"This is no time for that. We need to hurry and recall our scattered comrades. If this continues, they'll all be captured."
"Mm, I'll issue a recall order right away, but…"
Broken out of his thoughts by his comrade's voice, the man trailed off.
No matter how fast they moved, it was obvious that two or three of them would fail to avoid the mercenaries and be caught.
The problem was that they had assumed the mercenaries wouldn't take action for a while and had spread themselves too far.
Sensing that worry, the man on the left let out a sigh.
"At this point, it's impossible to save everyone. We'll just have to preserve as many comrades as we can."
"Hah… how did things end up like this?"
With heavy hearts, the two men sighed as if the ground itself might cave in.
Just recently, everything had seemed to be going smoothly—who could have imagined the situation would reverse so abruptly?
"Come to think of it, what did the hired mages say? If we urgently recall our comrades like this, the installation of the planned nodes will be delayed."
"They said they weren't sure either. Apparently it depends on how many nodes have already been installed—but it sounded more like an excuse in case of delays. Honestly, black mages…"
"No—!"
At the word black mages, the man on the right blanched in shock.
Even if no one was listening, how could he be so careless?
"Comrade, I told you not to use the term black mage. If word of that gets out, it'll cause trouble."
"What's there to leak? The moment our contact point was exposed, we were as good as dead anyway."
"It's a problem even if it reaches the ears of our own people rather than the enemy. More than anything, it's a term the mages cooperating with us despise."
Generally speaking, black mages referred to those who dealt in magic involving human lives—blood, vitality, and souls.
Purely theoretical study might be one thing, but magic inevitably required practical application.
Under the pretense of pursuing magical research, they captured people and used them as sacrifices, making the very existence of black mages tantamount to that of heinous criminals.
Naturally, legitimate mages loathed being called black mages, considering it an extreme insult.
"They're already people whose entire school has been branded as black mages by the Empire. What do you think will happen if your words reach their ears?"
"What are the likes of them going to do? They'll just swallow it. You're being overly considerate of them. Mages are the sort who need to be reminded of their place from time to time."
Watching his comrade sneer, the man on the right rubbed his forehead.
He understood well enough why the other despised mages.
The mages' rebellion had been less a betrayal of the Empire and more an attempt to seize power from the nobility.
To someone steeped to the bone in aristocratic ideology, that would naturally be intolerable.
But to cling to that aristocratic mindset even when cooperation is essential—what's he thinking? If the mages turn on us at the wrong moment, it'll be a catastrophe…
Despite belonging to the same organization, the difference in what they truly sought was painfully clear.
Compared to the man who genuinely desired the liberation of their homeland, the other merely wanted to wield power without imperial interference.
That was why, despite having been together for over a decade, they could never truly call each other friends.
I'd like to say something—but he wouldn't listen anyway.
Swallowing his sigh, the man nodded and spoke as gently as he could.
"Still, let's refrain from pressing the issue until the operation is complete. If resentment builds and interferes with the work, it won't do us any good either. We can deal with discipline after everything's finished."
"Hmph. Well, mages were always narrow-minded creatures to begin with."
The comrade nodded reluctantly at the man's words.
It wasn't a particularly satisfying response, but it was the best answer he was likely to get.
Relieved, the man discussed the upcoming schedule with him to some extent, then the two went their separate ways.
With things already tangled, there was a need to bring the situation under control as quickly as possible.
***
Lucian stationed the mercenaries at predetermined locations and waited for a fish to bite.
The moment even one of them was caught, he planned to rush over and extract information before Tristan found out.
In the meantime, he also made sure to discreetly check whether any information could be gleaned from the prisoners already captured.
Six of them have already been caught—there should be no shortage of mouths. Even if the existence of a mage is being hidden, interrogation is the bare minimum.
No matter how much of a rivalry there was between Tristan and Lucian, they were still bound together as members of the same family—a community of shared fate.
If necessary, he could reasonably demand at least some degree of information sharing.
Unfortunately, Tristan's answer fell far short of expectations.
"All six of them haven't said a single word since they were captured. No matter how much we coax or threaten them, they won't even open their mouths."
"You didn't question them with words alone, I assume?"
"Of course not. We tried torture as well. But it was as if all of them had lost the ability to feel pain—there was no reaction."
"…Damn."
Lucian let out an involuntary sigh.
He had heard rumors of such drugs.
Once taken, they completely dulled the sense of pain, but at the same time stripped away parts of the five senses, including taste.
Because there was no way to reverse the effects, they were said to be used only by fanatics or assassins.
Of all times—for these bastards to have taken it.
At this point, it was safe to assume that torture would never make them talk.
The only remaining option was to shake them psychologically and force the information out.
"May I take a look myself?"
"No."
As expected, the refusal came immediately.
Lucian opened his mouth to argue, but Tristan spoke first, his tone firm.
"You seem to be weighing the option of Imperial support in your mind. As long as that scale exists, I have no intention of letting you face them. It's better to know nothing at all than to gain half-baked information that tips the scale to one side."
"If we're wrong, it could lead to a catastrophe."
"You're worrying too much."
Tristan brushed aside Lucian's concerns.
"If a mage is involved, it'll be an exiled school branded as black mages. Do you really think a school that's been subjected to witch hunts for over three hundred years would have that kind of power? They can't even pass on knowledge properly, let alone make a living."
"…I see."
Faced with an argument that squarely reflected reality, Lucian found himself at a loss for words.
The lives of unauthorized mages who had been hunted by the Imperial Court for over three centuries, without any proper base of operations, were generally miserable.
Raising disciples was extremely difficult, schools routinely died out, and some even starved because they couldn't earn a living.
Unless a school's very nature was suited to survival, or it had attached itself to some shadowy organization, it was hard for them to endure.
Tristan knew this all too well, which was why he didn't take Lucian's concerns seriously.
"Stop worrying about useless things and go back. I'll handle the interrogations myself. If anything worth sharing comes up, I'll have it conveyed to you. Until then, wait."
With those words, Tristan turned his back and left.
Left alone with no way to persuade him, Lucian let out a bitter smile.
What a headache. Still, it's not entirely wrong.
As Tristan had said, most mages struggled just to keep themselves alive.
After three hundred years, so much knowledge had been lost that there were countless schools that were half-ruined.
But there were always exceptions.
If a school's very orientation was suited to large-scale destruction or chaos, that changed things entirely.
And that was assuming a mage acted alone—what if an organization on the scale of the Imperial Liberation Front was backing them?
Perfect conditions to land a devastating blow.
But unless one experienced it firsthand, no amount of explanation would make them understand.
It seemed he would have to give up on obtaining information from Tristan.
That left only one option: waiting for a fish to get caught in the net he had cast.
"Third Young Master."
Raymond's voice snapped Lucian out of his thoughts.
Lucian pushed his worries aside and turned around.
"What is it?"
"We've got a bite."
At the prearranged code phrase, Lucian's eyes flashed.
It meant they had captured a prisoner from the Imperial Liberation Front.
The timing was impeccable, and a smile formed on his lips.
"Take me there. Immediately."
Lucian headed straight for the designated location.
It lay in the middle of the road leading from the northern edge toward the Yellow Forest.
When he arrived, the mercenary band looked at him with triumphant expressions.
"Hahaha! Young master, look! We've got an Imperial—!"
"Shh!"
Lucian hurried over to the boastful mercenary captain and clapped a hand over his mouth.
Then he leaned in and whispered to the flustered captain.
"Quiet. Do you really want to advertise to the other mercenary bands that you've made a fortune? Let's just take one platinum coin and be done with it quietly."
In truth, this wasn't for their sake but because he didn't want Tristan to find out—but that was the excuse he used.
The mercenary captain looked startled for a moment, then nodded repeatedly.
Lucian swiftly pulled out a platinum coin he had prepared in advance and pressed it into the captain's hand.
"Here. The platinum coin I promised. Keep it discreet."
"Heh heh, thank you. As expected, you're reliable when it comes to paying up."
Grinning broadly as he pocketed the coin, the captain quickly led his men away.
It seemed he had grasped that Lucian wanted this entire matter kept secret.
After briefly scanning the surroundings, Lucian approached the prisoner with only Raymond as his escort.
"Imperial Liberation Front?"
"… "
"To be caught by mercenaries—sloppy, don't you think? Or did you overestimate your own abilities?"
"… "
"You sure move around awfully well in a forest crawling with monsters. What's your secret?"
"… "
The young man didn't answer a single word, as if his lips had been sealed with glue.
Expecting this reaction, Lucian decided it was time to move on to the main point.
"You hired a mage, didn't you? Gnolls and kobolds are monsters that can't normally coexist, yet they're roaming around together quite amicably."
"… "
"The only thing that can make that possible is magic. A Beast School mage, perhaps? Both are closer to beasts, so maybe you thought they could be controlled?"
"… "
"That's a lie. The Beast School can't use magic like that. This is real black magic."
For the first time, the young man—who had shown no reaction at all—snapped his eyes open and stared at Lucian.
A beat later, he realized his mistake, but the composure he had lost was already gone.
Lucian met his gaze squarely and spoke in a calm, even tone.
"It's common for black mages to pretend to be from other schools and pass themselves off as mere unauthorized mages. Especially when they're controlling monsters—those claims are all lies. Monsters aren't natural beasts; they're corrupted beings."
"You think you've hired a mage, but it's the opposite. A black mage infiltrated your ranks while pretending to be a normal mage. Do you even know what you're helping them do? You're assisting in a large-scale sacrificial ritual that will offer up every living being in this region."
At Lucian's words, not only the young man but even Raymond was horrified.
If that were true, wouldn't everyone within the affected area die the moment the magic was completed?
The young man involuntarily spoke for the first time.
"D-Don't lie to me. Do you think I don't see that you're just trying to make me talk?"
"You idiot. You don't even know the first thing about magic, yet you still hired them—what did you even trust? Don't you understand yet? It wouldn't be strange if a massacre on a historic scale were to occur!"
Lucian barked the words at him and sprang to his feet.
Then, like a sage rebuking a fool, Lucian snapped sharply at him.
"If this ritual were only meant to target us, I might've understood. To you lot, the Empire is the enemy, and the people living under it probably don't look much different. But to include your own lives in the ritual? There's a limit to how stupid one can be!"
The young man's eyes shook violently.
He wanted to believe it was a lie, but the other man's words were filled with certainty.
What if—just what if—what he said was true?
What if he and all his comrades had been completely played by a black mage?
Feeling dizzy, the young man hesitated, then spoke in a trembling voice.
"Y-You're saying… this magic really is that kind of vile ritual?"
Lucian did not meet the young man's gaze.
He turned his back instead, then let out a deep, deliberate sigh, muttering inwardly as if for show.
Nope. Total bullshit.
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