Mr Devourer, Please Act Like a Final Boss

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Chapter 15

“You are even mocking me!”

Unable to contain his anger, Count Ettark threw the document forcefully, but even the paper seemed to mock him as it fluttered weakly to the ground. He vented his frustration by kicking the paper with his shoe, letting out a stream of curses.

All the refined demeanor seen throughout his life seemed nothing but a facade as harsh words poured out, lacking any hint of noble dignity.

Though pushed to the far-off village of Hastin amidst factional strife, he was still a Count, no matter how rotten he was.

Despite the looming danger akin to the ancient center, Hastin was a functional territory.

“…Explain.”

Glaring at the servant with bloodshot eyes, the Lord of Hastin, Count Ettark, intimidated the maid who cowered on the ground, her hands worn out from begging. Even that seemed to fuel his derision, prompting the Count, who had been pacing, to draw the sword resting on the ornate stand. The room filled with the sound of terrified sobs.

“Explain! I demand an explanation!!”

He brandished the sword as if about to strike at any moment. Count Ettark’s hand trembled, unable to focus even his gaze due to his anger.

It took a significant pause for some semblance of composure to return. As the maid’s whimpering ceased, the Count, who had been bristling with anger, managed to regain control.

“No… I need to think calmly. This isn’t the maid’s fault.”

As if dispelling his rage, he threw the sword aside, clattering loudly on the floor. Watching the fleeing maid, terrified and muffled, the Count, who had momentarily prevailed, picked up the crumpled paper again. He re-read the notification of the dungeon conquest, like confirming an execution order.

A blatant notice.

It wasn’t seeking permission but a unilateral notice.

For dungeons estimated at B-rank or higher, approval from the local lord must be obtained before entering. This was because failures in dungeon conquest often led to monsters spilling into human settlements, causing havoc. Assessing the potential success of a conquest team was a crucial duty for the lord, as incorrect judgments could directly result in territorial loss. Therefore, the judgment on entering a dungeon was an indicator of the lord’s capabilities. And unless the royal family intervened, no one could overlook this unique authority.

Within the territory, the power of a lord was almost comparable to that of an emperor, perhaps with a bit of exaggeration. Hastin was no exception. Even though pushed to such an obscure place, Ettark was law, the justice of Hastin.

Sending such a unilateral notice, especially with the scheduled conquest date being two days away, was a direct challenge to his authority.

Ettark clenched his teeth. ‘The Third Eye.’ Those damn Imperial-affiliated bureaucrats. He had been pushed away due to factional feuds, and he had no intention of getting involved with the royalty. Furthermore, the backers behind the notice were linked to Paimour Du Bellay, a reputed major investor.

This reeked without even needing a royal seal. Aside from the wax seal not bearing the imperial emblem, it was essentially a royal decree. There was no way to refuse it. Coming in the form of a notification was an implicit threat to heed their commands.

“This… is unbelievable…”

Not only the investors and the expedition force but also the lord would suffer losses if the expedition failed. It was a perennial method of subjugating nobles by nobles. It was also a legal method. Labeling it a fault due to unclear judgment, they could attach any blame they wanted.

“Do you think this expedition force can conquer the Primordial Core?”

After barely calming his excitement, the Count asked the servant again. The servant shook their head.

Ettark thought the same. Most likely, everyone else thought the same. It was too ambiguous. He had considered the involvement of the royal family in a re-conquest, considering the death of the warrior Vern, but this was too inadequate. The figure mentioned as the Raid Force Leader, Niphrim, was an unknown individual.

What were they thinking? Were they even burying themselves along with their own reputation?

No, it couldn’t be. The Count sighed softly. He was already a fallen entity. With his position unable to be restored, it wouldn’t even be worth sacrificing dozens of expedition members for retribution.

…Regardless of the truth, one thing was certain: it was dangerous.

“We have to stop this, somehow.”

It wasn’t merely a reprimand. Touching even slightly on the ancient center could escalate matters unpredictably. Though no significant issues had occurred in the past half-century, history revealed instances of unprecedented chaos caused by movements in the Primordial Core.

The Primordial Core itself was a disaster.

Think. The Count rubbed his temples. Think, think of a solution. Even if it was a reckless attempt, if the conquest of the ancient center was already completed, that would solve it. A few regulations could be overlooked. Once the ancient cave was conquered, no one could be held accountable.

Yes, this was it. ‘Inevitably,’ they couldn’t proceed to the Primordial Core. With this conclusion in mind, the Count pondered the next issue.

So, how should the expedition to conquer that Primordial Core be assembled?

“It might exist surprisingly close by.”

The old servant, who had spent half a lifetime with him, quietly uttered, as if reading the Count’s thoughts. Understanding the meaning of those words, Count Ettark remembered the ‘Wing,’ the mage tower guild. It would have to perform as well as a B-rank expedition team.

Although the ‘Wing’ had struggled to conquer the former B-rank dungeon, Tetarinde Sanctuary, the current ‘Wing’ might make it possible. The mage tower had conquered over six B-rank dungeons in just a few days. Based on their visible progress alone, they were more than capable of matching the skill of an A-rank expedition team.

Moreover, the reason for such drastic improvement was attributed to superior-rank mana stones of unknown origin, a secret that the Count was aware of.

Challenging The Seven Great Evil Dungeons with just an A-rank capable team was undoubtedly insane. But the Primordial Core might not be in a normal state. If the news the Count had heard was accurate, the only creature remaining in the sewage path to the right of the gatekeeper road was Devourer, who fought Vern’s expedition team. It was possible, quite possible.

“The mage tower guild, Wing. Send someone there immediately! If we leave such unheard-of fellows to proceed to the ancient center, it’s the end of my life. I heard news of the conquest reaching the Gatekeeper, so I’ll promise you a large amount of money and great honor in the name of the lord, so I ask you to somehow attack the Primordial Core! Beg them! Somehow! Anyhow….”

However, the Count’s outburst stopped there. It caught his attention that another maid, who had been there for who knows how long, was visibly uneasy near the door.

When the Count glared at the maid with an irritated look, she nervously spoke, “G-Guests have arrived,” before bowing exaggeratedly.

“Guests?”

The expression of displeasure and disdain on the Count’s face became even more evident. It seemed like his patience was wearing thin.

‘How much disrespect can I endure from everyone? From the sudden notification to these unexpected visitors…!’

“Are you the Count here?”

A foreign voice interrupted the Count’s thoughts.

Beyond the maid, a blond man appeared, followed by a group of people.

This was undoubtedly the Count’s castle, and this room should have been the Count’s private chamber. It wasn’t a place where anyone could enter without permission.

“Where do you think you are…?”

But the Count couldn’t say anything more. The leader, the blond man, was looking elsewhere as he spoke.

“You must be the Count, right?”

The intruders were dressed in a way that made it clear who they were. The confident expression on the leader’s face was an added bonus.

Although the blond man started to speak, his attention was directed elsewhere.

“Sylvia, you gluttonous human mongrel who sold your soul for the sin of gluttony. Must you seek such things even in a place like this?”

“Fool, it’s because it’s a place like this that you should try such things! And don’t speak ill of a lady!”

“Oh well, you’re right.”

Completely ignoring the Count.

Facing such blatant disregard within his own domain, the Count’s gaze was buried in the commotion. Even his reproachful glances were lost in the noise. The maid’s footsteps echoed as she retreated, breaking a teacup in the process.

“What is happening…?”

“Simply put, we’ve come to clear the Primordial Core.”

The vibrant voice echoed in the Count’s mind.

“Well, well. I just wanted to provide some accommodation for a few days unless there’s something urgent. We were planning to leave right after visiting ‘Wing.’”

“The Wing? What… What is the purpose of going there?”

“To kill them all.”

At the sudden statement, the Count’s face stiffened. In the distance, the sound of a maid breaking another cup could be heard.

“What… What nonsense is this…?”

“If you’re wondering, we came all the way here for one dungeon. ‘Primordial Core,’ as stated in the documents you received.”

“Th-the dungeon…?”

“Exactly. We were about to leave for it right away. However, we got a new schedule, so we might have to go tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Why, a schedule? What do you mean? And two days, isn’t that too impatient? It would be fine to recover your strength thoroughly before going, especially for such a momentous task.”

“Oh no, is it? We heard the schedule changed while coming here. Using magic to eavesdrop was quite easy with such lax security. I heard everything. You plan to entrust the mission to ‘Wing,’ right?”

The Count’s face became rigid. Even his attempts to regain control seemed futile.

“Well… If you must know, we’re here to eliminate any hindrance. After all, the stronger force will ultimately challenge the Primordial Core. So, if we survive, you won’t have to worry, Count. Isn’t that right, Count?” Niphrim asked.

The Count, after a moment of silence, muttered.

“…Pardon my outspokenness.”

“Kahaha, thanks to the Count’s kindness, I can’t decide whether I should be grateful or not.”

Satisfied with the humble response, Niphrim reached for the remaining half of the snack.

Crunch!

Even the sound of the snack being chewed felt unusually sharp.

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