Chapter 35

Chapter 35
## Chapter 35: Wizard Hunt (1)

—

The chamber sat in a dim threshold between a subterranean vault and a natural cavern.

Jagged stone walls enclosed the area, while the floor—the only sign of human labor—was paved with meticulously fitted slabs of basalt. Though the atmosphere felt heavy and damp, as if one were wading through a marsh, the room was paradoxically flooded with brilliant light from a multitude of vibrant candles nestled in wall niches.

A complex magic circle was etched into the polished floor stones.

It was a massive design consisting of several layers of concentric rings, filled with esoteric scripts that defied common logic and interconnected symbols that twisted into one another. Every line of the pattern pulsed with a dim, crimson radiance, regardless of the pigment used to draw it.

Off to one side of this arcane diagram sat a massive iron cage.

The enclosure was built on a scale far beyond what was necessary for common predators. Inside, three trolls were huddled together in the cramped space.

* *Gruk…*
* *Gruk, grrugrruk…*

Normally, a troll possessed enough raw power to snap iron bars like dry twigs. These creatures, however, made no attempt to escape. Their small eyes were squeezed shut, resembling the weary gaze of a dying pack animal, and they did nothing but emit ragged, labored breaths.

The sound of their wheezing was briefly the only noise in the room until the distant clink of metal and the sound of a lighthearted melody drifted in.

*Clank, clank…*

*‘Hm, hmhmm, huum~ ♪’*

The footsteps approached. A section of what appeared to be solid rock crumbled away with a heavy rumble, revealing the silhouette of a man. Once he and his retinue had stepped inside, the stone wall reformed perfectly behind them, leaving no trace of an entrance.

The man radiated a disturbing presence. With his silver-streaked hair, thick spectacles, and soft eyes, he looked more like a scholar than a threat. However, that illusion was shattered by the cold, artificial light in his eyes and the heavy chain he held, which was bound around several blood-stained captives.

The prisoners—two sturdy men and a woman in her prime—bore no similarities other than their battered, bruised bodies. They followed him with vacant expressions, moving like sleepwalkers.

*Thud!*

One of the men stumbled into a wall, the impact jarring the woman back to consciousness. Her brow furrowed as she forced words through parched lips.

“…Advisor? Ugh, what is… where have you brought us? Why are we in chains…”

A flash of predatory rage crossed the man’s face, but he quickly smoothed it over, offering her a wide, false smile.

“Do not fret, scribe. Why don’t you focus on this instead?”

“A-Advisor? I don’t underst—”

The man produced a sharp snap of his fingers. Immediately, the woman’s eyes went dull again. She fell silent, trailing after him once more like a mindless doll.

With a sharp tug of the chain, he directed the group to a specific section of the magic circle’s edge. They collapsed onto the stone, as submissive as livestock awaiting the blade.

In the geometry of such circles, the outer margins were reserved for either the intended target or the sacrificial offering. It was clear that one group—either the trolls or the humans—was the catalyst, and the other the vessel.

The man walked to the heart of the array and pressed his palm to the floor. The crimson glow flared into a blinding light, lifting the captives into the air.

In this rite, the humans were the fuel.

*Clank, crunch, craaack—*

The chains tightened with supernatural force. In seconds, the three individuals lost their human shapes. Their skeletons shattered, their muscles were reduced to pulp, and their flesh was mangled into a single, horrific mass of gore that leaked fluids onto the basalt.

The pressure intensified until the lump of meat was crushed further. Blood flooded the floor, forming a thick pool that suddenly turned pitch black before evaporating into a dark, ghostly residue.

This floating shadow split into two parts. One portion drifted to a candle wick, while the other surged into a troll. As the candle caught fire, the trolls in the cage snapped their eyes open.

The man gave a sharp command.

“Break out of there. Kneel before your master.”

* *Grroooarrr…*
* *Grooooaaar…*

*Screeech—*

The trolls tore the bars apart with ease and stepped out, dropping to their knees in front of him. To a casual observer, there was no outward sign that their wills had been overwritten by magic.

Satisfied, the man placed the newly lit candle into an alcove.

It was an impressive collection; every flickering flame in the room represented a monster’s mind under his thumb. While most were currently stationed in the depths of the earth, he envisioned a day when this legion would follow him to seize control of the world.

However, as he surveyed his work, his expression faltered.

“Hm?”

He noticed two specific candles—linked to trolls from the **Twin Canyons** that he had sent out as scouts months ago—had gone out.

His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He had carefully manipulated events to ensure the local authorities wouldn’t interfere with them. Had they been intercepted by the **censorate** or a powerful **clan**?

‘…I need to see what happened.’

He snapped his fingers again. A small, fluttering shape emerged from the darkness—a **monocular**, a creature with a single eye and leathery bat wings.

“Travel to the **Twin Canyons** and the surrounding territory. Bring back a full report.”

*Squeek, squeek!*

The creature dived through the opening in the wall as the stones crumbled for its exit. **Ymir Demil**, the **advisor** of **Remtana**, adjusted his spectacles, his pale eyes shimmering with malice.

—

*Thwack!*

*Squeek!*

An axe blade whipped through the air, bisecting a flying object. A high-pitched shriek followed as dark blood splattered the ground.

The **censorate** soldiers, who had jumped when **Kadim** suddenly threw his weapon, slowly stood back up. Amidst some awkward clearing of throats, **Duncan** stepped toward the big man.

“What exactly was that, my lord? Why the sudden toss…”

“I’m not sure. Let’s go see.”

The remains were a mess, but the bat-like wings were still recognizable. The blood was thin and translucent, unlike a normal animal’s, and it carried a faint, lingering scent of a troll.

**Kadim** wiped his blade and turned to **Enrico**.

“You mentioned that the monsters in this region had been cleared out, didn’t you, **censor**?”

“That is correct… why do you ask?”

“It seems your **wizard** does more than just move trolls. He just sent a spy to watch us.”

“…Are you certain?”

**Kadim** held up the mangled **monocular**. **Enrico** let out a low groan. They needed to clear the canyons immediately. Sensing the urgency, the soldiers increased their pace.

The group—**Enrico** and his guards, along with **Kadim** and **Duncan**—was traveling from **Ekkl** back to **Remtana**. They were returning to the regional capital after a period of recovery. They hadn’t been in a rush, but this development changed everything.

**Kadim** had officially taken the **censor’s** commission to hunt down the **wizard**.

He had his own reasons for finding the man, specifically to understand the strange energy he’d felt in the trolls. Furthermore, having the murder charge for the **Arch Paladin** cleared and receiving a fat purse of gold was a deal he couldn’t ignore.

There was, however, one significant complication.

*‘Wait, doesn’t this involve executing a practitioner from the **Magic Tower**, **censor**?’*

*‘…It does.’*

*‘That’s a problem. I’m heading to the **Tower** to find the records of the **first Lord**. If I’m branded a mage-killer, I’ll never get through the front door.’*

**Enrico** had been rattled by that realization, but his political instincts kicked in quickly.

*‘The mages of the **Tower** value secrets more than life. The **first Lord’s** annals are sacred relics to them. Regardless of your reputation… you’d never get near them without high-level clearance anyway.’*

*‘…’*

*‘Consider this: help me, and I will use every political favor I have to grant you access. It won’t be easy, but it’s a better shot than going alone. I’ll also ensure your involvement in the **wizard’s** death remains a total secret.’*

**Kadim** had known the records would be difficult to obtain. He had originally planned to simply fight his way through any mage who blocked him, but a diplomatic route was a welcome alternative. He had agreed to the terms.

The **advisor** was currently in hiding, but he had to be somewhere near **Remtana**. As they walked, **Kadim** found himself dwelling on the nature of his target.

*‘Wizards…’*

According to his memories of the game and his previous life, they were essentially humans who mimicked **spirits**.

Actual **spirits** absorbed the mana of the world to manifest physical effects. Humans with high mana sensitivity tried to replicate this, calling themselves **wizards** and performing feats that bypassed natural laws.

But things felt different this time.

In the past, **Kadim’s** mana sensitivity had been the lowest in the **Hero’s party**. He couldn’t feel the energy in the air at all; a mage could be standing right next to him casting a massive spell, and he’d be oblivious until the fire hit him. He had always relied on raw speed and overwhelming strength to crush magic before it could launch.

Now, however, he could actually sense ‘magic.’

He felt the greasy, damp auras and the dark stains left on the monsters he killed.

He pondered if this was a result of his ‘second life’ giving him new traits, if this specific **advisor’s** magic was just different, or if the laws of magic had evolved over the last three centuries.

*‘Maybe I should just build a school to train my own mages?’*

He remembered **Melissa** saying something similar in the first timeline. He shook the thought away. He needed more data. Once he caught the **wizard**, he’d have answers. For now, he needed to prepare.

“Careful, it’s scorching!”

“Watch the edges!”

“Heave it over there! Steady now!”

The soldiers were struggling with the bundle containing the **Arch Paladin’s** enchanted plate armor. The broken pieces shifted inside the wrapping, making it difficult to carry. **Kadim** watched them for a moment before addressing **Enrico**.

“**Censor**, is there a blacksmith in **Remtana** who can keep a secret? Turning that scrap into proper weapons would make this hunt much easier.”

**Enrico** rubbed his chin, a look of hesitation crossing his face. He sighed deeply before answering.

“There is one… but he’s a difficult man. A very difficult man.”

—

**Remtana** was a respectable, albeit small, city.

The heart of the city was well-maintained, featuring the **censorate’s** headquarters surrounded by tidy brick homes and bustling shops. The paved streets were filled with people, creating a picture of prosperity usually reserved for visiting nobles.

However, the further one moved from the center, the more the facade crumbled.

The pavement gave way to mud and filth, and the buildings looked like rotting fungi crowded together in narrow, sunless alleys. This was the reality for most of the world, but the contrast with the city center made it feel even more desolate.

In a particularly shadowed corner of the slums stood a decaying brick house. This was **Kadim’s** destination.

*Thud, thud, thud—*

**Kadim** hammered on the rusted iron door. A cloud of metallic dust puffed out. There was no sound of a furnace; the forge was cold.

*Bang, bang, bang—*

When no one answered, he hit the door harder. The hinges groaned and the frame buckled.

Finally, there was a crash of something falling inside, followed by footsteps. The door creaked open to reveal a man.

“Damn your hide! Are you trying to tear the house down? Who’s making all this noise in the middle of the day!”

The man had a wild white beard that bled into his unkempt hair. His clothes were a patchwork of rags. He walked with a limp in his right foot, but his voice was booming and full of fire.

“Are you the one they call the **Iron Hammer Geezer**?”

“…Who’s asking? Yeah, that’s me. What do you want?”

“I was told you were the best in the city. I have a specialized commission.”

Looking at **Kadim’s** massive, barbarian frame, the old man felt a prickle of fear, but he was too stubborn to show it. He spat on the ground and sneered.

“A mercenary from **Atalan**, eh? Look, I don’t care who told you what, but I gave up the hammer years ago. If you want a sword sharpened, go to the shops in the city center.”

“This isn’t a job for a common smith. I have plenty of gold. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

“Gold? Do I look like I give a damn about money?”

He certainly looked like he needed it, but **Kadim** chose to remain silent.

The old man’s temper flared.

“You brainless brute! You hill-dwellers come down from your mountains, killing for scraps, and then think you can buy a man’s craft! I don’t work for ignorant thugs. Take your blood money and get lost—”

“Do you have a lot of soft food at home, old man?”

“…What?”

“If you don’t, you should go buy some. It’s hard to chew once your teeth are gone.”

The blacksmith froze. He looked up into **Kadim’s** eyes—they were like bottomless pits of shadow. He realized the giant wasn’t making an idle threat.

The old man’s shoulders slumped. His voice lost its edge.

“Look… I just can’t do it. I’m retired. Even if the **censor**—not the **advisor**, the actual **censor**—came here and begged me, I wouldn’t pick up the tongs. So just leave…”

“…Is that right, **Gullak**?”

A voice spoke from the shadows of the alley. **Enrico** stepped forward. **Gullak’s** eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“Huh? **C-censor**? Sir…?”

“I was just wondering if my begging would truly be ignored, **Gullak**.”

“…”

The blacksmith stood there, mouth agape, unable to find a single word to say.