Chapter 111
“Ian? Are you done?”
Beric couldn’t wait any longer and stepped inside, even though he’d been told to keep watch outside. Still, he made sure to follow orders—dragging the unconscious gang leader by the ankle behind him.
He blinked as he looked at Hasha’s mangled corpse.
“What happened to him?”
“For the future, Hasha wanted to get rid of the body.”
“Is that so? That guy’s got guts, more than I expected.”
Thud!
Beric roughly tossed the thief’s body aside and moved closer to Hasha. The sorrow of a human seen through a dog’s eyes—an emotion no one could truly understand. Beric sniffled and wiped the blood dripping from his nose.
“Look on the bright side. If you keep this up a few more times, you might live a long time.”
—That’s supposed to be comforting…?
Hasha scowled at the absurd consolation, but it seemed to snap him out of his daze. He rubbed his eyes and muzzle with his short front paws, regaining some composure.
—You didn’t kill the boss, did you?
“The master said to keep him alive, so I just snapped his ankles so he can’t run. But this place is bigger than I thought.”
Beric looked around and flung open a door. Ian did the same, partly to check the stolen goods, but also to see if anyone had been kidnapped.
Clatter!
“Look at this!”
“Must be where they stash their loot.”
“Wow, these guys really hit the jackpot!”
“Yeah. They were more resourceful than I thought.”
Gold coins, jewels, and precious items piled up, proof of their crimes. Ian clicked his tongue and stepped inside. The surrounding area was supposed to be a small town, but there was gold scattered everywhere.
Beric rummaged through the pile and pulled something out, calling Ian over.
“Ian, check out this strange sword.”
The blade was pitch black, so dull it looked like it had been scorched by fire. It seemed like ash might flake off. Beric ran his fingertip along the edge and muttered, surprised.
“It’s not dirty.”
“That’s an unusual sword.”
“You don’t know what it is either?”
“…How could I know everything? It might be a craftsman’s signature, or just decorative. Not all swords are made for cutting. Some magic swords have unique colors too.”
Ian hadn’t examined a swordsman’s blade closely before. When meeting the emperor, they had to keep their swords sheathed for decorum and safety. He’d only seen magic swords’ power during training duels.
“You seem to know a lot.”
Beric chuckled and swung the sword casually. It was a habit, but the blade was surprisingly light and nimble, and perfectly matched his arm length—comfortably so.
“Huh?”
“What’s wrong?”
Swish!
The sword left a faint afterimage with each swing. The blade was dull, but that could be fixed by a blacksmith.
“Ian! I want to keep this!”
“That one?”
“Yeah, can I?”
He stabbed and slashed wildly, making a fuss. Ian hesitated, eyeing the sword. The blade was chipped from rough use, and the leather-wrapped handle was stained with blood from who knows whose hands.
“You’re a guard, so you should have a sword you like. When we get back to town, I’ll make sure you pay for it.”
“Sweet! How much?”
“No idea. I’ll deduct it from your meals little by little.”
“Wait! You’re deducting from my food?”
The stolen goods belonged to the small towns, including Karenna, to be returned to their owners or added to the city’s budget. Beric’s comment about cutting meals shocked him; he kept glancing between Ian and the sword.
“Damn…”
But he couldn’t bring himself to give up the sword. It meant that much to him.
How easily his feelings showed. Ian smirked and moved to inspect the rest of the loot, while Beric, unusually serious, followed closely, sighing.
“Those who wield weapons sometimes feel like fate brought them together. Looks like he’s really fallen for it.”
“You like it that much?”
“Feels like the blood won’t even show on it. I love it.”
“Nothing comes without a price. Think of it as training for now.”
Ian didn’t actually plan to restrict Beric’s food, but he figured Beric needed some tension to keep himself in check.
After checking inside thoroughly and confirming no one was imprisoned, Ian said, “This side’s clear. Beric, go fetch Romandro and the townsfolk. Let them know we found the carriage.”
Clatter.
Outside, Hasha was pressed against the wall, whimpering. The boss had woken and was crawling on his arms. Both Achilles tendons were severed, so he had no strength below the knees.
“Up early, huh?”
“Huff!”
Beric strode over, and the gang leader paled, gasping for breath. He’d been a leader among rough men but had never faced someone overwhelmingly strong like Beric.
And was Beric just strong?
“Get lost! You crazy bastard, get away!”
The man was clearly unhinged, suffering deep aftereffects. He waved his hands, shouting at Beric, but Beric ignored him and grabbed him by the scruff.
Crack.
“Now, now. Don’t waste your strength. Let’s have a little chat.”
“Th-that’s my sword…”
Beric pressed the black blade to the man’s neck. A faint cut appeared along the edge, and soon beads of blood welled up. The blade was dull, but sharp nonetheless. A fine sword is a fine sword.
“You’ll answer every question truthfully from now on. If not, your head will roll to the afterlife, and your men won’t recognize you.”
Ian stood calmly before him, looking down. The gang leader tried to raise his head, but Beric stomped on it, stopping him.
“How did you use necromancy with the necromancer’s corpse?”
“Huh? What do you mean…?”
“Don’t try to deny it.”
Swoosh.
Beric sharpened the blade against the man’s neck. The pain made the thief flinch and scream.
“Ahhh! Damn it, please spare me!”
“No second chances. I’ll ask again. How did you use necromancy with the necromancer’s corpse?”
The man squeezed his eyes shut, stammering out the truth.
“I didn’t steal it. It followed me!”
“So why?”
“W-well…”
The gang leader frowned at the black sword. It was awkward to explain, so he tried to brush it off.
“I don’t really know. At first, I thought it was a freak since it wouldn’t die. We took the corpse to the slave dealer to sell it…”
Slave dealer. Ian frowned at the word, already piecing together the case. These thieves who raided and kidnapped had a slave dealer backing them.
“Could it be they helped you?”
“Yes! The dealer said if you use a kid’s corpse right, you can make more like them. But you need a lot of bodies, and killing people is our job…”
“So you made a deal. The slave dealer taught you the ritual, and you made undead to sell.”
“I don’t know what they did with the bodies. I swear! We just wanted to sell one corpse, but they said if we brought more, they’d pay us gold every time we returned to Karenna. We had no reason to refuse.”
The slave dealer wasn’t just active in Bariel. Their business required collecting ‘products’ from various races and species. Unlike Bariel, where slave uprisings were rare, neighboring countries had thriving underground economies.
“What’s the dealer’s name?”
“Pakens Slave Guild.”
Pakens. Ian recognized the name. If a human a hundred years later knew it, it must be a sizable, established group.
At that moment, Beric slammed the sword’s flat against the thief’s face several times.
Smack! Crack!
“Short answers?”
“Ugh! It’s the Pakens Slave Guild!”
“Good, good.”
Beric seemed to think this was payment for his meal. He proudly showed the sword to Ian, who chuckled and asked again.
“So, did you get some gold from the guild?”
“Yes, yes! That’s right!”
“How did you use the ritual?”
“You needed ten intact bodies to make one decent undead. And you had to have hair, so bald guys couldn’t be used.”
Hasha perked up at that.
—That matches my ritual. Every necromancer has their own style, and mine requires hair.
The thief’s eyes nearly popped out. A talking dog, and he could even guess the voice—it felt like a child’s soul was inside.
“Lucky bald guys. They don’t get caught by the ritual.”
To wield Hasha’s sorcery exactly as it was—ignoring Beric’s careless words, Ian glanced back at Hasha, half in disbelief.
“Do you want to hear more?”
“Of course. I am the master of this body.”
“Very well. Tell me, how did you perform the ritual?”
The thief bit his lower lip as if on the verge of madness. Normally, he would have bragged without hesitation about his misdeeds. But now, confessing it aloud, he realized the gravity of his actions—there was no forgiveness for what he’d done.
“…They brought me the corpse, and I did the rest. But since I couldn’t control it all the time, I tied it up when it wasn’t working.”
Hasha listened intently to the thief’s testimony. As the story dragged on, Ian gave Beric a subtle nod, signaling him to hurry back to the village.
“After cleaning the corpse thoroughly, I’d pick flowers and scent it…”
Crackling footsteps.
Even as Beric rode toward the village, the thief’s words continued. Soon, Hasha realized that the ritual performed on the corpse matched his own sorcery perfectly.
“Romandro~ Sir~!”
“Gasp! It’s Beric! Beric! What about Ian?”
“I’m covered in blood, and you’re not even asking about that?”
“No way! How could you be fine? So, what about Ian?”
“Everyone, follow me. I found the carriage. And bring the guards with you—we need to clean this up.”
Romandro and the others brightened at Beric’s news. They immediately summoned the captain of the guards for support and followed Beric’s lead. The moon was nearly set, and the sky was turning a soft purple as dawn approached.
Crackling hooves.
A flood of horses thundered toward the thieves’ den, their heads fixed forward. Soon, the ruined village lay before them in full view.
“Ian!”
“You’re here!”
Ian greeted Romandro alongside Hasha. He dashed to the carriage, checked that the documents and mana stones were safe, then dropped to his knees.
“Ugh. Thank you. Thank the gods.”
“No, Romandro, you should be thanking me.”
“Right. Beric, come here. Oh, what a pretty thing!”
“Eek! Gross!”
Romandro’s attempt at encouragement was met with Beric’s horrified retreat. The guards who entered were stunned, barking orders to their men.
“My goodness, all this…”
“They’re all dead. Corpses.”
“Wait, one’s alive. Head’s intact.”
“Secure the bodies first! Check for anyone hiding inside! Tear down every tent!”
“Yes, sir!”
As the moon set, the thieves’ fate was sealed. Ian held Hasha close, watching the guards clean up the scene.
‘Still, judging by what the thief boss said, he knew the ritual quite well. But he didn’t know why the undead first appeared?’
It made no sense. Ian crossed his arms and stared at the trembling thief leader being escorted away. Their eyes met, and Ian gave him a faint smile, silently saying, “We’ll talk again back in the village.”