Chapter 382
A carriage raced through the pitch-black night, with Bariel’s troops in hot pursuit.

Though nothing was visible, they pressed on relentlessly—charging through the forest, climbing hills, and descending slopes. The only guides were the clatter of the carriage wheels, the neighing of horses, and the terrified screams of the Luswena soldiers.

It was clear they had no idea where they were heading. Was it really wise to keep chasing like this? One officer exchanged a silent signal with his comrade.

“Keep close. That’s an order from the Minister.”

“Feels like we’re just wasting our strength for nothing.”

Clatter, clatter!

The marathon to locate Burgos and Luswena’s supply base dragged on. The rattling carriage looked pitiful as it jolted along. Then, as they passed through a sloped part of the forest—

Whoosh!

A group of soldiers suddenly appeared, cutting across the carriage’s path. They were Burgos troops.

Bariel’s men, who had been trailing behind, came to an abrupt halt, and the Luswena carriage did the same. But upon spotting the Burgos soldiers, they quickly seized the reins.

“If you take the right path, you’ll reach a familiar road!”

“Got it!”

Burgos had sent reinforcements after learning about the supply issue.

The officers exchanged glances. Lifelong comrades—they could read each other’s intentions without a word.

One officer turned back along the path to catch up with the carriage, while the rest drew their swords.

“Black-clad figures… must be thieves from the Deadlands.”

A declaration from Bariel—no political motives, just plain banditry.

Dressed in black in the pitch dark, if not for the glint of their blades in the moonlight, no one would have noticed they were even there.

The Burgos soldiers squared off against Bariel’s men.

“Ambushing a supply carriage is the act of thieves. It’s laughable for you to accuse us.”

“State your rank. If you’re high enough, we might spare you.”

“Spare me? Ha!”

The Burgos soldier laughed heartily, the sound echoing eerily through the branches. The rustling leaves, stripped bare, made the laughter sound almost human.

“Such arrogance.”

Even before swords clashed, the talk of sparing lives was presumptuous.

Though all Burgos soldiers wore the same uniform, asking for rank was a tactic—if they caught someone, they’d interrogate for information.

The soldier clicked his tongue and tightened his grip on his sword. Bariel’s officer raised his weapon in response.

“But tell me—do you know what’s inside that carriage you’re chasing?”

Whoosh.

Why ask that now?

The Bariel officer frowned, but the darkness hid the other’s expression. Honestly, it was hard to tell who even spoke. A little moonlight would have helped.

“Why chase it? Just go to your country’s Minister of Magic and ask them to make more.”

“What nonsense.”

“I don’t see what’s so nonsensical about it. Don’t you know about Idgal?”

Idgal. He’d heard the name but never seen or touched one. Only knew it was a crucial tool to keep mages and magic swordsmen in check during this war.

“Your Minister of Magic created Idgal. Instead of wasting effort chasing a carriage, why not just ask them to make more?”

The soldier was certain the madman was just spouting nonsense. Whatever his intentions, it wasn’t worth listening to.

Clatter! Clang!

Without hesitation, the officer swung his sword. Blades flashed in the dark, narrowly missing each other’s lives.

Every sense but sight sharpened as if reborn—the strange scent from the opponent, the wind whistling along the blade’s arc, their breathing, and the instinctive feel of the next strike.

“Damn it. Light the torches!”

At the order, soldiers hurriedly lit torches.

Suddenly, the area brightened. The officer could finally see the face of his opponent.

Eyes entirely black—no whites at all. Where had he seen that before? The glossy pupils reflected his own face perfectly.

Clang! Clang!

The duel flowed smoothly, but then a louder noise came from the forest. Reinforcements from Burgos? The officer turned his head sharply, and in that moment, the enemy soldier lunged, aiming a blade at his neck.

Ssssh!

Crash!

But at the same time, an axe flew through the air.

It struck the attacker’s face squarely. Staggering back a few steps, he collapsed forward, his face twisted grotesquely.

That moment shifted the battle’s balance. Bariel’s soldiers began to overpower the Burgos troops one by one, eventually winning the skirmish without casualties.

The officer caught his breath and looked toward where the axe had come from.

“…Minister.”

“You’re wasting strength in the dark.”

“Apologies. He’s no easy opponent.”

“What about the carriage?”

“We’re still chasing it.”

“Return to Clifford with what you’ve secured. Rest for a while. How many are in the pursuit group after the Luswena supply carriage?”

“After splitting from Chase, there are five squads, ten men each—fifty in total.”

“All units, return. Prepare to head back to Clifford. Check the body of the deceased as well.”

“Yes, Minister. By the way, have you seen Minister Ian?”

“Yes. He seemed fine. The real problem was at Clifford. I’ll explain when we return. It’s late; monsters might appear. Withdraw quickly.”

“So, the supply interception operation is called off?”

“We believe most of the Dragon Caglin have been recovered. Burgos won’t get what they want now. Soon, Burgos will make a move from their entrenched position. We must prepare thoroughly for the capital’s defense.”

The soldiers rifled through the dead Burgos soldiers’ clothes, searching for anything useful. Just as Tweller was about to turn his horse—

“Isn’t this Idgal?”

Idgal? A mere soldier carrying Idgal? Tweller frowned and approached the corpse, eyes wide as he met the dead man’s black gaze.

“The eyes resemble Duke Haiman’s.”

“Exactly. I wondered where I’d seen them. Eyes without whites are rare.”

“Did he reveal his affiliation?”

“No. We ordered him to, but he refused.”

“He has it too!”

Clink.

All the dead carried Idgal. Their ranks were unknown, but if even ordinary soldiers had Idgal on them just in case…

‘It must have been circulating before the war. Far more than we expected.’

They already knew about Idgal’s existence and possible distribution. Minister Volv had discussed it in meetings.

But this was beyond what Bariel had grasped.

‘Does Lord Ian know about this?’

“Minister, if I may.”

The officer, wiping blood away, muttered while staring at the corpse’s black eyes.

“Do you know where Idgal originated?”

“It’s suspected to be from the Rutherford guild, but details are still under discussion. The handover wasn’t smooth.”

“This man said something strange. I thought it nonsense, but now that Idgal’s been found on him, it can’t be ignored.”

“What did he say?”

“That Lord Ian made Idgal.”

Tweller’s face twisted further—a look of disgust at such foolishness. The officer awkwardly sniffled and pretended to move the body aside, but Tweller’s scolding was relentless.

“In war, information is everything. Distinguishing truth from lies is a power equal to thousands of soldiers. Your words make me want to wash my ears out.”

“Apologies. I thought it nonsense too. Ha ha.”

A mage creating a substance harmful to other mages? He’d never seen it, but Lord Ian didn’t seem reckless or ignorant. If it were Akorella beside him, curiosity might have driven her to try.

Still, no fool would knowingly tighten the noose around their own neck. Tweller picked up his axe and ordered the soldiers.

“Clear the area. Return to Clifford.”

“Yes, Minister.”

“The path is clear. We’ll meet soon.”

A faint beam of light shimmered. Though not as bright as daytime, it was enough to track the carriage’s trail.

The mage gestured urgently toward the sky. Tweller mounted the carriage and, with his men, followed the light—like chasing the Milky Way across the night sky.

---

“So? Any supplies?”

“Nothing has arrived yet.”

Damon was being dressed as he received the report. His short hair, which had bounced lightly, was tied back neatly. He wore richer, more dignified fabrics layered over his clothes.

His reflection in the mirror was expressionless, unreadable. But his subordinate nervously bit at his sleeve.

“I understand.”

“Yes?”

“Dismissed. Tomorrow is the departure day.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The supplies hadn’t even arrived properly, Timothy had fled to Bariel, and the deployment ceremony was looming under the worst possible circumstances. Damon was expected to throw a tantrum, but strangely, he seemed unusually calm, which caught his subordinate off guard.

Well, it made sense—this was a major event after all. Even Damon would know better than to lose his temper on a day like this. Nodding to himself, the subordinate quietly backed out of the room.

“What about the supply reinforcements?”

“They should have encountered Bariel’s forces by now.”

Standing beside him was the man who had ousted Timothy and become Damon’s closest confidant. Damon smirked and straightened his collar with deliberate care.

Bariel—more precisely, the Magic Department’s involvement in this war—was a double-edged sword. Alongside the secret Ian had traded for during his second mission, Damon had uncovered new truths.

“That Rutherford fellow… is he really that important?”

“My apologies. He requests your understanding due to certain circumstances. Shall I send a reply?”

“No, that’s enough. Merchants always hide and watch quietly when things get noisy. But Rutherford’s connected to Idgal? That only makes things more interesting.”

After reading the letter one last time, Damon set it ablaze in the candlelight. The letter detailed the popularization of Idgal, agreements on wartime supplies, and, intriguingly, the origins of Idgal itself.

As the paper turned to ash, Damon flicked the remnants away with a chuckle.

“Good thing Ian isn’t in the palace after all.”