< 96. I’ll Save You >
*
Partak watched Fernandez slowly empty his tea, smiling greasily. The crimson tea seemed to seep between his lips and disappear, leaving the cup half empty.
-Tap.
Just as the influence of that woman, Persit, was gradually expanding and becoming increasingly annoying, a person sent from Persit’s side had come to him. This was the best of the best news. As he chuckled over his tea, Fernandez’s head tilted slightly.
‘Got him.’
Maksancho was the most potent truth serum in the Material World. If one drank more than two sips of tea with its leaves so heavily dissolved, it wouldn’t be strange for the drug to take effect.
‘Is he particularly susceptible to drugs?’
Partak loosened his neck and spoke in a hissing voice.
“Now, little one. This old man has many questions. Hehehe. So, what’s your name?”
“Faijashi.”
Partak’s eyebrows slightly furrowed. Faijashi? That was a dialect from the Ancient Melachum Empire. An empire created by demons who had crossed over to the Material World during the Celestial War.
Few people remained who were fluent in that language, but its meaning was ‘traitor’. If it was a name he chose himself, it was quite ironic.
“Melachum language?”
“Yes. Faijashi. You don’t need to know any other name. Partak Blackfang.”
-Swoosh.
As his head tilted, blue eyes sparkled through the flowing black curls. Clear, straight eyes that showed no trace of being drugged!
“You…?”
“If you hadn’t been pulling these stunts, you might have lived a few more days, my friend.”
-Thud. Tap.
Partak quickly pulled back and grabbed a beastman. He didn’t know how the man wasn’t poisoned by the drug, but coming prepared meant he had some other intention.
“Did it seem wise to come alone to a prepared mage’s workshop, Faijashi? Huh?”
“Of course.”
Partak’s beastman quickly danced in the air. And almost simultaneously, Fernandez’s fingers intertwined intricately, and blue sparks flew. A fierce light erupted from the circuit of the Bronze Throne on his wrist.
-Whoosh!
Seeing the black crown-shaped halo rising behind Fernandez’s head, Partak bit his lip.
“A mage! Carrying two swords!”
“I’m good with both.”
A mistake! But there’s no way this young brat could surpass him, who had trained in magic for so long. Partak inwardly smiled as he felt the brat attempting a magic duel.
It didn’t take long for his smile to freeze coldly. The time it took for five beastmen to form was fifteen seconds, and the time it took for the magic flowing through them to leave traces in the air was about thirty seconds.
In that short time, Fernandez had successfully cast forty-five spell counters!
“Im… impossible!”
Fernandez laughed without answering and moved his hand. The beastmen, formed almost too fast for the naked eye to see, were astonishingly precise, blocking his magic circuits.
-Thud thud thud!!
The wedges created by Fernandez lodged into Partak’s circuits, severing the flow strand by strand. A complete defeat! Partak twisted his bleeding lips, trying to shout.
-Swish.
Before the dagger entered just below his Adam’s apple.
“When?!”
“Now.”
In his previous life, the art of using a dagger was something he had mastered long before magic, and over a long time. Whether throwing a dagger, stabbing with it, or even chopping wood, it was a useful survival skill.
Diemonica’s reflexes and his long experience created an ensemble. It reached a level where it could replicate the assassination techniques of the most skilled Shaksisi!
‘Where did this brat come from!!’
Partak bit his lip hard, trying to scream, and desperately racked his brain. Seven steps to the tent entrance. If he could just break through that distance, his subordinates were stationed there.
Publicly, the elder and shaman of the Federation of Beastmen Nobles! If he were ambushed by an outsider who hadn’t even been here half a day, this brat wouldn’t leave the federation’s territory alive. Seeing Partak’s gaze, Fernandez smiled deeply.
“Thinking of doing something foolish, huh?”
-Crackle.
The halo floating behind his head emitted a strong light and burned. Soon, magic thinly covered the tent.
“Windless Zone Construction. A familiar spell, right? I tried to use your specialty, how was it? Similar?”
“…”
Partak trembled at the sensation of the dagger pressing against his Adam’s apple and groaned. Windless Zone, the most basic spell Partak used after inviting silence to his workshop, and his life-saving technique.
Literally, a technique to stop the wind. It was a kind of barrier that prevented any sound or presence from passing through that thin magic curtain.
‘He’s stolen my magic formation…’
Now he had no choice but to admit it. This brat was a mage at least five steps ahead of him. In the first magic duel, he had already grasped everything about him before even putting up a defense, and even stole the magic formation embedded in this workshop to the point where he could wield it himself.
“Faijashi. You’re not Al’Persit’s disciple.”
“…Hmm?”
“That woman wouldn’t raise a mage superior to herself.”
“You didn’t just send an assassin for me, did you? Who are you?”
“Still sharp as ever, Partak.”
Fernandez shrugged and put away his dagger. Partak coughed dryly and wiped his bleeding lips.
– Thud.
“···?”
Fernandez slightly pushed a teacup mixed with Maksancho. As Partak stared blankly at the cup, Fernandez tilted his head slightly and spoke.
“Drink.”
“···You knew what this was.”
“It smells. Maksancho. I don’t know why you boiled the leaves whole if you know alchemy.”
“Usually, that’s enough.”
“I hope it’s enough for you too. Drink. Partak.”
There was no choice. Partak held the cup with trembling hands. The lukewarm tea sloshed below his eyes. Watching this, Fernandez smiled deeply.
Like a demon. His laughter smelled of dry ruins and flames. He spoke in a voice like a snake slithering.
“If there’s something you know that I don’t, I’ll let you live.”
For a few more days. Anyway, I needed more information from this period.
*
In front of the campfire, Abel and Kirhas were staring blankly at the flames. It had been nearly an hour since Fernandez entered the tent alone.
Kirhas kept twitching his ears and glancing at the tent. He didn’t think his master would be in any trouble inside, but···. Strangely, no sound could be heard from under that thin tent.
“Are you worried?”
“···No. Abel. Not worried.”
Abel smiled warmly at Kirhas. Kirhas pouted slightly at her expression.
“It’s just strange.”
“Strange?”
“No sound is coming from there···. Not even a conversation, no. I can’t even sense any presence.”
When Kirhas said that, a young man from the tribe near the campfire chuckled. He looked at Kirhas with a sticky, gleaming gaze.
Kirhas was about to flare up at the rude gaze when the young man slowly opened his mouth.
“Our shaman must be making another subordinate.”
“···What?”
“Hehe, is that human inside your husband?”
As the young man smirked, Kirhas’s face turned red. The young man grinned slyly at the sight.
“Your husband must have been captured by the shaman. Judging by how long it’s taking, he must be meticulously imprinting a slave mark. Hehehe.”
“What nonsense···!”
Kirhas jumped up, baring his teeth and growling. The beastman youth laughed, slapping his tail.
“Sit down, kid. You’re still young, but···. I can replace your husband. You should learn to speak politely from now on···.”
As he spoke, the tent opened silently behind him. Kirhas perked up his ears happily as Fernandez walked out. The young man chuckled.
“That posture is very good···.”
“Yes. It’s a posture you should learn too.”
“What···?! Ugh!!”
– Thud!
Fernandez, now standing behind the young man, quickly stepped on his back and pressed down. The young man groaned and knelt, collapsing.
Despite being a decent fighter, even serving as the shaman’s guard. The tribal youth struggled under Fernandez’s foot, screaming.
“Ugh!! Let go!!”
“You should learn to speak politely. Beastman.”
– Crack.
Fernandez pressed down until the young man’s back was almost broken. He flailed, sweeping the ground with his tail. What kind of strength?!
Then, as he lay gasping, he saw Partak. The youth screamed towards Partak, who was slowly walking out of the tent.
“Sh-Shaman! Shaman, please, please this damn guy!!”
Partak silently looked at Fernandez. He glanced down at the youth with empty eyes and stood beside Fernandez, slightly bowing his head.
“Is this guy necessary?”
“···No.”
“I see. Beastman. Do you feel like apologizing to my wives?”
– Crack!
“Ugh!!”
The youth was now almost flat on the ground, gasping. Why? Why is the shaman abandoning me? And why is he so deferential to that foreign kid?
But now, he had to survive. His crushed lungs couldn’t even take a breath. Feeling stomach acid reflux, the youth shed tears.
“Please! I will! I’ll apologize! I’m sorry, sorry!!”
“Good. Kirhas. Feeling better now?”
At Fernandez’s words, Kirhas chuckled and nodded. As Fernandez removed his foot, the youth coughed dryly and straightened up.
Kirhas glanced at Partak and cautiously asked.
“Your Excellency, who is he···?”
“Ah, say hello. This is Partak Blackfang.”
“Hello···?”
“No, speak comfortably. He’s a new servant.”
Servant···? The youth, still sprawled on the ground, looked up at Partak in shock. The cunning glint in Partak’s eyes was gone. The youth was stunned as he watched Partak slowly bow his head.
From Partak’s mouth came a word he had never uttered in his life.
“Yes, Master.”
And Fernandez laughed deeply. He slowly placed his hand on Partak’s head. Partak knelt on one knee.
In this quiet military encampment, within the shaman’s camp where no one could easily approach, Fernandez whispered in Partak’s ear.
“Summon the warlord meeting. Can you do it?”
“What reason should I give?”
“War.”
Of course, war. At his words, Partak nodded.
“I will do as you wish.”
Let’s pull history forward a bit. Fernandez looked down at Partak, who was swearing allegiance. Time was an extremely precious resource for him, after all.
*
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