Chapter 60 :

Watercolor (2)

Derrick gathered Raig’s two arms behind his back as he lay collapsed on the floor, then tightly bound them with cloth torn from the curtains.

Then, using the remaining cloth, he wrapped Raig’s entire body over and over, and manifested the 1-star Transformation-type magic 'Attribute Grant', granting him rigidity as hard as rock.

The whole process flowed as smoothly as water, clearly not something he had done only once or twice. Young Lady Freya, sitting in the corner of the corridor, stared at Derrick with her eyes wide open.

'Katia master’s former disciple? I heard he was a commoner, but to think he was this kind of person?'

Five minutes earlier, Young Lady Freya had quickly tried to put distance between herself and Derrick and run away, but she was caught in an instant.

It was the first time in her life that her Illusion-type magic had been seen through so easily. Panicking, she had ended up begging for her life, but this white-haired mercenary recognized Young Lady Freya and calmed her down instead.

The boy, who introduced himself simply as Derrick without giving his family name or affiliation, said that he knew that Young Lady Freya was the eldest daughter of the Count Elvester Family.

The appearance of the man politely observing noble etiquette as he greeted her gave off the impression of a perfectly normal person, something that could not even be compared to the moment he had subdued the crazed Raig.

"Y-you said your name was Derrick, right? Katia master talked about you often. She said you were someone among commoners who was born with outstanding magical talent....."

"Is Katia master doing well?"

"... Yes, of course. Being the magic master of the Count Elvester Family is a position everyone looks up to."

Derrick, who was pulling the cloth tight and checking that Raig was firmly bound, replied without even looking in Young Lady Freya’s direction.

Given the situation, it was impossible to provide all the proper courtesies due to the Young Lady of the Count Elvester Family.

"It seems we are like martial siblings. I also received great teachings from Katia master. I’m relieved to hear that master is doing well. But, this doesn’t seem like the time to be catching up."

After completely binding Raig, Derrick said:

"In the upper VIP room section, the Young Lady of the Beltus family is hiding. We plan to gather the survivors there, so Young Lady Freya, please head upward as well."

"N-no, I...... I was planning to escape outside the mansion."

"Outside the mansion is full of moving corpses. If you rashly try to escape alone, you will regret it."

"If I really make up my mind to run, no one can catch me. I even escaped from the great fire of Robenter Castle that bandits caused."

"Weren’t you just caught by me?"

“....”

Freya could not say anything.

However, that was only because Derrick’s mana sense was unusually sharp.

In reality, Young Lady Freya was so skilled at diverting others’ attention that even Katia would have to search the mansion with all her strength for an entire day just to barely find her.

Derrick propped up his chin once and fell into thought.

Certainly, Young Lady Freya’s Illusion-type magic had reached quite a high realm. Derrick had barely managed to catch her because he had been personally taught how to sense mana by Drest, but it didn’t seem easy to chase Young Lady Freya using ordinary Search-type magic.

One would need to be at least a 3-star mage to notice even a slight trace, so it would be easy for her to shake off the corpse monsters.

The thought suddenly occurred to him that it might be better to send Young Lady Freya outside the mansion to ask for help. It was an alternative worth seriously considering.

'I’ve seen plenty of people die, but why is this kid so calm?'

In the meantime, Young Lady Freya was staring at Derrick as if she had discovered some kind of rare unicorn.

Even in a situation where the mansion was full of people possessed by something, he showed no sign of panic as he searched for survivors, subdued Raig, and even caught Freya who tried to escape.

His magic skill was excellent, his judgment was good, and on top of that, he was connected to her through Katia. Freya quickly revised her assessment.

'For now, it’s better to trust this kid. My intuition is telling me so.'

"Then I’ll go to the VIP room and meet the Young Lady from the Beltus family. But...... what are you planning to do after gathering the survivors? In a situation like this, wouldn’t it be better to plan to escape first?"

"Let’s save as many as we can. Aren’t the VIP guests gathered in this mansion all people of great standing even within the Empire?"

"Is it loyalty to the Empire?"

"If someone from the Empire side comes and asks, I’ll answer that way."

"Then what is it really?"

"Half of it is a sense of duty to save lives as a human being, and the other half is the expectation that if I save VIP guests, something will come back to me anyway."

It was said that nobles in the northeastern region would pay hundreds of gold coins without hesitation as the price of a life.

They would readily give that much even just to save a prisoner, so if you saved the noble themselves, it would certainly be recognized as an enormous merit.

"People don’t always move for just one clear reason, do they?"

Just hearing those words, Freya felt as if she had caught a glimpse of one side of the person named Derrick.

Basically a good person, but not blind to calculations. Selfish where he should be selfish, and capable of being altruistic where he could afford to be altruistic.

That was far better than someone who leaned entirely to one side.

Freya took off the necklace she was wearing and placed it into Derrick’s hand.

"… What is this?"

"It’s a magic accessory that the Arendale Academy gave me as a gift for my coming-of-age ceremony. It’s a set with this ring, and if you wear them, you can know each other’s locations."

"Isn’t it expensive?"

"It’s better not to know the price. Anyway, if we’re going to be moving around this mansion, it’s better to maintain a state where we can check each other’s positions."

Derrick quickly wrapped the necklace around his neck and tucked it inside his clothes.

"If you go toward the main hall, there are mages with their minds boiled sitting all over the banquet tables. Most of them don’t seem to have lost their lives yet."

"The banquet tables?"

"Yes. I don’t know why, but the servants of this mansion are still busy preparing for the ball. Actually, it looks less like a ball and more like some kind of ritual."

Derrick’s brow furrowed.

A ritual where a banquet is laid out, music is played, and mages are killed is exactly the kind of thing Necromantic-type mages would do.

They worship the god of corpses or the god of souls, and by killing high-realm mages, they steal the magical power dwelling in those souls and bestow part of it upon themselves.

Certainly, disguising it as a ball might have been a wise choice.

You can naturally gather high-realm VIP guests in one place, and preparing musicians and food for the ritual would not look suspicious.

On top of that, with the important event of Young Lady Delia’s debutante overlapping, all the gathered VIP guests would have had no choice but to let their guard down.

This was the mansion of the Duplein family, one of the highest-ranking families in the continent.

No one could have imagined that something so horrifying would happen here.

The problem was that from Duke Duplein himself to all of his children under him..... there was no one who seemed like they would lead such mad behavior.

Derrick, who had been close to the Duplein family, knew this especially well. Valerian, Raig, Aiselin, Delia..... none of them were people who would lay a hand on such a taboo.

'Something must have triggered them, or someone must have incited them..... or maybe they were possessed by magic equipment imbued with malicious thoughts.....'

Derrick quickly drew out the possibilities.

It was impossible to rashly guess which member of the Duplein family had been drawn into such Necromantic-type magic.

However, for Derrick alone, it was possible to guess who it was.

– “Before you come of age, Valerian Delomain Duplein will lay a hand on Necromantic-type magic.”

– “If that happens, you will kill him.”

Drest, who had foreseen all of this, had warned Derrick.

He told Derrick, of all people, to kill that Valerian. Even though he himself had already reached the 6-star realm, he did not step in directly.

Now that things had turned out this way, Derrick felt like he could see that intention, at least a little.

Most of the VIP guests of the continent were captured and facing a crisis of life and death.

In a situation like this, if one were to clean up the scene and capture and subdue the mastermind, the merit would be beyond measure.

If there were merit in saving the lives of so many nobles, it would be a great help on Derrick’s path toward an even higher realm in the future. The Empire would have no choice but to step in personally and praise him.

So Drest had intended to give all of this merit to Derrick.

The reason he had sought out Derrick at that time and trained him was also to bring him up to the level needed to subdue Valerian, who would be playing with Necromantic-type magic.

–It was impossible to gauge how far ahead he had seen.

That is what it means to have a 6-star Search-type mage backing you.

However, Derrick’s feelings were complicated.

The Valerian that Derrick remembered was someone who, just to win a bit of Delia’s favor, would clumsily sweat as he sewed a doll.

He was always someone who lived thinking only of his family, and he was the most promising next Family Head of the Duplein family.

Derrick did not easily acknowledge others, but he did acknowledge that Valerian was someone who would grow into a leader worthy of everyone’s respect.

'Even so...... if he has taken the wrong path, he must be killed.'

However, Derrick was a resolute person.

Even while harboring complicated emotions, he does not hesitate to swing his sword at the critical moment.

Thus, Derrick walked step by step into the main hall at the center of the mansion.

*

The moon was climbing toward the middle of the sky.

Even at this late hour nearing midnight, moonlight poured into the main hall of the Duplein mansion.

–Step, step.

When he entered the main hall, an indescribably bizarre sight unfolded.

In the vast hall, five or six long banquet tables were stretched out in rows.

On top of them, luxurious food was laid out enticingly, and on both sides, countless mages who had lost consciousness were slumped in their seats.

Musicians with unfocused eyes, as if possessed by something, were holding high-quality string instruments to their chests and sitting quietly beside the main staircase.

Every candlestick had a flickering candle, and the center of the main hall, where the protagonist of the stage should sit, was empty under the moonlight.

If people were lively chatting, it would have been nothing more than a scene from a ball.

But it was strangely quiet. As he walked step by step across it, only the sound of his footsteps echoed in the empty hall.

Derrick narrowed his eyes and looked around.

The mages lined up in front of the banquet tables had all lost consciousness, but were still alive.

It seemed there was no intention to take their lives before the ritual began.

Trying to raise one’s realm by sacrificing such a large number of mages was not a normal way of thinking.

Throughout history, all famous Necromantic-type mages had tried such things, and without exception, all had their heads cut off and disappeared into the back alleys of history.

That is what it means to lay a hand on a taboo.

As Derrick was crossing this bizarre place and moved his gaze to the center of the main hall, that was when it happened.

Moonlight pouring through a wide stained-glass window on one side wall illuminated that spot.

It was the seat of honor where the host of this ball should be sitting.

In front of it, a man was sitting quietly on a wooden chair with his head bowed.

The blond hair that fell to his shoulders was a bit longer than before. However, compared to back then, gray strands were mixed in here and there.

His skin had grown pale, and his build had become more solid.

In the past, he wore the attire of a classical noble, but now he was clad in steel armor full of splendid decorations.

He looked far more fitting for a future Family Head than before, but compared to back then, there was a strangely dangerous atmosphere about him that felt ominous.

Derrick stopped a short distance away.

“....”

"So, it is you. Derrick. You have come to attend the stage celebrating Delia’s debutante."

"….. Young Master Valerian, your impression has changed a lot."

"Yes. Time changes people. Still, from the perspective of the one hosting this ball, it is truly something to be grateful for that the master whom my beloved youngest sister Delia respects the most has come in person."

Valerian raised his head and looked at Derrick.

His ominous and pale appearance was revealed. His pupils were trembling as if an earthquake had struck.

"However, as you can see, the ball has been canceled due to circumstances. If Delia returns to the mansion, could you take her back to Ebelstein?"

“.....”

"In my current situation, there is no one I can trust to ask such a favor."

Behind Valerian, the largest and most magnificent wooden chair was placed.

In fact, it was the seat where the highest-ranking person at this ball should be sitting.

The place where Valerian was sitting was clearly visible due to the moonlight leaking in from the stained glass, but that seat was subtly buried in shadow and hard to see.

As Derrick walked a few steps to the side and changed his viewing angle, the figure sitting in that chair gradually came into view.

The moment he recognized who the person slumped there with their head down was, Derrick’s eyes narrowed even further.

Duke Raymond Oswald Duplein.

The master of this mansion was slumped in his seat with a dagger piercing through his chest.

On that dagger, the eagle-shaped seal was clearly engraved. It was the seal of the Duplein family.

"....."

Seeing that Derrick had confirmed the Duke’s appearance, Valerian’s expression softened once more.

"As you can see, I am out of my mind trying to clean up the mistake I have made."

Valerian gave a bitter smile and rose from his seat.

The clanking sound of his armor spread through the hall.

"... What are you doing here?"

"Didn’t I just tell you?"

Valerian said with a complicated smile, in a softly lowered voice.

"I am cleaning up my mistake."

Derrick stood there without moving, quietly staring at Valerian.

Sometimes firm, sometimes gentle, Derrick’s gaze was resolute this time. There was no need to ask in detail about the intention contained in those eyes.

Valerian looked at Derrick for a while, then lowered his gaze as if in resignation.

"I see."

With that resigned expression, Valerian stared at the floor for a moment, then raised his hand wrapped in mana.

Once, ominous dark-red mana covered the entire ballroom, then gathered at Valerian’s fingertips and took the form of a staff.

It was a staff known in the world as the relic of Rozin, a 5-star Summoning-type mage.

However, contrary to what was known, Rozin, the owner of that staff, was not a Summoning-type mage.

Derrick could not help but quietly twist his expression.

–Swish

The ballroom, wrapped in moonlight.

Its master rose and looked down at Derrick.

Necromancer Valerian.

He was the master of this mansion.