Episode 252: The Black Butterfly (3)
The crumbled walls of Beneta were being rapidly rebuilt.
Countless people were hard at work, restoring the damage.
Though tens of thousands had bled and the remnants of the wall were stained red, the traces of battle were quickly erased, and new bricks stacked upon one another as the walls swiftly regained their shape.
“Sir Dorneth.”
“Hmm?”
While overseeing the restoration, Dorneth Gader received a visit from Heinz Bell, the commander of the anti-Kamel alliance.
“We’re ready to depart.”
“Already?”
Three days had passed since the end of the war. During that time, Heinz had reorganized the captured prisoners, and those who remained were prepared for transfer to the Elletor fortress.
Now that all preparations were complete, the only task left was to depart with the troops from Beneta, who would serve as reinforcements.
“Please wait a moment.”
When Heinz stepped back politely, Dorneth summoned Natone, captain of the knights, and appointed him as the person in charge of the wall, then made preparations to depart.
Once Dorneth relayed the orders within the fortress, the stationed forces opened the gates and emerged.
They were Beneta’s forces, set to move to Elletor with Heinz.
At the front were Sharbadin and Nella.
Fully armed, Dorneth mounted his horse and signaled to Heinz.
A signal to move out.
Heinz bowed and rode to the head of the column.
“Move out!”
At his shout, the massive procession of alliance troops, Beneta soldiers, and prisoners began stretching westward.
“I didn’t expect Sir Dorneth to come in person.”
At Nella’s comment, Dorneth smiled bitterly and spurred his horse forward.
“There’s no one else to take the lead. Ugh, it’s such a headache.”
Currently, Dorneth was the only 5-star level combatant left in Tobaron.
Two days ago, after receiving treatment, Arthur and his party had left Beneta before Fenry’s signal arrived.
Before leaving, Lochter had warned of Tobaron’s next opponent:
“Hell Grime’s Demtor...”
It was a long shot, but if any trouble arose at the Elletor fortress, Dorneth was the only one capable of stopping it.
Right now, Arthur, Lochter, and Fenry were all absent.
All they could do was hope the witches would defeat Demtor.
No more bloodshed within Tobaron—he didn’t want to see that again.
“And you, Priestess? Wouldn’t it be better to move after Tobaron settles down a bit? Isn’t it too early to tour the regions?”
“I asked Heinz. I’ll accompany him and the army as they travel across Tobaron, starting with Blyer Territory.”
“Isn’t it dangerous? The Black Cat won’t just sit by.”
“I’ll be traveling with the Black Roses. That should be enough. Besides, Sir Arthur said the sooner I complete my mission, the better.”
Arthur had given Nella two missions.
One, to assist the Black Roses in making Kamel the primary enemy of Tobaron.
The other, to reduce the distance between the human territories and Beneta.
From now on, under the name of a Blood Pact, humans and other races would act together more often.
So the Blue Rose Inn had been temporarily closed, and the elf workers were brought along.
With Tobaron in chaos due to Kamel, the beautiful elves who helped would leave a good impression of Beneta.
“Dorneth, do you think he’s doing well?”
When Sharbadin looked toward one side and asked, Dorneth and Nella also looked in that direction.
The north.
The same direction the carriage carrying Arthur had disappeared a few days ago.
“He’s probably snoring. Said he wouldn’t be waking up for a while.”
“Right?”
When Hunt’s team prepared to depart after receiving treatment, Lochter was the one in charge—not Arthur.
Even during the farewell, Arthur was passed out in the carriage and couldn’t properly say goodbye.
“We owe him a great debt again this time.”
“Sharbadin, that’s why I gave them valuable weapons.”
“As expected of you, Dorneth. Truly admirable.”
“Kuheum.”
Pleased by the praise, Dorneth smiled warmly.
He had gifted each of the Ghosts a pair of Dwarf-made daggers. They weren’t artifacts, but they were made of rare metal from ancient times.
Though he framed it as a gesture of gratitude, in truth, the daggers were part of a deal Arthur had made—to provide twenty weapons if the witches agreed to an alliance.
‘Not exactly twenty, but they’re worth more than that.’
Though it had pained Dorneth to hand over the weapons to Lochter, who had come on Arthur’s behalf, he was satisfied with the trade.
However—
[There’s something else Arthur wanted to say, but you should hear it directly from him.]
[What is it?]
[It’s not urgent.]
Lochter hadn’t managed to deliver Arthur’s final message to Dorneth.
“Tell him the debt for saving Beneta will be charged in full once we return.”
***
Dudududu—
A large carriage kicked up dust as it rolled northward.
A six-horse carriage, enormous and splendid, driven by six fine-blooded horses running with unmatched vigor.
They’d been moving without pause except for brief breaks, and even after two days, the horses didn’t tire easily.
“As expected of a carriage fit for a lord. It's different.”
The carriage had been provided by Lord Dorneth of Beneta, and so far, it had been more than satisfactory.
Karl, seated at the driver’s bench, secured the reins and glanced back.
Inside the carriage were Arthur, Lochter, and the Ghosts—all riding together.
It was packed, yet spacious enough for everyone to sit comfortably.
“Lochter, is it time yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Don’t tell me he’s never going to wake up again?”
Arthur was lying in a corner of the carriage, sleeping peacefully.
Lochter checked Arthur’s condition and shook his head.
Every half-day, he’d inspect Arthur, who had closed his eyes for a short rest and hadn’t stirred since.
Arthur had said he’d wake when the signal came, but it had already been two days.
“Is this another one of those forced rests? Like when he collapses after pushing his power too far?”
“Seems like it.”
“We’ll be arriving at the Ghost Forest in about a day, so we should start getting our bearings.”
Before falling asleep, Arthur had pointed north and ordered them to head to the Ghost Forest.
And after that?
Silence filled the carriage.
No one spoke of what came next.
They couldn’t.
Because the leader of Hunt was Arthur Clayton himself.
Dudududu—
The carriage resumed its quiet journey.
Lochter leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, while Karl smacked his lips and focused on driving.
“Here we go again. He really is a training maniac.”
Unable to train physically inside the carriage, Lochter was doing mental sword training—and once he was like that, talking to him was useless.
“He really is getting stronger fast, huh?”
[Resonance – Target: Lochter Felice]
As Lochter’s heroic companion, Karl shared a portion of Lochter’s senses, allowing him to sense Lochter’s growth clearly.
The life-and-death battle with Harkman Oleve, the Cleaner of Hell Grime, had accelerated Lochter’s progress.
As Karl suspected, Lochter was mentally replaying the battle with Harkman and refining his dual-sword technique.
Belin, Reyna, and the Counter—he was evolving through new weapons and abilities.
The same went for the Ghosts.
They hadn’t let go of their new daggers since they received them from Dorneth.
Daggers made of a solid black ore, without hilts—a seamless design.
They were light, highly elastic, and most notably—
‘They don’t make a sound when swung?’
Crafted from the ancient mineral Roearm, which absorbed sound, they were perfectly suited to the stealthy style of the Ghosts' Spectral Form.
The problem was that the number of daggers was limited, and Karl hadn’t gotten one.
“That damn dwarf... what, because I’ve only got one arm I’m disqualified?”
Each set was a pair, and with one arm, he was told to give his up.
It was framed as showing virtue by yielding to his subordinates, but now he was even stuck as the coachman.
A sudden wave of sadness hit him.
“Lochter!”
“Huh. What is it now?”
“I’m the only one who didn’t get one! Damn it…”
“???”
Karl sighed and turned his head.
Everyone else had gained new weapons and grown stronger.
‘If only I had a functioning arm…’
He remembered Arthur had once said he’d give him a hint about an artificial arm.
When Arthur woke, Karl swore he’d ask immediately.
The sun was setting fast.
Shadows grew long across the vast plains.
“Hm?”
Karl’s eyes caught suspicious movement.
A black mass flickered over a distant shadow and raced along the others, quickly approaching.
Moments later, it slipped into the shadow beneath the carriage.
Suddenly, Lochter’s eyes snapped open, and he swung Reyna.
A phenomenal reaction speed.
The strike was aimed just above Arthur’s head.
“W-wait!”
Karl shouted, and the black blur froze midair.
Wooong!
A small silhouette reflected in the red aura—a shadowy being with round eyes staring at Lochter’s sword before collapsing.
It was the shadow spirit Banri, resembling Fenry.
“It’s the signal! That’s the spirit Fenry sent!”
At Karl’s shout, Lochter quietly sheathed his sword.
Then, he paused.
The moment Banri settled atop Arthur’s head, Arthur stirred and slowly sat up.
He blinked and looked around drowsily, then glanced up and chuckled.
“You’re finally here.”
Arthur had awakened.
[Awaken.]
The consciousness that had been dormant returned at Reto’s call.
Arthur had asked to be woken once the shadow spirit arrived, and Reto had done so at the right moment.
Arthur glanced around the swaying carriage and assessed his condition.
“How’s the recovery?”
[For Burst Strike, you’ve got about five uses.]
“Five times… that’s cutting it close.”
While Beneta’s healers had gathered to treat the party, Arthur’s job had been to eat endlessly and sleep.
It was essential to replenish his depleted potential ahead of the next battle.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Two days.”
“Two days... slower than I expected.”
Though the recovery time was disappointing, five uses of Burst Strike would be enough—for now, at least. He wasn’t alone anymore.
Arthur placed Banri in his palm and flicked her forehead.
“You’re late. Where the hell have you been? Where’s Fenry?”
Banri gestured frantically, eventually pointing in one direction.
Once Arthur determined where, he gave an order to Karl.
Karl pulled the reins and asked curiously,
“Right? Not left?”
“Kamel’s destination is different from what I expected.”
“It’s not the Ghost Forest?”
“It is.”
Kamel had headed toward the Ghost Forest, just as Arthur initially predicted.
But not toward Ordor Forest.
He had veered toward the eastern outskirts of the Ghost Forest, into a new region.
‘He’s headed to Prime Root?’
Unexpected.
Arthur had assumed Kamel would join the mages in hunting the witches.
‘Could it be he’s planning to use Prime Root as a new base?’
A city of criminals.
A region ruled by survival of the fittest.
Considering Lyon Martrein’s power, Arthur figured he could hold his own in Prime Root—at least for now.
‘There aren’t any 6-stars there yet, after all.’
Lyon wouldn’t face many threats in Prime Root.
However—
“It’s useless if you’re not complete.”
Half-measures wouldn’t work.
Lyon wasn’t truly powerful yet.
Prime Root was home to monsters stronger than those in Tobaron—the region of the Black Stars.
There were limits.
And Kamel surely knew this.
‘So in the end... it’s about the Dagger of the Dead?’
Leaving the dagger in Lyon’s hands and even involving Samuel to secure an escape route with space portals—he’d set up multiple layers of defense.
That could only mean he was planning something with the Dagger of the Dead.
Lyon hadn’t been spotted, but he’d likely joined up with Kamel on the road to Prime Root.
‘I expected him to use the dagger in the battle with the witches.’
Was Ordor Forest not even part of Kamel’s plan?
Then what had he promised Demtor to make them mobilize as a group?
Arthur inferred many things from Kamel’s change in course, but it still wasn’t enough.
He figured the answers would come by continuing the chase.
“Hm? What?”
Banri’s message continued.
Then, her shape began to shift and blur—until she transformed into a specific figure.
At the sight, Arthur sat upright and narrowed his brow, focusing on Banri.
“...These guys showed up? Near Kamel?”
A long robe.
A long spear held in one hand.
The image instantly triggered a memory.
‘The Black Butterflies.’