10 – Siren 2

Contrary to common perception, dark magic was not inherently evil.

No more than morning is good and night is evil.

Dark magic was merely classified as magic of the darkness, not a measure of good or bad.

Yet, the reason people labeled it as evil was.

The deeds committed by dark mages who wielded it were excessively drastic.

‘Necromancers, for example.’

In novels, their ability to manipulate the dead was often adorned with plausible explanations, dulling the senses.

But upon deeper reflection, its essence was nothing more than the desecration of the deceased.

It was inevitable that public perception would turn negative.

‘Because of this, those who practiced dark magic were often ostracized from society, usually retreating into the shadows.’

And in the shadows, the inherently high degree of isolation and autonomy.

Allowed actions that would normally be constrained by public scrutiny or regulations to be carried out without reservation.

That accumulation is what they say became the dark magic of the modern age.

‘Anyway, the important thing is. The dark magic that should be hidden in the shadows is permeating the entire city.’

Even the faintest whiff of dark magic in certain areas was a significant concern.

But for this residue to be swirling throughout the entire city meant we were facing a truly colossal problem, and as I was hardening my expression, Lorraine spoke to me.

“Master, it would be wise to be cautious.”

Lorraine, too, seemed to have noticed the presence of dark magic, her expression tight as she scanned our surroundings.

Confirming this, I took a light, deep breath and started to walk toward the direction the solar spirit was glaring at.

* * *

The sewers on the city’s outskirts.

A place classified as somewhat dangerous, due to the large-scale purification magic devices installed there.

A place where ordinary people wouldn’t dare to even approach, let alone enter…

Seeing the unusually large number of footprints around the entrance, I couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh.

‘So deliberate.’

The traces left behind were as if those hiding in the shadows were deliberately leaving footprints, declaring, ‘We’re here.’

Of course, the footprints could have belonged to vagrants or the homeless, not dark mages.

But if that were the case, there should have been at least guards posted at the entrance, or signs of sustained habitation within the sewers…

‘There wasn’t just nothing like that, it was practically spotless.’

Rather than signs of vagrants or the homeless, it was more reasonable to see it as the traces of black mages.

‘And if these are traces of black mages…’

That meant there was a high possibility this place was an intentionally made trap.

‘A trap, huh. What’s the best way to handle this?’

If I wanted to play it safe, I could return home and report that there seemed to be black mages here.

If I did that, the Duke’s family would conduct a large-scale investigation, and I could get through this smoothly without any danger.

However, the problem was that while I went through the reporting process, the black mages could erase all traces and escape quickly.

‘…’

After a moment of deliberation, I gripped the mace hanging at my waist, my eyes darkening.

Because I realized there was an extremely simple solution.

‘Doesn’t matter if it’s a trap or not.’

If it was a trap, I’d break through it, and if there was an enemy, I’d knock them down.

Now, I was sick and tired of meaningless endurance for the sake of ideals. Lifting my mace, I spoke to Lorraine.

“Cover me.”

“Yes.”

With Lorraine, who was just on the verge of becoming a Sword Master, there shouldn’t be any problems.

I finished a quick calculation and moved further into the sewer.

*

As I entered the sewer, the acrid stench of blood stung my nostrils.

I’d smelled this so many times during sparring that it felt somewhat familiar as I moved forward.

A man draped in a black robe approached me, offering a ‘welcome’.

“What’s this, Damian? When did you return here?”

The man smiled brightly at me as he approached, as if he were addressing a long-time friend.

I warily watched him, remaining composed.

A likeable face, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was artificial.

He seemed to want to hide his body with the black robe, wearing a robe that was longer than his own frame.

‘Who is this?’

Is this guy a black mage? Or a minion related to the black mages?

Of course, there was also the possibility that he was neither.

Even so, the stench of blood radiating from the fellow was overpowering.

“If I’d known you were back, I would have gone to the manor… been swamped with work, so I was completely oblivious.”

He offered a bright smile, a light apology, then gestured me forward.

“Come on in, there’s something I want to show you.”

A trap, as plain as day.

But information was what I craved, so, feigning ignorance, I nodded.

He seemed to subtly gauge my reaction, then spoke in a composed voice.

“Ah, perhaps Lord Lorraine would wait here a moment? I have something to discuss, just between friends.”

Lorraine fixed me with a gaze, clearly assessing my choice.

It seemed he deemed the risk acceptable, judging by the way he posed it as a request and not a command – confident in my abilities.

Eager to extract what I could, I nodded again.

“Wait for me here.”

“Yes, young master.”

The figure in the black robe, detecting Lorraine’s acquiescence, offered a sly smile before turning to me.

“I have something amusing to show you. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

A nod, and he led me deeper within.

The air grew thick, heavy with the stench of blood, as if unspeakable acts had transpired for an age.

Forcing down a grimace, I followed, faint moans of pain echoing from all around.

“S… save me.”

“Guh… hng.”

“It hurts… I don’t want to, it hurts.”

Glancing around, I saw the evidence: countless souls imprisoned within iron cages, marked by signs of torture.

The sight was so excessively cruel that I couldn’t help but recoil.

He chuckled, a dry, unsettling sound, and spoke.

“I’ve stumbled upon a rather fascinating research project, you see. Converting negative human emotions into curses. It’s proving to be quite intriguing.”

“…”

“The results are still preliminary, so it’s hard to say for certain, but progress is being made, bit by bit.”

As we continued, he paused before a writhing mass of flesh, and, as if struck by a sudden thought, clapped his hands lightly.

“Look at this, why don’t you? This fellow used to share his meals with me, you know? The moment I accepted his generosity, I stabbed him repeatedly. Such betrayal in his eyes. It was so very entertaining that I captured his emotions and compacted them with magic. Tell me, can you feel something?”

He chuckled, a madman’s laugh, as he remarked that the wretched thing was still alive.

His expression held not the slightest trace of guilt, or conscience – the bare minimum one might expect of a human.

As though he’d merely enacted some self-evident common sense.

He saw humans not as people, but as raw materials.

“So, anyway, I’m researching how to gather all this and transform it into curses… I have to ask you something.”

He spoke to me, still gazing at the experimental subject.

“I never told you about this place. How in the world did you find it?”

His voice dropped, becoming heavy in an instant.

It seemed he was now changing his tune, preparing to attack me.

I feigned to answer him, but instead swiftly drew the small hammer from my coat and brought it down, smashing into his skull.

* * * * *

Snow fell in the North.

A sign that all was freezing over, once more.

Meaning that the farming, the trade – all that had been accomplished in the brief warmth – had become mere illusions.

“…Ah.”

Anticipated, yes, but the devastation was overwhelmingly severe.

Ellysia frowned, seeing the reports that had thinned so noticeably these past months now swelling in number again. She pressed a hand to her forehead and glanced down at the documents.

[Damage Assessment Report]

The damage inflicted upon the North eclipsed even that of the Second Invasion.

She wracked her brain, struggling to find a solution…

But to warm the city as Damian had done, required an exorbitant quantity of mana stones.

She realized that, whatever she did, things could never return to how they were.

The moment that realization struck, a fierce headache descended.

The fatigue and pain were unbearable. Naturally, she reached for her teacup, and drank deeply.

“……”

The headache, the exhaustion that had vanished so effortlessly when she drank the tea Damian prepared… they remained, stubbornly clinging on.

The sensation was so difficult to endure that she grimaced, pressing the heel of her hand hard against her forehead.

But no matter how fiercely she pressed, the pain did not lessen. Rather, it grew sharper, tormenting her mind.

This wouldn’t do.

She immediately summoned a maid and commanded her to prepare the exact same tea that Damian had made.

“I… I am deeply sorry, Grand Duchess, but no one knows anything about that particular tea.”

He couldn’t even ask for Damian’s tea, because no one here even knew it *existed*.

“Besides, I don’t believe a tea that instantly restores fatigue actually exists. Perhaps something that alleviates it to some extent, but…”

“…Is that so?”

“Yes. The world doesn’t offer conveniences so perfectly tailored.”

Conveniences so perfectly tailored…

He had taken the tea for granted for so long that he hadn’t even considered it.

And so, he had tried to endure and persevere without it.

[Your wife and daughter are dead. All because of a useless father like you.]

The hallucinations and auditory disturbances he’d forgotten while Damian was present slowly began to resurface.

Realizing he couldn’t let this continue, he hastily ordered all the fatigue-relieving teas to be brought to him.

But no matter which one he drank, none could even begin to compare to the tea Damian brewed.