Edrick's eyes gleamed with cold intensity.
He knew the signs all too well—terrorists often planted allies within villages, hiding them in plain sight until the moment was right.
That look on Alex's face wasn't fake.
Most likely, his true self controlled the body under normal circumstances, but when a specific trigger was activated, the black mage's soul took over.
Clicking his tongue in frustration, Edrick looked up at the sky and pursed his lips.
Whistle—Pip—Whistle!
One long note, one short, then long again—clear, crisp, like a bird's song.
He turned to Marcella.
"Run into the forest. If you hear that whistle again, follow it."
"Y-Yes!"
Despite having no mana and little strength, she managed to scramble over the wall and disappear into the woods.
Edrick watched her go for a moment. Then—
Whoosh!
He vaulted the wall and sprinted into the forest.
Within moments, he saw them.
"Master."
Two masked figures stepped out from the trees—Kyle and Ria.
They had responded exactly as instructed, gathering at the sound of the whistle.
"Don't call me that—never mind. Let's move."
Edrick took the lead, flanked by the red-haired siblings in a tight triangle formation.
The wind helped them—easing their steps, silencing their movements.
They flew across the forest floor like shadows.
It's been almost two hours since I parted with Alex.
Even by wagon, the distance he must have traveled was great.
But not so far that he couldn't catch up.
Edrick returned to the mountain path and began tracking the wagon's trail.
Thankfully, the tracks were deep and clear—those iron cages had left heavy marks.
"You two stay here and guard the cargo."
"Understood."
Edrick left them with the black mage's corpse and the two ledgers, then bolted forward.
Unburdened, he moved like lightning—an arrow loosed into the night.
Alex guided the wagon forward.
The horses trotted wearily through the forest, steam rising from their bodies with each breath.
Alex pinched his thigh to stay awake. He'd driven through the night.
Just a little longer. I have to get these children to the Loen estate.
He halted the wagon and hopped down.
The horses were exhausted. He led them to drink from the water trough.
"Hang in there," he whispered, stroking their manes.
That's when he noticed it—
A golden shimmer on the horizon.
The first rays of dawn filtered through the trees, casting everything in warm light.
Sunrise...
He stared at it in a daze, then felt a presence behind him.
Slide.
Turning slowly, he saw a tall man in a black mask approaching.
Edrick.
A flicker of relief crossed Alex's face.
"You're safe!"
Edrick didn't respond.
He just kept walking.
The silence stretched.
Alex's smile faded into confusion.
"...Is something wrong?"
Edrick stopped, emerald eyes piercing through the mask.
"Do you even know where you're headed?"
Alex frowned.
"I'm heading to the Loen estate, of course..."
"You're not. This road leads into the deep forest—toward Viscount Purfield's territory."
"...!"
Alex's expression froze.
He traced the path in his mind—and realized the truth.
This wasn't the route he knew.
He was going in the opposite direction.
Toward a dense, unpopulated wilderness.
A cold sweat ran down his spine.
No... no, this can't be...
"I see," he murmured. "It's already begun."
His voice was hollow. He looked up, forcing a bitter smile.
"I've become the black mage's puppet, haven't I?"
Years of serving Dvich had given him a rough understanding of black magic.
And now, he realized just how deep its claws had dug.
"My body is probably laced with spells. If you attack me now, the black mage will likely use me to counterattack. He could be watching through my eyes even now... studying your every move."
Shing.
He drew a sword—a blade he'd taken from one of the knights Edrick had slain.
A weapon suited for a Second Star knight—razor-sharp and well-balanced.
"Maybe he's learning your fighting style through me..."
He turned his back, casting a long shadow in the morning light.
Slowly, he raised the blade to his throat.
"What about my mother...?"
His voice cracked.
Edrick paused, then spoke gently.
"She's safe. I rescued her. I'll take her to the Loen estate."
A faint smile returned to Alex's lips.
"I'm glad..."
He looked toward the wagon.
The soft breathing of the sleeping children filled the air.
"Please take care of them... Liberator."
Edrick opened his mouth to reply—
Shhk!
Before he could speak, Alex plunged the blade into his own neck.
Splurt.
Blood burst like a geyser, staining the forest floor.
He collapsed, motionless.
Edrick approached.
Alex lay in a pool of crimson—vivid, human blood.
Not the black ichor of a monster. Not cursed. Not corrupted.
Liberator.
That name echoed in Edrick's mind.
A fake identity—something he'd created to keep his status as heir of House Loen secret.
But Alex had believed it.
He had believed in the Liberator.
A hero who freed the oppressed.
A symbol of hope.
Was this guilt?
Edrick had seen it before—soldiers on the battlefield, broken by what they'd done.
Alex had sold countless slaves.
He had lived with anger, fear, and guilt.
And in the end, he offered his life to pave a better road forward.
I heard your final wish.
Edrick turned his gaze to the distant silhouette of a towering building.
The lord's manor...
He pulled his mask tight.
Tonight, he was not Edrick.
He was the Liberator.
"Ugh..."
Viscount Purfield woke to sunlight stabbing through the window.
Spring had arrived.
The chill was fading, and life had begun to bloom.
He stretched, basking in the warmth—then sneezed.
Why is it still cold...?
He sat up and noticed a breeze brushing across his room.
Did I leave the window open?
Turning his head—he froze.
"...!"
There, perched on the windowsill, sat a man.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Eyes like green steel.
Dressed in black.
"Wh-Who are you?" the viscount stammered.
To his credit, he kept his voice steady.
But the masked man didn't answer.
He simply turned and leapt backward—
Thud.
The viscount rushed to the window.
Below, the masked figure landed lightly on the lawn.
He glanced up once—then vanished over the wall like a shadow.
"...What in the world...?"
Purfield stared for a long moment.
Then, like any proper noble, he composed himself and surveyed the room.
And there—on the table—he saw it.
A sword, embedded deep into the wood.
Its blade stained with fresh blood.
A letter was pinned beneath it.
Hand trembling, he approached and opened it.
The message was simple:
"Thirty-four children will arrive at the western gate. Give them work.
If that's not possible, speak with Count Loen.
—The Liberator"
"...What...?"
Bang! Bang!
"Lord Viscount! It's Sir Henry! May I enter?"
The knock was frantic.
"Y-Yes, come in."
Creak!
Sir Henry burst into the room, breathless.
"Thirty children just arrived by wagon. They say... they were rescued from House Bearut!"
"...!"
The viscount looked back at the note.
Thirty-four children. Bearut destroyed. Dvich dead.
Thud.
The letter slipped from his hands.
It's done.
Outside the walls, Edrick leaned against a tree, listening.
The wind spirit carried the voices to his ears—clear and vivid.
We've come too far to return to Loen. But Viscount Purfield has a good reputation. He'll protect them.
Just in case, Edrick had included Count Leonhardt's name.
If anything happened to even one child, the viscount would have to answer to him.
Time to go.
He returned to the forest.
Whistle—Pip—Whistle!
The red-haired siblings emerged from the brush.
"The books?" he asked.
"Here," Kyle said, pulling them from his coat.
"Did you read them?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"You only told us to guard them."
Absolute obedience. Not a trace of hesitation.
"Good."
Edrick flipped open the second ledger—the one he'd taken from the basement.
"Year 113, January.
Amy. Russo. Kendler. Brook. Four individuals.
40 scrolls with concealment effects granted..."
Simple. Brutal.
The Bearuts had offered up slaves to the black mages, who in return had enchanted their slave mark scrolls with hidden glyphs.
If Edrick hadn't intervened, those 34 children would've been next.
"...Ria. Kyle."
"Yes?" they answered in unison.
He tucked both ledgers into his coat.
"From today, Ria and Kyle no longer exist. You'll live under new names—and new faces."
He couldn't let their real identities be traced back.
"Your new names are Maya and Ethan."
Names of fallen comrades from his past life.
Not chosen lightly.
For once, the stoic siblings showed emotion.
They bowed their heads solemnly.
"Maya."
"Ethan."
They repeated the names, testing them on their tongues.
Nodding, Edrick smiled.
"There's a lot to discuss. A lot to teach. But first..."
"...?"
"Let's go eat."
"...!!"
Their eyes lit up like firecrackers.