Chapter 10
The Dream Merchant of the Refugee Settlement (3)
This time, Kaspar cast the shield around himself and his companions rather than the building.
When he began walking with Ellasen on his back, the shield moved along with its creator.
It was essentially a mobile barrier.
“Kill them!”
“Haaah!”
On their way to the abandoned restaurant, Scavengers hiding in every alley and on every rooftop launched surprise attacks. However, every one of them was repelled by Kaspar’s shield.
All manner of iron weapons hammered against its smooth surface, but each impact merely distorted it slightly before it instantly repaired itself.
Instead, it was the Scavengers who became flustered.
“Damn it! What the hell is this?”
“Why won’t it break?! Why? Why?!”
The Scavengers’ numbers swelled from a dozen or so back into the dozens.
They unleashed an equally ruthless barrage of attacks, but nothing changed.
Even under blows that raged like a storm, the shield merely rippled across its surface before restoring itself as though nothing had happened.
As the shield moved in the direction Kaspar was walking, it pushed the Scavengers back and began breaking apart their encirclement.
“Huh? Wh-Whoa!”
“Aaargh!”
Several unlucky men were trampled under their comrades’ feet or crushed between the shield and nearby structures, letting out horrific screams.
“My God…”
Allen’s mouth fell slightly open.
The Dream Merchant must have offered a fortune large enough to drive them mad, because the Scavengers continued hammering against the shield with bloodshot eyes. Yet inside it, everything remained tranquil, as though they were in a world completely separated from the outside.
Not one of the dozens of Scavengers could harm anyone inside.
Overwhelming defense.
Allen could think of no better way to describe it.
“Allen… Who the hell is that friend of yours?”
Zrek, walking with Alec’s support, asked in a hollow voice.
“The shield created by my bracelet feels like a child’s toy compared to that.”
Merely by walking with his shield deployed, Kaspar was scattering an entire mob of Scavengers.
The sight was so absurd that they could only stare open-mouthed.
“The Master is at the manufacturing plant… the village hall!”
It was an unexpected gain. Without even being questioned, one of the Scavengers trapped between a garbage heap and the shield cried out in terror.
Apparently realizing that they could not stop Kaspar with their own strength, the Scavengers dispersed. Through the unobstructed view, the village hall could be seen shimmering like a mirage in the distance.
Kaspar quickened his pace.
Once Ellasen regained consciousness and no longer needed to be carried, their progress became even faster.
They entered a small clearing. Just beyond it stood a stone building.
It was the village hall.
The building was fairly large—three stories tall.
Dust had accumulated over it and the passing years had left their mark, but it was still obvious that great care had gone into its construction.
Unlike the crude, aging wooden buildings surrounding it, the structure retained the minimum dignity expected of a public building.
“Those are the guards.”
Allen pointed toward the troops assembled in front of the village hall.
Their weapons and armor were well maintained, their stances disciplined, and the tips of their spears remained unwavering as they aimed them at Kaspar’s group.
They were different from the Scavengers.
These guards were closer to soldiers.
And standing behind them was…
“Remarkable.”
A man standing between the stone pillars of the village hall spoke.
He was an elderly man approaching old age.
He looked as though he had known in advance that Kaspar’s party was coming and had stepped outside to welcome them.
The hem of his long, sky-blue robe reached the ground. Anyone could tell at a glance that he was a mage.
He studied the sphere surrounding Kaspar and his companions, then nodded.
“Very impressive. To think you would pour so much mana into a basic spell like Shield… You must have mana to spare.”
It was difficult to tell whether that was praise or mockery.
Kaspar bowed his head slightly in greeting before asking,
“Are you the Dream Merchant, sir?”
“What a ridiculous nickname. Who came up with it? Those inflexible officials at the Mercenary Office? Or those bastards from the Metal Magic Tower?”
His cynical reaction was unexpected.
He clearly despised the title “Dream Merchant.”
“Then would you please tell me your name?”
“Why should I?… is what I would like to say.”
After carefully examining Kaspar and his shield, the Dream Merchant suddenly relaxed his cold expression slightly.
“Jerpet. My name is Jerpet.”
“Thank you for telling me your name, Mr. Jerpet.”
“And what is yours?”
“Kaspar.”
“Kaspar… Kaspar… Not a bad name for an assistant. You—Kaspar—become my assistant.”
The Dream Merchant, Jerpet, made his declaration.
“If you agree to work as my assistant, I will make a special exception and allow the others to leave alive.”
Jerpet’s eyes gleamed.
Kaspar recognized that look.
It was exactly how Abbot Hauser looked whenever he saw an expensive treasure.
“You don’t seem to understand how extraordinary this offer is. Normally, I never spare those who oppose me. Despite that, I am offering you special mercy.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I have an eye for people.”
Jerpet raised his hand and pointed at Kaspar.
“That shield possesses overwhelming density. Simply pouring mana into a spell would not be enough. You must have refined it through your own research and endured years of hardship in the process. Such remarkable talent at such a young age. Talent perfectly suited to my purpose. Perhaps you…”
Jerpet looked deeply impressed.
Kaspar understood proper etiquette, so he refrained from telling the man that refining the spell had taken him less than ten minutes.
“What the hell is that lunatic babbling about?”
It could hardly be called answering in Kaspar’s place, but Zrek deliberately cursed loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Jerpet’s brow twitched.
“To think you would dare interrupt me while I am speaking—”
“My apologies, Mr. Jerpet.”
This time, it was Kaspar who interrupted.
Jerpet turned his gaze toward him.
“I appreciate your favorable opinion of me, but…”
“But?”
“I came here to take your head, so I don’t believe I can accept your offer.”
Allen nearly bit his tongue.
Kaspar smiled as though he were troubled, only to essentially say, I came for your damned head, so I’ll have to refuse.
Between Kaspar and that Dream Merchant trying to recruit someone as his assistant the moment they meet, every mage seems to have at least one screw loose.
Jerpet regarded Kaspar’s reply with contempt.
“Hahaha! What utter foolishness. Do you truly believe you have any chance of winning?”
Jerpet gestured with his chin, and the guards moved aside.
“It seems an ignorant child requires a painful lesson.”
He pulled a pouch from inside his robe and swung it, scattering its contents into the air.
It was glittering powder.
The powder drifted like wind and surrounded Kaspar’s party.
It was silvery-gray metallic dust.
The fine particles floated through the air and gleamed gold in the light of the setting sun.
After muttering an incantation, Jerpet declared without hesitation,
“Dust Eruption.”
Crackle! Crack-crack-crackle!
The metallic dust surrounding the shield ignited simultaneously, transforming into a dazzling cloud before exploding.
Crack—BOOM!
Everything within the cloud was engulfed by a chain of explosions as the particles burst into countless fragments.
The spectacular series of detonations ended only after a long while.
What emerged was a feeble shield barely maintaining its form.
Jerpet silently observed it before speaking.
“Remarkable.”
“I’m not so sure. As you can see, I barely managed to block it.”
Kaspar touched the tattered shield as he spoke.
The barrier that had effortlessly withstood the Scavengers’ attacks had become so faint that even a child’s forceful kick might shatter it.
Jerpet’s words sounded like mockery delivered while only one final blow remained, causing a bitter smile to cross Kaspar’s face.
But Jerpet had not intended to mock him.
He was genuinely impressed.
Dust Eruption was powerful enough to kill even a forest troll—an entity possessing monstrous stamina and regenerative abilities—with a single direct hit.
Jerpet had unleashed it expecting not only to destroy the shield but also to injure Kaspar to some degree.
The fact that Kaspar had blocked it was completely beyond his expectations.
“Magnificent. I desire you even more now.”
Jerpet had watched Kaspar’s entire journey from the building to this place from afar using the Eye of Vision spell. Yet confronting Kaspar in person only made him covet the boy more.
“I will offer you one final chance, Kaspar. Serve under me, and I will spare the others.”
Jerpet continued,
“You might stand a chance alone, but you cannot defeat me and my subordinates while burdened with those three pieces of baggage.”
Jerpet was telling the truth.
Kaspar had not dispelled his shield and used offensive magic because he could not guarantee the survival of the three people behind him.
No matter how he considered it, Jerpet would likely kill all three of them before Kaspar could defeat the dozens of guards.
“What would happen if I agreed to serve you, Mr. Jerpet?”
“You would assist me with my work.”
Jerpet stroked his beard.
“And in exchange, you would learn magic from me. A very simple transaction. Well? Have you made up your mind?”
“…First, I would like to know what kind of work I would be helping you with.”
Jerpet glared at Kaspar for a moment.
“If you are planning some pathetic trick, let me warn you: killing the lot of you would be an effortless task.”
He then gestured toward the interior of the village hall.
“Come inside.”
“Seeing it once will be faster than hearing a hundred explanations.”
“Wait.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”
With those words, Kaspar passed between the guards and entered the village hall.
Before going any farther, he poured mana into the weakened shield protecting his companions and reinforced it.
He strengthened it until he felt confident they would remain safe even if the guards changed their minds. Just as he was about to continue inside—
“Kaspar…!”
Allen called to him from within the shield.
“That place is his lair. I don’t know what you’re planning, but it’s too dangerous.”
Kaspar agreed.
However, there was no other option in their present situation.
Jerpet held the initiative.
Kaspar stepped into the village hall.
A long corridor stretched before him. Candles mounted along the walls illuminated the interior.
Jerpet was nowhere to be seen.
He must have been waiting farther down the perfectly straight passageway.
“That smell…”
The farther Kaspar went, the more strongly he detected the strange scents of flowers and metal.
“Light.”
A brilliant sphere of light rose above his shoulder.
Every corner of the corridor that the candles could not illuminate was revealed without exception.
At the end of the corridor stood a black wooden door. Patches of white powder stained its surface.
Kaspar cautiously opened it.
A powerful floral scent immediately assaulted his nose.
Beyond the door was a vast room.
Several mortars surrounded a large workbench at its center.
Small shadows stirred around it.
Children from the refugee camp—none of whom looked older than ten—were dropping flower petals into stone mortars and laboriously pounding them with thin, scarred arms.
Beads of sweat covered their foreheads.
In another part of the room, other children handled metallic powder.
Wearing worn leather aprons, they rubbed rough sandpaper against mottled chunks of metal to grind them into powder. Whenever the metallic dust billowed into the air, they intermittently coughed dryly.
“Hey, you little vermin! Can’t you work any faster? Huh?”
Men who appeared to be overseers cursed as they mercilessly beat the children with whips and wooden switches.
Every terrible crack was followed by a child’s scream.
The children continued working with trembling hands.
The long trails of tears that had dried beneath their eyes because they had not even been able to wipe them away appeared unnaturally vivid.
At the far end of the enormous room, Jerpet sat upon a massive chair and looked down at Kaspar like a king.
“Welcome, Kaspar. You said you wanted to know what sort of work you would be assisting me with, did you not?”
“Is it manufacturing dream powder? Or supervising this place?”
Kaspar looked around as he spoke.
Jerpet snorted.
“Hmph. Ridiculous. Why would I use you for something so trivial? These things are merely steps in the process—steps toward accomplishing my great undertaking.”
He fixed his eyes upon Kaspar.
“And you will become my right hand, the one who accelerates that undertaking.”
“Your undertaking?”
Kaspar was puzzled.
The Dream Merchant was the man who had seized control of the southeastern district of the Wintersteel refugee camp through dream powder alone.
Yet he claimed that all of this was merely one part of the process leading toward his true undertaking.
What sort of undertaking could it possibly be?
“Resurrection.”
“Resurrection?”
Jerpet nodded in response to Kaspar’s question.
“Yes. Resurrection.”
Then he slowly spread his gaunt arms.
“Kaspar, welcome to the forgotten temple of the Forsaken Throne.”