The woman thanked him repeatedly, and he turned his back to her. “Now please, get on.”
“I—I could never!” She sounded embarrassed. “My grimy clothes will soil your fine garments!”
But—
Sebas smiled kindly.
What did dirty clothes matter? Such things needn’t be taken into account when helping someone in trouble.
Suddenly the faces of his colleagues from the Great Tomb of Nazarick came to mind. Dubious looks, furrowed brows, and even open contempt. But no matter the feelings of Demiurge, who would probably be the first to react in such a fashion, Sebas believed this was the correct thing to do.
It was right to help someone.
She protested several times, but Sebas finally convinced her to climb aboard. Then he hoisted up her pack with one hand.
The old woman—and everyone else who saw him steadily carrying that apparently very heavy luggage—sighed in admiration.
He set off according to his passenger’s directions.
Chapter 1 | A Boy’s Feelings
1
2 Late Fire Moon (September) 11:30 PM
The man lit the lantern at his hip. He used a special type of oil, creating a blazing green that bathed the area in an eerie light.
When he stepped outside, he felt a rush of heat. He made a face, but there was nothing he could do about the season. This time of year, every place in the kingdom was sweltering, even after the sun set. The year’s hottest days were over, so it was supposed to be getting gradually colder, but there was no sign of that yet.
“Agh, it’s hot again tonight.”
“Sure is. I heard, though, that if you go up north or near the sea it’s a little cooler.” The man’s partner for the night responded to his griping.
“If it would rain, at least things would cool off a bit.” He gazed up as he spoke, but counter to his hopes, the clear sky contained not a single cloud. It was the usual night sky spreading out above them, its stars appearing strangely large.
“Yeah. Rain would be great… Well, shall we get to work?”
It wouldn’t be quite right to call these two men typical villagers. First, there was their gear. With longswords at their waists and leather armor, they were far too well equipped to be the community watch group. Plus, the men’s builds and faces didn’t fit people who worked the fields—they seemed accustomed to violence.
The men walked without saying a word.
Nothing could be heard besides their footfalls in the quiet village enveloped by the night’s darkness. It felt eerily like everything had gone extinct, but the men moved on unfazed. Their calm was proof that they’d done this many times.
The village they marched through was completely encompassed by a high wall, and there were six watchtowers visible from their current vantage point alone. The towers were sturdily constructed, even better than those in regions where monsters frequently appeared.
More than a settlement, this was a strategic point.
But still, if a third party saw it, they might assume it was a normal village with stricter security than most. That said, what came next would probably provoke some confusion.
The sight was that strange. Normally walls surrounded residences and storehouses, while fields spread out beyond. Cultivating fields inside the village meant that an extensive wall had to be built around arable land, which took too much time and labor. But in this village, they’d enclosed the green plants waving in the breeze as if they were protecting gold.
The men walking through this weird village felt someone’s gaze following them from one of the watchtowers. They had friends armed with bows and arrows there. If something happened, they could wave their lanterns overhead to call for assistance.
Considering the archery skills of their comrades, the two felt it would be best to refrain from requesting support fire, but it was incredibly reassuring to know that everyone would get up if the tower bell rang.
If the patrolling men waved their lanterns due to a misunderstanding, all their sleeping colleagues would be angry, but if there were signs of anything strange, they planned to call for backup right away.
The pair didn’t want to die.
Not that they thought anything would happen. They’d been doing the same thing over and over for months, and they would probably go on doing it.
Even though they’d lost interest in what would come next, they walked through the village along the specified route.
Right as they reached the halfway point of their patrol, something slipped over the man’s mouth like a snake. No, “snake” wasn’t right. It had attached to his mouth and would never come off—it was more like an octopus’s tentacle.
Next, his jaw was yanked up, and a searing pain tore across his exposed neck. This all took less than a second.
A sound like something drinking reached him from his neck—and that was the last thing this man heard in his life.
The hand over the man’s mouth let go and moved to support him from behind so he wouldn’t crumple to the ground. After confirming that the magic weapon, Vampire Blade, had drunk all the blood, another hand extracted it from the man’s throat.
The figure propping up the man was dressed all in black. Every part except the eyes was covered with pitch-black cloth. The outfit itself may have been cloth, but atop it, the wearer wore vambraces and greaves to improve defense. There was also a metal plate worn over the chest, which had a distinctly female contour to it.
Another figure, similarly dressed all in black and with a similarly contoured breastplate, stood behind the other man. The first woman looked her way and moved her head in a single, slight nod.
She took note of their stealth kills and scanned the area. It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed.
In a corner of her mind, she was relieved.
The lanterns still gave off light, but the women stuck close to them, so the ones in the watchtower probably couldn’t tell what had happened. The only thing she’d been worried about was the possibility of detection in the moment they attacked, when they used Darkness Crossing to teleport the short distances between shadows—but that fear was past now.
Still holding her dagger, redder after draining her victim’s blood, she supported the corpse so he didn’t fall.
To the guards in the watchtower, it must have looked as if the men patrolling had stopped, so if the bodies remained standing still for too long or crumpled to the ground, it would arouse suspicion.
That’s why they needed to move immediately onto the next step, but that wasn’t her job.
Suddenly, her hands sensed the vibration of something like a pillar running through the man’s body. The corpse jerked into motion a second later, proving it was not her imagination.
She wasn’t surprised the man was moving despite being dead. It was all according to plan.
She let go and used a skill at the same time. It was one of her ninja skills, Shadow Dive. The ability allowed her to completely melt into the surroundings, anywhere there was shadow, rendering her impossible to discover with normal eyesight.
Leaving behind the two who had vanished into the darkness, the pair of corpses advanced as if their chains had come off—along the original route they were supposed to follow. It was as if they’d just remembered what their jobs were. The only difference was their movements had become slow and heavy. The reason no blood spurted from their necks, even though their wounds hadn’t healed, was simply that there wasn’t any left.
There was only one reason they would be moving in such a state. They’d been made into zombies and were moving according to their master’s orders.
It wasn’t the two women who had turned them.
A casual glance would reveal only the two men they expected, and even if an observer could glimpse the women’s murky forms, there would still be only four people. But there was a fifth. It was this person who had created the zombies.
The women couldn’t see the fifth, either, but a ninjutsu technique they had
mastered allowed them to perceive beings hidden by magic or skills, so they could detect a presence directly in front of them.
“Preparation here is complete.”
“Perfect,” they responded in low voices.
A similarly quiet voice replied, “Yeah, I know. I was watching. I’m moving to the next location. We have to catch the high-ranking guys if we can.” This was also a woman’s voice, but it was higher pitched and had an air of immaturity, like a child’s.
“I’m also going on to the next raid. Where are the other two?”
“Probably off screwing around, since they don’t have anything to do.”
“I don’t think so. They’re hiding out near the village, ready to simultaneously attack the front and rear in case of an emergency. All right, I’m going to go to the highest-priority location. You guys should also proceed according to plan.”
Their invisible comrade, whom they could sense only by her presence, floated lightly up into the sky. She was using Fly to travel through the air.
The receding presence moved toward the building she had called the “highest-priority location.” It was one of the buildings in this village and a critical foothold they needed to capture first.
Normally they would want to prioritize other buildings, but the reason that one was designated as the most urgent was due to the magic spell Message.
Many people avoided conveying information via Message because it was often unreliable and difficult to confirm the authenticity of dispatches. At the same time, some used the spell without worrying about the shortcomings, such as the empire, where magical education was promoted on a national level. There were also several major merchant networks that prioritized gathering information as fast as possible, and the enemies who controlled this village were much the same. So first, it was necessary to capture the communications person in that building.
Now that their comrade had departed, the pair needed to quickly hide out in the vicinity of their objective. It was important to execute everything at the same time and complete the raid before anyone realized it was happening.
With sharp exhalations, the two ninjas set off running.
No normal person would notice them, moving like they were, from shadow to shadow. Even high-level adventurers would have had a hard time discovering intruders equipped with their magic items. In other words, no one in this village could see them.
Her companion running parallel to her dexterously moved her fingers. All she did was bend her digits in various ways, but the meaning had been clear. “Good thing they didn’t have a dog.”
She answered with her fingers. “Agreed.”
It was the sign language of assassins. When one was as proficient as they were, it was possible to convey information just as fast as talking. They’d taught it to their comrades, but unfortunately, they could use it for only simple signs and instructions. These two, however, had speed and vocabulary suitable for daily conversation, so they used it for clandestine small talk like this often.
“No doubt about it. It’s so much easier when they don’t come gather around the scent of blood.”
If the men had had a dog, things wouldn’t have gone this smoothly. They’d prepared a way to render an animal powerless, but there was nothing better than not having to deal with more problems.
After her reply, her comrade’s fingers moved speedily. “Then I’ll head to my target building according to plan.”
When she replied with a “Got it,” the comrade running next to her gradually veered away.
Left alone, she glanced sidelong at the fields while she sprinted.
What was being cultivated there was neither wheat nor some other grain, nor was it vegetables. The plant was used as raw material in the manufacture of the most rampant illegal drug in the kingdom, Black Flour. There were several fields inside this walled village, but they were all growing the same thing. That proved that this village was a narcotics production base.
Black Flour, also sometimes called Lyla Powder, was a black powdered drug taken by drinking it in solution.
It was mass-produced and cheap, as well as a simple, effective route to intoxicated euphoria, so it was the most well-known narcotic in the kingdom. Moreover, while the drug was addictive, there were supposedly no side effects, so it was in widespread use.
Thinking on the information about the drug they had, she snorted.
There was no such thing as a drug with no side effects. The “I can quit whenever I want” misunderstanding was also ridiculous. She’d performed autopsies on dead Black Flour addicts, and all their brains had shrunk to about four-fifths their original size.
In the first place, Black Flour produced from wild plants was a powerful poison. Where did anyone get off believing a plant that toxic wasn’t also addictive?
Street-ready Black Flour could be categorized as a narcotic but only because it was not very potent.
Even so, it was extremely addictive and remained in the body for a long time. Most users wound up taking another dose before the first one had completely left their system. Unless they went to a priest to have the substance forcibly removed via magic, it was virtually impossible for people who reached a certain degree of addiction to completely quit of their own free will.
The most problematic thing about this horrible drug was that the symptoms of withdrawal from it were not pronounced, and even if people had a bad trip, they didn’t go on a rampage or hurt anyone around them. Consequently, the kingdom authorities failed to understand the threat and spent all their efforts exposing the evils of other drugs—practically giving people tacit permission to use Black Flour.
She knew the empire even claimed that the kingdom was secretly supporting the industry.
For her part, when she’d been an assassin, she had occasionally used drugs, and her organization had grown them, so she wasn’t against them. Narcotics could in fact have wonderful effects when used properly. They were basically medicinal herbs with a dangerous element.
But this time she was out on a job, so her personal opinion didn’t enter into it. However—
Requests that don’t come through the Adventurers Guild are dangerous. She wasn’t really convinced the job was the best idea, either.
She frowned under her face covering. The client was a friend of her team’s leader. They were being paid a fair amount, but there were all sorts of issues that could crop up from taking a job without going through the guild—even if they were one of only two adamantite adventurer teams in the kingdom.
Er, wait, there are three now, I think? As she remembered that she had recently heard news of a new adamantite team, she arrived at the building they had code-named “Number Two.”
Her role was to gather all the intelligence she could find inside. When that was done, she had to set fire to the fields.
The smoke from the burning narcotic plants would be poisonous, but if she didn’t do it, she couldn’t complete her mission.
Depending on the direction of the wind, some villagers might be harmed. But there was no time or means to have them evacuate. They’re necessary sacrifices… She told herself this and hurled her concern for the villagers’ safety into oblivion.
Raised as an assassin, she was rarely moved by a loss of life, particularly if it was someone she didn’t even know. Then no matter what happened to them, she wouldn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow. The only thing she considered was how she hated the look on her leader’s face whenever there were innocent victims. But for this operation, they had their leader’s approval, so she didn’t feel even the slightest inclination to try saving anyone.
More importantly, after this raid was over, she would teleport straight to another village and burn down the fields in exactly the same way. The plan fully occupied her head.
This wasn’t the only village where they produced the base for the drug. According to their research, there were ten places in the kingdom where large-scale growing operations were located. And there were probably still others
they hadn’t discovered. Otherwise it would have been impossible for these groups to yield the estimated amount necessary for the drug to spread all over the kingdom like it had.
We have to pick the weeds where they grow… It might be in vain, but it’s all we can do…
If there were written orders from the organization in this village, that would be excellent, but she didn’t expect things to go so smoothly. The most they could hope for was that the village’s overseer would have some information.
Our leader would be happy if I could unearth at least part of the org, though…
The huge crime syndicate manufacturing the narcotic was called the Eight Fingers. Their name derived from a deity subordinate to the god of earth—the god of theft, who had eight fingers. It was a massive organization that dominated the kingdom’s underworld.
The outfit was split into eight divisions: slave trafficking, assassination, smuggling, thievery, drug dealing, security, moneylending, and gambling. It was said that they were behind every underworld crew in the kingdom. And because the group was so large, the full truth about it was shrouded in mystery.
However, there was one thing that proved how far the Eight Fingers had reached into the kingdom—and that was the village before her eyes.
They were growing illegal drugs right out in the open. This fact proved to her that the noble holding power in this land was an accomplice. But even if she exposed the crime, she would be unable to accuse the lord or lady.
If the royal family made an inquiry or the judicial officials became involved, that would be a different story, but they would still encounter difficulties in pinning the crime on a landed aristocrat. This fiefdom’s ruler would probably claim, I had no knowledge this was being used to make a narcotic, or say, The villagers did it on their own, to shift blame.
Charging nobility directly wasn’t very effective, and even if efforts were made in an attempt to suppress circulation, the Eight Fingers had seduced several nobles who were now involved in the distribution routes. The situation had become impossible to resolve using guards and other regular means.
The Men of the Kingdom Part I Page 2