I’m Quitting Everything and Selling Cola

Chapter 131

Chapter 131. Is This a Dream……? (2)

"Gravity Element."

Tremendous Magic Power erupted outward.

Black particles scattered from the tips of Jurgen's fingers. Lighter and finer than dust, yet countless in number.

Sensing the danger, Gilbert swiftly stepped back. But just as swiftly as they had appeared—The black particles vanished without a trace.

"……?"

Gilbert, who had braced himself to the hilt, tilted his head.

Unlike Penelope, Gilbert was no die-hard fan of Hanbin's, and so he did not know. That Material Creation, Gravity Element was something of a signature technique belonging to Hanbin Ainsworth.

Yet the danger-sensing ability of Gilbert—in whose body the Hell Gate was embedded—was razor-sharp.

A gut feeling that he couldn't afford to give more time.

"Kill them! Kill them all! Tear them apart!"

With a survival instinct rivalling that of a beast, Gilbert issued his command to the Hungry Ghost legion.

The Hungry Ghosts, who had been unable to stir so much as an inch despite a tantalising buffet laid out right before them, all leapt into the reception room at once.

Vivian, unconscious and pinned to the wall. Penelope, collapsed with her Palette shattered. And Jurgen, standing there with a single finger raised.

—Screeeek! —Screeeeeek!

Baring teeth like iron bars, scrabbling across the ceiling and walls—anywhere there was space to plant a foot—the sound of their voices as they came charging in was a terrifying sight, as though the Hungry Ghost realm had erupted into the mortal world.

In the midst of it all.

"Quiet."

Jurgen slowly drew his fingertip downward. A fluid gesture that did not lose a single shred of dignity.

That alone.

The surround-sound of predators pressing in from every direction without gap—silenced, as though muted.

"What are you all doing?! Attack! I said attack……!"

Gilbert, who had been screaming himself hoarse, looked around in blank stupefaction. The Hungry Ghosts had vanished, as though someone had spliced the film reel in the wrong order mid-screening.

No. They hadn't vanished.

Penelope had seen it. The moment the creatures that had been lunging toward their prey were crushed—like insects ground underfoot by an invisible sole.

Wherever the famished ghosts disappeared, crimson pools blossomed in their wake. The reception room was left in silence, without so much as a single scream.

"Ha, still, you did have an ace up your sleeve?"

"The world has to be a bit rough."

Gilbert suppressed the dread welling up from the pit of his stomach and carried himself with composure.

Those Hungry Ghost things? They could sniff well enough, but they were a worthless lot. There'd be some difference in time, perhaps, but even if Gilbert had dealt with them himself, he could have slaughtered them without much difficulty.

"You cleaned up some paltry trash—does that make you think you've gotten stronger?"

He drew on his Magic Power, and his Battle Aura, Indestructible, activated. The force that made his entire body harder than any armour in existence.

Confidence surged within him.

Nothing whatsoever to be cowed by.

This powerful, overwhelming strength! The strength that had felled in an instant even Vivian, his lifelong nemesis and rival. Right now, he felt he could take a siege cannon head-on with his bare body.

Even if the opponent possessed abnormal power—he was an alchemist. And let it be said once more: at this distance, the advantage lay with the knight.

"I am Gilbert Thornton!"

Gilbert's body moved with unnatural speed, as though a video were being played back at several times its normal rate.

Dynamic vision and motor capability capable of splitting a single second into a hundred slices. This was the power of one who had surpassed the 6th Rank and seized greatness in their hands.

Before anyone could even register it, Gilbert was about to blow the head off that insolent commoner—and then he felt a shudder run the length of his spine. It wasn't the elation that power brought, nor self-intoxication.

It was because something that could not possibly have happened, had happened.

His eyes had met the commoner's. In time flowing by in sluggish slow motion, a pair of indifferent black eyes were mirroring Gilbert's every movement without missing a single one.

"……!"

Gilbert abandoned his attack and clung to a corner of the ceiling in a slithering retreat. The image of a great spider seized by fright, fleeing for its life.

"Hah……hah……hah……!"

Every muscle in his body, every last strand of hair standing on end, every pulsing cell—all screamed with full force. Run.That commoner is not something Gilbert Thornton can handle.

"You, you……just what the hell are you?! What are you?!!!!"

It couldn't be. That he, having attained such power, could be overwhelmed by anyone.

'What am I looking at right now?'

Penelope was taking it all in with her own eyes, her mouth hanging open. It was the sensation of her brain failing entirely to keep up with the situation.

A quick summary. The attack by Viscount Thornton, a secret agent of the End Order who had colluded with a dark mage. Vivian taken down, Penelope rendered helpless as well, even Jurgen driven to the brink of crisis.

But then—surprise! Jurgen was actually Hanbin Ainsworth!

The rainbow-hued cube-shaped Alchemy Catalyst was Dice, Hanbin Ainsworth's unique personal catalyst. And the manipulation of gravity by scattering black particles was his signature technique, Material Creation—Gravity Element, so there was no mistaking it.

In truth, Hanbin had been concealing his identity and making Cola, Chicken, and Braised Ribs with Penelope at the Y&P Trading Company—and at the moment of crisis, he had revealed himself and routed the Hungry Ghosts in one sweep! And now he was even driving Gilbert into a corner.

"Mm."

Penelope pinched the flesh under her armpit. That was originally where you pinched to wake someone who had fainted. It would surely work just as well for someone having an absurd dream and needing to come to their senses.

"……!!!"

It hurt enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"……Pardon?"

"It'll be over shortly, so wait there."

"Y-yes……"

Penelope startled and looked back at Jurgen. Without even realising it, she had answered in formal speech.

That sight, for some reason, stoked Gilbert's fury. In any place and any situation, the one who commanded attention and stood as the protagonist was supposed to be himself. Yet that man was treating him—someone who ought to be looked up to—as though he were a pebble by the roadside, idly exchanging words with Penelope without a care in the world.

"……Commoner. I will never forgive you."

Dark, festering rage makes one forget fear. Gilbert dropped lightly to the floor and converted that force entirely into a leap.

His wretched, twisted frame became a black line and charged forward.

He only needed to close the distance once. Kill that commoner, confirm his own superiority, and claim the two beautiful flowers present here for himself.

"We do have quite a bit in common in that regard."

The tip of Jurgen's finger turned downward once more.

"Because I have no intention of forgiving you either."

Gilbert's eyes went wide.

'I'll dodge it. Even if I can't dodge it, I'll endure it. I am Gilbert Thornton of the Thornton Viscount Family, the most superior and greatest male in all the world……'

Cr-crack.

A sound of dry twigs snapping—the bones of his entire body, crunching all at once. That was the last sound Gilbert Thornton would ever hear.

His body, crushed under a weight against which he could neither resist nor protest, traced the path he had charged along—and was painted across the floor as a long, red smear.

***

"Lady Penelope, my heartfelt thanks for your valiant efforts today."

Vivian Ashford bowed deeply before Penelope. To bend close to ninety degrees in the presence of others, lowering her head with it.

This was the highest expression of gratitude and regard a noble could show.

Viscount Thornton, a secret agent of the End Order who had attacked the charity event. Thanks to his wicked and cruel scheme, a catastrophe had very nearly unfolded. The one who had prevented it was Penelope—representative of the Y&P Trading Company and second daughter of the Rosemore family.

She had performed heroically, saving Vivian and the honoured guests, and had succeeded in defeating Viscount Thornton, who had been extending his evil reach.

"Please raise your head, Lady Vivian."

"No, no number of bows could suffice to express my gratitude. If I had my way, I would kiss the top of your feet."

"Ah, that I would find a little……"

The reason Vivian was being this deferential was because Penelope had delivered an extraordinary performance.

Had it not been for her efforts, Vivian would have been a dead woman. The safety of the honoured guests could not have been guaranteed either, and perhaps Gilbert, once done with his 'hunt,' might have extended his malicious reach to the other guests lodged throughout the manor.

That would have been directly linked to a devastating loss of honour for the Ashford family.

"Though we must part like this today, the next time we meet, I shall show you the proper courtesy befitting a saviour of my life."

"Yes, I shall look forward to it."

"You truly may. Oh, and Jurgen? The front gate of the Ashford Marquisate is always wide open. Please do not hesitate to visit."

Vivian added a word to Serena and Jurgen as well, personally closing the door of the limousine for them.

Through the window, her retreating footsteps looked hurried.

Well, that much was understandable. Even setting aside the mildly smoothed-over aftermath—it had been an attack by a dark mage. The charity event had been suspended, and the Northern nobles, now aware of the gravity of the situation, had moved to devise their own countermeasures. Vivian had said something light like 'let's meet again soon,' but realistically, it would likely be months before they could see her face again.

The limousine glided smoothly along the road.

A defining feature of the Y&P Trading Company. Its members had always been on good terms regardless of social standing, yet……

"……"

"……"

"……"

Today, an awkward tension hung in the air.

Jurgen kept clearing his throat repeatedly, Penelope was staring fixedly at the tips of her shoes, and Serena was watching the two of them in silence, keeping her lips firmly sealed. It was a hellish awkwardness.

***

Dark magic is a flower that blooms nourished by the darkest desires lurking in the deepest abyss of the human soul.

That its strength erodes the soul of its user is a matter of course—the more powerful it grows. Moral values become clouded, and reason is consumed by madness.

And yet the fact that the End Order had persisted through a millennium of persecution gives rise to one paradoxical question.

How could madmen who pursue destruction build an organisation that has maintained its lineage for so long?

The answer is simple. It is because the leadership of the End Order controls that very madness to perfection. They surrender themselves to madness whilst never losing sight of their religious cause.

And so Viscount Thornton, whom they had cast into the Ashford Marquisate, was not a blunder, nor a meaningless expenditure of a fairly valuable card.

The End Order had recently prepared several 'grand schemes' in the North, and had met with unexpected failure at every turn.

The disappearance of Order personnel they had stationed alongside outlaws in the Demon Realm. The failed capture of the loathed 'Witch,' Isolde Blackwood. The latter, moreover, had not been suffered by some rabble—it had been Archbishop Hamel himself, specially dispatched, who had been thwarted.

For the Order, already struggling with a shortage of capable people, it was a bitter loss.

Using existing nobles they had won over and their internal intelligence network, the Order moved swiftly to narrow down the suspects, and at last succeeded in filtering out a prime candidate.

And then they cast Viscount Gilbert Thornton as bait.

"……Ahh."

Petsy was cradling a crystal orb. The footage she had rewound and played back time and again captured—from Gilbert's point of view—the figure of one man. Eyes full of yearning and enchantment traced his every single movement in a clinging, viscous gaze.

A bowing devotee asked.

"Cardinal Petsy, what are the results of the investigation?"

"At last, at last we meet again. Hanbin."

Wearing a smile that brimmed with contentment, Cardinal Petsy replied.