Lok exhaled lightly.
The artificial white light emitted by mana poured down from above his head.
‘All that mana, just to cast Light’s Guidance?’
The mana Falsh had gathered was enough for an average mage to use for an entire day.
It was astonishing that he’d used that much mana on a mere 9th-tier Light’s Guidance—and even more astonishing that he was still perfectly fine afterward.
In the split-second their eyes were drawn to the glowing mass, Falsh dragged one of the subordinates into a house.
No, saying he entered the house wasn’t accurate.
It was more appropriate to say he broke through the wall and burst in.
That the perimeter was broken by a mere 9th-tier spell was already enough of a blow to their pride, but what happened next was worse.
Using the intense light that had exposed their positions, Falsh hunted the subordinates one by one.
Spreading them out to surround him had backfired.
‘They’re inexperienced, after all.’
Their skills were sufficient, having trained under the Karabin family, but they were sheltered young masters with no real combat experience.
“Get away from the buildings, you idiots!”
Before Lok’s order could even be followed, Falsh moved first.
“What the—ugh!”
As the wall crumbled with a loud crash and a cloud of dust, Falsh snatched the panicked mage.
A short scream—and then silence returned to the street.
“Shit, where’d he go?”
A mage stationed on the rooftop scanned the area frantically.
Gripped by fear, he didn’t notice the sound below him.
Boom!
A hand burst upward from beneath the mage’s feet.
Though the mage hastily chanted a defensive spell, the hand ignored it and seized him whole, dragging him beneath the roof.
From the hole torn through the roof came the sound of things breaking, then silence once more.
A subordinate stationed in the alley made a run for the plaza.
Again, a section of the building wall collapsed toward him—but this time the mage managed to respond.
A mana spear struck the falling debris.
Amid the raining rubble, the mage gritted his teeth and searched for the enemy.
“Above!”
At Lok’s shout, the mage looked up—only to be snatched by a dark hand, like bait on a hook.
The mage’s scream grew distant as he was hurled into the air.
Falling from that height, even with a defensive spell, he wouldn’t come out unscathed.
Lok’s lips twisted.
“So he’s going for close combat. Seems I underestimated him for being a mercenary.”
“What should I do?”
The last remaining subordinate looked around nervously, his voice cracking.
“I’ll act as bait. Wait here, and when he shows himself—snipe him.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Leaving the trembling subordinate behind, Lok slowly stepped into the central plaza of Yurman’s city.
Based on Falsh’s behavior so far, if he showed himself now—
Boom!
“Aaaaargh?!”
A pathetic scream rang out behind him.
Amid the raining bricks, the face with those annoying closed eyes appeared.
Ignoring his dying subordinate, Lok activated the prepared spell.
“!”
Falsh leapt away, trying to dodge.
But this time, Lok was faster.
From the ground where Falsh had been standing, sharp spears surged up.
Clicking his tongue as he looked at the subordinate skewered on one of them, Lok muttered,
“Fast little rat.”
“Using your own subordinate as bait—impressive.”
Falsh emerged from the dust.
Seeing the deep wound on his right arm, Lok grinned in satisfaction.
“Tired of playing tag?”
“Didn’t see the point of it against you. Unlike those other clowns, you didn’t get into the slave trade just by flapping your gums.”
“Smarter than you look.”
Lok chuckled.
He had done all kinds of filthy, dangerous work—completely unbecoming of the Karabin family—all to monopolize the Dix District’s slave trade.
Cheap tricks like this were nothing new.
“That trick of laying down mana and turning it into a trap—not bad.”
“Let’s not change the subject. No more places to hide. Time for a proper fight, isn’t it?”
“Keep making noise and Cesare might notice.”
“Bluffing, are we? No way the guy who went to the Tirhan Distillery is here. Once I get rid of you, there’ll be no one left to track me.”
As Lok muttered, mana spears appeared behind his back.
Their number increased—until there were ten.
Falsh raised an eyebrow at the sight.
“Bit excessive, don’t you think?”
“This much? Please.”
The rate of mana spear generation increased.
Before long, dozens of them were aimed at Falsh.
“As I said—I’ve got things to do. Gotta finish this fast.”
The mana spears sliced through the air. Each time Falsh narrowly dodged, the ground trembled.
“Let’s see how long you can keep running!”
Lok laughed as he launched even more mana spears.
Boom!
The buildings around the plaza turned to rubble, the bricks torn up to expose the ground underneath.
It looked like a battlefield struck by artillery.
Holding his bleeding arm, Falsh barely dodged the attacks—but anyone could see the tide had turned.
***
“You’ve confirmed the goods?”
“Yes, all good.”
With a grimace, Thule nodded.
The other party’s goods were in good condition and in the correct number, so the transaction proceeded smoothly.
The price wasn’t bad for a rushed deal, and the quality was decent.
No—better than expected.
“Didn’t think there’d be a Diavoli included.”
“Well, we got lucky. Snatched him while he was wandering around Novosibir.”
The trader grinned and gave a thumbs-up.
They were just reselling what someone else had failed to secure—of course it was good quality.
There shouldn’t be two Diavoli in Novosibir, so it must’ve been the one that escaped—got unlucky again, that one.
“Payment confirmed?”
“Oh, still being tallied. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”
‘Hmm… this is going too smoothly.’
Thule took a deep breath and tensed up.
He slipped a hand into his pocket.
Inside, he gripped a magical signaling tool and a dagger tightly.
Once the attack started, he planned to slit the bastard’s throat first and then use the signal to summon waiting mercenaries.
Even if Cesare had shown up himself, this would’ve bought enough time to whisk the goods away.
“Calculation complete!”
“No problems?”
“Yes! Amount matches!”
The trader gave a satisfied nod and offered a hand.
“Pleasure doing business. If anything comes up again, we hope you’ll consider us.”
“Uh… sure, of course.”
After an awkward handshake, the other party left nonchalantly.
And even after waiting a few more minutes—nothing happened.
“…We’re moving. Transport the goods to the junction as planned. Tell the scouts to keep their eyes wide open for pursuit.”
There’s no way they’d just let us walk away.
But the absence of any action only made him more nervous.
Even 30 minutes later, when they arrived at the junction, there were still no issues.
“No pursuit team?”
“Almost certain. We checked thoroughly and even confirmed with the scouts we had pre-positioned—no one followed.”
Really? Could it really be that they just got lucky and found someone selling Demon Tribe?
His nerves were still on edge, but he couldn’t afford to waste more time.
“Stick to the plan. Split up and return to the port. Scouts, continue monitoring for pursuit.”
The wagon carrying the Demon Tribe began to move again.
Seated quietly in the corner, the Diavoli and Dark Elf exchanged faint smiles.
***
In the ruined plaza, Lok wiped the sweat from his brow.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used magic until his mana reserves hit rock bottom.
Falsh, who had kept running so tenaciously, was still alive.
Though, not in good shape.
Wounds covered his body.
It was a miracle he’d survived getting hit by multiple mana spears, but it seemed he had nothing left now.
“Out of mana in your magic gear, too?”
“……”
“Reactive armor, huh. I was surprised when the mana spear bounced off.”
Falsh had deflected a few with his staff—but that was it.
Lok had taken almost no damage, while Falsh, hit directly, had suffered even through his armor.
“Since I’m feeling generous—how about working under me? You’ve got decent physical specs. Add in some training under the Karabin name and—”
“Hah… no thanks.”
Falsh spat blood and chuckled.
Still laughing even in this condition—was he mad?
“You should’ve known you can’t win just by running. Didn’t even land a proper counter.”
“…Here, have this.”
Falsh staggered and snapped his fingers.
A small mana mass floated gently toward Lok.
He couldn’t help but laugh aloud.
Mana release?
A basic 9th-tier spell—not even an attack spell.
He waved it away dismissively.
‘What the—?’
A torrent of mana began to converge around the mass.
No—this wasn’t wild mana flow. It was mana controlled by spellcraft.
“Using planted mana as a trap—quite the method, don’t you think?”
Before the mocking voice even faded, vast streams of mana erupted from the plaza floor, surging toward Lok.
Flames of lightning poured in an instant.
He frantically threw up a defensive spell—but it was hopeless.
The mana shield he conjured slowly melted away, and currents of electricity surged through his body.
“Gah!”
With a choked scream, Lok watched his own skin flay and blood pour down as searing pain engulfed him.
Then came numbness—followed by pain like needles piercing every inch of him.
Seconds that felt like an eternity passed, and Lok collapsed like a broken log.
Brushing off dust from his clothes, Falsh spun his staff and approached.
“Still alive?”
Poking him with his staff, Falsh saw Lok was barely alive and shook his head in mock regret.
“Would’ve been easier if you’d died right away, wouldn’t it?”
He tried to curse, but his mouth wouldn’t move.
Eyes sticky with blood blinked as Lok barely lifted his head.
The narrow-eyed man crouched down to meet his gaze.
“Well, there’s not much time, so let me quickly explain what’s going to happen. Blink if you understand.”
Clenching his teeth, Lok stretched out a hand and grabbed Falsh’s ankle.
Falsh smiled brightly and continued.
“The moment you accepted the deal at the distillery, your head was already in the tiger’s mouth. That deal was bait to draw you out of your den.”
“…!”
“Yurman Port was bait too. You thought you were protecting a little burrow, but in the end, that burrow was left empty. You threw yourself into the lion’s jaws.”
Shaking off the hand clutching his ankle with his staff, Falsh leaned in closer.
“If you’re going to sell lives, you’d best be ready to wager your own, Lok Karabin.”
“…Who… are you…”
The question rasped from Lok’s mouth.
There’s no way he was just some mercenary. Then who was he?
“As you may have guessed—Falsh is an alias. The real name is Count Valheit.”
“Valheit? That Valheit?!”
Instead of answering, Valheit simply smiled and stood.
Lok gritted his teeth.
Why had this happened to him?
Why had a figure like Valheit come to the Northern Federation, and why—of all people—had he stood in his way?
“You damn old snake…!!”
As Valheit turned to walk away, leaving him in this miserable state, rage surged within Lok.
He forced his mana into forming one last, unstable mana spear.
But Valheit dodged it lightly, didn’t even turn back, and kept walking.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll hunt you down wherever you go—”
Crack!
Before Lok could finish, lightning struck his head from above.
Valheit glanced to confirm the target no longer moved, then turned his gaze toward the port and began walking.