Chapter 101

Ortes is an anomaly.

This does not refer to his anomalous status as a member of the magical society. Ortes lacked what is known as mana, which barred him from even entering the privileged world of magic.

Such “mana-impaired” individuals did exist at the very bottom of society, though rarely. While cases like Ortes, with absolutely zero mana, were uncommon, those with extremely low talent, sensitivity, or control over magic—insufficient even for basic spells—were more frequent.

For such societal outcasts, there was the profession of a resolver: the cheapest resource deployed in the most dangerous tasks.

Even among resolvers, Ortes was unusual. Most of his activities took place in the borderlands of other dimensions—a place where no trace of his past could be found.

Those who ventured into these perilous lands as resolvers were typically either gamblers who staked their lives on battles or mercenaries driven by money—or both. There were some who, after enduring various hardships, chose to erase their identities and live quietly in the borderlands where no one would know them. But Ortes’s case was unique.

He seemed to be a man shrouded in mystery, as if no past existed for him, no matter what means were employed to uncover it. This was Ortes’s anomaly.

Many rumors circulated about him: an ancient mage who had drifted in another dimension and returned, an artificial being, or merely a plaything created by a bored wizard.

But none of these rumors ever touched the truth about Ortes. And after word spread that he had taken on a confidential commission, he vanished without a trace.

Thus, the “faceless Ortes” was destined to fade into a common urban legend—a tale told over drinks among resolvers, something like, “There was once someone like that.”

And so it went today too, under the drizzle of chromatic rain falling from the five-colored dark clouds that glimmered with mana.

With the cacophony of raindrops pelting the shore as accompaniment, someone raised a glass, reminiscing about past wounds: “It’s time to let go now.” Someday, all memories would fade, turning into dim recollections easily forgotten like the liquor spilling down his throat.

…That’s what he believed.

“Hey, Cnemon! There you are!”

***

Cnemon was startled. He thought he’d cut all ties and was living quietly in his hometown like a mouse. So why now? Why here?

“Oi, messenger of the faceless Ortes!!”

Lampades’s face crumpled at the title, clearly disliking it.

But what could he do? It was true. Though Lampades had his own agenda and wasn’t a follower of Ortes, he was notorious for trailing wherever Ortes went. He even handled mediation and negotiations with other resolvers on Ortes’s behalf.

On the surface, it seemed like a kind-hearted resolver looking after the aloof Ortes. But Cnemon knew better.

Lampades was undoubtedly Ortes’s top lieutenant. What else could the records of the ruins investigation mean, where only they two survived after Ortes and Lampades were deployed together?

Of course, Cnemon’s assumption was incorrect. Ortes simply preferred delegating negotiations to Lampades since seeing his face drained people, paying him a fee for the trouble.

But this private arrangement was unknown in the resolver community, and Lampades himself had no intention of revealing it.

“Why do you call me that? I’m Ortes’s friend, Cnemon.”

“Huh? Friend?! What—!”

Cnemon’s outburst faltered. Once upon a time, when he thought he and Ortes “clicked,” he truly considered Ortes a friend.

Until he witnessed the unfathomable madness lurking beneath Ortes’s half-closed eyes, Cnemon had genuinely seen him as an unparalleled comrade sharing his ideals…

Sitting down with a bitter laugh, Cnemon spoke.

“So, Lampades. Is your master, Ortes, looking for me?”

“I warned you once about your words. Still fond of playing with fire, huh?”

Lampades flicked his finger. His hair and body bristled as sparks crackled in the air. The antennae-like components attached to his elfin ears adjusted, regulating the current flowing through his body.

From the intensity of the mana emanating from Lampades, Cnemon read his intent—not combat readiness but a threat.

If Lampades had come here to fight, he wouldn’t have wasted time flicking his finger to build up mana; he would’ve immediately cast and launched a spell. Resolvers who survived the frontlines of the other-dimensional borders always possessed such agility.

Cnemon raised his hands. No intention to fight.

“Even if Ortes isn’t your master, it seems he sent you to me. What brings you here?”

Though he asked, Cnemon already had a guess. It must concern the artifact they uncovered during the event that led to their parting ways.

“There’s something Ortes wants from you.”

“Ahh…”

Cnemon sighed. So Ortes had come to reclaim it again.

“Prepared sufficient compensation, they say.”

“There can be no adequate compensation for that thing.”

“I don’t care what it is, nor am I interested. My job is just to bring you to Ortes.”

Cnemon exhaled deeply before speaking.

“Does Ortes even know what artifact he’s asking for?”

“I don’t care what it is. All I know is that I need to bring you before Ortes.”

His resolve was clear. A steadfast determination reminiscent of Ortes in their resolver days. No matter how Cnemon resisted, the will to deliver the artifact to Ortes seemed unshakable.

Yet, there was also hesitation in Lampades, a reluctance typical of those forced to obey orders. He wasn’t following Ortes willingly, which struck Cnemon as surprising, recalling the Lampades of old.

‘Maybe if I tell him the truth, he’ll waver.’

Whether he died resisting or surrendered, it didn’t matter. At least he should speak his mind first.

Cnemon gestured to Lampades.

“Come in, let’s talk.”

Cnemon, raising his hands, showed no signs of activating hidden magic circles or enchanted gear—nothing like the atmosphere he used to carry as a resolver.

Lampades entered cautiously, maintaining his guard.

“Do you know why I parted ways with Ortes?”

“No.”

As Cnemon closed the doors behind Lampades, he began manipulating the breaker panel. Buttons clicked, levers were pulled, and a low hum filled the living room.

The sound of a secret door opening beneath the rug echoed.

“…You sure live complicatedly. Was it really necessary to set up a secret vault like this instead of using magic?”

“It’s visible to the faceless one.”

Lampades didn’t bother asking what exactly was visible. He vaguely knew Ortes’s faintly glowing eyes could detect mana.

‘But to go this far… purely relying on non-magical security measures?’

In the basement, amidst the questions, stood the artifact Cnemon had guarded like his life for years.

“…Is this right?”

But the artifact didn’t seem worthy of Ortes’s desire or Cnemon’s anxiety.

“Am I seeing this correctly?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

A semi-transparent container holding some kind of solution, with a ring-cap attached.

“It’s a bubble-blowing ring.”

‘Did this guy lose his mind?’ Lampades frowned.

Ignoring Lampades’s confusion, Cnemon approached the container carefully and unscrewed the cap with equal caution, extracting the bubble-making ring. Then, with utmost precision, he blew gently into it.

Lampades gasped in shock moments later.

When the fingernail-sized bubble popped, objects in front of it disappeared as well.

A wind swept through the basement. The void left by the erased air caused surrounding air to rush in.

Lampades noticed the stone wall in front of Cnemon was gouged out in a perfect circle—not eroded physically but simply vanished as if sliced away cleanly.

“This… this is a weapon of destruction we found in ruins heavily infiltrated by the other dimension, Lampades.”

“A relic that erases whatever form is reflected in its bubbles?”

Cnemon nodded gravely. After discovering this devastating artifact, Ortes had said something that stuck with him.

When Cnemon rejoiced at finally obtaining the power to topple the magic towers, Ortes had whispered chillingly, “I have no interest in such things.”

Repulsed by the obsession and madness he saw within Ortes, Cnemon abandoned his apocalyptic ambitions.

Lampades involuntarily swallowed hard. If this fell into the hands of the faceless Ortes, what might he do?

What exactly did Ortes intend to erase with this bubble of annihilation?

***

“So, what will you do when our friend Cnemon arrives?”

“First, I’ll hand him a keyboard and ask him to list all the magic towers violating current artifact bans. We’ll figure out how to raid them as we go along.”

It’ll take at least a month to reach Cnemon, surely you’ll think of a couple good plans by then, right? Ortes joked lightly.