The Fuse

Ferda checked the bag he had brought back from the demon research facility.

Inside were a research journal and several ampoules.

They were in the same condition as when he had handed them to Zed.

‘He certainly gets things done.’

He congratulated himself once again for making the right move by recruiting Zed Swallow.

All Ferda could give him was a bonus.

‘And Emilia’s whereabouts.’

He had to do something about it before Zed voiced his dissatisfaction.

That was the condition for keeping hold of an elusive thief who could not be restrained.

He had to do something before Zed showed his displeasure.

‘For now, I’ll keep it in mind…….’

Ferda carried the bag to his study.

There was always a girl there waiting for orders.

“Mori.”

Mori turned her head and looked up at him.

With her hair curled into abundant ringlets, she looked every bit the noble young lady today as well.

“Could you decipher this for me?”

Ferda handed Mori the journal.

Linne’s journal was written in code.

With Mori’s Myriad Library ability, deciphering the code should have been easy.

-Deciphering is impossible.

But the answer he received was a declaration of impossibility.

“What do you mean, impossible?”

-These are characters for which I have no clues to interpret them.

Characters for which the Myriad Library had no clues.

That meant only one thing.

“You mean they’re oral characters.”

Characters passed down only by word of mouth rather than through written records, with their meanings defined differently by each individual.

Only one race possessed such characters.

‘High elves.’

A race of aristocrats among aristocrats, capable of entering the depths of the World Tree.

Each individual had developed a language of their own, making them impossibly difficult for anyone but its creator to interpret.

If Director Linne of the research institute was a high elf, it was possible.

‘So that dark elf was originally a high elf?’

It was extraordinary.

For the most conservative and closed-off high elves, who thought only of the World Tree, to swear loyalty to Godwin and fall into corruption……

It was like seeing a headless chicken out for a stroll, or a catfish pulled onto land trying to breathe.

“Then are there any records about high elves?”

-There are several observation records.

“Anything related to the script?”

-None.

It felt regrettable to let things end there.

“Can’t you try to interpret it somehow?”

Mori nodded.

Then she quietly stared into empty space.

Creak, creak.

Her body bent unnaturally like a marionette.

Her face turned bright red, and she trembled as though she might explode at any moment.

“I withdraw that.”

Psshhhhh.

She returned to normal as though all the air had escaped from her.

Even if he wanted to know what the characters said, Ferda had no intention of breaking Mori just to find out.

Mori looked up at Ferda with a languid expression, her head drooping toward her shoulder.

“How are things going at work?”

Mori nodded.

-There are currently no major issues with matters within the castle and the Grand Duchy. However, external problems exist.

“What kind?”

-The first is Hellus Fobidas.

The man Ferda had hooked through the Extermination Squad.

In exchange for swearing loyalty to Ferda, Hellus had borrowed Mori’s wisdom and was maintaining his life as a sage.

“Why him?”

-Hellus Fobidas asks many inefficient questions. Sometimes they lack coherence, and he often requests descriptions of fanciful stories.

Conversations that never reached an answer were always exhausting.

Just now, when Mori had forcibly racked her brain trying to decipher the journal, it was easy to understand how inefficient Hellus could be.

“You mean he’s interfering with your work. And?”

-He has hinted at attempts to usurp Lady Valdrova’s authority eight times.

That was no more surprising than his inefficient questions.

Ferda had decided to make use of Hellus precisely because he had never imagined Mori would say something like that about him.

“I’ll limit him to five questions from now on. And if you judge in advance that a question will not lead to a conclusion, you may refuse to answer it. Would that improve your efficiency somewhat?”

-It is expected to improve efficiency, but one factor remains.

“What is it?”

-Echidna Philiades.

It would have been a lie to say he did not know.

He had seen Mori’s eyes roll back several times because of her.

“If Echidna’s behavior is a problem, we can restrict it somewhat, but we cannot control her completely.”

-Echidna Philiades has had three times the impact of Hellus Fobidas. She occasionally demands that I address her by incomprehensible titles.

“What titles?”

-Titles inappropriate for our relationship, ranging from “older sister” to “Mom,” “Mother,” and “Your Most Esteemed Mother.”

From Ferda’s perspective, it was an easy request.

“Then why not just indulge her?”

-If I accept that request, she then demands role-playing. If I accept the role-playing request, she becomes engrossed and begins treating it as real. Her delusional disorder deepens.

That was why she was three times as troublesome.

‘Because she’s a witch.’

Although he understood Mori’s position, Ferda fell into thought.

Echidna was the only one he could make look after Mori, and more importantly, she had been completely out of control lately because of Zed.

“Put up with her for the time being. We need that witch, too. Other than that, is there no way to improve your efficiency?”

Mori thought.

She lightly tapped the paper with her pen before giving a short answer.

-Praise me.

“What?”

-Praise me when I accomplish something. I require praise commensurate with the difficulty of the task.

It was a truly unexpected request.

For the word “praise” to come from the pen of a slave sage with the Myriad Library in her head.

“Is that really necessary?”

-Studies consistently show that praise improves work efficiency and is highly effective at reducing stress.

“That applies to humans, though, doesn’t it?”

-Gladiators praised in Coloszenia, the City of Gladiators, have a 20 percent higher win rate.

“I don’t think you need it.”

-It has been reported that miners praised in Ophiles, the Mining City, have 12 percent higher productivity.

Mori rattled off fact after fact, as if flatly refuting Ferda.

It was strange.

Mori was a slave sage without a self.

She was an ultimate rational being that felt no emotions, so why did she need something like that?

Ferda decided not to argue any further.

Rather than waste time on a pointless argument, it was better to say three syllables.

“Thank you.”

This should do.

Mori’s pen scratched out a line of letters.

-According to research, when an adult male praises a child, stroking her head is effective.

What a nuisance.

Even so, Ferda placed his hand on her head as she had suggested.

He felt a smooth texture beneath his hand.

“Thank you.”

It was praise tossed out without a second thought.

Yet a strange light shone in the eyes that looked up at Ferda.

Mori, who had been unable to hold her head up, returned to normal.

“Is that enough?”

After hearing his answer, Mori nodded and turned away.

I wonder if that really worked.

Ferda folded the journal and took out a box.

‘This is where I took out the medicine.’

There were eleven ampoules in the box.

Three Doppler reagents and eight ampoules bearing the names of the various knight-class demons followed by the word “prototype.”

They were all black, viscous liquids, so without labels, there would have been no way to tell them apart.

‘Including the Bouncer drug, that makes twelve.’

Ferda recalled the man who had turned into a Bouncer.

The Bouncer was a type that sacrificed intelligence for greater strength.

His intelligence had certainly declined, while his strength had definitely increased.

‘If the same situation occurs next time, it will become even stronger than that bastard.’

The only reason they had been able to win was that the drug was still a prototype.

In the finished product, the side effects would be reduced and the strength increased.

‘That woman must have made it back alive.’

Ferda had to respond quickly before Director Linne of the research institute did something.

Ferda had the samples, while Director Linne had the knowledge.

They had a good starting point, but no one knew who would win in the end.

‘Who should I have research this substance?’

That was where the difficulty began.

Ferda thought of the people with talent.

Vernel?

He was intelligent, but his specialty was magic engineering.

He needed to focus on that alone.

Then Echidna?

She was renowned for her runes, but Ferda did not want to make her touch a substance like this.

Chancellor Bernard?

Ferda did not even know what the man did, so he could not trust him yet.

‘Then do I have to do it myself?’

Ferda had experience conducting several kinds of research as well.

It was limited to mana cultivation methods and techniques for becoming stronger, but he certainly had enough tenacity.

If he used that tenacity for research, wouldn’t it be all right?

That was when Ferda was pondering the matter.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

An alarm bell Ferda had never heard within the castle rang out.

It was a strange occurrence.

An alarm warning of danger to the stronghold of Red Dragon Valdrova was ringing.

A short while later, someone flung open the door and entered.

It was Luri.

Her face was filled with urgency.

“Lord Ferda.”

“What is it?”

“They are coming.”

Luri spoke again.

“The descendants of Silverwind are heading here.”

So it had come.

Ferda headed toward the balcony.

There were dots in the sky.

Soon, features clear enough for even Ferda’s vision to recognize began to emerge.

At the head was a pair of overwhelmingly large wings.

“That must be the leader.”

“Yes. Lord Goz.”

The fact that the leader had come personally meant it was a serious matter.

Whatever the case, they needed to prepare for the situation.

“What do we do?”

Fear could be heard in Luri’s voice.

She usually hid it well, but at that moment, her anxiety was obvious.

“We wait for now.”

“Even though the enemy is coming?”

“We’ll soon find out whether they’re enemies or not.”

Ferda stared at the dots drawing closer.

The fist he had clenched unconsciously was drenched in sweat.

‘Sitri.’

Had that damn demon bitch stabbed him in the back?

She could have distorted the information so craftily that it made him mistake the situation for Ferda’s fault.

But Ferda did not jump to conclusions.

Demons knew that their own lives were important.

The demons who had crossed into this world acted as though they had guts hanging outside their bellies, but demons were actually even more cowardly than humans.

A short while later, the result of Ferda’s judgment appeared.

The descendants of Silverwind all landed and lined up outside the outer gate.

“That’s good news.”

“Is it good news that they’re outside the outer gate?”

“If they had come to fight, they would have charged the balcony, and if they had come to pick a fight, they would have come to the inner gate.”

Ferda looked down from the balcony and met Goz’s eyes.

A strange exchange of glances passed between them.

“Luri, prepare to receive our guests…… Hm?”

Ferda’s words were cut off as he turned his head.

Luri was looking down toward the Silverwinds.

If she had merely been looking down, there would have been no reason for Ferda to react that way.

“Luri?”

“Did you call?”

“Why are you holding on to my clothes?”

“What do you mean—”

Luri’s words were cut off.

Just as Ferda had said, she was clutching his clothes.

Her expression showed that she was surprised herself.

She quickly withdrew her hand and brushed it off as though nothing had happened.

“……There was dust on them.”

“Was there?”

There was no way dust had gotten on Ferda’s clothes.

Much less would she have removed it herself just because there was dust on them.

“I’ll go prepare to receive our guests.”

Luri withdrew.

Ferda also went down to receive the Silverwinds.

* * *

The alarm rang.

The noncombat personnel inside the castle hid in their rooms, while the combat personnel took up their positions.

And there were exactly two combat personnel in Valdrova Castle.

Zed and Malcolm.

Since they held the rank of knights, they had been stationed outside the outer gate.

‘Fuck, what the hell kind of fucked-up situation is this?’

Zed swore inwardly and surveyed the scene once more.

They were silver dragon spawns straight out of a textbook.

Silver hair and silver eyes.

Their grim faces and sharply jutting horns were intimidating enough.

They wore armor, and the muscles on their bodies looked ready to burst through it.

Facing even one of them would have been nerve-racking, but they had come in a group.

The ring that suppressed the fear of dragons could not overcome the pressure of their numbers or their fierce expressions.

‘Especially that one.’

The man standing at the front with the soldiers behind him.

The silver cloak made it obvious at a glance that he was the commander.

It would not have been strange if that man accounted for eighty percent of the tension.

He was emitting such a ferocious aura.

“Your master……”

He opened his mouth.

“When will he appear?”

What came from his mouth was an icy death forged by mowing down thousands of frost giants.

His low voice nearly overwhelmed Zed, but he answered with as composed an expression as he could manage.

“Would you wait a little while? He said he would be down shortly, so he’ll be here soon.”

“A little……”

His expression showed his displeasure.

Even though Zed knew that the hatred was not directed at them, it was difficult to endure.

But the most troublesome thing of all was that Zed had another variable to deal with.

“Sniff, sniff!”

Malcolm, standing beside him, was sniffling, despite supposedly being a knight.

“Alte, omnipotent god of light, please save me.”

Crying was not enough for him; he was actually praying to a god.

Zed tilted his head slightly toward him.

“Just go.”

“Sniff, as a knight of this Grand Duchy, I cannot take a step……”

“No, I’m telling you to go because you’re in the way. I can handle this alone.”

Despite Zed’s suggestion, Malcolm did not leave.

Whatever the greatness of his knightly code, he forced his trembling legs straight and held his ground.

‘Oh, fuck my life.’

Whenever things seemed to quiet down, something like this came along and smacked him hard in the back of the head.

Should he quit being a knight and everything else?

Just as he was thinking that, he heard the footsteps of salvation behind them.

“I’ve kept you waiting.”

Ferda had arrived.

He stepped between Zed and Malcolm and looked straight at Goz.

“Do you make guests wait?”

It was a jab.

“Guests usually send a letter before they arrive. Those who do not are called uninvited guests.”

A tense standoff began.

Malcolm and Zed, who had thought the exchange was over, realized that it was only beginning.

“I’ll concede that point. I apologize for not notifying you in advance.”

He agreed readily.

Ferda thought.

He wasn’t usually like this.

“But in return for my apology, you must also make your purpose clear.”

As expected.

If he retreated, it was only so he could take three more steps forward.

“Regent Ferda, I have come because suspicions have been raised that you used demonic magic to kill Abel Silverwind and conceal the evidence.”

The words “suspicions have been raised” immediately brought one name to mind.

‘Sitri?’

His animal instinct cried out that name once again.

The most likely candidate was Sitri, after all.

It was characteristic of demons not to handle a job cleanly.

Ferda kept wondering what kind of nasty trick she was planning to play on him.

But, surprisingly, he learned that Sitri had no intention of screwing him over.

The reason appeared moments later.

“Hello, Regent Ferda?”

A lively voice came from among the men who looked as though they could make anyone break into a sweat just by standing there.

A small woman wearing a wide-brimmed wizard’s hat appeared.

The badge of the Serdes Human Magic Society was prominently affixed to the pointed hat.

Only one person could wear a hat like that.

Erdes Roton, President of the Serdes Human Magic Society.

“We know each other, don’t we?”

This entire setup was that woman’s handiwork.