Gluttony Demon King with the Swampman ~A Man with No Magic Power Who Dreamed of Magic, Wielding Knowledge from His Past Life Through Steady Research and Hard Work to Become the Most Vicious Final Boss~ - Chapter 41.2: Trust

Chapter 41.2: Trust

Anyway, we looked where the boy was pointing.

“…Haro.”

“Yeah, probably friends of the debt collectors.”

They were clearly thuggish men.

Trespassing onto the church grounds, they were shouting things like “Come out, you brats!” and “Where did you make Milrow disappear to?!”

It seems even among them, Milrow’s disappearance had become a topic.

“Haro, should I handle it?”

“…What to do.”

I looked at the boy called Raoul.

They still half-doubted us.

Maybe it’s time to earn some trust.

“Raoul, leave it to me. At the very least, I’m on your side.”

“‘Boy’…? You’re younger than me, dude!”

He was right. I forgot.

Laughing to cover it up, I stepped outside the church—

“Foolish God Praise Cthulhu”

—and crushed the intruders as an example.

Ink swelled wildly from my back.

Turned into eight octopus legs, they poured over the men like an avalanche and crushed them in an instant.

“Gih, gyaaaaaaah!?”

“W-what the—!?”

Blocking their limbs, twisting them, hanging them in the air.

The men screamed. I held back to some extent, but one or two bones might still be broken.

“…Haro, do you want to look that good in front of the church kids?”

Noiche tilted her head at me as I mercilessly strung up the intruders and displayed the results like trophies, saying it wasn’t like me.

“Yeah. I really want to be friends with that magic-eye user.”

“…Magical interest?”

“That too. But there’s also a more practical reason… Doesn’t she seem like she could make a really good righteous arm for me?”

Noiche blinked, looked at my missing right arm… and gave a small “indeed” with a little laugh.

Meanwhile, Raoul, sitting on the ground and staring up at us, suddenly came to his senses and shouted.

“O-octopus legs, great octopus from the deep sea… That’s an evil god!”

Yeah, that too.

I had completely forgotten this was a church.

*

At the same time, elsewhere.

This side features Zaria and Egiy.

“Man, sorry for keeping you on the same job for so long, Egiy. But thanks—because of you, I got the best sword ever.”

“N-no, not at all! For me, that was the last job in the workshop too… If you’re satisfied with it, then I’m happy.”

The requested magic sword was finally complete, and the two satisfied companions were walking side by side back to the mansion.

These two get along well.

Egiy still felt a slight distance with the elusive Noiche, but she clicked perfectly with Zaria, who boldly closed any gap.

But on the way home—

They suddenly spotted someone who caught their attention.

A woman passing by.

A beautiful woman around the same age as Zaria, or perhaps slightly older, dressed entirely in gothic black.

And above all, the woman walked with a cane.

Her eyes were covered with black lace cloth, and she tapped the ground with the cane while hurriedly slipping into an alley.

It’s the woman Haro mentioned—Zaria and Egiy realized immediately.

“Z-Zaria-san, that person…”

“Yeah, I know.”

Now, what to do?

Prioritize reporting to the guild, or follow her?

But the option Zaria chose was much more direct.

“Hey, you there with the cane!”

“…!?”

Zaria called out openly, while Egiy looked at her in shock.

The woman in black quietly stopped, then slowly turned toward Zaria.

“…Yes?”

“Oh, good. Seems you can talk, just like I heard.”

The woman tilted her head at Zaria’s attitude.

“I know you’re on guard, but I suck at tricks and deception. So I’ll be straight. You’re the woman called the dollmaker, right?”

“…………”

She didn’t nod.

But the air clearly changed.

She slightly raised the cane that had been touching the ground—

Click—a small sound, and the woman drew something from inside the cane.

“Ah, a hidden weapon…!?”

“Huh. I thought so when I saw the dress, but you’ve got seriously good taste.”

—It was a drawing of the blade.

A so-called sword cane: from the sheath disguised as a cane, she smoothly pulled a long, slender blade.

It’s not hostility or malice, Zaria thought.

This is defense. To her, I’m a terrifying pursuer. Zaria interpreted their positions that way. And then—

“It looks like this whole incident isn’t just about making you the only villain.”

—she realized the woman was not a cruel villain.

“…What do you mean?”

“You drew a sword, right? I don’t know what kind of magic you use, but you chose a blade instead of magic. For a mage, that’s not how you show killing intent.”

Even though the blade was pointed at her, Zaria did not draw her own sword.

Zaria walked forward slowly.

No magic, no sword drawn. Just unarmed, closing the distance.

And then she touched the wrist of the hand holding the sword.

“What’s your name?”

“…I am called Oz. I have no family name.”

Oz, huh, Zaria repeated.

“Oz, it’s okay now. Haro definitely won’t sell you out to the guild.”

“…Who is Haro?”

“My teacher. He’s super cool, so you’ll probably fall for him.”

Whether Zaria was joking or serious was unclear, and Oz relaxed with a dumbfounded sigh.

In any case, Oz seemed to let her guard down a little toward Zaria.

She left her gripped wrist as it was and lowered the sword. Egiy, standing frozen behind them, also breathed a sigh of relief.

Now then, Zaria thought.

Hostility avoided, at least. But at that moment—

“Hey, you girls over there!”

—A man’s voice suddenly echoed through the alley, and Zaria and Oz turned around at the same time.

A beautiful young man with golden hair.

Well-dressed, with an even more refined-looking woman beside him.

“Get away from her! That’s the dollmaker—she’s a minion of the Demon King running rampant in this city!”

At the shouting blond youth, Zaria frowned.

Ah, somehow—I feel like we just ran into a really troublesome guy.