Slavery hadn't always been illegal in the Kingdom of Gaia.
After all, most commoners were little more than serfs to begin with.
But then came the development of the Slave Mark spell—
A dark magic that allowed a master to detonate a slave's heart with a single command.
It sent shockwaves through the nobility.
In response, the king declared the abolition of slavery.
Those caught trading slaves would have their assets seized—or worse, executed.
But of course, that hadn't stopped the trade.
It merely drove it underground.
For nobles, there was nothing more convenient than a slave who could not disobey.
They entrusted slaves with their dirtiest, riskiest secrets.
Why worry about betrayal when you held the key to their very life?
Among the worst offenders was the House of Bearut, long suspected of trafficking slaves.
Edrick had expected as much.
From the very beginning, he had asked the wind spirit to keep an eye on every guest who entered the hall.
So when Dvich Bearut arrived—
"The servant beside him has a slave mark on his chest! He's tied to Dvich!"
Edrick knew.
And that knowledge gave him all he needed.
He had humiliated House Bearut in front of the nobility, making veiled remarks about the servant—
And now, the flames had been lit.
All that remained was to watch the reaction.
Whoosh.
A breeze followed the retreating Bearut entourage.
Only Edrick knew it was a spirit.
"Did he see the mark?"
Hilbert Bearut, the Viscount himself, scowled inside the carriage as they returned home.
Everyone in the vehicle—from the driver to the guards—was a slave branded with the forbidden mark. Even the knights sworn to protect them were thoroughly loyal.
"He definitely looked at Alex's chest when he spoke. And he called him... a thing."
"Hmm..."
Hilbert leaned into thought.
A fifteen-year-old boy had sniffed out one of their most dangerous secrets?
Impossible.
"Then we cut the tail."
Dvich's eyes widened. "Y-You mean... give up the slave trade?"
"Of course not. We relocate it. Running it from our own domain is too risky."
Dvich frowned.
He didn't like the idea of being cowed by a teenager.
But then Hilbert lowered his voice.
"Unless... we kill the count."
"Father?!"
The air inside the carriage turned frigid.
"If that boy knows, it means Count Leonhardt's investigation is nearly complete. He won't negotiate. The only way to stop him might be to eliminate him."
"B-But..."
"We won't do that. Which is why we move our operations."
Dvich finally nodded.
Assassinating a count was madness.
"And give up the marriage too. If he knows about the trade, he'll never hand over his daughter."
"...Yes, Father."
"But we won't take this lying down."
Hilbert's eyes gleamed with malice as he looked out the window.
"He dared humiliate us in front of the nobility. Even Count Leonhardt wouldn't go that far. Edrick... you'll pay for that."
None of them realized—
A faint breeze stirred within the sealed carriage.
Listening.
The moon hung high in the night sky.
Sometime between ten and eleven, two covered wagons rolled out from the rear gate of the Bearut estate.
Thick tarps draped over iron bars—
Mobile prisons.
Creak...
Alex sat at the reins.
The same man who, just hours earlier, had been exposed by Edrick during the coming-of-age celebration.
Three men walked beside the wagon.
They looked like mercenaries, but the finely made swords at their hips betrayed them.
They were Bearut knights.
And none of them noticed the figure silently trailing them through the trees.
That figure was Edrick.
The wagon entered the woods.
Moonlight barely filtered through the canopy, draping the road in darkness.
From the shadows, Edrick observed.
Three escorts. Gaps of three paces. No scouts up front or behind.
He slipped into formation behind them, matching their pace perfectly.
The back of the nearest knight loomed before him.
Slide—
Like a ghost, Edrick crept up and clamped his left hand over the man's mouth and nose.
His right hand slid a dagger across the knight's throat.
Splurt.
The knight struggled, trying to pry Edrick off, but the boy's grip was iron.
Within moments, the knight's hands went limp.
Edrick lowered the body silently and moved on.
The second knight suddenly glanced back.
Something felt off.
But there was nothing.
...Nothing?
That's when the chill hit him.
Someone should have been behind him.
Just as panic set in—
Slice.
A blur of motion.
A clean cut.
No scream. Just a muffled gasp.
Blood sprayed. The knight collapsed.
Edrick wiped the dagger on the corpse's tunic.
Too easy.
Up ahead, the last knight stopped.
A shiver crept down his spine.
He reached for his sword—
But before the blade was even half-drawn, the world spun.
Huh? Whose body is that...?
Oh. His own.
His head hit the ground.
Behind him, a longsword gleamed in the moonlight, dripping blood.
Creak.
The wagon rolled to a stop.
Alex, still holding the reins, turned—
A masked man stood beside him.
"...Who are you?"
"The Liberator."
The voice was rough, laced with wind and steel. Artificially distorted.
Alex knew instantly—it was masked on purpose.
"And the knights...?"
Shing.
Edrick said nothing.
He simply raised the bloodied sword he had taken.
Thunk.
He stabbed it into the ground.
"Alex. I know you hate House Bearut. Help me. I'll give you vengeance."
Edrick had left a spirit on Dvich after the party and retrieved it as soon as they returned home.
He had heard everything.
Including Alex's suppressed rage.
Alex trembled. His emotions surged.
But he clenched his eyes shut.
Edrick spoke again.
"Is it because of your mother? Marcella?"
"...!"
Alex's eyes flew open.
They trembled with shock.
"I know she serves as a maid at Bearut's estate. You're afraid they'll kill her if you betray them."
"...Yes."
"I'll rescue her."
"You can't. She's branded. If they signal her, she'll die instantly."
Such was the horror of the slave mark.
At a master's command, a slave's heart would burst.
Edrick narrowed his eyes.
"Who marked you?"
"...Lord Dvich... Wait—!"
Alex's face turned white.
Slave marks were personal contracts.
If the master died, the spell's power vanished.
He's going to kill Dvich...!
A chill ran through Alex.
He turned and saw the bodies again—
Knights, beheaded and discarded like trash.
No, this wasn't a bluff.
He was serious.
Alex began to shake—not from fear.
But from something darker.
Excitement.
The thought of vengeance—of crushing those monsters—ignited something inside him.
He spoke quickly.
"Bearut has two Third-Star knights. One guards the viscount, the other follows Dvich. They also have over thirty Second-Star knights. If you get bogged down fighting a Third-Star, you'll be surrounded."
"The ledgers. Where are they?"
"..."
Nobles entrusted illegal documents to slaves—
People they could silence at a whim.
But even the threat of death couldn't suppress a slave's thirst for revenge.
And so, Alex spilled everything.
All the secrets.
All the proof needed to destroy House Bearut.
"...That's all I know."
Breathing hard, Alex finished.
Edrick nodded, pulled out a rope, and tied him to a tree stump—firm, secure, unshakable.
"Stay here. Don't move until I'm back."
And then he vanished into the night.
Despite the late hour, the Bearut estate was bustling.
Wagons lined the yards, warehouses thrown open.
They were scrambling to erase the evidence.
Noise breeds carelessness.
That was the entire point of Edrick's earlier "hint" about the slave.
It lowered their guard.
He slipped over the wall and into the garden.
Slide—
Using the shadows as cover, he entered the estate.
His mind was a storm of data—everything the spirit had gathered, everything Alex had revealed.
One ledger here. Another there...
He moved like a ghost.
Past guards. Past knights.
In and out of blind spots.
When he emerged from one room, a thick ledger was in his hand.
Its contents would be enough to sever Bearut from their noble allies.
And once the Marquess of Keshar—Bearut's patron—cut ties, their fall would be swift and complete.
But—
Not yet.
Edrick climbed to the wall's edge.
He looked up.
On the second floor, a silhouette moved behind a curtain.
Dvich.
The man who had haunted his family for five years.
Who'd turned Lucia away from love before she even understood it.
Edrick pulled out a brass casing.
He had it custom-made to match the .50 caliber shell of the Barrett M87 from his past life.
Clink.
He rolled it in his palm.
The scent of gunpowder tickled his memory.
His heartbeat slowed.
Click.
He pocketed the casing.
Then raised his right hand.
A breeze swirled around his chest.
Wind mana gathered—
Rotated—
Forming an artificial circle, a makeshift chamber of power.
It spun faster—faster—
Vvvvvvvrrrrrrr!!!
The hum echoed in his ears.
Destructive. Focused.
At its peak—
Sliiide.
He pointed at the window.
Right hand extended, finger aimed.
Left hand bracing the elbow—
Like a sniper resting on a bipod.
And then—
Fwip.
A faint burst of air.
"Urgh!"
A hole pierced the window.
The silhouette collapsed.
"D-Lord Dvich!!"
A scream tore from the room.
The knight guarding him.
He flung the curtains open—but Edrick was gone.
Already over the wall.
Already vanishing into the shadows.
Infiltrate.
Execute.
Evacuate.
The sniper's creed.