Chapter 102 : Trap (6)

Chapter 102: Trap (6)

Tap, tap.

The sound of the campfire crackling spread quietly.

Just moments ago, it had been bustling with nearly twenty people, but now it was so quiet, one wouldn’t believe it had ever been crowded.

Cecilia sat silently, covering her face with both hands until the last remaining duplicate— the fake Lian Gwendil— collapsed and even its remnants scattered away with the wind.

Her ears were burning red, as if reflecting her emotional state.

“I-it’s fine. I mean… Even objectively speaking, th-that junior… h-he is pretty c-cool, right? So…”

“Agh…”

Lancia stammered, trying to console her somehow, but it only felt like pouring oil on a fire.

Cecilia now crouched down completely, burying her head between her knees, while Lancia stood there fidgeting, unsure of what to do.

Pat, pat.

In the end, all she could do was gently pat Cecilia on the shoulder as she crouched.

Each time she did, Cecilia seemed to shrink in on herself even more.

Why must the embarrassment fall to me?

Trying not to think too hard about it, I turned my head away—and Yuran quietly spoke to me.

“Lian Gwendil, survey the surroundings.”

“…It’s not over yet?”

“No, the sorcery is indeed over.”

Even as she muttered that, Yuran kept a sharp eye on one direction.

“It is precisely because it’s over that we must be more cautious. This is always the time when the spellcaster lurks nearby.”

As she finished her sentence, Yuran pulled something out from her robes and immediately threw it toward the place she’d been watching.

Crackle.

A sharp sound like something sparking filled the air.

I drew my mace and took a battle stance.

Glancing behind me, I saw that Cecilia and Lancia had also each drawn their weapons and were on alert.

Step, step.

Footsteps approached.

Not long after, a middle-aged man emerged, parting the bushes.

Unlike Yuran, he had dull, black hair that stood out.

“Finally found you.”

His eyes lit up the moment he saw Yuran.

“Traitor.”

He spat the word like venom, and Yuran only shrugged in response.

“Delighted to see you too, Sir Roland.”

“Still as shameless as ever. No wonder you suck up to those Empire bastards and hand over everything, down to your guts.”

He waved his hand dismissively, as if he didn’t want to talk anymore.

Yuran pondered briefly, then looked to me and said,

“I intend to speak with him in our native tongue. I’m quite curious why he did this.”

“Go ahead.”

Yuran then began speaking to Cleaner Roland in Garusol.

Compared to her clumsy, awkwardly accented Empire language, her native tongue was fluent and clear.

Just like before, if one listened absentmindedly, it almost sounded like a song.

Not knowing any Garusol, I had no idea what they were saying.

Judging by the atmosphere, the man seemed furious, while Yuran remained composed.

“Hmph.”

After a while, Yuran let out a soft sigh, curling her lips slightly.

“What did he say?”

“I asked him why he did this.”

She replied, and then briefly shot me a meaningful glance.

“Instead of answering, he said he’d hang our heads up as a message. To replace sending a letter bearing warning and intent.”

“A warning?”

“He wouldn’t say what it was.”

She casually shrugged.

“He said there’s no need to explain to a dog who happily gobbles up the scraps tossed by the Empire.”

“…Gobble?”

Lancia murmured quietly from behind.

Though, it was loud enough that both Yuran and I could hear it.

“…It means ‘to eat,’ to eat.”

Yuran answered in her usual calm tone.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“Hmph.”

I decided to question the man myself, who still stared at us as if he wanted to tear us apart.

“Why exactly do you plan to hang our heads?”

“Because you’re with those Empire bastards.”

Roland spat on the ground as he spoke.

“And that woman over there—clinging to that Shagas bastard who invaded our homeland—should be killed with even more care.”

“That’s all fine, but could you drop the vulgar language? It’s rather unpleasant for those listening.”

“You arrogant little—”

He scoffed in disbelief.

As he did, I slung my mace behind my neck and asked,

“While we’re at it, let me ask one more thing. Why did you do this? What is this ‘warning’ about?”

“Didn’t I already say? There’s no need to explain anything to Empire dogs. Especially not to ones who’ll be dead soon.”

“What about the other two?”

“They’re already dead.”

He spat the words out coldly.

“My comrades probably have their heads displayed as trophies.”

“And you came to do the same with ours?”

“Yeah, for scum like you, I alone am more than enou—”

Squelch.

He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Something dark and shadowy had pierced through his chest.

“W-what… is this…?”

“To think you’d talk so much in front of the enemy.”

Yuran murmured, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“Urgh…”

He coughed up blood with a kuhluk and grabbed at it with trembling hands.

Regardless, that thing—like a black snake—let out a ssrrk as it burrowed once more through his chest and slipped out.

It vanished as if sucked into Cleaner Roland’s shadow.

Then, as he stared blankly at his gaping chest, he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

A ridiculously anticlimactic end.

Yuran only clicked her tongue softly and muttered,

“He didn’t even know the difference in skill between enemy and self.”

I glanced over at Cecilia and Lancia.

Both of them seemed a bit surprised, but it was likely due to the unfamiliar technique rather than shock at his death.

‘Well, yeah.’

It’d be stranger to pity someone who tried to trap us and openly declared he’d cut off our heads.

“We should hurry and find the other two.”

“I agree.”

Yuran glanced up at the sky.

Before we knew it, stars were twinkling in the night sky.

“The stars are out. I’ve memorized our location, so now we only need to find them.”

Saying so, Yuran strode over to the fallen man.

Rummaging through his robes, she soon nodded and pulled something out.

It was a small crystal orb.

“A communication orb, I see.”

“Indeed.”

In a situation like this, it made sense to carry at least one device to communicate among themselves.

I approached Yuran and asked,

“Is reverse tracking possible?”

“Reverse… hm?”

Yuran tilted her head for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

“Finding traces. Ah, reverse tracking. Hm, it’s possible.”

“That’s a relief.”

I muttered quietly.

Seeing me like that, Lancia spoke as if trying to reassure me.

“You don’t have to worry too much, junior.”

She briefly glanced at the man with a hole in his chest, then turned back to me.

“Amiel senior is famous even among our year. He’s really strong… With someone like that, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

At her words, I nodded.

Indeed, Kyren Amiel was relatively well-known among the Academy students.

The Academy had a massive student body, and because of the nature of its class system, it was common even for students in the same year and dorm to not know each other’s names or faces.

In fact, even for me, I knew far fewer classmates than I didn’t.

In such an environment, becoming widely known was rare—and Kyren Amiel was one of those rare cases.

‘Though for me… this is the first time seeing him in this life.’

Even from just a glance, it was clear he surpassed others his age by a wide margin.

And with Allen, whose skills had recently improved dramatically, by his side, I figured I could afford to worry a little less.

“But neither of them knows anything about sorcery, right?”

“But they are few in number. Only the two brothers.”

To Cecilia’s concern, Yuran responded reassuringly.

“The Mirror of Truth-Telling is deadly with many people. With fewer, it poses little threat.”

Then, holding up the crystal orb now marked with a charm, Yuran nodded.

“Done. Reverse tracking is possible. Once contact is made through this, we’ll be able to determine location and direction imme—”

It was at that moment.

The orb buzzed and emitted someone’s voice.

“This voice…”

“It’s my brother.”

It was Kyren Amiel’s voice.

Yuran promptly handed me the orb, as if telling me to respond.

“Amiel senior?”

Kyren murmured with a calm demeanor.

“Yes. One attacker—a sorcerer.”

Kyren replied in a flat tone.

He paused briefly before murmuring quietly.

He let out a small sigh as he said he had cut down his own friends.

“Did they say anything before they died?”

“It’s a coincidence. They said the same to us.”

As I spoke to him, I kept my eyes on the crystal orb.

Next to me, Yuran gestured with her palm open, as if telling me to place it there.

Once I did as she said, the orb began to tremble and started moving on its own in a certain direction.

“We’ll come find you.”

“There’s an excellent sorcerer on our side. We can track your location.”

Kyren murmured in understanding.

With that, the orb lost its light.

The communication had ended.

“Guess the stored mana ran out.”

Kyren muttered and tucked the orb back into his robe.

He held his bloodstained outer coat in one hand, having taken it off because it was bothersome.

Then he heard a suppressed groan near his ear.

“…Urgh.”

“What, you’re still alive?”

One of the two collapsed figures twitched and moved.

Seeing that, Kyren brought his hand to his sword hilt, still gripping his coat.

“…Kyren.”

“Yes, Virec.”

A friend he had shared years of camaraderie with.

Even though he had just cut that friend down with his own hands, Kyren looked completely unaffected.

“It must’ve been hard to endure all this time, huh? Even now, you’re not saying a word… You must’ve had quite the resolve.”

Kyren muttered that as he slowly drew his sword.

“You could’ve at least come at me from the front instead of from behind.”

“…Would that have changed anything?”

“At the very least, my hand might’ve trembled a little when I cut you down.”

Kyren had closed the distance and now pointed his sword at Virec’s chest.

“Then farewell.”

“I thought you’d at least listen to a final word.”

Virec murmured with disbelief, and Kyren echoed the sentiment with equal disbelief.

“Well, I’m sure you had your reasons. The kind of pitiful story that might shake my resolve if I heard it. Of course, you must have plenty of things you’d want to say at the end.”

“In that case…”

Thunk.

Before Virec could finish his sentence, Kyren’s sword tip plunged into his chest.

Facing the wide-eyed stare of his friend, Kyren quietly muttered,

“But at this point, what does any of that matter?”

“Urgh…”

“Farewell, Virec. I did enjoy our time together… That part, I meant sincerely.”

With those words, Kyren twisted the sword and pulled it out.

Looking down at the corpse of his friend who had died with his chest pierced through, Kyren let out a soft sigh.

‘What a filthy feeling.’

Wiping the blood off his blade, he turned his head to the side.

“That’s enough. Get up, Allen.”

“…Yes.”

Unlike Kyren, who didn’t have a scratch on him, Allen had several cuts and bruises.

They were from his duel with Garius Macmillan, who lay fallen nearby.

“I’m ashamed, Young Master.”

“You held your ground and cut down your opponent. You did your part.”

Kyren muttered as if wondering why he was apologizing.

In truth, Kyren had subtly assisted Allen at key moments, but he didn’t bother to mention it.

Allen, aware of this, simply stayed silent.

“They said they’re coming to find us. For now, let’s clean up the bodies, light a fire, and take a short rest.”

“…Yes.”

“And…”

Kyren shook his head slightly.

“No, it’s nothing.”

With that, Kyren began to carry the two fallen men off the ground.

Allen, startled, tried to take over, but Kyren just tossed him a flint as if it were bothersome.

“You’ll reopen your wounds. Just light the fire.”

“…Yes, Young Master.”

Some time later, as Allen finally got the fire going, Kyren returned after finishing the cleanup.

Without a word, Kyren glanced at Allen, who was still standing, then walked over to the other side.

Once Kyren sat down, Allen, who had been awkwardly standing, finally sat down quietly.

The two of them sat silently across the campfire.

They had decided to wait and move after regrouping with the other four, so this was to take a brief rest as previously discussed.

Kyren glanced over at Allen.

The promise they had made that day still held, and at the very least, his half-brother was fulfilling it in his own way.

In that case, it was only right for him to respond accordingly.

“…You’ve always been strong, physically.”

“Sorry?”

Allen looked at him, startled by the sudden words.

Kyren continued, sounding indifferent.

“But don’t rely on that too much. If you meet someone faster than you, you’ll be torn apart in an instant.”

“…Ah, yes.”

“And fix your grip on the hilt. Swinging like that, you’ll tire quickly.”

With that, Kyren fell silent.

Allen stared blankly at him for a moment, then,

“Thank you, Young Mast—”

“…Brother.”

Kyren’s eye twitched at the next word.

It was the word “brother.”

And neither Kyren nor Allen had spoken it.

“Who’s there?”

Both Kyren and Allen stood and turned toward the source of the voice.

Soon, rustling followed as someone stepped out.

“It’s me, brother.”

It was a small boy.

The boy looked straight at Kyren and spoke.

“Your younger brother, Allen Amiel.”

With that, the boy gave a sinister smile.