The mountains in the northwestern Gray Zone were notorious for their rugged terrain, and roads fit for human travel were virtually nonexistent. As a result, it took Turan’s party a full five days to descend to the vicinity of Kalamap. Even that would have been impossible without Vije carrying dozens of people at a time in a large net.

The dwarves that occasionally attacked them on the descent were another problem. Those Turan and the Arabion army had exterminated in the past were only one of the dwarven factions. Many dwarven hideouts still remained in remote, uninhabited places, including these mountains in the Gray Zone. Their inhabitants crept out, caught the scent of humans, and attacked in their hunger for flesh.

Of course, what awaited them was swift punishment from the wizards. Turan, Maysa, and Solif went without saying, but even the other wizards of House Berg were formidable. The dwarves’ extraordinary physical abilities made them difficult for knights to face individually, but the knights were skilled at fighting together and carried an assortment of useful, if modestly powered, magic tools.

“For all I’ve heard about it, this hardly seems a decent place to live.”

“It should be better farther down. I cleared this area out once before... but apparently they’ve started appearing again.”

Turan answered with a sheepish smile as Haram grumbled, wiping dwarven blood from his sword. A moment later, however, his gaze chilled as he looked down at Kalamap, visible far to the south.

‘No matter how I look at it, this doesn’t seem properly managed.’

About a year ago, Turan had stopped in Kalamap after infiltrating House Karmine. Upon discovering that Zahar was running the city in his name, he had left an indirect warning.

‘If you need me, I’ll come to you eventually. In return, take good care of the city. Neglect it, and I’ll retaliate.’

He had expected that warning to hold for at least ten years, but judging by the current state of things, apparently it had not. They were already on Kalamap’s outskirts; the fact that dwarves had ventured this far down meant the area was not being properly managed. Moreover, the farms and ranches coming into view looked shabbier and more dilapidated than before, and the passersby were visibly wary of their surroundings.

If the shepherd had been taking proper care of his sheep, why would they be so skittish? Whoever was staying here now, Turan would need to have a serious conversation with them.

After chatting with Haram a little longer, Turan turned his gaze toward Maysa and Solif. Both were meditating with their eyes closed even as they walked. Sufficient progress in the study of the mind allowed one to respond to outside stimuli while remaining calm and contemplating one’s inner self. Of course, those responses were closer to reflexes than fully conscious reactions.

Opening his spiritual sight, he saw at once what they were practicing.

‘Hmm...’

They were practicing drawing out their spirit forms—or, more precisely, a kind of manifestation of the spirit forms residing within their heads. It was the same sort of technique Turan had used to project his own spirit form when subduing Kadram.

They were not having much success. Their spirit forms merely twisted and distorted inside their heads, unable to emerge properly. Their progress was slow compared with Turan’s; he had managed to leave his body soon after reaching this stage. His own experience from learning ahead of them suggested that they needed to master this transformation into spirit form before combining symbols.

‘I do think this helps.’

Turan glanced down at the Mimic Holy Relic hanging against his chest. Activating the Nagin bloodline powers stored inside it—the Dominator and Tamer bloodlines—greatly enhanced his spiritual abilities. They must have played a large part in his rapid progress.

Before, he had been able to share its mana, but since its enhancement through the great sea serpent’s power, he alone could enjoy its full benefits. Ultimately, this too was a problem time would solve. He simply could not be certain they would have much time.

“Huh...?”

Just then, a farmer who spotted Turan’s party heading toward Kalamap rubbed his eyes in disbelief. He appeared to recognize Turan, but Turan quietly passed without acknowledging him. With House Berg’s household following behind, the farmer looked uncertain and did not dare speak.

Such scenes grew more frequent as the party approached the city. Naturally, by the time they reached the gates, quite a crowd had gathered around the procession.

“G-greetings to the Protector of Kalamap!”

“Mm.”

Startled by the sight of Turan, the policeman guarding the gate dropped to his knees in greeting.

His bewildered expression plainly asked why Turan was coming into the city from outside. Of course, the sudden absence of the mask the impostor must have worn for over a year surely contributed as well.

“I’ll be going in. Is that all right?”

“Yes, of course...”

As his words trailed off, his expression suggested he wanted to ask who all the people following Turan were. Their looks and attire alone made it obvious that they were no ordinary group. But a mere policeman could hardly dare question the city’s ruler. Turan’s party passed him as he respectfully stepped aside, then headed straight for the buildings at the city’s center.

Had word finally reached them? Several Zahar knights came hurrying from the city hall, the lord’s mansion, and other locations. Turan projected his mana toward them, limiting it to the level of a top-ranking noble. To mere knights, even that was naturally akin to the gods of the heavens exercising their might in person.

“Greetings, Master Turan.”

“I would like to meet my representative.”

“We will summon him at once.”

The Zahar knights treated him with the same deference they showed their own nobles. Whether or not they knew his bloodline, a wizard who had reached such heights was worthy of awe for that alone.

A short while later, when the false Turan emerged from the mansion wearing a gray mask, the people watching from behind gasped. It was now unmistakable that the masked Turan who had been ruling Kalamap was an impostor. Turan projected his mana toward him as well, and the man’s rather stiff shoulders sagged immediately.

“... You’ve come.”

“I’m taking my place back. Leave.”

Answering quietly, Turan surveyed his surroundings with the Holy Relic’s senses. Unlike the previous impostor, the man impersonating him was a middle-tier noble, and everyone else was a knight. There were not even very many of them.

That suggested the disorder around Kalamap was more likely a matter of understaffing than negligence. The collapse in order probably came from pulling out the personnel they had stationed here in preparation to capture Turan.

“I believe you made a promise previously...”

“First, vacate the mansion and bring someone from your side with the authority to negotiate. We’ll discuss matters properly then.”

With a tone that made it clear the man was beneath his serious consideration, Turan crushed him with an utterly overbearing attitude. Rather than argue further, the Zahar noble bowed low and answered.

“I will inform the main house immediately. Would you like the knights to remain?”

“Send them all back. We have enough people of our own to assign to the work.”

Seventy-five Berg knights had joined the relocation, more than enough to put one city in order. In the past, Turan had managed well enough simply by keeping busy on his own. They were better off without the Zahar knights, who would very likely serve as spies.

“Ah, one more thing.”

“Please, speak.”

“Recall all the spies in Kalamap as well. I’ll be asking a favor of your side soon, so I’ll allow a month, taking into account the time needed to pass on the order. After that, I’ll execute every one I find.”

The Zahar noble was silent for a long time before nodding his assent. The final warning must have sounded threatening enough, for the Zahar wizards hurried out of the mansion without even finishing packing their belongings. Judging by their direction, they appeared to be heading southeast, toward the Enril Desert.

“That ended more easily than I expected.”

As Turan watched them disappear into the distance, Maysa quietly came up beside him.

“Why? Did you want a fight?”

“No. I just didn’t think they’d back down so readily. I suppose I have certain preconceptions about Zahar.”

The Zahar of the Enril Desert were relentless, cruel, and merciless. It was a widespread prejudice, but from the few Turan had met, it could not simply be dismissed as prejudice. Indeed, he had browbeaten the Zahar noble just now because he calculated that unnecessary courtesy would only make the man take him lightly.

“Well, even Zahar wizards are people in the end. They value their lives.”

Had Turan shown the upper-tier strength they expected, things might have been different. Having displayed top-ranking mana, however, he had left them no room to defy him. It meant that subduing him would require someone of the caliber of a Zahar elder or candidate for heir—and they had already lost two of the latter.

‘Come to think of it, did both candidates for heir die because of me?’

Strictly speaking, the monster in the underground labyrinth had killed Perga, not Turan. But without his interference, they would have had more than enough strength to slay it, so he had killed Perga indirectly.

Of course, he had absolutely no intention of letting Zahar learn that. The same went for Alma Zahar, whom he had killed recently in Helio, Baraha’s capital. They probably suspected something about that because of Solif’s presence, but without evidence, they would have trouble pressing him if he flatly denied it.

Lost in thought, Turan broke into a hacking cough as pain stabbed through his chest. Maysa quickly covered his mouth with a handkerchief.

“Are you all right?”

“More—ugh—or less.”

The once-white handkerchief was already stained red with blood. It was the result of the wound that remained in his lung despite treatment after Ymir’s axe had struck his chest.

“You need to get treatment soon.”

“It can’t be helped. I’ll have to go after negotiating with Zahar. Or invite Lady Lida here.”

The injury was not as extensive as Maysa’s had been, so he probably would not need treatment directly from Osel, Ravista’s House Head. Aside from occasionally coughing up blood like this and getting winded somewhat faster, his body functioned without major difficulty. The negotiations took priority for now. Despite the stabbing pain in his chest, Turan smiled faintly at the sight of Maysa wiping his mouth.

* * *

The first task after settling into their new home was to put things in order. Under Midella’s direction, House Berg’s household filled the somewhat bare mansion with the decorations they had brought, expanding and supplementing the arrangement of orbs of light already installed. Seemingly determined to prevent any Zahar noble from sneaking inside, they mounted orbs on the mansion’s walls and ceilings until light streamed into every bedroom.

Meanwhile, Turan sent someone to city hall to summon the officials. Several familiar faces hurried over and fell to their knees before him, crying out.

“Oh, Master Turan!”

“You’ve returned!”

Judging by their wrenching sobs, they too had known of Turan’s absence. Ordinary commoners might not have realized, but these educated men could hardly have been unaware of the circumstances.

“Come to think of it, where is Daruk?”

“He passed away last spring. Pneumonia took him...”

“Oh, no.”

Turan’s face clouded at the news of Daruk’s death—the old man who had assisted him and eventually risen to the office of mayor. He could still so clearly picture the aged face seeing him off when he left Kalamap. Come to think of it, Daruk had been absent on his last visit as well. He had assumed the man was merely on leave or had retired with age, and had not bothered to seek him out...

“I should visit his grave once things have settled. Is he in the city cemetery?”

“Yes. His family has a separate burial vault there. I’m sure they would all be delighted by a visit from the Protector.”

Truly, sheep faded away all too easily. Just as his mother had. A bitter taste filled Turan’s mouth as he addressed several familiar faces by name and offered them words of comfort. They were overwhelmed with emotion that their returning ruler remembered them.

“You’ve all endured a great deal. First, I’ll introduce the people I’ve brought. Work together with them to put the city in order. Things looked rather bad from outside.”

“Yes, sir!”

Fortunately, Turan did not need to rush about single-handedly to restore Kalamap as he had before. He had two companions his equal, and an entire house had moved here. With help from Midella, who had governed a city as House Head, and the retainers who had served as her hands and feet, they assessed the city’s current state fairly quickly. Turan frowned as he received their findings.

“It’s worse than I thought.”

“Our apologies.”

“There’s no need to apologize. It isn’t your fault.”

According to the report, not only had dangerous monsters around Kalamap increased considerably, but there had also been several reports of harm caused by creatures presumed to be dwarves. The Zahar noble he had just expelled had made no active effort to exterminate them, using the need to guard the city as his excuse.

‘Perhaps I should have cut off an arm before sending him away.’

Perhaps the man had fled so promptly because he knew his shirking would be exposed. Turan pondered that possibility as he committed the man’s concealed distinguishing traits to memory.

In any case, now that they had identified the problem, they needed to deal with it. Based on the reports, all available knights were immediately mobilized to hunt monsters in the surrounding area. Naturally, Solif and Maysa joined them. When Turan tried to go along, however, they firmly insisted that he remain at the mansion.

“Surely it would be more efficient if I worked too—”

“Not with those lungs. Just behave yourself and rest.”

“It won’t take long. We have Vije, remember?”

At Maysa’s words, Vije spread her wings with an air of dignity. As she said, the mighty black eagle could now take Turan’s place in most of his tasks.

While Berg’s knights joined forces to exterminate the lesser monsters near the city, Vije flew around its surroundings at tremendous speed, using tracking magic to pinpoint and hunt down monsters.

[KRAAA!]

A tiger with flames blazing across its hide roared at the sky, only to scatter into ash under a single crashing bolt of electricity. A rock bear fleeing in panic had its back shattered, stone and all, by one swipe of her talons, spilling blood. The monsters that had gradually gathered in what they believed to be an area unfrequented by wizards were helpless prey before this suddenly arrived sovereign of the skies.

Not to be outdone, Maysa and Solif made their monster hunts an opportunity to train. Though nowhere near Zahar’s level, they too could use a weak form of tracking magic, which they employed to clear the surrounding area.

Maysa in particular strove to bring the fusion of two symbols that Turan had personally taught her to fruition through actual combat. Her progress in soul magic had yet to catch up, however, so it produced no immediate results.

While everyone else worked hard, Turan, more or less forced to recuperate at the mansion, could not bear to remain idle even that long and threw himself into something he could do: interrogating Kadram, who remained imprisoned in the jewelry box.

“Good day, Elder.”

“Business with that fellow again, I suppose?”

The librarian emerged as Turan opened the jewelry box and spoke with a snort. Turan had made several attempts during their crossing of the mountains over the past few days, so he too knew what Turan intended.

“I know it isn’t pleasant to watch, but you might catch something I miss. Please help me.”

“Does phrasing an order politely make it a request? Well, all right. Let’s begin.”

The librarian did not much approve of Turan’s ‘interrogations,’ and his displeasure was plain on his face, but he made no attempt to defy him. After all, he was now effectively a spirit in the direct service of the young man before him.

A moment later, Turan emerged from his body in spirit form and entered the jewelry box.

‘Now, then...’

The interior of the jewelry box contained several spaces formed according to his own design. After glancing toward the ‘library’ where the librarian usually stayed, Turan passed through two storerooms to reach the ‘prison’ section.

It resembled the bleakest prison Turan had ever seen: the dungeon beneath the pirate fortress where Solif had once been held. In one of its cells, he could see Kadram’s spirit form lying motionless behind the iron bars.

“Kadram.”

In truth, calling him Kadram was somewhat questionable. In spirit form, the unidentified god’s face was entirely different from Kadram’s in life.

Had he been an ordinary human, he would probably have looked not quite thirty, with a face reminiscent of people from Baraha or the grasslands. Like Turan, he had antlers on his head and wings on his back. His ears resembled fish fins, and swirling patterns marked the backs of his hands.

“Still not ready to talk?”

Kadram did not answer. Ever since his imprisonment, he had done nothing but lie there with vacant eyes, having resorted to some unknown measure.

He had not even reacted to any of the torture methods Turan had learned through Reto. Apparently, he had shut off sensation itself through some spiritual means unknown to Turan.

‘It would be a waste to simply destroy him. I’m not even certain I can.’

Shattering a spirit form was far easier said than done. Had not the introduction to soul magic stated that souls were immortal?

If he tore it apart improperly, it would only become something like the soul fragment now in storage. Should the pull on it then return it to Arabion’s base, it might be restored. That would be the worst possible outcome.

Ultimately, all he could do was use this as further soul-magic practice and learn how to control Kadram’s soul to extract what he wanted. To begin the day’s training, Turan lightly bent back a toenail on the prone figure.