Chapter 179

Chapter 179. Not Bad, Is It?

Shifting the burden of accountability over to Senior Mycelln allowed me to enjoy a peaceful afternoon.

“That’s simply how life goes.”

It really wasn’t that deep.

Demian wanted an escapade? Then let him have his fun.

Giving in to Demian’s conditions might seem incredibly hazardous on the surface. If Brando caught wind of Demian’s disappearance, the house would retaliate with the full weight of their lineage, and once that machinery started moving, the fallout would never resolve quietly.

Yet, what would happen if we turned down Demian’s request?

“That would bring its own brand of headaches as well.”

Still, one crucial detail demanded our attention.

In the first scenario—meaning if Demian tags along—the threat was massive, but it wasn’t a total certainty to blow up in our faces. To put it plainly, if we snuck out in the dead of night and made a swift return, how would they ever find out?

But the alternative?

“In that second scenario, the blowback is guaranteed to happen with absolute certainty.”

Faced with a fickle spear that might or might not impale you versus a dagger destined to stab you without fail, the proper choice was painfully obvious.

Granted, under normal circumstances, a person would typically pick the minor certainty of a dagger wound over the potential of being run through by a spear. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Furthermore, if someone else was the one positioned to take that spear strike, why should I waver?

“Yeah. No reason to. Not a single one.”

Don’t view me as heartless. That’s just the reality of the world.

When you get down to it, this is ultimately Senior Mycelln’s predicament, so shouldn’t he be the one carrying the weight?

Regardless, after whiling away that tranquil afternoon, right as I was passing the time before supper, Senior Mycelln arrived at my quarters.

“I’m entering.”

The grim determination written across Senior Mycelln’s face made it clear he had arrived at a conclusion. However, that conclusion possessed a rather bizarre twist to it.

“Young Lord of Brando.”

“Yes.”

“I am prepared to abduct him.”

“…?”

What on earth was he babbling about?

My mind blanked for a beat as I scrambled to process his words.

“Abduct Demian?”

“…For what purpose?”

“Was that not your insinuation?”

“…”

“…”

A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled over the room. I was the one who eventually shattered it.

“Perhaps we ought to be seated for this? Please, sit over there…”

“Very well.”

I waited for Senior Mycelln to get comfortable, replayed his declaration in my head, and pressed him further.

“Why exactly are you planning to abduct Demian?”

“Was that not what you were hinting at? I assumed you wanted me to stealthily snatch him away and keep him confined until this entire ordeal blows over.”

“ silence ”

I felt as if Senior Mycelln’s reply had delivered a physical shock to the back of my skull.

“Such a tactic… actually crossed your mind?”

“…Was that truly not your meaning?”

“It’s not a bad notion, is it?”

It was a remarkably alluring strategy. No—alluring didn’t even cover it. Senior Mycelln’s perspective provided me with a genuine flash of insight. Is this why people place such a premium on life experience?

“Precisely. Why didn’t that occur to me?”

Analyzing my own blind spot, it was clear I had blunderingly viewed Demian through the restrictive lens of a “companion.”

Indeed. Keeping him sedated until the job was finished, or securing him in a hidden location, was entirely viable. And that wasn’t the only option. We could easily slip away and return in total secrecy without Demian ever being the wiser. Granted, that would severely bruise Demian’s pride, but isn’t there a familiar phrase for this?

“It is far easier to seek forgiveness than to ask for authorization.”

In short, if you’re committed to a course of action, you don’t beg for a green light; you execute it first and deal with the apologies later.

Right around then, Senior Mycelln’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Then what exactly was your initial plan…?”

“I was fully prepared to bring Demian with us.”

“The Young Lord…?”

“Correct. He expressed a desire for adventure, didn’t he? Then we ought to grant him that chance.”

Hearing my reply, Senior Mycelln pinched his brows together.

“Wouldn’t that pose too much danger?”

“It remains his own decision, regardless.”

“The Young Lord is far too young. Irrespective of his personal choices, he is entirely too tender of age to escort into an environment where the perils are completely unknown.”

“…”

“…What is the matter?”

Had my gaze become too piercing? Senior Mycelln questioned me, appearing thoroughly bewildered.

“You’re asking me what’s the matter?”

It was an incredibly basic observation, yet coming from him, it felt entirely disconnected from reality.

By that exact standard, I am young as well.

Though I am a wanderer hailing from the Black and White Zone and lack a verifiable birth date, the documentation I provided upon enrolling in the academy listed my age as fourteen.

To Shine, what did I claim? Twenty-three? At any rate, I inflated my age and claimed to be three years his senior. And to Fixer, the commander stationed at Hamelin Great Forest Base Camp No. 1, I pulled a bluff claiming to be two years older.

Even with all those fabrications, the unalterable truth remained that I was a youth.

“Then why treat me… differently?”

The countenances of every individual I had encountered up to this point flashed through my memory like a rapid montage.

Henji, whom I tasked with looking over a research paper… well, leave him out of it. Even if matters had evolved into a treacherous knot involving Kalahen and the Infinite Chain, Henji wouldn’t have possessed that foresight. In fact, my youth likely served as an advantage in Henji’s eyes.

“If things go south, it’s simple to quietly dispose of me.”

Then what about the Headmaster who dispatched me to the Hamelin Great Forest in the first place?

At that moment, my theory was simple: he belonged to the generation of the historic conflict, so perhaps biological age didn’t hold much weight for him. In those brutal times, the moment you could heft a spear or wield a blade, you were sent straight to the front lines. If you possessed an affinity for sorcery, you were conscripted without regard for whether you were a child or a grown adult. It was a period where sheer capability eclipsed youth.

However, listening to Senior Mycelln now, that mindset didn’t seem universal. He, too, undoubtedly survived the era of the historic conflict…

“Demian is young?”

“Senior, how old do you genuinely perceive me to be?”

“Let me think, what was it again? Twenty? Twenty-one?”

“…?”

“Ah, are you older than that? Forgive me. For individuals of your standing, being told you look youthful isn’t exactly a compliment you care to receive.”

区域 “…?”

“Haha. In all honesty, when we first met, I assumed you were roughly the same age as the Young Lord. But after engaging in conversation with you, I swiftly realized that wasn’t the case at all.”

What was he implying by that?

I fixed my gaze upon him, silent questions lingering for a prolonged moment, prompting Senior Mycelln to tilt his head in confusion.

“Were you not an enthusiast of chemical enhancements?”

“…Chemical enhancements?”

“You know… those various performance-boosting stimulants that sorcerers frequently employ. I was under the impression that one of the common repercussions is the stunted development of one’s physical form.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Is that not the case? Hm. Well, times have progressed, so perhaps such measures are no longer required. My apologies. In the bygone era, such occurrences were commonplace. It was a grim period where individuals weren’t viewed as people, but as mere statistics. A standard foot soldier equated to a 1, a sorcerer counted as a 10, a spiritist stood at 15, and a knight was valued at 8. It was a dark age where people would resort to any extremity to elevate their numbers.”

A historical account from the era of the historic conflict.

Ah. Listening to his explanation, a memory clicked into place.

“He referred to performance-boosting stimulants.”

To rapidly amplify short-term mental faculties, foster the growth of one’s inner core, or generate an explosive surge of mana, an array of illicit substances were regularly consumed. Naturally, the subsequent physical toll was immense, but in those desperate days, no one possessed the luxury of weighing the long-term hazards. If your survival tomorrow was an uncertainty, why would you lose sleep over side effects that manifest a week, ten days, or even a couple of years down the line?

“But out of curiosity, what is your actual age?”

“Fourteen.”

“That… simply cannot be…”

His pupils trembled, registering profound bewilderment.

It was almost insulting.

Granted, I didn’t conduct myself like a typical fourteen-year-old. But even so… to react like that…

Senior Mycelln finally found his voice after a tense pause.

“If an individual is capable of self-preservation, they qualify as an adult. By that metric, you are already a perfectly competent adult.”

“…”

Sure. Splendid. Let’s go with that definition.

At any rate, enough dwelling on that. I steered the conversation back to our primary objective.

“Why are you so convinced it must end in disaster?”

“How could it not be perilous…? Remnants of the old world harbor all manner of bizarre phenomena that defy the logic of contemporary sorcery. The primary threat that comes to mind would be Destrow…”

Ah. So you’re familiar with Destrow as well.

As for me? Oh, absolutely. I’ve even traded blows with him personally. I’ve been through it all. Have you ever caught wind of it? The legendary Spicy Fist of the Hamelin Great Forest.

Regardless, according to Senior Mycelln’s warnings, within ancient remnants, one can encounter an assortment of terrifying anomalies—ranging from doppelgangers and humanoids not even found within the borders of the Demon Realm, all the way to entities preserved strictly within old folklore and fables.

“But aren’t doppelgangers merely a myth?”

As confusion washed over me—

Senior Mycelln’s words faltered, as if suddenly struck by the realization that he had let something slip.

“I misspoke. Disregard my last statement. Naturally, it isn’t information one should open up about regardless, but it’s the sort of matter that people generally keep guarded…”

“Right, of course.”

I gave a casual nod, given that the topic didn’t particularly hold my attention.

In truth, no matter what hazards those ancient remnants guarded, it failed to intimidate me. To secure premium retainers… no, dependable allies, one must be prepared to pay that exact premium. There was no turning back at this stage.

Yet when it came to Demian, the circumstances shifted slightly.

“Then how about we handle it this way?”

“In what manner?”

“Let’s present the query directly to him.”

“As I’ve already emphasized, the Young Lord is…”

“He isn’t a child.”

“…?”

Likely because I interjected so decisively, Senior Mycelln tilted his head, utterly perplexed. Seeing his expression, I gave a light shrug and elaborated,

“Let’s simply pitch the question to him once. Our subsequent course of action can be ironed out based on his response, can it not?”

“That is valid, however…”

Observing Senior Mycelln’s hesitant trailing voice, I felt reassured that he would ultimately acquiesce to my plan. Perfect. That settles our approach.

“To begin, shall we secure some sustenance?”

“Mm. Let us do so.”

“They say even a spirit departs with a better complexion on a full stomach, so feast heartily. If we’re destined to be hunted by Brando, you’ll require all the stamina you can muster.”

“…”

Was the jest not amusing?

It mattered little. Such remarks hold value purely in their utterance. Whether the audience cracks a smile is entirely secondary. After all, I am an individual who prizes the journey far more than the destination.

Ultimately, Demian gave his enthusiastic consent without a moment’s hesitation.

“True exploration demands jeopardy!”

“Ah. I suppose it does.”

“Ancient remnants. I can feel my pulse racing. This must be the undeniable decree of destiny, wouldn’t you agree? A champion can never sit idly by.”

Demian suddenly delivered his thoughts with a flair for dramatic showmanship. He wasn’t putting on an act—he was visibly vibrating with genuine thrill, yet Senior Mycelln remained entirely unconvinced, his expression growing increasingly grim.

“Young Lord, this is far from a trivial undertaking. You might fail to grasp the gravity because of your tender years…”

“Instructor, I am no longer a child.”

“At a mere twelve years of age, you are still…”

“A person’s age is an arbitrary metric, and maturity is defined by one’s capacity to shoulder the consequences of their actions. And I have reached an age where I can fully answer for the paths I choose to walk.”

What was this sudden shift? His gaze instantly sharpened, and his articulation turned incredibly precise. Was this upgraded version of Demian actually the real deal?

Yet Senior Mycelln remained unable to ease his anxieties, pressing forward with a rigid countenance.

“Young Lord, this path could genuinely jeopardize your survival. You might not fully comprehend, but…”

Senior Mycelln launched into an exhaustive lecture detailing the catastrophic risks of our endeavor. It was evident he intended to dissuade Demian by any means necessary to leave him behind safely, and I maintained a quiet vigil through the entire sermon. Because, in all fairness, his arguments carried weight.

To be perfectly candid, my task would be infinitely simpler if Demian stayed behind. Consequently, in the privacy of my own mind, I found myself silently backing Senior Mycelln—

“Hm.”

A deep, quiet vibration rattled the air.

“…?”

Sensing an unusual shift in the atmosphere, I redirected my attention toward Demian.

Demian had slumped back into his seat, propping his chin atop his knuckles. But something was off. His gaze radiated a sharp, unmistakable flash of irritation.

“…And therefore, within those ancient remnants…”

“Instructor.”

Demian’s interruption carried an edge… no, it wasn’t an edge. It was entirely devoid of inflection. It was simply so thoroughly drained of warmth that it merely conveyed sharpness upon initial impression.

Sensing the unsettling shift, Senior Mycelln cut his explanation short, and even I found myself observing Demian with entirely unaccustomed eyes.

“I explicitly stated that I comprehend every variable… so why do you persist in recycling the same points? Are you merely terrified of the accountability you’ll be forced to shoulder on my behalf?”

The fire burning within his eyes belonged to someone completely foreign to the Demian I had recognized up until this exact moment.

“…Dark Demian?”

Demian… had genuinely lost his temper.