expected they might resist.
They were humans, after all.
Still, this was the Proxel Estate.
No matter how they struggled, there was no way he could lose to them.
Yet...
‘They are destroying the estate itself.’
They were attacking the estate.
Destroying such a massive estate from the bottom up...
The old man was dumbfounded.
Still, it was effective.
‘They figured it out?’
Even if they had noticed, who would think of destroying the estate itself?
‘Are they not afraid of the Ruler?’
Stupid humans. Disgust crossed the old man’s face.
It was a crude method, but effective. Even now, his power was diminishing in real time.
The old man exhaled and suppressed his urgency.
The estate did not matter.
He would return to the main house.
He would twist the neck of the bastard who had dared drive him out, then reclaim the main house.
The estate no longer mattered.
The old man looked down.
Blood reached up to his waist. Damian was beneath it. As always, Damian stared blankly upward with his mouth open.
Grrrumble!
‘I fed him that much, and he’s already hungry?’
The old man was dumbfounded. Damian had eaten every last bit of food in the castle, along with the additional supplies brought in afterward.
And yet he was hungry again...
‘I failed to erase the human part completely.’
Things had gone far off plan.
Still...
Boom!
The situation was not good. Even now, the old man’s power was being rapidly consumed.
Damian had been half-baked from the beginning.
The only thing left was hunger.
Compared to the old man’s grand undertaking, it was insignificant and trivial.
“I will begin.”
The old man cut his wrist over Damian. Blood sprayed violently from the scar.
Damian gulped it down, his mouth opening and closing. Soon, blood overflowed from Damian’s mouth. Damian’s usually unfocused eyes sharpened intensely.
The old man unleashed his authority. The consciousnesses of the Proxels within the estate connected.
‘...Why are there so few?’
The old man was momentarily startled by how few Proxels there were.
Their small number itself was not a problem. When they died within the estate, the estate absorbed them and sent their power to the old man, the House Head...
The issue was that their power was far too little. The damage they had done to the estate must have affected it.
Urgency rose in him again.
“We are Proxel.”
The old man spoke as he looked at the blank-faced Damian.
His voice was imposing, as if dozens of voices overlapped.
There was power in the old man’s voice.
No Proxel could defy it.
Damian’s eyes became half-glazed.
“We are Proxel.”
The old man declared it again. Damian’s head shook violently.
Gray aura rose along Damian’s hand.
The old man’s eyes widened as though they would split apart.
It was definitely gray. And it was aura...
‘Could the legend have been true?’
Gray aura...
It was the legend left behind by a high-ranking Demonkin whose hundred eyes had been plucked out.
‘No wonder the main house paid such close attention...’
It was an unexpected gain. At the same time, unease rushed over him.
What if Damian’s blood was thicker than the old man’s?
‘Impossible.’
For Damian to be purer than him, that one would have had to act. It made no sense for that one to mingle their body with a human.
Besides, Damian was half-baked.
The old man reached out and grabbed Damian by the forehead.
Then he declared,
“We are Proxel.”
Damian’s mouth slowly moved.
Blood flowed from his moving lips.
Then Damian vomited blood and said,
“I’m Damian, though.”
The old man’s face instantly turned pale.
Damian should have lost consciousness by now.
Something had gone wrong.
Then Damian’s mouth moved again.
“I’m hungry.”
Grrrumble!
* * *
“How is this not collapsing?”
“It must have been engineered that way.”
Galahad chuckled at Gilbert’s question.
They had destroyed the first and second floors completely, yet the estate had not collapsed. Only the third-floor room remained, supported by stairs with nothing but the foundation left. It was a ridiculous sight.
‘Mana cannot enter.’
Galahad’s mana could not pass through the door.
It was almost as if the room whispered for him to enter if he was curious.
Galahad grabbed the doorknob.
“Gwen, stay close to me.”
“What? Yes!”
Gwen immediately moved behind Galahad. Puff. A finger naturally jabbed into his back.
When he opened the door, a familiar scent tickled his nose.
The smell of blood. An overwhelmingly foul smell of blood...
The room was entirely red. Dried red stains covered every surface. Desiccated skulls had been scattered everywhere.
The old man was not there.
Only Damian stood alone.
Galahad narrowed his eyes and examined Damian.
Damian had his hands behind his back.
It was not a good sign.
Damian turned his gaze toward Galahad.
The moment their eyes met, Galahad felt a chill.
‘Me, feeling fear...’
He hurriedly circulated his mana.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The Egg of Pain beat violently. The Egg of Pain displayed an intense hunger. An overwhelming urge unlike anything he had felt before surged over him.
Then Damian opened his mouth.
“You uncivilized fools have finally caused trouble.”
The voice that followed from Damian sounded old. There were quite a few words Damian would find difficult.
‘What a shame.’
Galahad’s eyes narrowed. He thought he had shaken Damian enough, but the old man’s resilience seemed greater than expected.
It was not entirely unexpected. Galahad had prepared a countermeasure.
It was only a little disappointing.
Then...
“Damian! What a nasty thing to say!”
Gwen sharply scolded him.
A scolding in a situation like this...
Damian’s body trembled slightly. His eyes cleared for an instant. It was only a moment, but Galahad did not miss it.
‘I didn’t expect this.’
Galahad narrowed his eyes.
“Damian, what did your mother say she did?”
When he asked that...
“A prostitute.”
Damian’s mouth moved.
“You uncivilized bastard...”
The voice that followed from Damian sounded old.
Having grasped the situation, Galahad nodded.
“All right. Our next mission is to cure Damian’s puberty.”
Galahad turned to the unit and put a cigarette in his mouth.
“Puberty?”
“That’s right. Children naturally go through puberty. Puberty is a very important turning point and an opportunity for growth.”
Gilbert raised his hand high.
“Speak, Sir Gilbert.”
“How do we cure puberty?”
“That is...”
Galahad glanced at Damian.
Damian pointed his sword at Galahad. His stance was impressive.
Above all, gray aura surged thickly along the blade.
“By giving him growing pains.”
The corners of Galahad’s mouth rose on their own.
Footnotes:
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