Count’s Youngest Son is a Warlock

Chapter 155: To the North

Heint’s hand trembled.

[Lord Lucion? Even though we’re not on the same side, didn’t you say that you’re trying to persuade him?] Bethel cautiously remarked, noticing Heint’s increasingly intense gaze.

[Ah. Suppressing the opponent is a different matter.]

‘Yes, suppressing the opponent is a different matter.’

Lucion immediately agreed with Russell’s words.

[Is this suppressing the opponent…?]

Bethel was puzzled. 

It seemed like a provocation to anyone. She wasn’t sure if she should consider it from the perspective of a teacher and his student.

“Just as a gesture of goodwill because you’re not an enemy, I’ll tell you one thing,” Lucion said, hoping to swiftly progress the conversation. He wanted to start by revealing the organization behind the ‘crow pattern’ he had been searching for.

“The crow pattern you are looking for. There is only one organization with that symbol. It is the ‘Hand of the Void.’” Heint’s expression remained unchanged, despite the expected surprise.

“This is disappointing.”

“Why?”

“I thought you’d be surprised.”

“Even that organization name is something you can hear from that guy,” Heint, still sharp and pointed, gestured towards Gartio.

“However, to ask about that name, you’d have to use your hand. It’s too much trouble.”

Despite Heint’s anger, Lucion felt fortunate that the situation was progressing in a way that allowed for conversation.

It didn’t quite fit the atmosphere, but a macaron or two would certainly soften it up a bit.

“It seems like you have a lot of questions for me. Go ahead. Oh, and stop exerting your energy and put down the sword,” Lucion casually teased.

“What’s your purpose?” Heint asked. 

“I want you to know that I am a very good, um, harmless warlock that you and others have not seen.”

“I am the one blessed with light. Please know that if you use black magic in front of me, you will be caught.”

“Don’t act so self-righteous. I didn’t become a warlock because I wanted to. Right? Manifesting my abilities is not something I can do at will.”

No, it isn’t.

A faint voice whispered in the darkness.

You wanted it. You wished for it.

If you deny us, then we’ll be sad. Really sad.

―…umm.

Ratta tried to deny it, but she remembered a time when Lucion suffered from being able to see ghosts.

Recalling that fact, Ratta hesitated. Instead, feeling a sense of melancholy for no apparent reason, she said something else.

—Lucion is busy right now. Tell Ratta later. Ratta will convey it.

[It’s acting, so don’t be swayed. If it’s for Lucion, stay still. Can’t you see someone blessed with light?]

Russell spoke to the darkness on behalf of Lucion. 

Only then did the darkness fall silent, and Heint’s fierce gaze softened slightly.

“They’re like pursuers.” Lucion suddenly spoke.

“What… ?”

“I too am chasing the Hand of the Void. The same goes for the magician standing next to me,” Lucion said, pointing at Peter, who glared coldly at Heint.

Hamel didn’t show any signs, but by now, he must be feeling uneasy because of the light. That knight annoyed him. 

“Why… are you after the Hand of the Void? You’re a warlock too,” Heint asked, seemingly unaware of his own curiosity.

He hadn’t intended to engage in a conversation initially, but it was the first time a warlock had suggested such a thing, and his lips moved involuntarily.

If, just if, everything he had learned so far, the socially implicit rule that ‘all warlocks must be eliminated,’ was wrong.

Then what would those warlocks who had died so far and those who had been driven to the edge of the cliff become?

“They are trash. We need to clean up the trash and make everyone understand that not all warlocks are the kind of garbage that experiments on people, curses them, and turns corpses into living beings,” Lucion’s voice, once light, now carried a heavier tone.

 “I mean it.”

Lucion chuckled for a moment.

“…I want to live.”

Without dying by his hand.

“I hate not being able to live a proper life because of being a warlock, and I hate not being able to live like that in the future,” he continued, expressing his frustration.

Without dying by his brother’s hand.

“So from now on, I will join hands with you, the imperial knight.”

Happily.

Like that.

He wants to live.

“…?”

Heint was deeply embarrassed by Lucion’s sudden words. 

His words felt genuine, and the desperate desire to live conveyed through his voice struck a chord in Heint’s heart.

Carefully, Heint turned his gaze towards Lucion, seeking to understand the warlock in greater detail.

“So I need you to prove me, that I’m a pretty good warlock.”

“What…? What kind of crazy talk is that?”

“It’s not crazy talk. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment. Those capable of tracking warlocks aren’t like you, blessed by the light, and certainly not those with mana,” Lucion pointed to himself, the mask turning a shade of blue. “Those like me are blessed by the darkness. Isn’t it time to acknowledge that? It’s like trying to catch a star in the sky, chasing a warlock.”

Heint’s face contorted, displaying a sense of resistance and reluctance to agree.

Lucion didn’t dwell on Heint’s emotions for long. 

He knew that he had to shake Heint further when he showed any sign of wavering because he was the only person he could communicate with.

“I’m not like them. They are corrupted warlocks, and I am just a warlock. Damn it. I’m annoyed because there’s no word for it.”

“A corrupted warlock?”

Heint asked with interest.

“Yes. Since I only killed the warlock, there will be no information. Listen carefully. Usually, warlocks don’t experiment with people.”

[Of course. Ordinary people don’t do it. However, when it comes to killing me or harming me, I welcome it, thinking that the experiment is coming to its own feet and testing what the newly created curse is like and what this black magic is like.]

“So, I’m talking about someone who hasn’t harmed me. Do you understand what I mean?” Lucion quickly added after hearing Russell’s words. He wanted to be clear, even if it may seem petty.

‘Don’t laugh, Bethel.’ Lucion thought, addressing Bethel who was possessing him.

‘Ah. I’m sorry, Lord Lucion.’

Bethel said, still smiling.

“Okay. I know what you mean.” Heint’s eyebrows rose slightly.

[Seems like he thinks this is nonsense,] Russell pointed out, stating the obvious.

Lucion opened his mouth again, letting Russell’s laughter flow from one ear to the other.

“They are the corrupted warlocks. Those who have been consumed by darkness. I am different from them,” Lucion explained.

“But even if you say you’re different, there’s no guarantee that you’ll keep your promise, let alone refrain from trying to escape. If that happens, it’s over for me. Do you understand that?” Heint looked at Lucion skeptically.

Merely supporting a warlock could make one feel like a criminal.

“As a warlock, I have faith. I won’t run away, and I’ll keep my promise,” Lucion asserted.

“Prove it,” Heint demanded.

“What should I do?” Lucion asked.

“Take off your mask.”

“You say that so lightly,” Lucion’s voice turned somewhat fierce.

“Do you really not understand the significance of me wearing a mask? Or do you have the confidence to handle everything about me? If you do, then I’ll gladly remove it.”

“…” 

Heint fell silent for a moment.

“Let’s just forget what I said,” he finally spoke.

“Okay,” Lucion replied.

“Then how are you going to prove it?”

“I’ll give you the information,” Lucion answered condescendingly, presenting the information he would have provided regardless.

“Information?”

“Thanks to that guy, I learned that the Hand of the Void had reached out to the imperial family. Don’t you need it?”

Lucion tapped the table lightly, emphasizing his point. 

Tap. Tap.

Heint took a deep and short breath, squinting one eye.

The sound of the warlock tapping on the table and his words were irritating to Heint. 

The warlock seemed to peer into his thoughts so clearly that he wondered if black magic was at play.

“Are you ashamed to ask a warlock for help?” Lucion repeated his words, surprising Heint once again. 

‘Being shameless also plays a part.’

The warlocks he had encountered were either consumed by madness, rushing headlong into chaos, or overwhelmed by the light, fleeing in fear. 

Lucion was the first warlock he had encountered who didn’t succumb to either extreme.

Heint tried to heighten his senses, wondering if he had already been affected by black magic, but all he could feel were beads of sweat forming on his back.

‘It’s clear he’s not using black magic.’ 

Heint concluded, overwhelmed with the urge to pinch his own cheek.

“Why should you be ashamed of that? Anyone can ask for help. Besides, there’s nothing to be ashamed of in this case; it’s a transaction. A deal for you and me to become equals,” Lucion explained.

“I was thinking about it, so get rid of that nonsense.”

Heint growled softly, unable to tolerate it any longer.

“Oh, were you thinking? I didn’t know.”

Lucion laughed.

[Lord Lucion, do you hold any ill feelings towards Heint?] Bethel asked.

Words that could not come out unless Lucion was truly enjoying them were slowly flowing out.

[He doesn’t. It’s just an act at first glance. Don’t you know that Lucion wants to be friends with Heint? How much interest does he have?]

—That’s right! Ratta also heard a lot, like, ‘Where is Brother Heint now? ‘What is Brother Heint doing?’

Ratta added strength to Russell’s words.

[Is that so?]

Bethel responded in bewilderment.

Lucion glanced at Russell for a moment but didn’t dwell on it. 

He didn’t have enough time to get caught up in that conversation right now. 

The situation was critical, and one wrong move could cost him his life.

“Tell me. Do you want it or not?” Lucion asked, getting straight to the point.

“I want it,” Heint answered after much thought.

“The Hand of the Void is in the Kingdom of Neubra,” Lucion revealed, providing information that would allow the Fifth Prince and Emperor, who would hear the report from Heint, to form their own conclusions.

Heint swallowed hard for a moment. 

‘I and His Highness both thought it couldn’t be true, but is it really?”

“They’re making soldiers who won’t die.”

Heint could no longer hide his expression as Lucion continued.

“W-what? What did you say just now?”

“It’s happening within the Empire.”

“Where! Where the hell is such a damn thing happening?”

“I’m looking for it now.”

―But that’s not true. Lucion already knows. The East! Ratta knows too.

Ratta’s head tilted in confusion.

[There’s nothing we can do, Ratta. If Lucion reveals everything here, it will be a big problem.]

Bethel comforted Lata.

“Wouldn’t it be great if I could just reach out that far?”

Lucion gave him a chance.

It just hasn’t happened yet. There were many things that the Hand of the Void would do.

“Also…” Heint began to speak, but suddenly drew a dagger from his bosom.

At that moment, Bethel moved Lucion’s finger, but then stopped. 

The target was not Lucion.

The dagger flew towards Gartio and landed precisely in front of his nose.

Pop!

“If you move from there, you’ll have to choose which arm to lose,” Heint warned, watching the trembling Gartio. 

Then, he turned his head to look at Lucion once again.

Heint’s head tilted slightly, observing Lucion’s completely still figure.

It was difficult to determine if Lucion hadn’t seen the attack or if he had already seen it and chose not to react.

It was hard to pinpoint which one it was.

“Do those guys have more plans?”  

When Heint asked again, Lucion shrugged his shoulders.

“Ah. I’ll tell you one more thing.”

When Lucion opened his mouth, Heint focused.

“The sacred nation of Nevast.”

Coincidentally, a Nevast priest was caught trying to steal a ‘bracelet’ from an auction house. 

“They are enslaving people within the Empire.”

Lucion stretched out his hand towards Heint, it seemed as though he was tempting him to take his hand and learn more.

‘Damn…’ Heint couldn’t deny that he was swayed by the information.

However, as an imperial knight, his duty was to protect and ensure the safety of the imperial family, regardless of light or darkness. 

He was annoyed by the warlock, but he knew he had to make a choice.

Despite the weight on his lips, Heint spoke up. “What’s your name?”

“Hamel,” Lucion replied.

Heint extended his hand, and Lucion took it in a handshake.

“I’m Heint Tria,” he introduced himself, sealing their agreement.

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