Chapter 207 – A New Painting (3)
The Infernal Blaze, Bersen Clarke.
It was no coincidence that the Grand Duke’s infamous moniker was associated with fire.
Even though this was rely a conversation, the oppressive heat filling the room was enough to make the space feel suffocating.
The shamans standing guard, as well as the newly arrived Samuel, swallowed dryly under the pressure.
The only one unfazed was Kal.
"I was delayed because your call ca unexpectedly."
[Where is Harkman?]
"And why are you looking for him?"
[It has been three days without a report, so I reached out to confirm his status. Has there been a problem?]
Kal let out a soft chuckle, picturing Harkman.
For him to have completely forgotten about sending a report… it seed he had fully succumbed to the golden chamber’s temptations.
That only ant one thing—he had endured his deprivation for far too long.
"There was an attack. A battle broke out, and Sir Harkman is currently pursuing the ones who fled."
[Pursuing them? So he isn’t in the castle?]
"Correct."
Kal lied without hesitation.
None of the reinforcents that had arrived through the portal were mages.
They were all identified as Harkman’s own n, so as long as he and Harkman aligned their stories later, it would be fine.
[Was the lord of this territory so incompetent that he let his domain be attacked?]
"Have you heard of Beneta, the city of other races?"
[I have. Lately, elves have been gathering there. It’s a land I’ve always wanted to claim.]
No—he didn’t desire the land, but rather the elves themselves.
"Right now, the witches are backing Beneta."
[Don’t tell … the witches have caught on to our plans?]
"I can’t say for sure. However, I intend to bind Beneta in place just in case. Would I be able to count on the reinforcents for that?"
[Demtor’s support is strictly for the Witch’s Forest.]
"You yourself stated that this could change depending on the circumstances."
[I’ve given Harkman full authority. He will be the one to assess the situation.]
A lie.
This was nothing more than an excuse to avoid responsibility.
In truth, Harkman’s actions and decisions were entirely dictated by the Grand Duke’s will.
However, that was Demtor’s issue. Things were different in Tobaron.
"Because this land is a barren wasteland of mana."
A place where mages refused to set foot.
A place where the Grand Duke’s eyes and ears were blinded.
Since the Grand Duke lacked direct information, he had no choice but to rely on Harkman’s reports.
That was precisely why Kal had poured so much gold into securing Harkman’s loyalty.
[What about the voodoo puppets?]
"They are being produced smoothly."
[Can you send additional ones to Demtor?]
"What happened to the five I already provided?"
[They were destroyed.]
Kal clicked his tongue.
It was obvious what had happened.
They must have disassembled them in an attempt to reverse-engineer Van Dyke’s crafting thod.
But trying to analyze sothing born of sorcery through the lens of magic was a fundantal mistake.
It was an illusion brought on by the arrogance of those who saw magic as absolute—a trap from which there was no escape once one fell in.
"If their numbers continue to dwindle, it will only delay the Grand Plan."
[Do you truly think losing just five units will disrupt the Grand Plan?]
So he wanted five more.
Kal briefly glanced at Samuel before speaking.
"I want compensation."
[Let’s hear it.]
"Samuel Barber, the Courier, is currently here. I would like to use him for personal matters. Will you allow it?"
[The courier?]
A brief silence followed.
Then, the Grand Duke’s voice ca through again.
[That will not be possible. Na a different condition.]
"May I ask why?"
[He is to be used for Demtor’s purposes.]
"Then I’ll take gold instead. Set the price accordingly."
When Kal turned to look at Samuel, his face had hardened.
His reaction confird it—he now realized sothing was terribly wrong.
That was enough.
"Grand Duke."
[Speak.]
"The Ghost Forest will be razed within the given tifra."
[It had better be—if you wish to survive.]
"The signal will be when Elletor Fortress is set ablaze. The preparations must be finished by then. If Demtor does not move in ti, this plan will collapse."
[Preparations? There’s no need for them. With a single word from , all of Demtor will move imdiately.]
Arrogant.
Yet, fitting.
However, Kal did not see the Grand Duke’s presence or reputation as particularly significant.
Placing a hand on the communication crystal, he spoke in a low voice.
"Sir Harkman is refusing to hand over the item. Did you order him to withhold it?"
[I don’t know what you an.]
"That item does not belong to you, Grand Duke. It was decided through the Council of the Stars that it is my property. It is no longer a treasure of Demtor. Do not delude yourself."
"If you have hidden intentions, abandon them. That is all."
[You insolent…!]
The crystal sphere flickered and died.
For a mont, Kal stared at the now-lifeless sphere, as if still facing the Grand Duke through it.
He was certainly an old man of great power and authority.
However—
"He’s not the one who killed ."
Kal was certain that the one who had killed him in his past life existed within Demtor.
Back then, he had slaughtered the witches, expanded his domain within Hell Gri, and even threatened Demtor itself.
And then—that entity had appeared before him.
The Blood-Drinking Chalice.
That was the na they had introduced themselves with, laughing beneath a mask that hid their gender.
As if rely out for a stroll, they had plucked out his heart.
There was only one clue burned into his mory.
A pure white butterfly mask.
Their true identity remained unknown.
But now, Kal had several hints that could lead him to find out.
Grand Duke Clarke was not the one.
"I won’t be foolish enough to fall for it again."
Kal silently stepped outside.
Samuel, who had followed him without a word, suddenly stopped and called out.
"Do I owe you a debt, Lord?"
"What makes you think that?"
"‘He will be used for Demtor’s purposes.’"
"That’s the kind of self-justification wizards love to use."
Samuel let out a bitter laugh as he stroked his mustache.
"It’s what they say when they intend to use soone as an experintal rat."
"You have just enough wit to avoid becoming that rat, it seems."
"What do you want?"
"From a courier? Isn't it obvious?"
Samuel nodded and tossed Kal a silver coin.
"If you ever need help, use that. I’ll find you within half a day."
After explaining in detail how to use the silver coin, Samuel dusted off his clothes and gave a graceful bow—a farewell gesture.
"I'll repay the debt for my life later."
"You still refuse to speak about the boy?"
"That boy’s value is higher to than yours."
"My value is your life. Are you planning to throw away your worth like trash?"
"Well, I did avoid certain danger thanks to your warning. But do you really think they could have caught at the portal?"
"I simply relied on certainty."
"I'm curious. What kind of card did the boy hand you?"
Samuel smiled instead of answering and slowly stepped back toward the shaded trees.
Kal, watching him retreat, spoke deliberately.
"Samuel Barber, I know your nature and sense of duty well."
"I trust you will also keep my information to yourself."
A mont later, Samuel’s presence completely vanished.
Two more days passed.
Nearly a week had gone by, and Harkman still showed no signs of leaving the golden chamber.
The longer it dragged on, the more relaxed Kal beca.
The stronger the desire to fill one’s emptiness, the easier it was to control them.
A week.
That was usually enough ti for a person to grow accustod to new stimuli.
Kal was certain that Harkman would seek him out soon.
Once one void was filled, another craving would always erge.
Shortly after, the door opened, and Rengua entered.
For so reason, his face was flushed red, and he was practically fuming with anger.
"A Coalition Against Kal has ford!"
"How amusing."
"They're all insignificant worms! Give the order, and I’ll tear them limb from limb—leave them writhing in agony so terrible they’ll wish for death but never find it!"
Kal glanced through the report and shook his head.
"Attacking Elletor Fortress, which is right under the witches’ noses, would be foolish."
"What about the Hunters?"
"There’s no sign of them, which ans they’re still inside the forest."
"Should I send people in to investigate?"
"No need. If they’re in the forest, then there’s nothing to worry about. Eventually, they’ll all crawl out on their own."
"I understand. Also, just a mont ago, we finished assessing the Red Knights' combat abilities—"
"Not necessary. I already know."
"...Ah, don’t tell —you used that ability?"
[Subjugation Control – Sense Sharing.]
A technique that allowed perfectly subjugated subjects to share their senses with their master.
Seated at his desk, Kal had completely analyzed the combat capabilities of the Red Knights through their own eyes and bodies.
They had matched three elite knights of the fourth rank in direct combat.
Their strength ca from their relentless, unstoppable charges.
"Their bodies are tougher and more resilient than a normal human’s."
"But their greatest advantage is—"
"—they don’t die easily."
"Exactly. If you personally control them, they’ll keep moving even if their heads are severed or their hearts are crushed."
"But the pain…"
"...What?"
Kal extended his hands.
Both palms were completely soaked in blood.
Rengua quickly stepped forward to examine them, only to groan in dismay.
The wounds were caused by Kal digging his own nails into his flesh, his body unconsciously reacting to enduring pain.
"It seems this ability isn't quite perfect."
He hadn’t expected pain transfer to be part of sense sharing.
In order to gauge the survivability of the Red Knights, five elite knights had been ordered to prolong the battle—relentlessly cutting, tearing, and severing limbs until they finally died.
That ant Kal had endured every single injury firsthand.
Any normal person would have gone mad from the tornt.
Yet, instead of showing distress, Kal’s emotionless expression only made Rengua shudder in unease.
"...Why would you go this far?"
"To use sothing perfectly, you must understand it perfectly."
"I’ll treat you right away."
As Rengua hurriedly retrieved dicine from his coat, Kal gazed out the window.
Dozens of rchants had gathered outside the building.
"Are they the ones interested in minerals?"
"Yes."
"Let them in—one by one."
"...One by one?"
"Yes. One at a ti."
Once summoned, the rchants began entering Kal’s office in turn.
Word had spread that Blyer’s mineral warehouses were overflowing with iron ore, and once the Lord of Blyer announced that he would sell, rchants from all across Tobaron flocked to him.
Their desperation was fueled by Beneta’s ongoing competition for shares in the dwarven mines.
The more iron ore they obtained, the higher their stake in the mines.
Which ant they were willing to go to any lengths to secure a supply.
Kal exploited this desperation perfectly.
"I will sell you all the iron ore we don’t need. But there is one condition."
"Y-Yes! Please, na it!"
"You must deliver this letter to the elf, Sharbadin, in secret. It is a matter of utmost importance."
"T-To Lady Dorneth’s woman…?"
"I will not hold you accountable if you fail. But you must give it your best effort. Can you do that?"
"...I’ll do it!"
"I dislike loose-lipped people."
"Please rest assured—this conversation will remain a secret!"
"Good. Since this is an important mission, I will assign an escort to protect you on your journey to Beneta."
"Thank you for your generosity!"
The first rchant left, beaming with satisfaction, and soon, another entered.
Kal repeated the exact sa offer, but this ti, the letter was addressed to soone else—Nella, the Mada of the Blue Rose.
One by one, the rchants accepted the terms, each tasked with delivering letters to key figures in Beneta—Sharbadin and Nella.
Of course, the amount of iron ore stored in the warehouse was far less than what Kal had promised.
It had been artificially inflated, ensuring the rchants competed fiercely over it.
"The rchants have all left."
"Make sure the escorts stagger their departures so the rchants never cross paths. Send them to Beneta at regular intervals."
"Understood. But… why did you focus on sending letters to those two won?"
Still gazing at the map, Kal answered calmly.
"To lure the butterflies, you must first pluck the flowers."
The next day, Harkman ca looking for Kal.
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