Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 24 Even under the weight of relentless interrogation and torture, Orvil offered nothing but delirious rambling, failing to provide a single shred of meaningful information.
When asked which god had spoken to him, he simply repeated, "It was a god." When asked if there were others like him, he merely muttered, "I have seen many."
It was clear that he was either truly lost his mind or was putting on an act, biding his time for any possible opening to escape.
Turan suspected the latter.
If the man were truly insane, he would have instinctively tried to use his mana to break the vines—an act that would have resulted in his immediate death at Turan's hands.
Since there was no reason to keep him alive regardless, and maintaining the restraint was draining a significant amount of mana, Turan exchanged a brief nod with Visen. Without a word, he drew his dagger and slit Orvil's throat.
Watching the life fade from the man, Gil, the youngest of Visen's group, grimaced.
"Ugh..."
"What's wrong?"
"No, it's just..." Gil muttered, looking away. "Killing someone who's tied up and unable to resist... it feels too much like slaughtering cattle."
Visen sighed, her voice sharp with rebuke. "Don't talk nonsense. We all could have died here if things had gone sideways. Do you really feel pity for him? When you think about the lives he took, dragging him back alive to suffer wouldn't even be enough!"
"Besides, taking a noble of his caliber alive is no small feat," the healer, Kebek, added.
As he said, there were few ways to subdue a mage—especially a noble—who was prepared to fight to the death. Even with their eyes and hands restrained, they could ignite fires or release mana blasts in every direction.
To prevent that, one would need a magic tool to suppress mana—an incredibly rare artifact—or a noble several ranks stronger to keep them suppressed through sheer force of will. Alternatively, one would have to keep them in a state of constant unconsciousness through electric shocks or physical trauma.
That was why they had chosen the cumbersome method of restraint instead of simply crippling Orvil immediately. They had gambled that if they mutilated him right away, he would have lashed out in a final, desperate suicide attack rather than answering their questions.
While Visen's group talked, Turan wiped the blood from his blade and opened the notebook he had retrieved from the bedding.
Inside were detailed maps of the surrounding area, raid plans, and a grim tally of his victims.
It seemed Orvil wanted to keep track of his body count and how close he was to his ultimate goal. This was the perfect evidence to prove he was indeed the Fire-burner. If this wasn't enough, they could always call the girl they rescued from the village as a witness.
Furthermore, the back of the notebook contained several mysterious formulas. Given the list of herbs and minerals, they appeared to be recipes for the solutions sitting in the corner of the clearing.
When Turan had questioned Orvil about them, the only response he'd received was, "God told me."
Suspecting these might be clues to the identity of that 'god,' Turan committed the contents of the notebook to memory.
As he tucked the notebook into his pouch, Visen approached him.
"Well then, shall we...?"
"Let's begin the absorption."
Turan, Visen, Gil, and Asha gathered around the corpse of the Fire-burner.
While Kebek the healer stepped back with a sigh of regret, the four of them reached out. A pale green radiance began to flow from Orvil's body.
Soon, they felt the power surging through them, tempering their physical forms.
A stronger body, sharper senses, and a more immense pool of mana...
Once the absorption was complete, they gathered the severed head, the robes, and other items that could serve as evidence before finally leaving the cave.
*
Since the Fire-burner had primarily operated on the outskirts of a city called Marov, Turan and Visen's group headed to the Marov City Hall the next morning to claim the bounty.
The civil servants were thrown into a panic at the sight of a group of nobles suddenly appearing, and before long, the Lord himself came out to greet them.
"Congratulations, Lady Visen. It seems a new star has risen in the Carmine family."
"You flatter me, My Lord."
Amusingly, once they arrived, they didn't even need much evidence to prove Orvil's identity. The Lord of Marov had no desire to split hairs with a mage from a Great Family located nearby. He likely calculated that even if the captured Fire-burner turned out to be a fake, he could use the incident to put the Carmines in his debt.
After being treated as honored guests for a day, they received a total bounty of fifteen hundred gold coins.
Since they had agreed to split the bounty equally in exchange for receiving the mana, Turan's share should have been three hundred coins. However, after some adjustments, he ended up with seven hundred and fifty coins—half of the total.
While Turan had done the heavy lifting in the actual battle, this distribution took into account Asha's contribution to the tracking and the political weight Visen's name carried in claiming the reward.
This is a bit much...
The problem was the sheer volume and weight of seven hundred and fifty gold coins.
He had long since discarded the old sheepskin bag he had when he first descended the hill; he was now using one made from the hide of a bovine magical beast, purchased in Zabilin.
But no matter how high the quality, a bag had its limits. At this rate, he would either have to spend the gold or hire someone to carry his luggage. Surely it wouldn't cost this much just to reach the Enril Desert.
"We're planning to travel a bit more and hunt some magical beasts. What about you, Turan?"
"I plan to head straight to Abacha."
"Oh..."
At Turan's refusal, Visen's group showed a conflicted reaction—disappointment mixed with a hint of relief. While having him along would make hunting much safer, it would also mean one of the four would have to forfeit their share of mana.
Before they parted, Visen approached and spoke in a low voice.
"As I mentioned yesterday, the things that man said..."
"Yes, I won't go around spreading it."
On the way to the city, Turan and Visen's group had agreed to keep the Fire-burner's claims a secret. Whether his words were true or false, they believed such talk would cause far too much social chaos.
Turan didn't explain all of his suspicions to her. They weren't close enough for that, and he himself found it difficult to explain that strange look in the man's eyes.
It was hard to describe it as anything other than "unnervingly clear eyes," but the world was full of people with clear eyes.
Besides, it wasn't something he could investigate right away. He already had his hands full trying to uncover the truth of his own birth.
After watching the group of runaway nobles head west for the last time, Turan turned his steps toward his destination in the east.
*
As he walked east with his heavy bag, he eventually felt the headwind beginning to carry moisture.
And then, a fishy, salty scent he had never smelled before.
It's going to be tricky to handle fire magic here.
As expected, when he conjured a flame on his palm, its power was dampened and the mana consumption increased.
On the other hand, magic to create and freeze water from the air became surprisingly easy.
Additionally, since he had heard that the North Sea was often cloudy, he increased his practice of lightning spells. In the process, he unintentionally sent several groups of travelers coming from the opposite direction into a panic.
Turan's steps finally came to a halt when a world of deep blue water spread out before him.
The North Sea, the vast ocean known as the ceiling of the world, had revealed itself.
"Oh..."
He had seen illustrations in books, but seeing the ocean in person made him realize that those drawings couldn't capture even half of the reality. The sight of the sun's brilliance dancing upon the waves was a masterpiece.
After standing dazed for a long time, Turan eventually snapped out of it and walked along the coast.
Before long, he saw a massive peninsula jutting out to the east and a harbor lined with dozens of sailing ships.
He had arrived in Abacha, the stronghold of the Carmine family and the largest port city on the North Sea.
"Hurry up and unload!"
"Yes, sir! Right away!"
"You idiot! I said hurry, not be sloppy! If you drop that and break it, I'll kill you!"
The harbor of Abacha was the very definition of feverish activity. Despite the early winter chill, sailors were stripped to the waist, sweating profusely as they hauled cargo. Shouts and curses rang out everywhere in a constant rush.
As he looked around, he saw an enormous fish hanging from the side of a sailing ship. It had several harpoons stuck in its body; it appeared to be a mutated sea beast.
Books said that sea monsters were much larger than their land-dwelling counterparts, and that certainly seemed to be the case.
Leaving the bustling harbor, he found a relatively quiet fruit stall. Perhaps because it was a trading hub, there were various fruits he had never seen before.
"Welcome! What can I get for you?"
"I'll take a handful of those."
Recalling his memories of Murei, he pointed to some small brown fruits. The merchant scooped them up and asked for a whole silver coin.
"That's too expensive."
"These are date palms. They only grow in the far-off Enril Desert. It's only natural they're expensive after coming all that way by ship."
Recognizing him as an outsider at a glance, the merchant packaged the goods with a sly tone.
Turan wasn't in a position to haggle over a silver coin or two anyway. He paid with a silver coin he had received for hunting monsters in Murei—and since it was smaller than the local currency, he added two copper coins as well. After buying the date palms, he asked:
"Actually, I'm looking to go to Enril. Where should I go to find a ship?"
"A ship to Enril? Usually, only merchant ships go that way... You'll have to ask the captains directly. But it'll be tough."
Whether he was a kind soul or just in a good mood from the sale, the merchant explained in detail.
He said that merchant ships were usually packed to the limit with goods and had no room for passengers. If they did take someone, it meant they had to leave cargo behind, so they would charge a steep price.
"Where can I find these merchant captains?"
"Who knows? I'm not sure myself. They'll all be busy during the day, so try looking for them through the sailors at the taverns in the evening."
"Thanks for the advice."
Leaving the stall, Turan spent some time sightseeing around Abacha. After finding a decent theater and watching a play, the sun began to set.
Shall I go?
As the sun dipped below the horizon and other shops closed, the taverns around the harbor announced their presence with bright lanterns and boisterous noise.
Turan found a tavern that looked relatively respectable and clean. While not as grand as a noble's mansion, the facilities were high-end, and the staff and patrons were well-dressed. It was clearly a place for high-ranking sailors.
"Welcome, sir."
Turan sat at an empty table, ordered a glass of wine and a light snack, and sat quietly, listening to the voices around him.
The waiter, who had initially looked at him with a skeptical expression, bowed deeply and accepted him as a customer once he saw the flash of gold.
After waiting about thirty minutes while savoring a set of cheese and wine that was quite premium by local standards, the topic he wanted finally surfaced.
"Are you setting sail tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Back to that gods-forsaken desert again... There are merfolk on the route, and those damn pirates are as persistent as ever."
"Is it that bad?"
"We even had a hole punched in the hull on the way back last time! Our owner is a madman. I keep telling him we need at least one knight, but..."
Two men in their thirties, flushed with drink, were deep in conversation. One of them was lamenting that their ship owner was such a cheapskate that he wouldn't hire a single knight, which had resulted in several sailors dying on the previous voyage.
Listening quietly, Turan stood up and walked over to their table.
"Excuse me, may I have a moment?"
"Hmm?"
"We aren't buying anything. Dammit, even here we get peddlers—"
Turan lightly reached out and stopped the man who was about to call a waiter.
"I'm not a peddler. Though I might be a passenger."
"A passenger?"
"I'm looking for a ship to the Enril Desert. I heard you mention that your ship is heading there."
The two men's eyes widened at Turan's words.
"Like I said, our ship is leaving tomorrow, but we don't take regular passengers. Taking one person means leaving that much cargo behind. We're already short-handed as it is."
It was a story that matched what the fruit merchant had told him with uncanny accuracy.
Turan nodded and placed his hand on the wine glasses they were drinking from.
"I thought I heard you say the ship needs a mage."
The two sailors' mouths fell open as they watched the dark red liquid in their glasses instantly freeze solid.
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