How to Survive as a Dungeon Manager in Another World

37 – The Baegmo Clan (3)

From behind the thick curtain of kicked-up dust, I whipped my head back and forth, surveying the surroundings.

The hastily deployed veil of time, as expected, brought every onrushing attack to a standstill.

A power that warped causality itself could scarcely be troubled by mere aggregations of mana. A predictable outcome.

Ludine appeared almost accustomed to it, but Adina, still unadapted, stared wide-eyed, quite beside herself.

Arkan, with a derisive chuckle, flicked a finger at the dozens of electric tendrils suspended in the air.

He muttered something, but his voice was too low to catch.

But that was of lesser import now.

‘Managed to halt it, for the moment, but…’

The crux of the matter begins here.

It wasn’t impossible to subdue them all with the rune’s power, but alas, the remaining imprints were dwindling fast.

From bickering with the Saint of Authority, to obliterating those bestial hordes along the way, and now, stanching the full-force assault of this Baegmo band…

The well of imprints was starting to run dry.

Of course, thanks to Ludine, it was slowly replenishing, but to be fully restored would take a full day, at least.

“Now what to do?”

It would be ideal if they acknowledged the difference in power and backed down, but if they came at us with everything they had, we’d be the ones on the losing end.

Against just one, I could squeeze every last drop of my rune’s power to win, but they numbered a full twenty.

This was a battle we couldn’t win from the start.

I’d put on as tough a front as I could, but I couldn’t stall for time any longer.

“…How did you do it?”

A voice, as if wrenched from deep inside, reached my ears.

It was Arkaban, chieftain of the White Hair clan, staring blankly in our direction.

Her eyes darted wildly, watching the strange spectacle unfolding before her.

Slowly, I shifted my gaze to meet hers.

And now.

“You’re the ones tarnishing the clan’s face.”

I just threw out the first thing that came to mind.

Since I didn’t have any real plan, I was just running my mouth.

My confidence was dwindling, and if I squeezed every last bit out, maybe I could take one of them down with me, but I wouldn’t make it out unscathed.

Honestly, I was scared stiff on the inside, but since my face wasn’t one to betray emotion easily, Arkaban seemed to be visibly tense as she looked at me.

“As I said, the precious object you seek is already in my possession. So, even if I wanted to return it, I couldn’t.”

“…”

“In the first place, that thing doesn’t belong to your clan. You know that, don’t you? Your clan’s role is to protect it with all your might until it returns to its rightful owner. Eventually, that object was destined to leave your hands. Just like now.”

“Human, how do you know…?”

How do I know?

Because you said so yourself in the original story.

“You launched a reckless attack, ready to kill.”

“…”

“Attacking a defenseless opponent, without even grasping the situation or asking questions? A clan, even a group of its younger members? The chieftain is destroying the clan’s honor, built by ancestors since forgotten times, with her own two hands. You should be ashamed.”

As I deliberately rubbed salt into the wound, Arkaban gritted her teeth.

Judging by her bristling tail, she was furious.

“…So you’re saying you are the owner of that precious object?”

“That’s right.”

“How am I supposed to believe that? It’s just words. Without proof, it’s just empty boasting.”

“Well, that’s true enough.”

No matter how much I prattled on, feigning knowledge, it would all amount to mere words for them, in the end.

If they were so easily swayed by words as to hand over a treasured artifact, they wouldn’t have been able to safeguard the runes for all these long years.

Thus, the protagonist of the original work also had a phrase he uttered, seeking the cooperation of the Baekmo clan.

“The convergence of circumstance, the belonging to the tide.”

“…!!”

“The primal script yearns for eternity, and causality awaits its master. Where the currents of heaven flow, the true sovereign shall dwell.”

As I spoke, Arcavan’s expression grew increasingly bewildered, until her face paled starkly and she stared at me.

“If you are truly the chieftain of the Baekmo clan, surely you have memorized the records of your ancestors. Are you still harboring resentment about me taking the clan’s artifact?”

“How could a human like you possibly know that…?”

“Only now you’re curious? Quite a lot to ask, considering you attacked with the intention to kill.”

“…That’s…”

I slowly took a step forward.

Her face, previously filled with venom, was now wavering before the face of immense confusion.

I’d deliberately stepped on the trigger; she wouldn’t attack me any further.

Therefore, I was approaching her with the intention of squeezing out whatever I could as compensation for attacking me, but…

“Things are taking an interesting turn, aren’t they?”

A laughter-tinged voice floated from behind.

All eyes turned to that direction in unison.

There, standing with an awkward look, scratching his right cheek, was Arkan.

“Um, hey, Sixth Lord?”

I paused briefly and looked at Arkan.

But upon hearing Arkan’s words, the Baekmo clan chieftain turned to me with horrified eyes.

“…Sixth Lord? You were a Lord?”

She muttered something, but without particularly answering, I looked back at Arkan.

With a voice that had suddenly dropped, I asked her.

“What is it?”

“Is that woman, are you planning to kill her?”

“……?”

For a moment, I didn’t understand her question.

“Kill? Who, whom?”

Following Arkan’s gaze, I surmised he meant the leader of the White Hair Clan. Apparently, he’d interpreted my approach to her, laced with every ounce of bravado I could muster, as a vengeful act.

I started to deny it, but a sudden curiosity bloomed within me.

So, I lowered my expression, and murmured, “And if I do?”

The Grand Warlord, upon hearing my reply…

“Hmph…”

Scratched the back of his head, a troubled groan escaping him.

Then, with a peculiar look, he proposed, “Could you perhaps let this one slide?”

“…What?”

“I have ties to the White Hair Clan, you see. Or rather, to be precise, I had ties with the previous clan head?”

Ah, I more or less understand now.

I’d been watching purely for amusement, but now that it seemed I was actually going to *kill* her, he’s trying to stop me?

Come to think of it, they did seem to know each other. If that was the case, shouldn’t he have stepped in from the beginning?

‘How irksome.’

Honestly, it’s a little irritating.

Abruptly placing me in the position of warlord, then watching from the sidelines before finally intervening.

And so, without realizing it, barbs laced my words.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Couldn’t you just overlook it for my sake?”

“I am asking, what does that have to do with *me*?”

“Hmm… what would you do if I were to intervene?”

At her loaded question, a snort escaped me.

“I’ll ask you one more time. What does that have to do with me?”

“…”

I know all too well she won’t interfere.

I never intended to kill her in the first place, so there’s no justification for her to step in, anyway.

In any case, now that I’m warlord, it’s better to draw a clear line here and now.

Actually, this works out perfectly. I was already planning to squeeze this and that out of the White Hair Clan under the pretense of their attack, but now I can shake something out of the Grand Warlord as well.

Arkhaban, observing the scene, swallowed hard.

His face held a mixture of shock, perhaps, at my demeanor towards the Grand Overlord – a force at the very pinnacle of this continent.

If Arkhaban, chieftain of the White Fur Tribe, was a Lord-class powerhouse, Arkan was a veritable monster capable of defeating three such Lords combined.

Seeing me stand firm, unwavering before such a monster, must have stirred a complex brew of emotions within him.

The Beastmen, for all their warlike nature, possessed not such a stout heart as to openly defy a Grand Overlord.

“Haa… this is troublesome,”

Arkan scratched his head, then chuckled softly.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

“What is it?”

“Name what you want. I’ll grant it if I can. Ah! Absolutely no retiring from your Lordship.”

“…”

Damn it.

He’s quick on the uptake, isn’t he?

“Anything?”

“Yes, within reasonable limits, of course. You understand what I mean?”

I clicked my tongue.

So, ultimately, he wouldn’t grant any outrageous requests.

I turned it over in my mind slowly.

Of all the favors I could ask of him in this situation, what held the highest priority?

And that, undoubtedly, was this:

“The Scripture.”

“Hm?”

“If you happen to find the Scripture, I’d appreciate it if you’d hand it over to me.”

The Scripture.

The Rune of Space.

I lingered in the office until daybreak.

The Grand Overlord urged me to depart immediately, but I feigned the need for rest, remaining by Rudine’s side for a full day.

The reason being, I needed to replenish my depleted 심상, my spirit-image.

Arkhaban, still bellowing for the clan heirloom, took his entourage and departed my office.

He’d offered a brief apology and promised recompense in the near future; frankly, his acquiescence was surprisingly swift.

He seemed utterly floored by those words the original protagonist had uttered.

The fact that a human – one he’d disregarded, even tried to kill – not only knew of his ancestor’s records but was also, according to them, the rightful owner of the heirloom… it must have broken his spirit.

Adina, for her part, seemed to have undergone some kind of change of heart. That brat who’d always been snippy was now blushing every time she looked at me.

Her attitude had softened considerably, which made saving her life feel worthwhile.

In any case, the situation was, more or less, resolved.

And so, here we are.

Having arrived at the main headquarters, considered the gateway to Kalmash, for the transfer.

“…What is this?”

“Huh? What do you mean? It’s too far to go by carriage like last time.”

“I mean, what *is* this?”

“Can’t you see? It’s a griffin.”

…Am I really going to ride *that*?

I stood there, dumbfounded, watching the griffin flap its wings, creating powerful gusts of wind.