The carriage Cale was riding headed for the old castle.

Clop, clop.

Cale slowly looked around, his gaze taking in the forest stretching along both sides of the road.

Human, I can feel covert gazes from way off in the distance! Three o’clock, seven o’clock!That was Raon, following above the carriage under invisibility.

Cale’s gaze shifted to the person seated right beside him.

Oh.The Ancient Tree let out an admiring sound.

It seems this one noticed too.Cale was not sitting inside the carriage.

Clop, clop.

He had deliberately taken a seat up on the driver’s bench.

The reason was simple.

Sniff, sniff.The sound of the wind, having caught the scent of a divine relic.

The one she had indicated was the blond knight with the dopey smile, the one introduced as a rookie.

When that knight climbed onto the driver’s bench, Cale had taken the seat beside him, saying it felt stuffy inside.

Three o’clock. Seven o’clock.

And now—

the rookie knight was leisurely turning his head.

Human, nine o’clock too!And now nine o’clock.

Each time Raon mentioned another covert gaze trailing them, the rookie knight’s eyes drifted in that direction too.

Casually.

Perfectly naturally.

All while wearing the expression of a harmless newcomer.

He’s pretty good.

The knight sitting beside him had some skill.

Oh.

And then, naturally, he finished by looking at Cale.

“Why are you staring at me so hard?”

The question came with a warm, friendly face.

Cale answered with the same easy friendliness.

“It just seemed strange.”

“Pardon?”

The knight who had introduced himself as Rom. In truth, he was Mol, one of the Demon King’s daggers and the leader of the Third Army. He looked at Cale with a puzzled expression.

This guy looks like an idiot—

This second brother.

He had been smiling so vacantly despite that face of his that Mol had immediately let him sit beside him when he said he wanted the driver’s bench.

Kase. He won’t be easy to deal with.

Terosa had already warned him that Kase, Count Lupe’s blood descendant, would be difficult.

So Mol had figured he could have a little fun through this second brother instead.

Strange?

Who?

Me?

Had this bastard just seen through his act?

A strange heat began to flicker deep in Rom’s eyes.

Then—

“Don’t you think it’s strange too, sir knight?”

At those words from the airheaded second brother, Mol—the man called the Hand Behind the Back—stilled.

He’s not saying I’m strange.

This sharply handsome man with the vacant expression was saying something else was strange.

“What do you mean?”

Mol asked again, still pretending to be the genial knight.

The second brother looked blankly around them and answered.

“The forest is quiet.”

At that, Mol faltered.

This airheaded bastard—

Subtly—

he’s sharp, isn’t he?

The forest was quiet, even though the afternoon sun was still high.

Mol knew exactly why.

There are eyes watching this carriage.

At first, Mol had assumed those watchers had been sent by Young Master Jimon’s side.

After all, this man called Kase riding in the carriage was on his way to force a purchase of Young Master Jimon’s mine.

But if that’s the case, something feels off.

There was a reason Mol had reacted so sharply to the airheaded second brother’s remark.

The watchers are far too skilled.

The forces under Count Lupe’s bloodline would naturally be strong.

Among their vassals there would surely be skilled knights.

But even taking that into account, a few of the watchers were so capable that unless someone was at least at the level of an upper regular soldier of the Third Army, noticing them would have been difficult—and they were only acting as scouts.

Does Young Master Jimon really have forces like that under him?

And on top of that, he was using people of that level as mere watchers?

Suspicious.

He could not shake the sense that something about this was wrong.

And—

This one sitting beside him.

I need to be careful around him.

He had let his guard down because the man looked airheaded.

Yeah.

He knew better than to judge by appearances.

The Hand Behind the Back.

Living up to that name, Mol quickly pulled himself together.

Just then—

“Uh, you know...”

The handsome but airheaded man spoke, shoulders slightly hunched.

“There’s that urban legend going around these days.”

“What?”

This time Mol was genuinely taken aback.

An urban legend?

Was there something like that?

“You don’t know?”

“No. I don’t.”

Mol could see the handsome airhead looking at him with pity.

In a soft, patient voice, as if he truly found it terribly unfortunate, the airhead said,

“Ah. You must do nothing but sword training, so you don’t really know how the world works. Your information is really slow.”

What was this?

Why did that irritate him so much?

Mol could pretend to be a fool or weak as much as he liked for the sake of a target, but somehow the tone of this second brother rubbed him the wrong way.

Then the next words made him stop cold.

“You know. The gray sickness urban legend.”

Human, there’s no such urban legend, is there?Ignoring Raon’s remark with ease, Cale tossed a piece of bait at this enemy whose identity he still did not know.

“When the forest goes quiet, gray sickness comes to the village below it.”

The urban legend had been invented on the spot and flowed from Cale’s lips without hesitation.

“Those who catch gray sickness slowly turn gray all over, their bodies twist into something grotesque, and in the end they die.”

Whoooosh—

A wind blew through the forest and wrapped around Cale and Mol.

Even then, the carriage kept rolling toward the old castle.

And Cale’s voice rode the wind to Mol’s ears.

“No medicine works on it. It brings nothing but death—that’s gray sickness.”

Gulp.

Cale swallowed hard, then shrank in on himself as if frightened and went on.

“That rumor’s been spreading in the south lately. It’s just an urban legend, of course.”

“...There’s a disease like that?”

I never received any report like that.

Mol’s expression stiffened.

“Yes. We heard it in one of the villages we passed through. They said the neighboring village that came down with gray sickness died out almost instantly and turned into an empty village.”

An entire village had died and been left empty.

At that, Mol flinched for a moment.

Was that the Demon King’s army?

Hadn’t several villages been wiped out by other parts of the Demon King’s army, including the missing Baron Deshuran of the Sixth Army, while they searched for sacrifices for experiments?

But rumors of that had never spread.

Security had been that tight.

Gray sickness?

And yet this so-called gray sickness sounded different from something done by the Demon King’s army.

Is it real?

Could that urban legend actually be true?

At the very least, this airheaded guy has no reason to lie to me about it.

At least the part about hearing the rumor seemed genuine.

“So now, when a forest gets this quiet, it makes me nervous. I keep thinking maybe I’ll catch gray sickness.”

The second brother shuddered as he said it, then suddenly let out an “ah,” as if remembering something.

“And apparently, people saw mysterious strangers entering one of the villages that vanished because of gray sickness.”

“...Really?”

“Yes!”

“And who were they?”

Mol leaned in to listen as the second brother, seemingly delighted by his interest, continued eagerly.

“They say a hunter from the village happened to see them in the forest. He said they were knights wearing gray robes that covered their bodies.”

Mol thought,

That’s awfully specific for an urban legend.

Knights in gray robes.

A disease with a specific color in its name—gray sickness.

...Their bodies turn gray and become grotesque?

And on top of that, knights in gray robes were moving around, but instead of killing with swords, they spread disease through a village?

It was a truly strange urban legend.

So why—

This feels bad.

The sour unease in Mol’s chest only deepened.

What am I missing?

He began retracing his memories.

“Anyway, because of that story, even gray smoke scares me these days. I mean, our great mana is gray too, but still, hearing about your body turning gray and grotesque...”

The airheaded second brother’s words drifted into his ear.

“This is the first time gray has felt like that to me. Same for you, right, sir knight? Gray’s the symbol of the Demon World, but for it to be used like that—”

“Ah!”

At last, Mol remembered.

Gray.

Not the gray of the Demon World’s mana, but another gray.

And that was something only he could know because he was the leader of the Third Army.

Baron Deshuran!

Baron Deshuran, leader of the Sixth Army, who had gone missing.

One of his surviving soldiers had returned and mentioned an organization called “Dark.”

That group had been described as a secret force of the God of Chaos.

And the God of Chaos is—

Gray.

Gray sickness.

Then if that disease matched what he was now thinking—

It’s the work of the Order of the God of Chaos!

The Order of the God of Chaos, the hunter families, and the Demon King.

As one of the top commanders, Mol naturally knew those three forces had joined hands.

So they really—

And fire flared in Mol’s eyes.

Those bastards from the Order of the God of Chaos are really polluting the Demon World?

The instant anger surged—

“U-uh—sir knight!”

The second brother beside him slapped a hand onto his shoulder.

Mol’s brow twisted.

Then—

“The carriage!”

That cry snapped him back to himself.

For a moment, his anger had surged and he had yanked too hard on the reins.

“Ah, I’m sorry!”

Mol returned to his role at once.

He opened the little window behind the driver’s bench, apologized to the people inside as well, then turned back to Cale and offered an apologetic explanation.

“I became a knight to protect the Demon World, so hearing something like that happened made me angry for a moment.”

“Ah, right, right. That makes sense.”

The second brother nodded hard with a frightened face.

Only then did Mol calm himself.

Looking at this airheaded face really is soothing.

He murmured to the second brother,

“What a bizarre urban legend.”

“Yeah. Anyway, passing through a quiet forest like this, just like in that story, kind of freaked me out. Ha ha.”

Mol looked at the second brother, who laughed awkwardly while watching his reaction, and then felt a strange sense of déjà vu at those words.

...A quiet forest, just like in the urban legend?

Right.

This forest was quiet too.

And the watchers observing this place were far too strong to belong to Young Master Jimon’s faction alone.

Mol had concealed the fact that he had noticed those eyes, but the relentless attention still left a bad taste in his mouth.

This—

But the thoughts filling his mind now made that discomfort irrelevant.

Could it be—

A thought he could not quite bring himself to say aloud.

Is the Order of the God of Chaos on Young Master Jimon’s side?

Come to think of it, he had recently heard that the hunter bastards and the Order of the God of Chaos had clashed in New World.

From what I heard, the Order of the God of Chaos betrayed them—

Mol, an expert in betrayal, had remembered that detail precisely because of the word.

Could those bastards really be reaching into the Demon World too?

Surely they weren’t trying to stab us in the back?

Mol’s eyes cooled.

Clop.

Clop.

The carriage was drawing closer and closer to the old castle.

Mol stared at it and thought,

No one knows this face of mine.

The face he wore now was a disguise.

The Hand Behind the Back.

His skill with disguises had played no small part in earning him that title.

I’ll slip in and dig up some information.

At first he had come along because Count Lupe’s secret vault sounded interesting.

But now something much bigger was waiting in front of him.

If I find a lackey of the Order of the God of Chaos inside that old castle, then we can use that and stab them in the back first.

A pleasurable thrill, tight with tension, spread through Mol’s whole body.

Without realizing it, he wet his lips with his tongue and smiled.

“......”

And Cale watched him.

Mol was still acting like a rookie knight, but for some reason there ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ was now a dangerous aura coming off him.

Cale.The Ancient Tree spoke softly.

The best battle is one where the enemies end up fighting each other.Clop.

The carriage arrived at the old castle.

Someone was already outside waiting for them.

“I am Hitelis, the head steward.” 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

A woman bowed her head and greeted them.

Sniff!The sound of the wind reacted at once.

I smell a divine relic! This is the scent of a divine relic from the Order of the God of Chaos!Cale’s eyes flashed.

Human, that head steward looks really strong! Around rookie-knight level!Once Raon helpfully supplied his scale of strength, Cale had to fight to keep the corners of his mouth from rising.

“A pleasure to meet you! I’m Rom, a knight from the lord’s castle!”

And the Hand Behind the Back, Mol—the leader of the Third Army—understood the moment he saw Head Steward Hitelis.

She’s strong.

Very strong.

He could see no opening.

That bastard Jimon really has joined hands with someone.

Whether it was the Order of the God of Chaos or not, that would need confirming.

Mol’s gaze settled into calm.

“Welcome. From here on, I will be your guide.”

And Head Steward Hitelis—

the moment she saw Mol, she understood.

The Demon King’s side sent a strong one.

The man before her was strong.

There was something in that flawless posture.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

She recalled the Pope’s orders, burned into her mind.

After Young Master Jimon had run back in a panic, making all kinds of noise about Terosa sending people—

the Pope had commanded her.

Hitelis.

She had dropped from the ceiling and bowed before him.

Then he had said,

The Demon King’s side will come snooping around over the mine, so deal with them properly. And—

Hitelis, the Pope’s shadow, had always hidden her appearance beneath layers of gray bandages.

It was for moments like this.

To reveal herself.

And—

if they become a nuisance, kill them.

When it was time to kill an enemy.

“......”

“......”

Mol and Hitelis.

The leader of the Demon King’s Third Army and the Order of the God of Chaos.

The Hand Behind the Back, master of the backstab, and the Pope’s shadow, who had done every sort of dirty work in his service.

For a few brief seconds, the two measured each other.

Human, nobody’s looking at you!Cale stood there blankly, savoring the sight.

Ah.

A situation where things were resolving themselves even without anyone paying attention to him!

Wasn’t this what being a slacker was all about?

...I don’t think that’s what slacker means.He ignored the Ancient Tree’s words with ease.

He was in too good a mood.