Count’s Youngest Son is a Warlock

“We have been guided by the darkness,” one of the warlocks said, causing Hume’s eyes to narrow slightly.

He felt an odd discomfort.

Was there anyone who had ever let down their guard after seeing Lucion until now?

Hume, always ready to wield his greatsword, gently placed it on the ground.

Thud.

“I’m always ready to fight.”

“You don’t need to be on guard just yet.”

Lucion attempted to reassure Hume, sounding content as he too found the current relaxed atmosphere unusual.

“What did the darkness say while guiding you?” Lucion asked, and the darkness responded immediately.

“So let us tell you. We said to go this way and that way, and just now we called out for Lucion.”

What a strange answer.

The darkness spoke so proudly that Lucion momentarily speechless.

“I knew there was a darkness that wandered in nature, but I’ve never witnessed it firsthand,” one of the warlocks spoke up.

[That’s true. Even those blessed by the light can hardly see the light that drifts in nature, after all,] Russell added with a nod.

“Up until now, that is. When we attempted to escape, the darkness appeared and showed us the way.”

The mention of an escape attempt surprised Lucion.

It meant there had been no cooperation between Nevast and the warlocks.

‘They really go all out, don’t they?’

Feeling a headache coming on, Lucion let out a short breath.

[Of course. Warlocks voluntarily cooperating with the priests? That’s ridiculous. The world would probably be turned upside down if that were the case.]

Russell scoffed as he looked at the warlocks again. 

Upon closer inspection, they resembled vagrants more than anything else.

Their clothes were new, but their faces were etched with the weariness of a long and difficult escape.

“Were you recruited as warlocks by Nevast, or were you captured?” Lucion asked, and one of them nodded.

“Captured. Yes, that’s correct.”

“Are there many who think like you? The warlocks I’ve seen working under Nevast didn’t seem this way.”

“We are rejected… outcasts. I don’t know who you’ve met, but they are different from us.”

The term ‘rejected’ left a sour taste in Lucion’s mouth, reminding him of his own history. 

Swiftly changing the topic, he asked, “Are there any wounded among you?”

“There are.”

“Then please wait here for a moment.”

Lucion immediately used a communication device to contact Peter.

<Yes, Mr. Hamel.>

“I’m sorry, but I need you to return.”

<What…? Is something wrong? They wouldn’t do that, would they?>

“They have a wounded person. We can’t leave them there all night.”

<Ah. I’m sorry. I should have been more considerate.>

Peter’s voice reflected a sense of guilt, as he had already figured it out.

“No, it’s my fault for instructing you to proceed first for confirmation. Regardless, return and attend to the injured first.”

<Understood. I’ll be there shortly since I’m nearby.>

After hearing Peter’s assurance, Lucion turned his attention back to the warlocks.

The warlock who had been talking to him was looking surprised.

“Anyone who is injured, please don’t hesitate to board the returning wagon.”

“D-Do you really trust us?”

“I don’t trust you. Have you forgotten that this is our first meeting?”

Lucion chuckled softly.

“But can you send us off without any inspection?”

“Are you suggesting we abandon the wounded, especially those you brought here?”

“What… what do you want?”

The warlock looked almost terrified, and Lucion felt oddly uncomfortable.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he had reacted similarly in the past.

“What can you offer? I have a lot of money.”

—That’s right! Ratta knows! If we head to the Luteon Magic Bank, Lucion has a ton of money stored in his vault! Ah… Ratta wants to visit there again. It shines here and there.

Ratta drooled as if food were placed right in front of her.

She didn’t even particularly like wearing jewels, yet she enjoyed moving around them.

It seemed Ratta knew a thing or two.

“…”

The warlock bowed his head and grasped the hem of his clothes.

He appeared to be ashamed of having nothing to offer.

Sensing his humiliation, Lucion spoke with a tone that discouraged further discussion on the matter.

“If you have nothing to offer, then please refrain from speaking. I have high standards and specific preferences.”

If they were just warlocks, he wouldn’t have minded their servility.

But as potential members of an organization, he couldn’t overlook it.

After all, they would soon represent the organization.

[Ugh. Are you satisfied with just a macaroon?]

Russell scoffed, then shifted his gaze at the stare from Bethel.

[…Well, that’s true. You know, don’t you, Bethel?]

[That does concern me a bit. Receiving a macaroon from a stranger isn’t a compelling reason to follow them. It feels like… perhaps he might…? Hmm.]

Bethel’s voice trailed off in contemplation.

[Wow. You’re thinking the same as me, Bethel!]

Hume turned his head away for a moment, desperately trying to hold back a laugh at their conversation.

Even if they didn’t hear him, it didn’t mean he couldn’t hear them.

Lucion was not a child; he wouldn’t blindly follow a stranger.

‘Ah, this is too much. If someone offers me a macaroon, I wouldn’t follow them anywhere; I’d simply accept it and move on, right?’

Lucion was slightly frustrated by their roundabout way of answering his clear question.

“What… what should we do then?”

The warlock’s voice drew Lucion’s attention once more.

They resembled lost children, behaving much like when he first encountered Hume.

Curious, Lucion asked, “Were you raised under Nevast’s control?”

“Yes.”

The warlock bowed his head again.

‘So, those blessed by darkness were oppressed; ultimately, they aimed to cultivate warlocks who would obediently follow their commands.’

Lucion was bewildered.

For warlocks, a place filled with light like Nevast would have been nothing short of a living hell.

[I’m not even surprised anymore. Raising warlocks? Impressive, Nevast. Truly impressive!]

Russell’s voice was filled with astonishment.

Lucion moistened his lips and addressed them.

“Alright. Then it’s simple.”

The warlocks glanced at Lucion once again.

He now understood why they were looking at him with such eyes.

Saved by the darkness.

Guided by darkness to a spot directly in front of them.

Like the priests of Nevast, indoctrinated to believe there was a God of Light, they would believe there was a god.

And they might even think it was him.

“Think for yourselves. Right here. You can at least differentiate between right and wrong, can’t you?”

However, that wasn’t enough.

Having just broken free, the world might appear beautiful to them, but it was also relentlessly harsh.

He, barely capable of looking after himself, couldn’t assume the role of their god.

No, he didn’t desire it either.

“If you want freedom, I’ll give you a stipend. Of course, you’ll have to pay it back later. I’m sure you know how to find me.”

It was nice not to have to provide additional explanations since they were also warlocks.

“If you wish to join the organization, you may do so. But do not betray me. Betrayal will be paid for with death.”

Lucion simply presented them with a significant choice.

“Of course, you don’t have to choose either. But regardless of which path you choose, any action against my organization will not be tolerated. If anyone you faced together along the way dies, I will come for you. No, I will take that death as my own.”

He made sure to raise his tone as he issued the warning.

If those words were all lies.

If there was a traitor from Nevast among them.

His organization would be in danger.

The warlock’s voice rose in response to Lucion’s warning.

“Though we were raised in the light, we swear by the darkness that we will not forget this day’s favor.”

Lucion was puzzled by the oath he had never heard before.

[Lucion, it might be unfamiliar to you, but swearing on darkness is the highest oath a warlock can make.]

Russell pointed to his ear.

[The darkness truly hears everything. Should they violate an oath sworn upon themselves, would not the darkness be displeased?]

“No, it’s not about being displeased; it’s about being deemed unworthy.”

“If you’ve pledged yourself, you shouldn’t lie. That’s a bad deed.”

Darkness whispered with a hint of disgruntlement.

‘Why haven’t they left yet? Usually, by this point, they fade away on their own.’

When Lucion glanced at the darkness, it curled up joyfully, as if delighted. 

“What? Is there something you want to say? Say anything. I’ll listen to anything.”

“Um…”

“It’s Hamel.”

Lucion introduced himself.

“I am… Number 45.”

“…?”

Lucion flinched momentarily.

—Number 45 is just a number, not a name?

Upon hearing Ratta’s innocent voice, Lucion sensed a simmering frustration within him.

He had intended to conclude the conversation today as he was uncertain when he could leave the mansion once more.

[No matter what, this is unacceptable!]

Bethel shouted in frustration.

Even if they were raised under Nevast’s influence, he naively thought they would still live as people.

They hadn’t even received the names they should rightly have as humans.

For the first time, he felt concern for a warlock other than himself.

“Mr. Hamel.”

Hume called out to Lucion.

She had sheathed her greatsword.

Hume himself didn’t have a name at first.

Because he had been called by a number like that, he felt a strong sense of empathy and wanted to say something, but he closed his lips, worried that it might burden Lucion.

“This isn’t going to work.”

Lucion’s voice was firm.

He determined that, regardless of Hume and Bethel’s gazes, dialogue in this situation was impossible.

“Did, did I do something wrong…?”

“No. Let’s start by giving you a name, and then we can converse.”

What kind of deed was this, leaving someone without a name?

Lucion looked to the darkness.

“Can I trust your judgment?”

“Of course!”

“Our eyes don’t make mistakes. They are just pitiful, unfortunate children.”

Darkness strengthened its voice.

Although it pleaded for Lucion to trust them, unease still lingered.

[Darkness doesn’t lie.]

Before Lucion could weigh his organization against them, Russell placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

[The darkness brought them here to help you, so they can’t be bad people.]

Only then did Lucion relax his shoulders and exhale.

To cleanse the Sea of Death, warlocks were necessary.

“Mr. Hamel. I’m back.”

Just then, Peter’s voice made Lucion feel truly relieved.

“Just take them all.”

“Yes. I was anticipating those words.”

“Feed them, give them a nice place to sleep.”

“Of course. We still have plenty of vacant rooms. And if we run out, we can clear out the storerooms. I’m sure Mr. Kran would agree.”

“…Um.”

As Number 45 spoke up, Lucion interrupted him.

“You can decide later. For now, focus on looking after yourselves.”

“I have something important to say. I must say this.”

Number 45 clenched the hem of his clothing and bit his lip, hesitating once again.

“If you choose to join the organization, you will never be abandoned. You won’t be taken advantage of. Most likely, all members will treat you warmly. That’s what Organization Ale stands for.”

Lucion’s mask turned blue.

“That’s right. The purpose of the organization is peace and freedom.”

Peter added on.

Though it wasn’t the true purpose behind the establishment of the organization, Lucion fidgeted with his fingers.

The organization Ale was created solely for himself.

But that wasn’t what mattered right now.

“Do you seek revenge, perhaps?”

At those words, Number 45’s eyes wavered.

“No.”

Number 45 shook his head.

“May I have a private conversation with Mr. Hamel?”

“Alright.”

Lucion nodded, and Peter turned to the rest of the warlocks.

“Everyone can follow me.”

Since Hamel had assured him they were fine, Peter felt more at ease and led the warlocks towards the wagon.

Meanwhile, Lucion walked a bit further into the woods with Number 45.

“Now that we’re far enough away, what is it you wanted to tell me?”

Lucion initiated the conversation.

Number 45 looked genuinely sorry, as if it were a sin to bring up such words.

“There is someone I want you to save. I need to let you know about this, but I don’t know how to tell you.”

“You mean the warlock?”

“No. Apart from us, they have likely either turned into corrupted warlocks or fallen under Nevast’s control.”

[If they resist, they become corrupted warlocks, and if they accept, they become puppets.]

Russell grimaced, as if looking at filth.

“We have been brainwashed since we were children. Because of that, we never thought about escaping Nevast.”

Number 45 seemed to suffer just from recalling that hell, briefly squeezing his eyes shut.

“But we managed to endure.”

Ting.

The red thread tightened.

It was the red thread connected to Troy.

‘Could it be?’

Lucion bit his lip.

“It was because the divine beasts protected us.”

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