Chapter 274
Blood splattered across the horse’s armor caught the eye, hinting at what might have happened inside the stables.
"Sir Philip thought it best to leave the armor hanging loose, just in case. He even tied the reins much looser. Said it’s such a smart horse, it doesn’t even need to be tied up," Elia said, glancing up at Ian while keeping her gaze on the approaching white horse.
"Seems that worked out well," she added.
"... That kind of squire is one you’ll never find again," Ian muttered with sincerity as the white horse—whether it was Nila or Selim, he wasn’t sure—stopped in front of them.
The horse exhaled loudly, looking at Ian with an expression that seemed to show concern for him instead.
Who’s worried about whom?
Ian swallowed a bitter chuckle and examined the horse’s condition and armor. There was blood around its head and hooves, but it wasn’t the horse’s own.
The same went for the armor. The flickering dimness of the embedded magic stones indicated that most of the armor had drained its magic. Whatever happened in the stable likely had something to do with this, not just the cursed mist.
However, the stones hadn’t completely lost their light. The horse’s breathing quickly stabilized as well. When Ian stepped closer, the horse dipped its head to the ground, inviting him to mount.
Ian looked down at Elia."Can you pull off your tricks on horseback? It’ll be pretty shaky."
"Probably. Never tried it before, though, so I can’t say for sure."
"Well, I guess now’s the time to find out," Ian said as he lifted her onto the front of the saddle. He quickly followed, mounting behind her and wrapping his left arm around her for support while grabbing the reins with his right.
"... Damn." Ian clicked his tongue, glancing ahead. The iron bar gate stood firmly shut.
I should have opened that first.
He had been so surprised that the horse survived, it had slipped his mind.
Clip, clop—
The white horse started going forward on its own.
…Well, I’m sure they’ll handle it somehow.
Ian smacked his lips as he extended his right hand, his crimson eyes glowing faintly.
Fwoosh—
A fireball formed in his palm, and when the horse was close enough, Ian hurled the flame at the gate.
Boom!
The explosion blew the gate off its hinges. Ian figured the sound might draw guards quicker, but that was fine by him. If they arrived quickly, they could handle the situation faster—and he wouldn’t be present when they arrived.
"Keep your eyes wide open. Don’t lose track of him. If you do, I won’t be able to sleep tonight."
"Yes...!" Elia replied, steeling herself.
With that, the white horse shot forward, galloping into the night.
***
Clop-clop, clop-clop—
"What the hell, is that guy crazy?!"
"Move! He’s insane!"
The white horse raced through the night streets.
Citizens screamed and shouted as they scrambled to get out of the way, while the stalls set up for nighttime trade toppled over with a loud crash behind them.
... I never thought I’d actually be doing this kind of thing in reality. Now that I’m doing it, it’s even more fun.
Ian gripped the reins, his thoughts seemingly out of sync with the situation. Thankfully, nobody has experienced any harm so far. It wasn’t because of his riding skills, but rather the remarkable capabilities of the horse he was riding. Whether it was Nila or Selim, this one deftly avoided obstacles and leaped over anything in its path without colliding with anyone. Some property damage was being caused, but that was something the Hexagon Alliance could easily cover.
—Over there...! You need to turn up ahead! I can sense traces from that direction!
Elia’s whisper echoed in his mind. She was already pointing diagonally ahead.
How does she even sense that?
Ian let out a quiet, amused breath, pulling the reins to steer the horse to the side. Despite himself, he had to admit that Elia was proving more useful than he’d initially thought. She had pulled her weight back at the mansion, and now she was doing the same here.
As a mage, she might be even more of a ruined character than me.
As he mused, the white horse swung its rear around and smoothly changed direction, starting its sprint once more.
"Aaaah—?!"
"Everyone move! Get out of the way!"
Citizens scattered like the Red Sea parting as the rampaging rider suddenly appeared. There were still plenty of people on the streets, despite the late hour.
Well, of course. There was no reason for a city in the central region to go to sleep early. Besides, at least half of them were likely outsiders.
—The traces are getting stronger. Sewers. It really seems like they’re heading for the sewers.
Elia’s whisper followed.
—Looks like you’re right. This way leads to the docks.
Ian’s eyes scanned the boulevard ahead. There was no city wall beyond that point, just pitch-black darkness stretching out. Likely because it led down to the river.
Ding, ding, ding, ding—
In the distance, the clang of bells echoed. The city guards were finally mobilizing. Hopefully, they would head to the lord’s mansion before dealing with the street chaos.
Clip, clop—
In the meantime, the white horse veered toward the outskirts of the city, where the number of pedestrians had significantly decreased. Instead, they were greeted by the sight of ships anchored in the distance. The docks were close.
—I see it now... I can see it, too.
Ian murmured as the faint residual magic flickered like heat waves beneath the stone pavement of the main road. It was faint to his eyes, but he was able to make it out.
The traces led all the way to the river ahead. Cockroach-like scum had really escaped into the sewers.
—Hold on tight to the horse’s neck, Elie.
Ian loosened his arm around Elia and whispered to her.
—Huh? What? Wait, Godfather?!
Elia’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to look back at him. Ian had released the reins and was standing up on the saddle. Though the horse had slowed down as they neared the end of the road, it was still moving, so her surprise was understandable.
—Just hold tight. Once the road ends, the horse will stop on its own.
Ian replied without looking at her, his gaze fixed on the dark waters ahead.
As his view rose higher, he could clearly see the sharp turn of the road and the riverbank below. A wherry drifted slowly away, almost impossible to spot in the darkness unless one had a vision as sharp as Ian’s.
Fortunately, it hadn’t drifted more than ten meters away. Ian’s eyes locked onto the silhouette at the center of the boat—a figure slumped over, shrouded in a robe.
That had to be the curse caster he was hunting.
The wretched man wasn’t even rowing the boat himself. In front of him sat a gaunt figure, whose scrunched-up face made it obvious he was used to living off illegal activities. He was rowing with a scowl, probably due to the stench of dark magic radiating from the dark mage—just like the one Ian could smell on himself now.
Making me go back into that disgusting place...
A faint, ashen hue swirled in Ian’s eyes, and a soft breeze gathered around his entire body.
Shhh—
Just as the white horse began skidding to a halt at the end of the road, Ian bent his knees slightly and used the momentum to launch himself from the saddle. He didn’t jump too hard, knowing it would injure both the horse and Elia. Even so, the distance to the boat was manageable, though barely.
—Godfather!
Elia’s panicked whisper echoed through his mind, but Ian paid it no heed as he unsheathed his Truesilver Steel Sword, his eyes still fixed on the boat.
The Wind Blade that propelled him twisted his trajectory effortlessly, guided by his will.
Whoosh—
The roar of the wind filled the air.
It wasn’t just Ian who heard the wind. Turning around, the curse caster, previously slouched in the boat, revealed themselves. His eyes widened when he saw Ian flying toward him in a perfect arc.
"...?!"
Ian was able to see the curse caster’s lips twitch in shock, muttering, "What in the hell?"
You’ve committed mass slaughter, and you’re shocked by something like this?
With a sneer curling one side of his mouth, Ian raised his sword high above his head. The curse caster, like most dark mages, was a frail, pale man in his middle age. The finely groomed beard suggested he was an Imperial citizen.
Anyway, he didn’t look like one of those lunatics hiding away in a dungeon or ancient ruin conducting strange experiments. It seemed more likely he had crawled out from one of the Magic Towers. After all, this wasn’t just some complex curse; he had created high-level spell circuits himself.
Perhaps mercenary work was a side job to fund his research. But that didn’t matter right now.
Your head’s coming off first, you scum.
Thinking Ian didn’t take his eyes off the approaching curse caster. Luckily for him, the man was too wide-eyed with terror to cast any spell.
"...!"
The curse caster’s face finally registered sheer panic, realizing Ian was going to crash into him. Instead of casting a spell, he raised his long-sleeved arms above his head in a desperate, instinctual defense.
It was, of course, futile.
Crack—
Ian’s sword descended and cleaved through the curse caster’s arm in an instant, continuing its path to slash his neck deeply.
Thud, thud, thud—
Colliding with the curse caster, the impact sent Ian crashing onto the crude deck, rolling across it as the boat rocked.
"Aaaagh!"
Ian’s fall knocked aside the scrawny boatman, who had been screaming.
Ian stopped himself just short of the boat’s bow, stepping on the boatman as he got back on his feet.
"Ugh..."
Without sparing a glance at the groaning boatman, Ian turned, walking purposefully toward the fallen dark mage. His gaze was still fixed on the dark mage, who lay sprawled on the floor in a battered state.
"Gah…Kgh…"
Despite having an arm severed and his neck split to his chest, he was still alive. Even after being slammed into the bottom of the boat by Ian, he clung to life. Black blood gushed from his wounds and spilled from his mouth and nose, a testament to his stubborn vitality.
"Hey." Ian approached the dark mage, squatted down, and forcefully lifted his head.
The dark mage’s nearly severed neck dangled precariously, but Ian paid no mind. Pain and terror filled the man’s pale blue eyes as they met Ian’s gaze.
Ian asked, "Which Magic Tower are you from?"
"Urg… Gah…" The dark mage coughed and gagged, only spitting more blood in response.
Ian shrugged, not having expected an answer in the first place. He swung his sword again.
Slice—
The white arc of Ian’s blade cut cleanly through the dark mage’s throat. The dark mage’s eyes glazed over as his head lolled to the side, the light extinguished from his eyes. Black blood poured from both his mouth and the cleanly severed neck.
Well, he won’t be coming back from that.
Ian dropped the dark mage’s head beside him and casually began rifling through his robes. Blood had soaked into the cloth from where his blade had cut, but it didn’t hinder his search. Soon, he found a small metal shard of unknown purpose and a crumpled piece of paper. He also grabbed a small satchel that had been lying nearby—the curse caster’s belongings.
Definitely not a complete beggar, that’s for sure.
The bag was quite heavy. It was the kind of weight that gave him the expectation of finding at least one grimoire for Elia in it. Perhaps an item meant for the corrupted, too.
Ian stuffed the things he had pulled from the robe into the bag haphazardly, then tossed it into his pocket dimension. Grabbing the curse caster by the hair again, he finally stood up and turned around.
"H-Heeek…" The boatman, who had been cowering in a corner, let out a gasping sob.
Ian approached him with the dark mage’s head still in hand and rested his sword’s edge against the man’s neck.
"Did you know this man was a dark mage?"
The boatman, who had been staring in horror at the icy blade, whiffed his head, his face drained of color.
"A d-dark mage? I-I did not know! Really! I just row for whoever pays me—"
Tears streamed from the boatman’s eyes, not just flowing down but soaking the front of his trousers as well. Ian was able to see the dark stain spreading.
Pissing himself over just this?
He gave the man a light tap on the cheek with the flat of his sword before sheathing it and tilting his head.
"Then turn the boat around. Get me back to the dock."
"Y-Yes, yes...!"
The boatman, practically crawling on all fours as he passed by, grabbed the oar again. The boat twisted its head. He clearly believed that being late meant death.
Standing at the bow, Ian watched the approaching dock and soon let a faint smile play on his lips. A familiar white horse had come to a stop at the dock. The dwarf tightly hugging its neck was also someone he recognized.
Whoosh—
Ashen magic flickered in Ian’s eyes as the wind gathered around him. With a sharp kick, he launched himself off the boat.
This time, he didn’t hold back his strength.
"Aaargh?"
Caught in the powerful gust and the force of his leap, the boat rocked violently and finally capsized. Ian soared in an arc before rolling onto the dock with a thud.
I feel so gross. Fuck.
Muttering to himself, Ian stood when Elia’s voice called out from the horse.
"A-Are you alright…?"
"I’m fine," Ian replied, taking a step forward.
Elia, who had been about to say something more, froze. Ian had lifted the severed head of the dark mage right up to her face.
"Not sure about this guy, though."
"...."
Ian vaulted onto the horse, pulling Elia forward onto the saddle in front of him. With his left arm around her, he still held the dark mage’s head in his other hand.
Grabbing the reins with that same hand, he added casually, "Let’s go. Before the guards catch up."
"... Yes." Elia’s voice was shaky, her eyes fixed on the head dangling beneath her. She couldn’t seem to look away, despite her nausea.
Take a good look. This is the usual end for corrupted spellcasters, Ian thought as he flicked the reins.
The white horse, as if waiting for the signal, sped off once again with a lively gallop.