Episode 373

I was inside a dark room. The walls seemed to be made of bricks without any special finishing, making it difficult to distinguish whether it was inside or outside the building. If not for the dry air unique to the desert, I might've mistaken this for the inside of a cave.

The only thing that illuminated the dark room was the sunlight coming in through the small window. That ray of light only illuminated the rigid design of the desk and the papers placed on it.

"Your name."

"Luzard."

"Species."

"Lizardman."

"Age."

"Thirteen."

The middle-aged man who was taking notes finally looked at me. He even pushed down the shabby glasses he was wearing.

The average life expectancy of a lizardman was around fifty years old, and they were generally considered adults when they reached the age of ten. In other words, their physical prime age was between ten and twenty-five years old.

The man said, "You are a bit big for a thirteen year old. The color of your scales is also strange."

I said nothing, and he continued, "Well, okay. What is the charge?"

"Insubordinate."

"Who were you insubordinate to that made the prison sentence twelve years? Did you throw dog poop in front of the emperor?"

That wasn't insubordination, you stupid man. Those words filled my heart, but I was currently Luzard. I had to remain silent.

The warden tilted his head in confusion for a moment, but that soon faded from his face. Perhaps his curiosity couldn't overcome his annoyance. He said, "Well, okay. The sponsor is... Bastard? Yes. I guess you won't die in just a few days."

Is this something that should be said to my face? I grumbled inwardly while the guard slammed a stamp onto the papers.

"Next."

Then I was led by another guard to the next room. It was larger than the previous one and even had lighting. However, if I was asked if the atmosphere was good, I could only say no. Dozens of people were standing inside, and the room still wasn't very large. They were like prisoners... No, most of them were prisoners, but some weren't. Standing in front of them were guards with fierce expressions. In the center, a man wearing an eyepatch looked to be the highest-ranking one among them.

"He is the last one. It's okay. Stop. Shut the door. Shut the door, you bastard."

The door was closed at the one-eyed man's command. He looked around and sighed, saying, "Shit... It looks like another monster party. These bastards don't even wash their bodies, so they smell like urine. Isn't that right?"

"That's right," the guard replied.

"Don't be ridiculous. It isn't the smell of urine, but dog poop."

The one-eyed man looked at us and issued a command. "You guys, take off all your clothes. Don't leave even your underwear."

Oh gods, I thought. I was slightly taken aback as I watched the lesser races around me. They were seemingly accustomed to this and started removing their clothes.

I reluctantly took off the carefully matched Luzard outfit and the search was carried out one by one. The labor camp's guards, the men who looked like overseers, thoroughly checked the bodies of the lesser races.

Soon, it was my turn. It turned out to be the one-eyed man searching me. The moment our eyes met, I was inwardly puzzled. He was more skilled than I expected. It was a waste that he was rotting here, managing a labor camp.

Maybe he sensed something as well, as he suddenly looked at me and asked, "You, what were you doing outside?"

"I lived as a mercenary," I answered,

"Mercenary..." the guard muttered to himself before searching me in silence.

It was a tense moment for me. Fortunately, the Linchal mask wasn't discovered. It seemed like the tense search time would end without any accidents.

"Follow orders! Kneel down!" a somewhat nasty voice suddenly called out.

Three guards had gathered. In the center stood a pale-skinned, handsome man. After seeing the guards drawing their weapons, he just smiled and slowly kneeled down. He exuded a strange aura. Looking more closely, the guards around him were also keeping their distance from him.

"It's Berwick."

"The Blood Drinker."

"He just happened to be imprisoned at this time?"

Those with far worse resolve, judging from looks alone, were slowly moving away from him.

At this moment, the one-eyed man said bluntly, "He's fine."

"Huh? But..." a guard protested.

"Forget it, you bastard. He is a talent personally nominated and sent by the Golden Lord. If you mess with him and end up reprimanded, who will take responsibility?"

The guard was speechless. The one-eyed man continued, "Quickly search the others. There is no time."

"I understand."

Berwick stood up, still smiling. He looked at the one-eyed man and said, "I am very obliged, Warden."

"You had better put away your useless mischief. If you keep strutting around like this in the labor camp, you won't last a month," the one-eyed man warned him.

"Ah. I will naturally behave," Berwick replied. Based on the way he was sarcastic to the end, it was clear he wasn't entirely sane.

In any case, this search alone took more than three hours. There were roughly twenty lesser races in the room. Each one was searched for around ten minutes.

After the thorough body search, we were handed apparel resembling metal necklaces that were as thick as handcuffs and told, "Wear it."

The hesitant lesser races were forced to wear the necklaces under threat from the guards.

Click.

The necklace looked thick, but it surprisingly wasn't uncomfortable to wear. In any case, I finished putting it on and the jailer smiled meanly.

"That is your dog collar. It is a magical device specially crafted by a mage tower. If you disobey orders, it will deliver an electric shock. If you try to force it off, it will explode. Even the skull of a giant over ten meters tall wouldn't survive. If you think your head is tougher than that, go ahead and try taking it off."

Aha, I thought. I had wondered how they managed prisoners who were armed with weapons. So it turned out they had this method.

I touched the necklace, thinking, It's pretty well made.

There were no restrictions on the use of internal energy, nor was there a monitoring function. However, each necklace seemed to have some sort of identification code, which meant there had to be a mage within the labor camp managing them.

Okay.It won't be difficult to take it off.

With this setup, it would be possible to suppress it with my internal energy before it exploded, or even if it detonated after removal. That meant there was no need to worry so much.

The body search concluded and we were immediately moved in carriages. They were like livestock carriages, packed so tightly that there was no empty space. There were no lights and no windows. We were in complete darkness, and only rattling sounds could be heard along the way.

"An exile?" the one sitting on my left wondered.

I glanced over and saw it was a fairy. He was the only lesser race among this group of prisoners.

"I heard that once a lizardman is expelled from their tribe, they supposedly carve a pattern somewhere on the body. Usually, it is hidden out of sight, but yours is on your face. I guess your crime must be very serious?"

"I just didn't feel the need to hide it," I answered.

"Aha. I see." The fairy grinned and said, "I am Michael."

The name doesn't suit him at all, I thought as I replied, "Luzard."

"Really? Brother Luzard, what did you do to bring you to this hell?" Michael asked. I stared without replying. Michael said in a playful manner, "Oops. I guess it is my turn to introduce myself first? I, um, am a good thief."

Could good and thievery really exist in the same person? His shameless words made me chuckle.

I didn't know how he interpreted my laughter, but Michael's expression brightened slightly. He continued, "Hasn't Airuga been a bit rough lately? Back in the day, it was easy to escape things by paying a few fines or receiving warnings. Now even small stuff can blow up."

I replied, "That is only the case for lesser races. You are a fairy. There is no way that one of the seven races would be brought to the labor camp just for theft. Tell me the real reason."

"Umm..." Michael looked slightly surprised at my questioning. The look on his face seemed to be asking, "You know that about the lesser races?"

I said, "If you don't want to tell me then it doesn't matter. However, I also have nothing more to add."

"Okay. I understand. Let's be honest with each other. I am guilty of fraud," Michael answered.

"Fraud?"

"Yes. Look at me. I have no talent at all, but my face isn't too bad, right?"

That was true. He was a fairy, after all.

"In the end, people can only use the tools they are born with. It is just like how you use those impressive teeth, claws, and tail of yours."

"Hmm," I muttered. Michael had good eyes. I quietly raised my opinion of him a bit.

"In any case, I used my charm on rich ladies to get some pocket money. I lived like that for a while, but... Dammit, her husband turned out to be a nobleman. Suddenly, I became the trash who took advantage of a married woman. Fuck."

I thought that actually seemed correct, but Michael looked genuinely wronged. He continued, "Now. I've told you all of my trivial circumstances. So what crime did you commit, Brother?"

"Insubordination."

"Insubordination? Against whom?"

"I can't reveal that."

"Wow... How petty." Michael grumbled but no longer seemed to care about it. Instead, he started talking about another topic. "Actually, I was once caught and put in the labor camp thirty years ago. It wasn't a good place back then. I wonder how it has changed now.

"I only have to serve two years. It is just the blink of an eye, so it should pass quickly. Ah. How old am I? I am only one hundred and sixty years old. I am quite young.

"The lady I mentioned earlier, she cried when I got arrested and insisted on giving me a lot of money. Still, she is a noblewoman and must have a lot of money, right? If I get plenty, I'll make sure to look after you too."

It was mostly useless chatter, so I let it enter one ear and out the other. Surprisingly, there were some things worth listening to.

"Did you see that guy called Berwick earlier? Brother, listen to me and don't get involved with him."

When I heard those words, I looked at the fairy and asked, "Why?"

Michael was excited that I was finally reacting and started babbling eagerly. "You don't know? I'm talking about Blood Drinker Berwick!"

"This is my first time hearing of him."

"Hah! This is really big news for you, Brother."

Why does he keep calling me Brother when he's over a hundred years old? I wondered.

He continued, "Berwick is the most notorious killer in Airuga. It turns out that he is a madman who killed forty-seven people. My prediction is that in truth, it must easily exceed one hundred people."

"Why do you think so?" I asked.

"He is a vampire," Michael answered.

As expected, it was like that. I recalled Berwick's features and thought it made sense. The pale skin and slightly visible fangs when he smiled were difficult to interpret as human.

"Do you know what happens when a vampire sucks a person's blood?" Michael asked.

"Their blood will drain quickly," I answered.

"You become the vampire's minion. You lose consciousness and move like a mummy. If you are cut with a silver sword in that state, your whole body will turn to ashes and disappear. That is how Berwick deals with his victims. He leaves no traces behind. There is no doubt that one-third of last year's missing people in Airuga ended up as his meals," Michael whispered quietly, but his pronunciation was clear and the tone easy to listen to. It was almost charming.

I thought to myself that if he hadn't been scamming people, he could've made a living just by telling stories. Still, I wondered why this guy kept pretending to be friendly to me.

At that moment, the carriage stopped and the door to the cargo compartment opened. It was so dark that everyone inside couldn't help frowning at the sudden light that flowed in.

"Come out quickly! You slugs!" a voice called out.

I wondered if they'd stuffed rags into their mouths. The voices of the overseers here seemed to be rough.

I clumsily stepped out of the carriage and the pure white light blinded me for a moment. It must've been really dark inside the carriage. I blinked slowly a few times in order to not irritate my eyes, and my vision quickly returned.

I heard someone suck in a breath. It was an inevitable reaction, because a very large historical site had appeared. It was incredibly massive.

The driver looked like another guard judging by the distinctive uniform. In any case, he pointed to the right and said, "You all go to that building. Ask the director about the work areas, duties, rules, and life here."

I wondered what director he meant. Just then, the guard left and we were left alone in the middle of the ruins.

"Should we head that way first?" Michael muttered under his breath before he started moving in the direction the guard had indicated. We followed him.

The somewhat shabby building looked like it had been renovated from an ancient structure. As we approached it, a male human appeared from inside as if he had been waiting for us. He was with a group of people who looked like his colleagues.

"This time, only monsters have entered," he remarked.

Most of those who appeared in that group were humans, fairies, and dwarves. In short, they were from the seven races.

The man ordered, "You guys, put down your weapons first."

In this unusual labor camp, combat was likely the main task, so most of the prisoners carried weapons. In other words, in this strange place, the only thing that could be called property was the weapons in our hands. Naturally, we were reluctant when given an order to disarm ourselves.

Apart from that, I remembered what the guard had just said. It was to ask the director about the work and the rules.

Is that the director's insignia? I wondered as I glanced at the blue armband on the male human's arm and set down my sword, the Black Dragon Fang.

Seeing this, the other hesitant lesser races slowly followed my lead. Some had no weapons at all. The slaves with no property, the lesser races who could fight without weapons, and non-combatants like Michael were all like that.

"Hmm."

The director scanned the weapons on the ground and his eyes suddenly lit up. He reached out and grabbed a weapon. Coincidentally, it was the Black Dragon Fang. He asked, "Whose weapon is this?"

"It is my weapon," I answered.

"Hoh." The director grinned slyly before suddenly strapping the Black Dragon Fang to his waist and saying, "It is too wasteful for a lesser race to have this weapon. This is mine now. Do you understand, lizard?"

Oh, I thought.