CHAPTER 4

The Path Toward Reclamation

01

Black armored carriages covered in a layer of iron traveled through the Fell Forest.

They followed the leading cavalrymen at a steady pace.

As planned, they were on schedule to arrive at the Labyrinth City in the evening again, and Donnino, the male guard riding the raptor, felt relieved about the journey’s progress. Donnino was in charge of maintaining the iron carriages. Although he had enough knowledge of battle to escort the carriages in this way, tinkering with armored carriages suited him much better than fighting monsters.

He had traveled this road many times in both directions, but making any progress while shaking off the constant monster attacks was difficult. Although they were goblins, forest wolves, and other weak ones, their numbers were nothing to sneeze at. The wolves in particular were a nuisance, and they would continue to attack the carriages no matter how many times he tore them off.

What about this? Why not use several low-grade monster-warding potions so they’ll run away instead of attacking? If we do that, we might be able to lighten the carriages’ armor and restructure them for more speed.

After the Corps’s base had been established in the Labyrinth City, the members who stayed behind prepared goods to be transported to the imperial capital. So, after arriving in the Labyrinth City, the group could immediately leave for the capital again after they’d finished resting and performing maintenance.

As before, they had established a four-day stay in the Labyrinth City, so there was a lot of time for maintenance checks. By setting up a base, it was now also possible to install large-scale tools for servicing the carriages.

Up to now, the armored carriages had been nothing but sturdy boxes that were expected to take attacks. They were uncomfortable to ride in, and they weren’t very fast. When they endured attacks and somehow made it out of the Fell Forest, the carriages’ own weight caused the axles to rattle. It was a difficult situation, but even if they went through large-scale remodeling, it didn’t seem like it would be a problem.

Donnino kept a vigilant eye on the road while ruminating on remodeling the armored carriages.

The male slave named Jay gazed at Donnino’s back while grasping the reins on one of the carriages. Jay had worked under the slave trader Reymond in the Labyrinth City taking care of the animals and other things, and the Black Iron Freight Corps had bought him a little over a month ago.

This was his second round trip through the Fell Forest.

For Jay, the forest was a terrible place. He’d been brought to the Labyrinth City by yagu caravan, so he’d never been through the forest before the Corps had bought him. However, he knew from the stories of slaves who had traveled through it that it wasn’t a place where people could just come and go.

As magically Ordered, he held the reins while trembling in fear. When they’d appointed him as the nighttime driver, he was so frightened he’d vomited inside the coach box. Then he was literally kicked out of there with a “Gross, wash up and come back,” whereupon he disgracefully cried and screamed that the monsters would eat him while clinging half-crazed to the foot that booted him out.

However, Jay—no, the Black Iron Freight Corps hadn’t been attacked by monsters, let alone lost their lives. Even if they encountered monsters, and the monsters happened to be blocking their way forward, it seemed the creatures were completely warded off. Pedestals with burning monster-warding incense had been set up at the top of the iron carriages, but was this really something that would have that much of an effect?

I don’t get it…

Jay stared vigilantly as he observed his surroundings. His vocal cords had been crushed. Since he could neither read nor write, he could only learn things with his own ears and eyes. Without standing out or being noticed, he continued to search for information.

Afterward, they encountered just a few unexpected goblins along the road before the armored carriages finally arrived on schedule in the Labyrinth City.

“We have been expecting you.” The slave trader Reymond welcomed the Black Iron Freight Corps upon its arrival at his business.

The cargo was, once again, slaves.

The “baggage” was unloaded from the armored carriages and inspected, as usual.

However, something was a little off. People with one eye, people without all their fingers, and even people missing arms and legs were mixed in with the others. Among those with no physical defects were people who seemed to be felons, as they were hauled off bound and gagged.

The only slaves sent to the Labyrinth City were penal laborers and lifelong slaves for labor. People tended to avoid slaves with physical defects who couldn’t work satisfactorily and felons who weren’t usable because they didn’t get along with other slaves, even if they were offered at a cheap price. The Black Iron Freight Corps did not choose these slaves. The slave trader Reymond requested them.

“I have confirmed receipt of the goods. Here is the payment, as always.”

Reymond’s true motives couldn’t be read from his facial expression. The business of buying and selling people had been his livelihood for many years. Just like usual, he completed the transaction without much emotion, as if he were dealing in livestock. No, with even less emotion than usual. The Black Iron Freight Corps’s livelihood, too, was the delivery of “baggage.” They never openly pried into their customers’ orders.

After the transaction was finished and he saw off the Black Iron Freight Corps, Reymond stopped one of his subordinates who was taking the slaves to the cells.

“We have a lot of orc meat. Please treat today’s group. Tomorrow they will be shipped out. If that happens, then…” Reymond trailed off. The subordinate bowed in silence and then disappeared into the building along with the slaves.

“Sheesh, this is exactly why I don’t want to grow old. Sentimentality has no purpose. Well then, time to notify them of this arriving.” Muttering this to no one in particular, Reymond headed into the estate.

02

The estate of the Aguinas family was located a small distance from the aristocratic quarter’s center in the southeastern part of the Labyrinth City, near the outer wall. The site, which had been passed down since the time of the Kingdom of Endalsia, was as grand as the Labyrinth City itself. It was surrounded by high walls, so no one could see in from the outside.

It was said that when the monsters flooded out of the Fell Forest two hundred years ago, the head of the Aguinas family left the region to escape the danger. Afterward, they hastened back to the ruined country with soldiers, secured a safe zone with liberal use of monster-warding potions and medicinal herbs, and gathered the surviving alchemists to help with reconstruction. They distributed the potions they’d made to the surviving citizens and to the imperial soldiers who’d rushed to the rescue, and the Labyrinth City was built as a place for people to live.

As a result of their deeds, the Aguinas family was appointed in the Labyrinth City to manage the large quantity of potions left behind by the alchemists. The potions supplied by the family had continued to contribute to the subjugation of the Labyrinth over these long two hundred years.

The current head of the family, Robert Aguinas, descended a concealed staircase in his estate’s building annex down into a cellar.

He was in his early twenties, praised as a prodigy from an early age. His mother had passed away when his younger sister, Caroline, was still a child, and when his father had become bedridden due to a failed experiment a few years ago, Robert succeeded him as the head of the family.

The Aguinas family annex was an old structure from the time when this town was restored as the Labyrinth City, and the main building, constructed decades ago, was on the same plot of land, a little removed from the annex.

Even after the main building was newly constructed, the annex was used as a potion research facility, and only a very limited number of collaborators could go in and out apart from the head of the family and his successors.

Even his sister Caroline had never set foot in there.

The building had a vast cellar that stored a large quantity of potions meant for supporting the capture of the Labyrinth. Robert was descending into a hidden passage that only generations of Aguinas family heads knew about, separate from the staircase that continued into the potion storehouse.

He headed to the back of the dim corridor. Beyond the door that only the head of the family possessed the key to was a room resembling a graveyard.

A number of old-looking coffins lined both sides of the room. There were more than ten, and even someone looking in from the room’s entrance could see all their lids were open and no one was inside them. The very back of the room was raised, and a single glass coffin lay there.

Several magical tools for illumination had been installed around the glass coffin, lighting it up brightly. A cloth cover with delicate rose embroidery hung over its lower half, and the way it spread from the top of the coffin to the floor made one feel like they were inside a rose garden.

Considering the scarcity of goods in the Labyrinth City, this cloth with its ample embroidery was an expensive luxury item that wasn’t used in such unseen places. It seemed to clearly express the gift giver’s feelings toward the person the coffin belonged to.

Robert approached the glass coffin.

A girl slept inside it.

She was an incredibly, incredibly beautiful person.

Shining silver hair flowed around her in loose waves, framing her small face, which was as white as snow and looked just like porcelain. Along with her lovely and shapely nose, she had small red lips that curved in a smile like she was dreaming. A soft rose-colored dress covered her slender body and enhanced her beauty.

Her eyelids with its long lashes seemed like they’d flutter open at any moment.

What color could her eyes be?

Her lips were glossy, looking as if they were touched with nectar. He wondered if they would call his name with a bell-like voice when they moved.

“Oh, my fair Estalia. Our First Alchemist.”

Robert Aguinas knelt before the coffin.

He had met the sleeping girl when he was ten years old and had been formally established as the family heir. The impact of seeing her for the first time was still etched in his mind.

She was the most beautiful person Robert knew.

She had been sleeping for two hundred years, the last alchemist of the Kingdom of Endalsia.

“Estalia, you will become the First Alchemist of this Labyrinth City. Until that day comes, I won’t let anyone disturb your slumber.”

When the Labyrinth was conquered and this region returned to the hands of people, alchemists would be able to connect to the region’s ley line via a Nexus once more. However, making a pact with the land required an alchemist. Only alchemists who were able to take on apprentices knew this, and even then, many did not. This is why the master-apprentice relationship was considered more important than anything else, because an alchemist could access the Library and gain new alchemic knowledge even if their master was absent.

Those with no master could not become alchemists.

After an apprentice dived down into the ley line with the help of the spirits and connected a Nexus to it, their master used a technique to bring them back to the world. Therefore, Estalia was essential to reviving alchemists in the Labyrinth City.

She will be the master to all the alchemists in the Labyrinth City, and her name will live on for eternity.

Robert gazed at the sleeping Estalia in the coffin.

What dwelled in that gaze? Love? Adoration? Madness?

“Rest easy, Estalia— Until the moment the Labyrinth is destroyed and a new dawn breaks over this land, when you’ll awaken as was promised in the days of old. Until then, my new medicine will aid in the Labyrinth’s destruction,” Robert promised her. Countless times he’d repeated those words, that determination.

After pulling the rose-embroidered cloth just a little to the upper half of the coffin, he stroked the coffin as if soothing her, then left the cellar.

03

“The subjugation of the fifty-third stratum’s boss, the King of Cursed Serpents, begins now. We’ll have our revenge!”

“Sir!”

More than a hundred elites handpicked from the Labyrinth Suppression Forces responded to the Gold Lion General Leonhardt.

The fifty-third stratum of the Labyrinth was now the forefront of the subjugation. Because Leonhardt had received the curse of petrification from the basilisk during the previous expedition and been forced to retreat, he had a personal vendetta against this stratum.

As they defeated ordinary basilisks and advanced to the back of the corridor, they emerged into a huge open room lined with pillars that looked man-made. That was where the King of Cursed Serpents, the king basilisk, lived.

A basilisk was a monster with a head and tail like a snake’s and a wide torso like a lizard’s, with four short legs sprouting from it. It was said to have evil eyes of petrification that cursed anyone they stared at, and this curse couldn’t be completely healed by cure potions. However, the odds of curse symptoms occurring weren’t very high. Even if it did activate, the protective spell Holy Talisman, which prevented curses and repelled the undead, could protect you from it.

It was also possible to reflect a curse of petrification with a mirror, so a basilisk’s curse could be reliably prevented by carrying a shield that’d been polished like a mirror. Incidentally, a basilisk was immune to its own curse.

Basilisks had petrification poison on their fangs, claws, and tails, and it was horribly strong. If you got poisoned, petrification would always activate. However, since it was not a curse, it could be removed with cure magic or a cure potion.

They were powerful S-Rank monsters that attacked with their long tails and heads, but people in Leonhardt’s Labyrinth Suppression Forces could defeat them.

The problem was the King of Cursed Serpents raising its head in the center of the spacious room.

Its body was several times the length of a normal basilisk, and its mouth was large enough to swallow a person whole. Several horned protrusions grew crookedly from the top of its head like a crown. It was as if the ribs of the prey it had devoured were piercing its skull.

Covered in verdigris-colored moss, its body had rusty-looking sediment floating around it. The pieces of sediment wriggled like a cocoon right before hatching and occasionally burst open and melted into the atmosphere before merging with the sediment in the Labyrinth to form a new basilisk.

The king basilisk had eight legs, double the number a normal basilisk possessed. Its large torso prevented it from moving to the edges of the room where pillars crowded together or from entering the corridor. However, once the battle began, it would probably create several normal basilisks, inundate the entire room with the petrification curse, and swallow those who had turned into stone.

Even Leonhardt hadn’t been able to escape this. The birth of several basilisks all at once had thrown the battle into chaos, forcing a retreat. The basilisk, identifying Leonhardt as the general, incessantly showered him with the curse. Though Holy Talisman was chanted numerous times, the curse had found its way through a gap in the effect and reached Leonhardt.

However, they had no reason to fear this time.

“The holy water.”

In accordance with Weishardt’s command, all the soldiers dowsed themselves in holy water. This was followed up with Holy Talisman. Holy water had the same curse protection effect as Holy Talisman. Moreover, it increased resistance against basilisks’ petrification poison. Holy Talisman couldn’t overlap with itself, but it could overlap with holy water. The water would protect them in the interval between when Holy Talisman wore off and when it was cast again.

“Purify your weapons, including ammunition.”

This time, they poured holy water on their weapons. This would increase their attack power against the serpent king, which was covered in the curse.

The mages began to chant, using the holy water as a core to create lances of ice.

The archers poured holy water into thin metal molds and inserted shafts, and those who could use ice magic quickly cooled the water to make arrowheads.

They were about to confront a mighty foe they’d challenged many, many times and had never defeated. How many comrades had become its victims? However, the soldiers showed no trepidation at facing this powerful enemy.

With this strategy, they couldn’t lose. They believed in Lieutenant General Weishardt.

Because the holy water had been prepared “by the barrel,” they had about eight hundred potion vials of it.

It takes a formidable alchemist to be able to prepare not only a hundred high-class vials every day, but this much holy water in less than two weeks.

Weishardt and the soldiers impatiently awaited the Gold Lion General Leonhardt’s command.

“Now is the time we’ll have vengeance for that day.”

At Leonhardt’s order, the curtain opened on the King of Cursed Serpents’ subjugation.

“Holy Shield!”

The shield knights assigned to teams of roughly six people each activated the spell in succession. By using it in conjunction with a shield polished like a mirror that could bounce back curses, they could ward off the basilisk’s petrification curse without difficulty.

The teams of six, consisting of shield knights, vanguards, enchanters who could use Holy Talisman, and healers, skillfully dodged and pinned down the normal basilisks created by the King of Cursed Serpents.

They mustn’t defeat the normal ones just yet.

If they reduced their numbers, the King of Cursed Serpents would make new basilisk servants. Because no one could predict where the new servants would appear, the battlefront would become disorganized in an instant if the basilisks targeted those challenging the king.

For that reason, eight teams had been given the task of holding down the basilisk servants.

While the pests were pinned down, the main force move forward to confront the King of Cursed Serpents.

“Ready your arrows! Fire!”

At Weishardt’s signal, the archers fired their arrows of frozen holy water. The arrowheads had an aerodynamic shape and were more than ten times the size of normal ones. These were created to be a size that could just barely reach the King of Cursed Serpents by taking air resistance and the relative density of iron into account, which meant, of course, that they were no faster than normal arrows and couldn’t be expected to have penetrative power.

The arrows arced through the air and rained down on the King of Cursed Serpents in a barrage. The arrowheads weren’t frozen solid on the inside and crumbled away upon impact with the monster’s scales.

The holy water inside the arrowheads spread across the king’s body.

“HISSSSSSSSSS!”

The basilisk thrashed its disproportionately long tail and head to shake off the ice arrows. The archers’ arrows weren’t meant to injure the King of Cursed Serpents. Rather, the holy water purified the rust-like cursed miasma covering the monster’s scales then and there, and its body quivered in displeasure.

Now.

“All soldiers, attack!” Leonhardt shouted, and the soldiers followed him at once.

Countering Leonhardt’s attack, the King of Cursed Serpents raised its head and jerked its jaws wide open as if to swallow him. The mages hurled frozen holy water in the shape of lances at its head.

The ice lances slammed into the king’s head, damaging its tough scales and piercing its wide-open mouth. Holy water was like poison to the curse-clad basilisk. As it crunched the lances with its teeth, Leonhardt and the other soldiers drew their swords and attacked its closed mouth.

Did this monster have the emotional capacity to think they were annoying? From the perspective of the King of Cursed Serpents, Leonhardt and the others were probably tiny, fragile creatures. The creature glared with its evil, petrifying eyes, hoping to turn the crew into stone to devour them, but Holy Talisman stood in the way and prevented the curse from reaching Leonhardt. No matter how many times it tried to break through its protection, the mages standing at the ready in back cast it again and again, and even in the slight moments between each spell, the holy water served as a second barrier without fail.

As if to trample them, the King of Cursed Serpents stomped its eight gigantic feet and came forth to challenge the humans.

“Scatter!”

With a single command, the Labyrinth Suppression Forces moved into battle formations all around it. Aiming for the small opening this movement created, the basilisk’s long snake tail stretched crookedly and cracked like a whip. It blew away soldiers, slamming them into the stone pillars as the shock waves from the high-speed swing ripped off soldiers’ limbs.

It was a powerful attack that could cause fatal wounds in just a single blow, but the healers assigned to the front lines wasted no time in sending out healing magic to prevent instant death.

This strategy experimented with putting the healers on the front lines. Up until now, preserving their magical power to endure a drawn-out battle had been their top priority. By putting them on the front lines and minimizing the number of shield knights there, Leonhardt and the vanguards could switch to an attack-focused strategy even against the King of Cursed Serpents.

Those with wounds difficult to instantly treat with healing magic were immediately removed from the battlefront and carried to the medical team led by Nierenberg. There were only a few healers who weren’t fit for the front lines, and they remained with the medical team. Up to now, that wouldn’t have been enough people to administer treatment in time. However…

“Don’t be frugal with potions. Use the red and black ones first. The effects of the black ones vary wildly. If they’re not enough, use mid- and high-grade potions. The soldiers’ physical strength takes priority, so don’t waste it with healing magic.” Nierenberg barked out instructions to his team.

It was the same one that had healed the latest round of wounded people with Nierenberg. Even if the soldiers’ organs were about to rupture, even if their limbs were bent in strange directions—or gone altogether—they wouldn’t be shaken this time.

“If we slice it cleanly off, it’ll be easier to heal!”

“Next time, please go find and collect your own limbs!”

They even had the capacity to say that kind of stuff.

The healed soldiers immediately returned to the battlefront. Back into the very middle of the war of attrition that would whittle away at their bodies and minds.

04

Two weeks prior.

“Whaaat? That’s impossible. A hundred high-grade specialized curse-removal potions? I don’t have enough moss. Why can’t you harvest planada moss in the Labyrinth, anyway? And Mr. Ghark doesn’t sell it either. I can’t do it.”

A rare sight. Mariela gave a decisive refusal to a potion request.

She’d used up her planada moss back when she made the potion vials, and the amount she had on hand now was nowhere near enough for a hundred potions. And there wasn’t a way for her to buy more. Even Ghark had told her “I dunno.” The moss wasn’t mentioned in The Encyclopedia of Medicinal Herbs and Their Effects, which Medicinal Herbs Division Chairwoman Elmera had boasted included every medicinal herb found in the Labyrinth, so they ought to understand its rarity.

“Besides, if you’re up against curses, wouldn’t you be better off using holy water?”

Mariela had no idea at the time the words that casually slipped from her mouth would have a big effect on the subjugation operation for the King of Cursed Serpents, or that she’d get stuck with waking up at the crack of dawn every morning.

When they’d put in the order of holy water in units of Mariela-sized barrels, she asked the request to be repeated several times.

“Good morning, Mariela. Time to get up.”

Sieg had gotten up early today, too. The fact he seemed to be fine on little sleep made her extremely jealous. As Mariela rubbed her sleepy eyes, she somehow managed to crawl out of bed. It was still dark outside, and the morning sun hadn’t yet risen. This was all because some general or lieutenant general had made an incomprehensible order: one barrel of holy water. The equivalent of eight hundred potion vials. As far as rank went, they were mid-grade and not difficult, but gathering the materials was really taxing.

“Ugh, it’s cooold. I know this was my idea, but this is waaay too much overtime. I’m gonna tack on a surcharge…”

It was on the verge of winter. It was very cold before sunrise, and her hands and feet grew numb. Being forced to water plants at this hour was some kind of cruel joke.

She stored water infused with Drops of Life in the can and bucket Sieg had prepared for her, and the two of them ascended to the rooftop. Since a sacred tree grew right next to Mariela’s house, the top of the tree could be reached from the roof. The tip of its branches was still higher than Mariela even when she stood on the roof, but it was fine.

She poured the water in the watering can from the top of the roof toward the tree. Sieg used wind magic to lightly blow the water droplets so they would reach all the leaves, and in this way, the two of them uniformly and thoroughly watered the tree.

Once in a while, a mischievous gust of wind would blow the flowing water in Mariela’s direction, and it was as cold as could be, but since they had to finish this task before dawn, she silently endured it.

When this was done, they descended to the first floor and placed every last object from all over the house that could hold water under the tree—from washbasins to buckets, from pots to dishes. The excess water on the tree dripped down from its branches, and the water was still cold. When it landed on her neck, she shrieked, “Eeyah!”

After they finished placing the containers, all that remained was to wait for sunrise.

Sacred tree dew was an ingredient in holy water. The blessing of the sacred tree melted into the dew that was bathed in morning light, and the drops of water contained holy power to drive away evil. The important components were the morning sun and the tree’s blessing, which meant it didn’t have to be condensation—it could be rainwater, irrigation water, or anything else. It was said that using water mixed with Drops of Life would enhance the effect all the more, so that was why they’d prepared it without delay before the sun rose. They placed the containers after excess water droplets had fallen to not dilute the morning dew, and the droplets were chilly as they fell on the pair, but this was a collection method unique to residents in a house with a sacred tree.

They waited for sunrise in front of the fireplace while drinking steaming cups cocoa with plenty of sugar. They had planned on gathering furniture at the winter Furniture Market, so there was none in the living room with the wonderful fireplace, save for a white, soft fur rug spread on the floor. It was apparently the pelt of a snow monkey called a yeti.

Since the Labyrinth City lacked artisans, it was difficult to obtain woolen products, but monster fur appeared on the market at a regular frequency. This rug, with its long, white, warm fur, was one of them. It was a popular item for household use; each individual hair was firmer than it looked, they didn’t clump together even if bread crumbs and such were spilled on them, and it could even be washed at home.

How luxurious it was to relax on a soft, fluffy pelt in front of a fireplace in the morning.

Due to the lack of furniture, the room smacked of poverty with a wooden box used in place of a table, but Mariela actually found she could unwind better.

“It’d be nice if they sold a table that’s better than this box.”

“Do they even sell tables that are worse?”

As she and Sieg chatted like they always did, the sun came up.

The sacred tree sparkled in the morning sun. The abundant drops of water covering the leaves absorbed the light, and when the two components came together, the water seemed somehow divine. Seeing the tree like this really did make it feel like it was special.

When Sieg lightly rustled the branches with wind magic, the water droplets fell like light rain into the prepared containers.

Plink, plink-plink, tink, tink-tink.

If spirits lived in this place, they must have been dancing to the rhythm of the falling water. Enjoying the timbre of the sounds, Mariela and Sieg collected the morning dew in a barrel.

They continued this work day after day, and in about two weeks, they’d finally collected one barrel’s worth of morning dew.

The remaining ingredients were salt purified by a spirit’s flames and the hair of a maiden.

For the salt, Mariela summoned the salamander for the first time in a long while to heat it for her. Though the term was purified, it was more correct to say, “melted and hardened.”

The last ingredient, the hair of a maiden, meant the hair from a pure girl. Mariela just needed a small snip. Apparently, the younger the girl, the greater the effect. That said, it wasn’t like a baby would do the trick. It seemed the subject had to be conscious of their own gender.

As though it was perfectly timed, the poster girl of the Yagu Drawbridge Pavilion, Emily, came crying, “Daddy cut my hair all jagged!” and Mariela straightened out her bangs for her, so she was able to use the hair she got from that. Emily was ten, and she had such a kind heart that she’d once decided to give her father her own share of the cookies. Mariela figured her hair would be staggeringly effective.

If this strategy worked well, the secret top contributor might be the owner of the Yagu Drawbridge Pavilion, the one who had cut Emily’s hair poorly in the first place.

Thus, from this barrel of holy water that Mariela had made, the curtain opened on the subjugation of the King of Cursed Serpents.

One could object and say the materials other than the salt were free. But Mariela’s blissful sleep and Emily’s hair were priceless.

05

It was just a few hours before Leonhardt and the Labyrinth Suppression Forces challenged the King of Cursed Serpents when the carriage of Reymond the slave trader entered the Aguinas estate.

“I have come with the delivery of the ‘merchandise’ at your request.”

The Aguinas family steward cordially handed over a bag containing the payment.

“…Safely received.”

After taking the payment, Reymond expressed his thanks and left the estate. He didn’t say anything else, even to ask about the next order. Reymond was a slave trader. When he received an order, he fulfilled it. He wasn’t picky about his customers, and he never pried into or leaked their secrets. He didn’t interpose his personal feelings into business transactions. That was one of the “restrictions” imposed on slave traders.

However, this customer went through their goods too quickly.

Slave trading engaged in the buying and selling of people, and it was avoided as an occupation by most of society. But the job called for them to act as prison guards and law enforcement, and it was an occupational category protected and monitored by the country. Reymond and other slave traders possessed the skill of Contract of Servitude, which could be extremely dangerous depending on how it was used. It could even forcefully enslave innocent people.

Skills that few people possessed were highly valued by the country and classified as “Other” on appraisal paper, which didn’t even provide any details on it.

People who possessed “Other” skills were gathered by exclusive organizations and evaluated with particular appraisal paper. These abilities were selected and promoted by the country. Those with the Contract of Servitude skill also received specialty thought training from a young age, and after undergoing a great number of restrictions, they found success as slave traders.

The repeated act of buying and selling people might have chipped away at Reymond’s heart until it stopped protesting, but he used to be a fair person who could distinguish right from wrong. He’d been raised that way ever since it was discovered he had the Contract of Servitude skill.

Reymond knew there wasn’t enough spare time, energy, or money in this world to rehabilitate someone for committing a crime, other than to make them a penal laborer. That said, he also understood that they weren’t a “thing” that could so easily be “used up.”

So every time he met this kind of customer, he couldn’t help thinking the slaves were being used as “parts” or something similar. However, because he was bound by so many restrictions, he couldn’t stop being a slave trader. Even if he knew the “goods” were being “used up,” he wasn’t able to choose whom he would or wouldn’t sell to.

Reymond believed it was better to feel nothing, as if the slaves really were parts—even though his heart seldom stirred.

The two carriages that had transported the slaves returned to his business first, while Reymond ordered his coachman to drive slowly through the town on their way back. He absentmindedly watched the scenery of the town passing by: a mother soothing a child who’d fallen, children chasing each other around, a high-spirited shopkeeper selling a mound of ingredients for dinner.

Reymond liked gazing at mundane sights.

A young man and woman suddenly appeared in his field of vision.

“How come you and Lynx didn’t take me to the Orc Festival barbecueee?”

“What, were you in the market for a boyfriend?”

“N-n-n-no! The meat, I was in it for the meat! It was a rare chance to get free meat! What a waste! …And I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, sheesh!”

“Ha-ha-ha. Well, even if you had gone, you’d be stuck eating meat by yourself since Lynx and I were extremely popular.”

“Grr, no I wouldn’t! I’d be sooo popular, I wouldn’t even have the time for any meat!”

“So what’s the problem, then? You wouldn’t have been able to eat the meat anyway. Since we’re here, why don’t we have minotaur today? I bet you’re tired of eating nothing but orc.”

“Ooh, mino meat! Hamburg steaks would be good. I’ll knead ’em into big patties!”

“…Mariela, you really like kneading things, don’t you?”

I remember that girl. She’s the one who bought that dying slave. And that man next to her… Don’t tell me.

When Reymond sharpened his sensitivity, he could sense the remnants of his own Contract of Servitude in the man.

That’s him, all right. So he lived, huh?

The slave who had once been on the verge of death was standing next to the girl and smiling gently. His expression was very natural and calm. But Reymond could tell he was paying close attention to his surroundings to protect her.

Good, he thought. He was very glad the man had met a good master.

He would not pry into how that dying slave had been saved. It was enough for him to know one of his “products” had been blessed with good fortune.

He never cherry-picked his customers, pried into their affairs, or divulged their secrets. Because these were restrictions placed on slave traders.

Reymond’s carriage passed by the pair and slowly made its way through the town and back to the slave company.

06

There’s somethin’ strange goin’ on.

The thought crossed the mind of one of the slaves who’d been brought to the Aguinas house as he looked at the warm soup placed in front of him.

Even though he was a branded slave, his legs were chained and his hands were shackled in front of him.

He’d been a member of a famous group of thieves in the imperial capital and a felon who’d murdered many people. The location of their hideout had been leaked, leading to his boss and comrades getting killed for resisting. Perhaps he should say he was lucky; he had been beaten unconscious with a blunt weapon and captured along with one of his friends who was like a brother to him. After they were done interrogating him, he’d become a penal laborer.

Not much time had passed since he’d become a slave, but he hadn’t eaten anything decent. All the bread he’d been given was old and on the verge of being thrown out—or dry, hard, and rotting, with a sour smell and packed mold inside.

When he’d arrived at the slave trading company yesterday, he was given orc meat for dinner. There was only a small quantity of it, thinly sliced and seasoned with just a smidgen of salt, but it was the first piece of meat he’d had in a long time.

To make sure their “marketability” wasn’t lowered from fighting behind the guards’ backs, the slaves who appeared to be obedient were put in a large room together, while the felons were put in a private room in the dungeon. The wall facing the corridor had iron bars, and the other cells were clearly visible, perhaps so they would be easier to monitor.

After the guards left, the thieves talked in loud voices while eating their meat.

“Looks like we were sold to da same place, so let’s all get along. Right, li’l bro?”

“Yeah, big bro. I’m lookin’ forward to gettin’ to know all of ya reeeeal well.”

“Anyhow, I’m staaarved, this piddlin’ hunk o’ meat ain’t nearly enough.” Saying this, he thoroughly scowled at each one of the slaves in the other cells.

Now that they all knew they were sold to the same place, they couldn’t afford to become his target.

Unable to bear it, one of the slaves offered his own meat, and others around him piled theirs on the same plate until the thieves had more than they could finish. Thanks to this, the thieves had eaten their fill of meat even in the morning.

So, they weren’t hungry. The other slaves who’d given up their meat gulped down the soup with meat scraps provided by the Aguinas family, but the two thieves ate only the meat in theirs, then poured the soup into the other slaves’ bowls while the guards weren’t looking.

There’s somethin’ strange goin’ on. Aren’t we bein’ treated too nice?

They’d been given meat upon arrival to the company and warm soup with more meat where they’d been purchased.

Thieves knew better than to hold on to optimistic ideas that they were being welcomed. They knew they weren’t first-rate slaves.

The man held his empty soup bowl and carefully examined his surroundings.

All the people in this mansion were gangly men. If their slave brands hadn’t been activated, these men could easily be felled, even if the thieves had their hands and feet in shackles. No “master” had been there when they’d been branded. The contract had been sealed with blood from a bottle, so he didn’t know who could Order any of them.

Who could it be…?

If there was no master, maybe they could escape.

“Urgh…”

With a clang, a slave next to them who they’d given their soup to tipped over his bowl and collapsed. Perhaps there had been too much for him to finish, as soup splashed from the container onto the thief.

He tried to say “Nastyyy,” but the thief realized he couldn’t move his mouth very well.

Poison… No—anesthetic?

There was no point in killing slaves they’d just purchased. At once, he glanced around and saw that all the other slaves who’d been brought here had collapsed. He quickly exchanged looks with his friend to silently say, “Let’s follow their lead.” His friend had eaten some of the medicine, too, but it seemed like he hadn’t lost consciousness.

There are usually opportunities in these types of situations. We’d be idiots to be reckless.

The same thing had been true when their den had been attacked. The thief had enough sense to wait for his chance.

Whatever the ones who bought us are plannin’, it ain’t good, but those gangly beansprout-lookin’ guys probably can’t put up much of a fight.

But this group had robbed the slaves of any free movement with shackles on their hands and feet and even poisoned them despite their slave brands. He was certain they did this because they would be in a bad spot if the slaves grew violent. Fortunately, he hadn’t eaten much of the soup. He’d pretend to be unconscious and then escape when the numbness had worn off, before anyone could give him an Order. If he knew who his “master” was, the chance of success would go up significantly. The master was bound to show himself if the thief pretended to be unconscious.

Well whaddaya know, I remember the way. This is a dungeon in an old mansion. It’ll be a straight shot, no way we’ll get lost.

The thief pretended to pass out and motionlessly peeked at his surroundings. After all the slaves finally stopped moving, the back door opened, and several men came through, rolling a cart with wheels big enough to carry a person to take the unconscious slaves one by one to the back room.

One of the men inspected each slave put on the cart and gave directions, something along the lines of “That one goes to the red space. This one to the preparation room.” Apparently, those with physical defects were sent to the “red” room, and those without went to the “preparation room.”

Not good. Li’l bro lost one of his arms when we were captured. At this rate, we’ll go to separate rooms. Better to have someone to watch your back even when you’re runnin’ away. That self-important bastard goin’ “red room” and “preparation room” is prolly the master, but doesn’t look like he’s gonna leave anytime soon.

One after another, they took the slaves away. The thieves’ turns were imminent. He gradually grew impatient. His friend probably felt the same way. The younger man had been sending restless glances his way for a while now.

The numbness in his hands and feet had gotten a lot better, too. Soon it would be sink or swim.

Just when the thief’s patience was about to reach its limit, something happened in the back room. The man appearing to be the master, the one giving directions, withdrew inside.

Now! He made an eye signal to his friend, and the pair leaped to their feet and started toward the door they’d come from.

That’s when it happened.

“Don’t move. Such a shame. You can’t escape this place.”

When and where did he come from? The thieves heard the voice from behind them.

He sounded like a young man. They couldn’t see his face, because they’d been Ordered to stay in place.

“Take the cart over here. And don’t forget the restraints. They were clever enough to avoid the drugs, so be on your guard.”

A Contract of Servitude’s Order consumes magic. Its effect varies with the magical power of the one issuing the Order, the substance of the Order itself, and the recipient’s awareness. How long would the effect have lasted if the Order they were given was “We’re going to kill you, so don’t take a single step”?

The thieves were tied to the cart before the effects wore off, which wasn’t long. They were carefully gagged as well, so they couldn’t rant and rave. If they could have thrashed around and shouted, the other slaves under the effects of the medicine might have woken up, which would allow them to get lost in the chaos.

Son of a bitch, rotten luck…

The thief tied to the cart was taken to the “preparation room,” and his friend incomprehensibly moaning “Mm-mm” was taken to the “red space.”

“Finish moving and restraining the others. The medicine will wear off soon.”

His eyes were no longer even looking at the thieves who’d attempted the desperate escape. No, they hadn’t seen the slaves as individuals from the very beginning.

“Those two seem to have some physical strength. I hope they last a long time.”

After ascertaining the transfer of the remaining slaves, Robert, the man who’d Ordered the thieves, headed for the back room holding the slaves.

There seemed to be some sort of disturbance in the red space a little while ago. Probably a slave who somehow woke up and went berserk. The manager was headed that way, so I imagine he has the situation under control.

About a month and a half had passed since the last expedition. It was time for the potion orders to start rolling in, which meant they needed to hasten production. The new medicine that Robert created was groundbreaking. It didn’t have as strong of an effect as an alchemist’s potion, but it wouldn’t too off base to call it “magic medicine.” It would certainly assist in the subjugation of the Labyrinth as a substitute for potions.

The Aguinas family had been making progress along the same path for two hundred long years. Apart from the alchemists’ extinction, why should their progress be halted?

No matter what it takes, we will at last reach our destination. And I’ll take Estalia with me…to the promised land, when the Labyrinth is no more.

Once again, Robert repeated his long-held desire.

As if to tell himself, as if to bind himself.

And once more, Robert stepped forward with no hesitation—to not halt their progress.

07

“Seriously though, Mariela’s medicine is nothing but kneading,” said a chemist while rolling his shoulder in pain.

The Merchants Guild’s conference room was still bustling even after the seminar on how to make medicine had finished.

Each person could only attend the seminar once since the informational fee was also included in the price, but participants could attend the post-seminar study groups as many times as they liked. The participation fee was inexpensive, about the price of the materials plus a cup of tea, so many chemists attended every study session to use it as a place of information exchange even if they’d learned the skills already. Today, they were reviewing how to make painkillers, and about twenty chemists were using mortar and pestles to knead-knead-knead lynus wheat.

Walking around the chemists who were knead-kneading, Carol gave advice like, “Just a little more, you can do it.” Carol was a young lady from the Aguinas family. At first, she’d been asked to refrain from involving herself in these burdensome affairs, but all the participating chemists were diligent and not in the least suspicious, so she joined in as an assistant like she’d wanted to do all along.

Because there had been people who had gone to great lengths to hire people to pester her store in the past, it was anticlimactic that nothing more troublesome happened. Well, it was a good thing that everyone was super cooperative. After all, if someone said something harsh to Mariela’s face, even she would get sad. When this was discussed with Leandro during a break in the study session, he smiled and divulged a secret.

“That’s becaaause you’re providing such valuable information. Ms. Elmera and I had a ‘talk’ with the participants. That’s part of the Merchants Guild’s responsibilities, you know.”

Apparently, Mariela owed the conflict-free study sessions to Elmera and the others working behind the scenes. She should be grateful. Incidentally, none of the participants’ hair had gone frizzy, so the “talk” must have been verbal only. Above everything else, she was glad those had gone by without a hitch, too.

“If you don’t knead it, the Drops of Life contained in the lynus wheat won’t mix with its medicinal components,” Mariela replied to the chemist while knead-kneading. Wasn’t there some decent method out there that would let her move on from this kneading-and-mixing hell? If so, she wanted to be the first to know.

“I think we’ve all wondered if it’d be better to use something with a high concentration of Drops of Life to increase the efficacy, since we can’t draw up Drops of Life ourselves. It must have been tough work to find a way to blend it well.”

The medicine-making methods Mariela taught were effective in a variety of applications. The ideas themselves were valuable, since she’d had to go through dozens of rounds of trial and error to test them out, and they had to pass numerous inspections. In truth, the gathered chemists also had their own ideas, but none could establish methods to make the medicine themselves.

The chemists were grateful that Mariela was willing to teach them these valuable techniques, even at a cost, especially after they’d harassed her for taking away their sales. And it wasn’t just because Elmera’s “talk” had caused them to have a change of heart—though there was no doubt it had been super effective. Thanks to the recipes from the Library and her own alchemic skills, Mariela had found relatively easy ways to make medicine. She continued to talk leisurely to the other chemists without realizing their unspoken gratitude.

“Oh, it makes sense that you’d try to figure it out.”

Knead, knead, knead. Mariela kneeeaded and kneeeaded to stretch out the lynus wheat. It was pretty obvious she was getting sick of knead-kneading.

“Hey, how come we’re not using magic to mix it? Wait, would that be bad?”

“Hmm? Sure, you can use magic. That’ll make it a bit more effective, too.”

There were several methods for kneading and mixing that didn’t use alchemic skills. Mariela simply didn’t know any other than kneading by hand, but apparently the chemists thought there was some meaning to doing it that way. Upon hearing Mariela’s answer, the man looked surprised and responded with a question.

“Magic increases the effects?!”

The room quieted down in response to this question, and all eyes settled on Mariela.

“It does. But the magical power will fade in a week.”

Kneeead, kneeead. Playing with the stickiness of the lynus wheat, Mariela answered readily without noticing their collective gaze.

The cookies with magical power kneaded into them that Mariela had once given to Lynx and the other members of the Black Iron Freight Corps had reverted to normal cookies in a week. She suspected that might be the case, which was why she was more surprised Sieg had held on to his like treasure for a week than she was about the magical power fading from them.

Sieg seemed to have a habit of squirreling away trivial items. Maybe it was a reaction to the long period of time he lived as a slave without any personal possessions, but among other things, he’d secretly tucked away shopping lists Mariela had given him, and he tore off the labels from the bottles of wine they’d drunk together.

Yet when Mariela left her room a mess, he mercilessly made her throw things away.

She formed the lynus wheat she kneeeaded and kneeeaded into a ball and poked it. Every time she did, it bounced and jiggled. This was fun.

The way it jiggles makes it look kinda tasty. I wonder what we should do for dinner?

This time, it was Carol who interrupted Mariela as she toyed with the ball of lynus wheat.

“A potion’s efficacy is enhanced with Drops of Life, yes? You can increase its effect even at the extraction stage with Drops of Life. For mid-grade and higher potions, I heard that by mixing together apriore and lunamagia, which can contain Drops of Life, the effect is heightened even further.”

“We’ve made medicine with apriore and lunamagia before, but even though these are ‘vessels’ for Drops of Life they don’t actually contain much of it,” replied one of the chemists. “So even when we used them, the effect didn’t increase. It would be more effective to use natural plants like lynus wheat and genea cream containing a lot of Drops of Life. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, I agree.”

At the sign that Carol and the chemists were serious, Mariela finally stopped playing with the lynus wheat and looked up to find them having a discussion with intent expressions.

“Drops of Life can’t be drawn from this region. But, if the effect of the medicine can be increased with just magical power, wouldn’t it be better to do it that way?”

“Won’t the material determine the amount of magical power that can be put in? If you use a material as a ‘vessel’ like how you use Drops of Life, wouldn’t that maintain the effects for a reasonable period?”

“What’s a ‘vessel’ for magical power?”

“…Magical gems?”

“That’s inadvisable. In the past, research was apparently done in the imperial capital in which magical gems were placed into test subjects’ bodies. Their magical power temporarily increased, but every one of the test subjects was consumed and killed by the gems.”

The discussion between the chemists and Carol continued to unfold. Mariela, who’d stopped playing with the lynus wheat, found no opening to jump in. Since she couldn’t do anything about it, she sought water to stretch out the kneaded wheat and resumed knead-kneading.

“Is there no other medium to store magical power in…?”

In response to that question, one of the chemists voiced an answer that perhaps everyone else was thinking.

“What about…blood?”

08

“As I thought, blood is the only way,” Robert Aguinas mumbled in a room called the “red space” in the cellar of the Aguinas family annex.

What lengths had he gone for research up to this point?

He’d concentrated the small amount of Drops of Life found in well water, used plants like lynus wheat and lunamagia that contained a lot of Drops of Life, and charged potion ingredients like apriore fruit and lunamagia with Drops of Life extracted from nature. None of these methods had gone well.

The more he researched, the more he thought Drops of Life was the stuff left behind by people.

It was said that the Nexus that connected an alchemist to a ley line wasn’t a pipe that Drops of Life was drawn up from but something that bound part of their own spirit to the ley line. The right and power to handle the energy from Drops of Life was obtained this way. In other words, it was thought potions were created using the power of the ley line.

If so, what was the energy people could control?

Robert focused on the manufacturing of magic medicine through magical power.

It could contain, or carry, ample amounts of magical power, and it was compatible with people.

An obvious medium for magical power was human blood, which achieved a more powerful effect than other substitutes developed at the same time.

Healing magic improved the subject’s ability to recover. In other words, they got help from the healing magic to cure their injuries with their own physical strength. And potions borrowed the massive power of the ley line. On the other hand, it was hard to accept something so repulsive as healing an injury by using someone else’s lifeblood. But Robert didn’t hesitate even for a moment.

“Prep the slaves for blood collection.”

If he were collecting blood in good faith, it might have brought about a different effect in the people who used the magic medicine and a different future for Robert.

Use human beings as materials. That command had been a turning point in the life of the man named Robert Aguinas.

And on this day, too…

“Ughhh, ooooh, gaaah…!”

Biting his gag, the younger thief writhed in place. His eyes were bloodshot, and he thrashed around to try and tear off the restraints.

Including his, many carts were lined up in the red space he’d been brought to. All the people sleeping in the carts were restrained with their legs and heads elevated so their bodies were in a slight V shape, and thin tubes stretched from their noses, arms, and what looked like their lower half. The tubes going into their noses most likely went down to their stomachs. Each of these tubes was connected to a bag above the cart that fed nutrients blended with medicine that dripped into their nostrils. If this assumption was correct, the lower tube was probably for urine. There was no need to say what was in the red tubes that stretched from the people’s arms.

How long had they been tied there? The muscles of the people in carts in the back of the room had weakened, and their fingers and toes had curled up and stiffened.

The men of this estate who came and went between the carts occasionally checked the magical tools connected to the red tubes and scribbled something down in their notebooks.

“Lord Robert, number twenty-eight has not met the minimum required magical power value for three days.”

“Increase the magical gems to seventy.”

“But—”

“He’s reached the end of his life span. When his magical power value exceeds the minimum, extract all of it.”

The man who Robert had ordered to execute this task approached the cart of the man called “number twenty-eight” and replaced the bag connected to his nasal tube with a different one. Number twenty-eight was nothing but skin and bones, and as the liquid from the new bag flowed into him, his emaciated body began to shake.

“G… Guh…”

Number twenty-eight’s neck bent backward, his mouth opened wide, and his tongue thrust out.

His convulsions continued as he took shallow breaths. After being restrained for so long, his muscles had probably wasted away and his joints stiffened. Number twenty-eight didn’t have much strength left, so his final spasms were so weak they could hardly be called struggling. But it was that very reason that made the onlookers feel terror.

“Magical power has reached the minimum required value. Initiating suction.”

“Do it.”

Under Robert’s direction, the man activated the magical device.

A human being was withering and dying in front of the thief’s eyes. How long had they been squeezing his blood, magical power, life, and everything in his body out of him? And even at the end of his life, would they take and take until nothing was left?

Will this be me? Am I gonna go through the same thing for who knows how long…?!

The younger thief twisted and turned and struggled with all his strength to break free of his restraints. His eyes were bloodshot and full of fear, and saliva bubbled and spilled from the corners of his gagged mouth.

“Sleep.”

Robert gave an Order to the thief. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

No, no, if I sleep I’ll never wake up again. Help me, big bro!

Was this the price he paid for mocking the people who’d begged him to spare their lives before he cut them down? Was this retribution? In response to Robert’s Order, the younger thief finally released his hold on consciousness.

09

“What about…blood?” repeated one of the chemists in the conference room of the Merchants Guild’s Medicinal Herbs Division. What about blood as a medium for increasing the efficacy of medicine with magical power? This was probably the solution everyone gathered there had thought of.

“Blood, huh? I mean, sure, blood’s used in contract rites. It has a lot of magical power, and you can add things to it… But, y’know…”

“It’s bad news.”

“Yeah. That’s no way to heal people.”

All the chemists breathed a sigh in response to their conclusion.

Such a repulsive thing surely couldn’t be called medicine. The chemists fell into silence, interrupted only by the sproooing, sproooing sounds of the lynus wheat Mariela was kneading and stretching. It was super-stretched out now. A new record. Too bad the medicine’s efficacy would remain the same.

“Just think, ‘Pain, pain, go away’ as you put magic into it. It’ll lose that magic before long, but at least the feelings won’t go anywhere.”

The chemists smiled wryly at Mariela, who was industriously kneading away. Mariela’s medicine seemed to work well. Not just for physical pain, but for healing hearts, too.

“Well, magical power aside—Mariela, would this not work if we used a mixer?”

“Huh? A mixer? What’s that?”

Silence fell over the room for a second time.

“Mariela…,” Sieg whispered from behind. “We’re from a really rural village, remember? We hardly had any magical tools. There’s a tool that can mix these kinds of things. And confectionery shops use it to knead dough.”

Their handy “childhood friends” cover story to hide Mariela’s two-hundred-year time lag had sprung a leak.

“Huhwhaaaaaaat?! Something that useful exists?!”

“…And here I thought you just liked kneading, Mariela.”

“I think kneading a wish for the pain to go away is a lovely idea, myself.”

Mariela felt her biceps, worn out from all the excessive mixing, swell from the sympathy of Carol and the other chemists.

After that, specialized mixers for making medicine, with mixing and kneading patterns and stirring blades, were manufactured through the cooperation of the chemists and a magical researcher. The very first machine was donated to Mariela’s shop, Sunlight’s Canopy.

The mixer that freed Mariela from kneading-and-mixing hell was equipped with a bowl and stirrers for making sweets, and she used the machine not only to make medicine, but also a mountain of cookies. Thanks to this, Sunlight’s Canopy became more and more confusing as to what type of shop it was, but this was inconsequential compared to the high quality of medicine that had become the norm in the Labyrinth City.

10

“Raaaaaah!”

The shout of the man known as the Gold Lion General inspired the hearts of the battle-worn soldiers. No matter how many times he was knocked down, Leonhardt got back up.

A lone queen escaped the Kingdom of Endalsia’s destruction two hundred years ago. It was said that the queen carried a little princess inside her. The Margrave Schutzenwald of the time loaned soldiers to the head alchemist of the Aguinas family, who had saved the queen, and endeavored to restore the Labyrinth City.

The princess born to the queen married into the Schutzenwald family, giving them the right to govern the Labyrinth City. Her blood flowed in Leonhardt, who was the next in line to be head of the family, and he had proper qualifications to be the city’s king.

Of course, this didn’t mean he wanted to rebel against the Empire. The Empire recognized to a certain extent the control and autonomy of the land by the ruined country’s descendants, and the Emperor had conveyed this to the head of the Schutzenwalds: “Schutzenwald, take back thy land with thine own two hands.”

Yes. The Labyrinth City was the Schutzenwald family’s domain. It wasn’t a place for monsters to rule.

“May we defeat the Labyrinth and make this land ours once more.”

This wish, the dearest one of the Schutzenwald family, bound Leonhardt like a curse.

Fight, fight, fight, and die.

And then, he’d be succeeded by someone from his bloodline lucky enough to survive.

How many of Leonhardt’s brethren had died under his banner for the sake of the Schutzenwalds’ deepest desire?

No matter how wounded and crushed he became, he could not stop.

He must not fall.

Because Leonhardt’s life was not yet at its end.

Leonhardt slashed at the King of Cursed Serpents. His kin followed behind him.

The main force attacked with their swords, then withdrew while bows and magic covered them. Soldiers who were sent flying and suffered serious injury were immediately healed and returned to the battlefront.

How long did they repeat these actions in this battle?

The King of Cursed Serpents, who’d petrified and consumed so many of Leonhardt’s comrades, let loose with a horrible cry as if to curse all living things and finally collapsed to the ground.

“Huuuooooooooh!” Leonhardt thrust his fist holding his sword upward. The soldiers followed suit.

The King of Cursed Serpents, which had defeated his army countless times, had finally been slain.

Watching Leonhardt, who was overcome with emotion and giving a great shout of triumph, Medical Technician Nierenberg breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t suppress the feeling that they’d won by the skin of their teeth. His own reserves, as well as those of his medical team, were on the verge of running out. It was probably the case for everyone else, too. Considering they hadn’t been able to win until now and their magical power and materials had run dry, there was no denying it was a worthwhile victory. He never realized possessing large quantities of potions could influence war efforts.

“Give me the number of potions used. Just the high-grade ones.”

“Yes, sir. Three hundred seventy-eight.”

It was more than ten times the number used in regular expeditions. Moreover, eight hundred potion vials’ worth of holy water, equivalent to mid-grade potions, had been prepared. The team had been ordered in no uncertain terms to use these freely, and all the soldiers chosen this time had been made to sign a stronger magical covenant than usual so no information from the expedition would leak out.

Even so, this strategy involved a drastic use of potions… But, we probably had no other way, thought Nierenberg.

It was as if a chess piece had fallen from the heavens just when the opponent was about to declare checkmate. Nierenberg felt this changed the state of the board as a critical turning point.

“You have my congratulations, Brother,” Weishardt said to his wounded sibling. Weishardt himself was also on the verge of running out of magic. Even standing was difficult.

“You fought well, Weis. Everyone did. This victory is momentous. Now, what about the stairs to the next stratum?”

“Yes, we’ve confirmed its location. A unit of scouts has been sent to investigate. We should know more any moment. However, you look exhausted. Please return to the base first.”

“Don’t worry, Weis. We’ve made it this far. Do you really think I’m going to head back now before we’ve even heard the initial report?”

Now that they’d broken through the Labyrinth’s fifty-third stratum, the way to the fifty-fourth lay open. No one knew how far down the Labyrinth went. Maybe, just maybe, the fifty-fourth stratum was the last.

It was said that the labyrinth boss resided in the deepest part. Apparently, this monster was completely different from the other stratum bosses. Not its shape, but its very being. Legend held that anyone who had participated in subjugating a labyrinth could tell with just a glance that it was the labyrinth’s boss.

So, maybe the scouts would return with the news they’d reached the final stratum.

Everyone here probably thought the same thing. So, worn and battered, Leonhardt sat on the ground in the safe zone at the boundary of the stratum and waited for the scouts’ return.

The news he waited impatiently for came earlier than expected.

Leonhardt could tell the situation just from the scout’s bewildered look. It wasn’t the final stratum.

However, the report she brought further betrayed his thoughts.

“Reporting in, General. The fifty-fourth stratum…is underwater.”

The scout reported an endless ocean lay in the fifty-fourth stratum.

Though Leonhardt had vomited blood and been on the verge of death many times to finally reach this point, yet another obstacle awaited him.

11

Nierenberg returned home in the afternoon the day after the King of Cursed Serpents had been defeated.

After transferring from the Teleportation Circle they’d placed in the fiftieth stratum to the one in the second stratum, the Labyrinth Suppression Forces returned to their base through an underground corridor.

A Teleportation Circle was an expensive magical tool that allowed instant movement between places with the same latitude and longitude. In other words, the transfer could only happen vertically. Plus, it required two Teleportation Circles being magically connected.

The Labyrinth was an area controlled by a labyrinth boss and constructed from its magical power, which the Teleportation Circles made use of when they were established, but they’d cease functioning if the boss fell. In short, you could say they created an artificial bypass route that used the magical power of a living labyrinth.

Teleportation Circles had been set up every ten strata starting from the twentieth. The ones that transferred to the twentieth, thirtieth, and fortieth strata had been installed on the first stratum and were open to the public, so although one had to prepare enough magical power or gems to activate them, anyone could technically use them.

The fact that the Labyrinth was a den of evil that went beyond fifty strata was hidden from everyone not authorized to know. So, the Teleportation Circle connecting to the fiftieth stratum had been installed in a secret chamber on the second stratum, and the general public wasn’t aware of it. The second stratum was a damp, humid cavern inhabited only by monsters like slimes, and since the slimes ate moss, medicinal herbs, and other vegetation, it had no resources to gather. The Labyrinth Suppression Forces protected one corner of it, ostensibly as a Labyrinth garrison.

In truth, the section maintained as a garrison contained a Teleportation Circle connected to the fiftieth stratum, and farther back, it connected to the underground Aqueduct. A large number of slimes had been multiplying in the underground Aqueduct, so normally it couldn’t be used as a passage. Over many years, the Labyrinth Suppression Forces had lined the water supply connecting the second stratum of the Labyrinth to their base with magic-absorbing daigis fibers to quarantine the slimes and establish it as a direct route to the Labyrinth.

The Labyrinth Suppression Forces put on their heroic parade and marched en masse to the Labyrinth only during the regular expedition periods. In reality, they performed far more subjugations than what the public saw.

Even when Leonhardt received the petrification curse, he was transported via this route, which was precisely why the public never knew of his injury or the Labyrinth Suppression Forces’ crushing defeat.

He was now on his way back from felling the King of Cursed Serpents and completing his revenge, but Leonhardt walked with heavy feet.

They’d said the spiral staircase leading to the fifty-fourth stratum was partially flooded with seawater. All they could see from there was endless sea and sky. A horizon a full 360 degrees around them. The only other thing visible was the unnatural-looking hole at the top of the stairs leading to the fifty-third stratum.

They hadn’t identified any land in this world of blue sea and blue sky. A single point off in the distance looked like a pillar. The scout unit was probably exploring the stratum right about now with a focus on that structure.

Everyone involved in the King of Cursed Serpents’ subjugation was covered in wounds. Even the medical team had run out of magic, so they couldn’t provide enough healing within the Labyrinth. They needed to return to the base, where they could get enough healing and rest. Leonhardt didn’t show his discouragement on his face, but rather thanked his soldiers and dedicated the victory to their fallen brethren. From behind him, the soldiers gazed at Leonhardt, who kept moving, and started forward again themselves.

Nierenberg treated soldiers after returning to the base. By the time he finally arrived home, it was already past noon.

“Welcome home, Papa.”

“It’s good to be back, Sherry.”

Although it was midday, the curtains in Sherry’s room had been drawn closed and the lights were off, making the room dim. Nierenberg hugged his beloved daughter tight and gently stroked her bandaged head.

Sherry’s face was still covered in bandages even now.

It wasn’t as if the wound she’d received from the enormous slime hadn’t gotten better. Healing magic had taken care of that.

A terrible burn scar remained where her skin had been dissolved.

How could he even be happy about the small mercy that her eyes had been spared?

The left half of his dear Sherry’s face had melted due to the slime’s acidic liquid that struck her temple. Her eyelid was stuck half-closed. The skin that had been regenerated with healing magic was dark red and bumpy, and the hair roots at her temple had limited function and grew only a little hair.

The white skin, fine features, and glossy black hair coloring the untouched right half of her face only served to make the left half stand out all the more. That’s why she wore the bandages. She was far more beautiful wearing them.

It had already been three weeks since the incident. Sherry hadn’t taken a single step outside her home. She spent all day and all night locked up in her room, with the curtains drawn to block the light.

“Papa, did you already have lunch?”

“Come to think of it, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

“Good. I made bean and orc meat tomato stew.” Sherry showed him her smile as she always did.

The two of them sat at the dining table talking about how the housekeeper had bought huge chunks of orc meat that she’d prepared herself.

What wrongdoing had the girl committed? Nierenberg stifled the hollow feeling in his stomach and smiled at Sherry.

Of course, he’d told her not to go through the slums. But that was more in hopes she wouldn’t meet an unsavory boyfriend, and there was no inherent danger in something like walking along the main road near the Labyrinth, especially in the middle of the day. How could anyone blame Sherry for taking a shortcut that children all over town used?

He wanted to tear the fool limb from limb who’d led the giant slime into town, but the monster had dissolved and swallowed him. Not even his bones remained. The indirect cause of the incident, Teluther from the City Defense Squad, offered no excuses for his negligence in managing supplies and allowing Kindel’s reckless behavior, nor for his meritorious deed of leading the giant slime away from the main road himself. Instead, he had bowed deeply and accepted his punishment.

Nierenberg had no one to direct his anger at, and his heart was filled with grief.

And if he had just a single high-grade potion, Sherry’s wound could be healed.

Even if she just went to the imperial capital, Sherry could be cured. That was the most certain way, which also presented a problem that quickly dashed his hopes. He had no relatives. Ever since his wife had died, he’d lived alone with Sherry. Although responsible, she was still just twelve years old. Even if she traveled with a yagu merchant caravan, there was no way she could make it to the imperial capital alone on such a harsh journey. If Sherry were to be cured in the imperial capital, her father would probably have to accompany her. However, he had responsibilities in the Labyrinth Suppression Forces. He managed the medical team, and few people had a clue how to manage potions. He didn’t think it would be peacefully accepted if he applied for time off or a discharge.

How long would Sherry spend in this gloomy house until Nierenberg could take her to the imperial capital, or until she became able to go to the capital by herself?

How much time as a young girl full of hopes and dreams would she lose?

Nierenberg couldn’t say for certain he’d be able to cure her someday.

Three hundred and seventy-eight.

The number of high-grade potions used to bring down the King of Cursed Serpents.

They’d all belonged to the Labyrinth Suppression Forces. It was a serious crime to steal the army’s potions or use them for personal reasons.

Though Nierenberg had the authority to use them, he wasn’t allowed to give even one to his beloved daughter, no matter how many he administered to the soldiers.

“Papa, what’s wrong? You look angry.” Sherry gazed at her brooding father.

“I’m just a little tired. It’s nothing to worry about,” Nierenberg answered and downed the last of his stew.

12

“Are these the only requests for potions this month?” Robert Aguinas asked the elderly steward.

“Yes, Lord Robert. When they asked for a price reduction yesterday, I requested a transaction at the usual price as you directed, and they responded with this amount. There appears to have been some sort of budget cut.”

According to the elderly steward’s explanation, the Labyrinth Suppression Forces had requested was no more than half of potions they’d requested up to now.

“How strange. The last expedition should have seen a staggering number of casualties for the Labyrinth Suppression Forces. They couldn’t possibly have surplus potions.”

The Aguinas family prioritized potion management and research, but that didn’t mean they had no sources of information. They acquired intelligence on the large number of casualties in the Labyrinth Suppression Forces. They even had ways of figuring out how many high-grade potions supplied by the Aguinas family the Forces had left. At any rate, they seemed to have had a difficult struggle during the previous expedition. The Aguinas family confirmed that a month and a half afterward, the Forces had finished treating their wounded and begun their usual subjugation. They had to have used up most of the potions made a few days ago, so Robert assumed they would make a large order.

“Are they contriving to withhold buying more to entice a price reduction? It’s a little late to start haggling. The suppression ought to have resumed by now,” Robert mused.

The steward responded to Robert’s question.

“According to our sources, there was a discovery of buried potion stores.”

“That’s impossible. Even an old man would know that. However, if new potions have been discovered…”

It couldn’t be. Robert mulled over the situation.

There was no way anyone could find a stash of buried potions.

Even the Aguinas family’s best potion storage facilities could only preserve Drops of Life’s effects for about a hundred years.

After the Stampede two centuries ago, the development of potion storage facilities rapidly improved magical tool technology. The storage facilities invented by scholars boasting the highest intellect in the imperial capital convected the source of potions’ magical effects, Drops of Life, within the potions and continuously provided an effect similar to the alchemic skill used at the final step of making a potion, Anchor Essence. In this way, they succeeded in suppressing potion deterioration.

In theory, the effect would last two hundred years.

Storage facilities that allowed the preservation of potions for just a hundred years should be commended, even if the deterioration of their potions began sooner than current facilities.

But that was only a hundred years. No potions made immediately after the Stampede should remain. Of course, this information was concealed. The potions kept in the storage facilities of each family, including the Labyrinth Suppression Forces and Margrave Schutzenwald, were being replaced by the ones supplied regularly by the Aguinas family, so even they shouldn’t have realized the truth. The Aguinas family’s secrets, including the number of years storage facilities could preserve potions, continued to be a secret.

So, if new potions appeared in the world, it meant the same type of person as the one sleeping in the Aguinas family’s cellar had awakened.

It wasn’t impossible. He couldn’t say with certainty that no one else had taken the same measures.

However, it was unbelievable for this to have happened all of a sudden. The post-Stampede circumstances had been passed down through the generations in detail, and the Aguinas family knew of every single alchemist who had been involved in the Labyrinth City’s restoration.

Who in the world could it be?

Robert gave an order to the steward.

“Find this person. If they’re an alchemist, we must bring them here to our estate.”

The steward bowed deeply and left the room. He, too, was connected to the Aguinas family. He would appoint trustworthy subordinates.

“Contact our informants. Bring to light the conveyer of the potions. Do not forget to thoroughly search where the conveyer goes to and from,” the steward told them.

13

“I will now make my report.”

The report on the investigation of the fifty-fourth stratum arrived from the scouts under Leonhardt’s command.

According to the details of the investigation, the water that spread throughout the stratum was almost the same as real seawater, and its depth was unknown. The stairs connecting to the lower floor continued at least two hundred yards, but the scouts hadn’t been able to confirm any lower because it exceeded the limits of their diving abilities. The depth of the water exceeded a half mile, the limit of their sonar depth detection.

“In short, we were unable to see the bottom with our limitations, and there’s a possibility it’s endless.”

“The fifty-fourth stratum itself may manipulate space. Now, tell me about the monsters.”

“Yes, sir. We couldn’t identify anything airborne. We also couldn’t detect any underwater within our sonar’s limits. The only magic we could sense was from the aforementioned pillar.”

At the scout’s report, Leonhardt and Weishardt looked at each other.

A single pillar standing alone in a vast sea.

It was unlikely anyone would think this wasn’t suspicious.

“And what about the pillar?”

Prompted by Weishardt, the scout reported the status of its investigation.

The portion of the pillar above water was higher than a three-story building and thicker than a spire on a castle wall. Four head-like structures sat at the top of the pillar, each one at a right angle to those next to it so they all looked in different directions with no blind spots. They were shaped like dragon heads, but they each had three eyes, one on the forehead and two in the usual spots, and they all jutted out in a bizarre way. Instead of jaws that opened and closed, the mouths had something cylindrical protruding from them. The scouts didn’t have the slightest idea how deep underwater the pillar went, but sometimes it bobbed up and down slightly with the waves, so it was highly likely it was floating.

Their insect summoners had sent magical insects toward the spire, and they were about a half mile from it when the cylinders protruding from the dragon heads fired beams of light, vaporizing every single insect. The scouts’ inspection of the beam’s launch conditions showed that its range was a sphere with a radius of a half mile centered at the top of the spire, and they said a beam of light would be shot at anything from the air to sea level that invaded its space. The time between beam shots was less than five minutes. Even if they were on land, it would be difficult to approach the pillar while the cylinders were on cooldown, but the scouts said the cylinders shot high-pressure water attacks during those intervals. But the insect summoners couldn’t determine if these attacks occurred in rapid succession or how many, as their resources had been relentlessly consumed.

Insect summoners could manipulate special magical insects hatched from eggs and experience their senses to safely obtain information from a distance. They were essential for investigating new strata in the Labyrinth where no one knew what kind of dangers lurked. However, when the insects were killed, the summoners received a feedback response, so considering the scarcity of the skill, it needed to be used with caution. This time, they seemed to have finished the inspection of the area above water through brute force, despite many insects being killed.

After communicating to the insect summoners to get sufficient rest, Leonhardt asked about the long-range attacks in the report.

“A type of light magic, huh? Can we reflect it with a mirror shield?”

“We sent mirror shields fixed to rafts into the range of fire, but the light beams vaporized every one of them.”

The beams the tower shot appeared to be one-hit kill magic. The water attacks were powerful as well, causing serious damage to the rafts and sending the mirror shields flying with dents in them. It would be difficult to launch a frontal attack by sea.

“Next, the report about the underwater area. We floated a raft to just beyond the range of the beams and used water magic to fire a harpoon beneath the surface. We confirmed the beams do not fire at depths greater than ten yards. These are the results of the current stage of our investigation.”

Once again, Leonhardt and Weishardt looked at each other in response to the scout’s report.

Weishardt spoke up after the scout left. “Shall we dive in, Brother?”

“Going a half mile without breathing?”

“Should we prepare bags of air weighted with stones? Would a long air pipe be better?”

“Even if we got close that way, how would we destroy the spire?”

“Indeed. Let’s wait for more detailed results from the investigation and have them inquire as to whether potions exist that allow underwater activity.”

“Potions, huh? Come to think of it, the effect of that holy water was magnificent.”

“It is said that its effectiveness differs greatly depending on the materials used, so I’m guessing it was quite good.”

“Material? What was it?”

“The hair of a maiden, apparently. The younger and purer the young girl, the more powerful the effects.”

“What?!” Leonhardt stood up with a jerk. The hair of a maiden. Although it was for the subjugation of the Labyrinth, had a young girl behind the scenes cut off her hair?

Leonhardt imagined a young, beautiful maiden like Caroline lopping off her own long hair with a single stroke. In reality, it was just the hair of the Yagu Drawbridge Pavilion’s ten-year-old poster girl, Emily, and only a little bit had been used.

We’ll defeat the Labyrinth for sure to repay her devotion.

Leonhardt was filled with fresh determination. Upon hearing of the maiden’s hair, he seemed ready to dive underwater straight for the pillar, whether he did so while carrying a bag of air or holding the end of a long air pipe in his mouth.

14

“Maaariii, look, look! Daddy said he was sorry for how he cut my hair and got me this suuuper-pretty ribbon!”

Emily, a key player in the slaying of the King of Cursed Serpents, had come to visit Sunlight’s Canopy with her new ribbon from the Yagu Drawbridge Pavilion’s owner tied in her hair. The hair on the left and right was at different heights, and the ribbon was tied in a granny knot like usual, as if she’d done her hair herself.

Mariela and Caroline neatly retied it, and then they all had a snack together. A peaceful sight, as always.

Emily’s ribbon was made from fabric that had been delivered along with the payment for the holy water. Lieutenant Malraux had explained, “We received this from General Leonhardt as thanks for the material in the holy water.” It was a splendid fabric that wasn’t readily available in the Labyrinth City. Mariela wasn’t sure how much General Leonhardt knew, but it was probably a present for Emily, so she had Malraux give it to the owner of the Yagu Drawbridge Pavilion.

Since it was an expensive item, she was worried about their reasoning for giving it to him, but Malraux had said “the fabric got wet and we can’t sell it” and “this is for all the trouble the Black Iron Freight Corps has caused you” when he handed it to the owner. Apparently, the owner had gazed fixedly at it, then said things like “For Emily’s wedding dress…” in a serious tone. It was a bit early for that.

In the end, the only thing he could immediately give Emily was only a ribbon made from the edge of the fabric, but it had made her elated.

Additionally, Mariela never received any bonus payment for all the precious sleep she’d missed out on. She felt miffed. Sieg put three marshmallows in her cocoa when she broke the news to him.

Winter would soon arrive in the Labyrinth City. The chilly nights spent cozied up by the fireplace drinking hot cocoa and relaxing with Sieg were priceless to Mariela.