"...Now then," Ray muttered, surveying the garden of Boruntar’s Residence.
The grounds were heavily ravaged from the dual struggle between Ray and Koldo, and Set and Minas. Still, he supposed they were lucky that there had been no loss of life.
(Setting aside Set and me... I suppose it was fortunate that the thugs and low-rank adventurers at the gate didn't come to peek inside out of curiosity.)
Ray mused silently, but in truth, most of those gathered near the gate had already scattered into the city, wanting no part in any further trouble. Only a tiny few remained.
Even that handful, hearing the sounds of a ferocious battle echoing from within, had lacked the courage to investigate and instead waited quietly by the gate. However, their decision to linger had been a poor one. Boruntar’s Residence was located in the Noble District, and hired adventurers were performing their nightly patrols. Especially tonight, with the sounds of combat ringing through the air, the patrol guards could not ignore the residence. Nor would they overlook thugs and low-rank adventurers acting freely within the district’s borders.
Consequently, almost everyone who fled Boruntar’s Residence was intercepted by patrol adventurers and forced to spit out everything they knew. The lucky ones would be held for a single night; those with other crimes to their names were bound and taken away for good.
"Set, sorry, but keep an eye on these two. If they wake up and try anything, just knock them out again or do whatever is necessary."
"Guruuu."
After dragging the unconscious Koldo and Minas into one spot and leaving Set to watch over them, Ray nimbly climbed a tree in the garden. Gripping the massive Death Scythe in one hand, he leaped back through the hole he had smashed into the wall earlier.
Inside the reception room, Ray found Boruntar rendered immobile, with Mult’s halberd pressed firmly against his throat. Postgera lay nearby, his limbs bound tightly with rope and his eyes shut in unconsciousness. A Green Jewel lay on the floor near the alchemist.
"Things are settled on my end... What’s the situation here?"
"...I was keeping watch just as you said, Ray. But those two guards? Or those two things? Anyway, the moment they started losing, this guy pulled out that jewel. I knocked him out and tied him up," Galahat reported.
"I see. So he did have that kind of item after all."
Ray picked up the Green Jewel, examined it for a few seconds, and then tossed it to Galahat.
(It's a bit of a waste, I suppose... but since everyone here saw it, I can’t exactly pocket the thing.)
"He likely intended to teleport. I don't know if it goes to a fixed location or wherever the user wishes, but regardless, it will serve as a way to confirm the level of the Bestia Empire's alchemy. We should hand it over to Margrave Larkus along with Postgera and the two outside. ...Have you made contact with the Lord’s Mansion?"
"I sent a servant there."
"...A servant? Will they believe a common worker?"
"Probably not at first. But it's a report from the home of the chairman of the Azoth Firm. They’ll send at least a few knights to investigate. Once they see this scene, they’ll have no choice but to believe it."
Galahat’s voice was strained. He had triggered this upheaval specifically to keep his brother from being killed by Ray. But now that he had actually set foot in the residence, the situation had spiraled. He hadn't just stirred up a hornet's nest; he had poked a dragon.
"The Azoth Firm will likely be dismantled over this. At best, it might be allowed to persist under Margrave Larkus's management... or rather, his total control. Perhaps that would be for the best for everyone outside the firm, though."
"Galahat-san..."
Mult, still pointing his halberd at Boruntar, whispered the name with concern. He started to say more, but he was interrupted by the very man he held at weapon-point.
"D-Don't be ridiculous! My Azoth Firm, which has controlled the weapon trade in the City of Gilm, dismantled?! Absorbed by that youngster Daskar?! I will never allow it!"
"..."
Galahat turned a sorrowful gaze toward the unsightly, screaming Boruntar.
"Besides, if you hadn't plotted to drag me from the chairman's seat, this never would have happened! You, repaying the debt of being raised all these years with enmity. Hmph! Just as one would expect from a son of a concubine with lowly blood. To think you cannot even feel gratitude."
"...Shut up."
Boruntar seemed to grow more agitated as he spoke, his voice rising as he cursed Galahat.
"It is because the Azoth Firm exists that this city can provide weapons to adventurers despite being on the frontier! If adventurers die tomorrow due to a shortage of gear, it will all be your fault—"
"I told you to shut up, you piece of shit!"
With Mult's roar, the halberd swung upward. He brought the axe part of the halberd down toward Boruntar's face...
Clang!
With a sharp metallic ring, the axe was caught a mere fraction of a second before it would have cleaved into Boruntar's skull.
"Stop, Mult."
It was Galahat, his sword drawn, who had parried the blow.
"Why, Galahat-san?! A piece of trash like this has no value! He's just a waste of food and water! This man—what he's done to you until now—"
"Mult. I said stop. Besides, my big brother is..."
He trailed off, glancing at Boruntar. The older man was gasping for air, stunned into silence by the hair's-breadth encounter with death. Galahat then turned to Ray, who had been watching the scene unfold.
"Ray, I believe your wish was to make my big brother lose everything but his life. As you can see, he's already beyond saving. He’ll be taken by Margrave Larkus and forced to confess every crime he's ever committed. He’ll likely never see the light of day again. ...No, at worst, they might execute him once they have the information."
"...So, you're asking me to show him mercy?"
"Of course, that—"
"Ha... Hahaha, ahahaha, kuhahaha!"
Just as Galahat began to speak, a laugh cut through the room, echoing with a touch of madness.
The sound came from Postgera, who was supposed to be unconscious.
"Ha, ha, ha... Phew, that was a good laugh. Truly, I didn't think I could be entertained this much. Don't you all have a talent for street performing? I never expected such a hilarious development the moment I woke up."
"...Pardon me, but would you mind telling us exactly which part was funny?" Brasso asked, his voice low and dangerous. He projected an aura that suggested he would snap a bone or two the moment the man said something foolish. Beside him, Phron glared at the alchemist with pure disgust.
"I mean, really. To think a memory ingrained during childhood could be this effective. ...Your name was Galahat, right? You're the greatest clown I've ever seen."
"...Clown?"
Ray, connecting the words "childhood," "ingrained memory," and "Galahat," directed a sharp gaze at Boruntar. There was only one conclusion to draw. He had heard from Galahat himself why he had remained with the Azoth Firm despite Boruntar’s loathing.
Near Ray, Brasso and Phron seemed to reach the same conclusion, their faces hardening. Only Mult, still consumed by his rage toward Boruntar, seemed not to be listening.
"Shut up! What are you trying to say at this late hour?!" Boruntar snapped, his voice trembling as he realized Postgera was about to speak of something fatal. But Postgera, whose mouth was the only thing he could properly move while bound, simply smirked.
"Galahat, try to remember very carefully. The day you began to feel indebted to that puppet over there. Your mother was ill, and that puppet gave you the medicine to cure her. That was it, wasn't it?"
Postgera spoke while nodding toward Boruntar.
"...Yeah."
"That illness. Green spots appeared all over her body, and she was plagued by intense itching, right? And then, pus-like stuff formed where she scratched, and a green liquid that smelled of rot began to ooze. All while she was in agonizing pain—the exact opposite of the itching."
Ray, Phron, and Brasso all reflexively winced at the gruesome description.
"And then, Boruntar, who despised you all, brought medicine. She recovered slightly, but in the end, she never truly healed and died anyway. ...If you think about it, doesn't that mean that rather than curing her, he simply forced her to stay alive while suffering for as long as possible?"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up! What nonsense does someone like you think you're spouting!"
Boruntar’s shout carried no weight. On the contrary, his desperation only drew Mult's attention back to Postgera's words.
"And so you felt indebted to that puppet for the medicine and served him with all your heart. ...Hey, Galahat. I'll ask you just one thing. Do you really believe he gave you that medicine out of kindness? And why do you think I know the details of that illness so well?"
Postgera wore a smile that was more of a predatory smirk.
"By the way, you might find something quite interesting if you check the contents of that small bottle."
His gaze shifted to the small bottle Boruntar had cherished so dearly. Galahat was still holding it, having confiscated it as evidence.
"...Big brother."
"..."
"Hey, big brother. Is what this man saying... the truth?"
"..."
Boruntar met Galahat's question with a hollow silence.
Normally, he would have screamed that it was a lie, but with Galahat holding the bottle—the decisive proof—he must have judged that any denial was useless.
Seeing that silence, Galahat finally understood the truth. He looked down, saying nothing, lost in a void of silence.
(It was my worst-case prediction... but to think it was a direct hit.)
Ray sighed inwardly.
He had wondered when he first heard why Galahat admired his brother so much. He had thought "surely not" for a moment, then dismissed it. He hadn't believed anyone would go that far, especially since Boruntar's treatment of Galahat had been so incredibly sloppy for a man he had worked so hard to turn into a pawn.
While watching Galahat, Ray took a step toward Boruntar, deciding to settle his own score.
"W-What? You—what do you want with me?!"
Boruntar, seeing the look in Ray’s eyes, understood that he was about to suffer. He tried to scramble away, but in the next instant—
"Gah!"
His legs were swept out from under him by the shaft of Mult's halberd, and he slammed face-first into the floor.
Because Boruntar had kept himself somewhat fit despite his age, he wasn't severely injured, but an ordinary old man would have certainly broken something. He collapsed with a heavy thud.
"W-What are you doing, you cur!"
He scrambled up and glared, but Mult met his eyes with a gaze that mirrored Ray's—as if he were looking at something less than human.
"You, just shut up for a bit."
Mult pinned Boruntar's neck down with the axe part of his halberd, pinning him to the floor.
Ray slowly approached the fallen chairman.
"To be honest, I was thinking of tearing off your limbs, crushing your eyeballs, slicing off your nose, and cutting off your ears. But since I'm handing you over to Margrave Larkus, I can't do that."
At Ray’s words, which were spoken with an almost gentle tone, Boruntar's expression briefly showed relief. That relief shattered in the next breath.
"After all, you were dealing with a Bestia Empire Alchemist. There's no need to guess what kind of measures Daskar will take to extract that information from you, right? If you're missing limbs or have your eyeballs crushed, the interrogator—or the torturer—won't be able to do their job properly."
From heaven to hell. Boruntar’s face twisted into an expression of pure despair as he listened to Ray’s cold assessment.
It was true that Daskar, Margrave Larkus, was a man of the sword who disliked dirty tricks. However, that did not mean he was lenient toward those who collaborated with a country attempting to invade his homeland. If anything, his martial nature meant the torture and interrogation would be unimaginably gruesome.
"It seems you understand. And... this is a little something extra. Consider it a gift."
Ray muttered, beginning to chant a spell as he focused his magic power.
"Flame, thou art the eternal hellfire. The bringer of everlasting agony is the Flame of Pain. When time cycles anew, let thy host cry out in screams of despair and suffering. Until the day their karma is purged, for all eternity."
As he chanted, a flame ignited at the tip of the shaft, compressed by Ray's magic power until it was a tiny spark, barely a centimeter wide.
It looked exactly like a Seed of Restraint, one of Ray’s usual spells. But this magic was fundamentally different. It did not grant protection in exchange for a restriction; it was a curse designed solely for torment. Every night at midnight, the target would be wracked with pain as if being burned by hellfire until the flame itself acknowledged that their sins had been atoned for. And should the victim be on the verge of losing their mind, the magic would forcibly heal their spirit just to ensure the agony could continue.
"Flame of Condemnation."
The flame of judgment sank into Boruntar's body through the shaft of the Death Scythe, embedding itself deep within his soul.