The smoke and the bloodied corpses enticed a murder of crows.
"Hush, leave 'em be," Konrad drove them back, his patience thin. "And you too, Nimrod."
His twin was playing the role of a shameless grave robber, though they hadn't buried them yet.
"You've a fancy adamantite sword, but we—less privileged—have to take anything to fight the Church." Nimrod shot back, as if he wasn't the most entitled bastard he had met in this world.
But, well, he was right.
Those fallen soldiers wore some fine armor. Letting them rust away would have been a waste, but desecrating the corpses? He didn't want the tribes to end up like the Rabid Crows.
They weren't bandits anymore. Not if he had a say in it.
"At least wait until we wrap things up," Konrad sighed in the end. "You'd give away our position. And give the dead some respect—they can no longer harm us, so don't be like they were."
The first reaction was a wide eye-roll.
"Fine, we'll give them a proper burial. Don't worry," Nimrod folded.
Well, that was too easy.
When everyone was there to witness their banter, his twin acted more reasonable.
A surprise to be sure, but a welcome one.
He wasn't as hopeless as he had first thought. Bringing him back to the right path—what the hell did the spirits mean by that?—didn't seem impossible now.
But he could only hope that he'd stay quiet, because he still had no control over sounds.
How much time had he wasted on tribe politics instead of actually getting stronger? On learning spells, or swinging his sword—well, he got that part right now at least.
But he had so many more things to do.
To achieve control over his life, he desired. But he couldn't lament on it—something was coming from the mines.
About time. He couldn't help but wonder how deep that thing had to go.
Or how many poor souls must they have forced to work in the depths against their will?
The guards didn't hurry to form a response, a dozen of them emerging at last.
When they noticed the earlier bloodbath, they all paled, though.
"Y-you'll pay for this, bastard," the first one exclaimed. "Nobody messes with the Inquisition."
And Konrad was trying to give them the respect they deserved.
What a bunch of generic bad guys—he suppressed a yawn as the rest of them closed in. They brandished spears and shields and seemed seasoned, too.
Things were getting serious, but it was too little, too late.
"From where I stand, it seems like you are the ones who messed with me," he said. "I'm Konrad Halstadt, and by the king's decree, this mine belongs to me—as it was my father's before me."
"Who cares who your father was?" one guard scoffed. "Coming here was your last mistake."
At least, Konrad wasn't the only one who knew nothing about his family.
Or their history. Learning about it was on his list, but at the very bottom—way after learning new spells or taking Halaima. Not to mention that Maou Midori thing—
He had his hands full. And he could've wiped these guys off the map with a single fireball.
But where was the fun in that?
"Out of courtesy, I'll offer you a chance to surrender," Konrad said, standing firm. "In case you don't want to end up like those poor souls. I'm already more reasonable than the Church."
He didn't even pull his blade out, focusing on his illusions instead.
As a nice side effect, he didn't feel stage fright while he had to divide his attention like that.
Small graces—or could he have gotten used to talking in front of hundreds by now?
"Surrender?" the thug in the middle scoffed.
Well, not everyone appreciated his charisma yet.
That one's armor was cleaner than the rest, but he was too cocky to be a newbie.
He had to be their leader.
"I don't know what you pulled on our comrades, but it won't work on us. We outnumber you twelve to one, and we came prepared."
So they thought he used a trick to defeat the other six? That was cute.
Not that he didn't—but the one he prepared for them was of a much larger scale.
Why did they have to play the tough, though? Their boss wasn't there to witness it.
And, well, that confidence wasn't that convincing when the tips of their spears shook.
At the end of the day, these were ordinary humans, too. They saw the corpses of their decimated pals, and they got scared. Konrad pitied them.
That might've been the reason why he didn't kill Stella earlier as well.
Despite the torture, despite everything. It was Otto's fault that everyone ended up this way.
That man had to pay—but the rest?
"If it's a numbers game, how about a hundred of me?" he sighed, dropping the illusion behind him. Nimrod and a third of their troops stood there the entire time. "Or two hundred?"
He snapped a finger, pointing at the mine's entrance.
While they had a nice little chat, Vargas and another hundred blocked the guards' escape route.
Konrad didn't leave anything up to chance.
He knew they wouldn't come out if they saw an army. But actually having one might've helped him to prevent a bloodbath. Except—
The thugs changed their formation immediately.
They were well-trained, adapting by instinct. Konrad had to give that much credit.
But they were also scared shitless, and one of them already dropped his spear. It didn't seem like he wanted to surrender, but his nerves must have won over his muscle memories.
"Can we kill them now?" Nimrod asked, impatient. "You gave them a chance, they refused—"
"Give them a moment," Konrad smirked, playing the good cop again. "So, are you convinced?"
The leader spat—looking the angriest of them all—but he threw his weapon and shield away.
His twin seemed disappointed, but this only confirmed what Konrad had thought.
They were humans, too, and smart enough to know when to give up.
"Now, you can disarm them," he nodded at Nimrod, then waved Vargas closer. "Question them about where the rest is, dig the graves, and give me the Blood Moon contingent."
"You still want to go in?" The captain raised an eyebrow, running a quick count on the soldiers.
"Don't bother, it's only eighteen of 'em," Konrad noted. "If the scouts were right, there are two more down there—or who knows? I promised Bor a smooth way out—"
"Yes, get inside," the thug leader spat. "If you don't want to see the sun ever again."
Konrad froze. Was that some half-assed scare tactic?
"Is there more of you down there?" he asked, facing the soldier as the tribesmen disarmed him.
"There were—but they no longer breathe," the Church thug gritted his teeth. "I don't know what you hoped for when you wanted to retake the mines, but you won't see salt out of it."
It wasn't like Konrad came for the mine itself.
He wanted to harm Otto's business in any way he could.
"Why the guard if the mines are no longer functional?" He called it a bluff. "And the captives?"
The soldier shivered, as if he remembered something more terrifying than Konrad was.
"The depth took them—and the rest of us, too."