Chapter 242. The Immortal (10)
A little over an hour later, early afternoon.
Enoch stood with both hands submerged in the sink of a dim public restroom, staring into the cloudy mirror.
In the cracked mirror, multiple Enochs stared back, expressionless.
The words Persona had spoken during the Exemption Mission drifted faintly through his mind.
[— Only humans wear masks.]
[— Relationships with others. Social standing. Everyone is afraid of being hated, so they wear masks. They define their own identity through masks they themselves create.]
Until now, he had rarely ever tried to step forward in front of many people.
Despite possessing a genius-level talent for the sword, he had been too busy hiding — crushed beneath the danger of his possession being exposed and its connection to black magic.
And perhaps that was a fate that would never change, so long as he remained in this position in this Empire.
If so, what should he do now?
"……"
He had thought endlessly. About who he was, trying to find out what Enoch Elsyde's life and memories had been like. Recently, after much deliberation, he had begun to get a sense of it.
But that was only conjecture in the end. Up to this very moment, he had discovered nothing concrete.
His vision suddenly blurred for an instant, and he staggered, pressing hard against one eyelid.
The relentless fatigue felt like it was slowly devouring his mind.
Not knowing how Enoch had lived — wasn't that precisely why his sense of self was being swallowed by the vivid, intense memories of the Sword Saint's life?
Persona's words crossed his mind once more.
[— Your existing sense of self is, in the end, constructed from a continuous chain of memories from the past.]
The 10th Rank Black Mage who manipulated and handled others' inner worlds had declared that a person's sense of self was built from a chain of memories.
And the current Enoch did not know what kind of life he had led in the past.
Until now, that had only been a poison, hindering his growth with the sword. But this time, he might unexpectedly be able to turn that very weakness to his advantage.
Reaching that thought, Enoch let a cold smile form.
In other words, the current Enoch Elsyde did not know who he was.
And inversely, that meant he could become anyone.
Then from this moment forward, he would become the Enoch Elsyde who could rally the freelancers as their leader.
After telling that to his reflection in the mirror, he conjured the image of donning a cold mask.
Just then, Enoch noticed the door opening behind him, light flooding in.
"Young Master, it's time."
Looking toward the voice, Lien stood at the restroom entrance in her maid uniform.
The black-and-white maid outfit caught the pouring light, illuminating her silver hair and the side of her face.
"The things I asked for?"
Lien entered and shut the door behind her without looking back. The cramped interior grew even darker. She stepped right up and spoke in a toneless voice.
"The tasks you asked me to handle are already done. And this as well."
Lien glanced once at the long, jet-black magic gear in her hand, then handed it over.
"Are you really sure about this?"
"Yes. Thank you for preparing it."
Enoch accepted the elongated magic gear with gratitude. Lien widened her eyes slightly at his thanks, then raised her gaze to meet his directly.
"It may be dangerous."
"Yeah. Stay by my side, Lien."
Lien nodded without a sound. Then she spun around, glanced back at him, and opened the restroom door.
Stepping outside and walking a little further, someone came into view nearby.
"Ah……!"
April was leaning against the wall of a ruined park, standing there. She spotted him and cautiously opened her mouth.
"You're really going through with it? Direct Lineage."
"Of course."
"Then, I'll go with you."
She seemed embarrassed to have spoken first, twirling a strand of hair on her shoulder around her finger and tilting her head to the side.
"Well. It'd be better to have a fellow professional around than just Direct Lineage alone among the freelancers, right? They might be a little less unruly that way. And……"
April pointed at the magic gear in Enoch's hand and made an uneasy expression.
"That. Among freelancers, carrying that has a very specific meaning. The backlash is going to be intense, you know?"
"You're worried?"
"Hmph, is something wrong with that?"
"Not at all. I appreciate the concern."
He was about to say, "Shall we go, then—" and urge April forward, but she stopped in her tracks, looking up at him with lifted eyes as though something still weighed on her mind.
"Um, you know. Direct Lineage."
"Hm?"
"I don't know if you realize it. Right now, Direct Lineage, for some reason you have a scarier face than usual."
Enoch touched his own mouth, trying to infer his expression, then smiled with practiced calm.
"Because it needs to be that way."
***
Near the enormous steel wall of the Outsourcing District city.
In the clearing of a makeshift staging area set up in the ruins, the remaining freelancers had gathered in one place.
Summoned without explanation and forced to wait, the freelancers made no effort to hide their open irritation.
And that irritation peaked the moment Enoch — followed by Lien, Sirocco, and April — climbed the platform one after another.
"Hey, look over there……"
"That's Leader Damastes's magic gear……!"
"Hah! You've got to be kidding!!"
Voices thick with fury came from all around.
Enoch, holding the long, mechanically designed axe that Damastes had used, its haft angled loosely downward, strode unhesitatingly across the front of the crowd and up onto the platform.
Then, as planned, he handed the double-bladed axe to April, who had followed last. When April took the axe and planted its haft on the ground, the jeering intensified.
"Hey, Direct Lineage. You know what it means to bring a dead freelancer's magic gear, don't you?!"
"Guh, you're not even a freelancer……!!"
Enoch silently looked down at them.
Inheriting a dead freelancer's magic gear was understood as inheriting everything they were.
But for Enoch — who was not a freelancer — to bring it himself was nothing less than an unmistakable declaration of intent to seize all of Damastes's authority.
In other words, at the very least, he had succeeded in commanding their attention.
Scanning the gathered freelancers, Enoch inwardly sighed so it wouldn't show.
The sparse scattering of human silhouettes was the first thing that caught his eye.
Perhaps because escape wasn't possible at this point, everyone had shown up, but looking at them one by one, their faces were soaked in exhaustion even beyond their irritation.
He had been told there were only around seventy left, and even they were battered and bruised everywhere.
Not a single one was unscathed.
Their morale was on the verge of shredding apart. Solidarity was nowhere to be found no matter how hard you looked. These were faces looking for the nearest thing to vent their fury on, anything at all.
They showed no motivation to achieve victory. Was this really what an army that had already lost before even fighting looked like?
Nano and Lily were also mixed in at the edge of the crowd, watching him with worried expressions.
"On behalf of the fallen Interim leaders, including Damastes — I'm Enoch Elsyde, your new leader."
In an instant, jeers and furious shouts erupted, too fierce to bear hearing.
"Who says a punk like you gets to replace Damastes or our Interim leaders?" "Get lost!" "If a Main House brat like you is the leader, then I'm out!" — such cries split the air.
Enoch paid them no mind and calmly tilted his head.
"We don't have time. Questions, if any."
"Questions — as if!"
"Are your ears plugged up or what?!"
From the very front row all the way to the middle, freelancers openly screamed.
"Should've known from the start when the commission came in! It was a mission impossible for a lone Direct Lineage ranked dead last at 9th Placement, so you passed it off to us!"
"Yeah! If you'd been at least 3rd Placement or higher in the succession, you'd have been strong enough to not need people like us!"
"Right! What can a Direct Lineage like you even do? Counting on that great Beast-kin Follower Family of yours again?!"
Right beside Enoch, Sirocco's tail bristled upright, her eyes sharpening as she folded her arms.
"Grrh, you people……!!"
"Sirocco. Stop."
"But, you……!"
Sirocco glanced up at him, and the moment their eyes met, she seemed to realize something. Her eyes widened.
Then, as though she'd seen through his plan in an instant, she smiled primly.
"Hmm~, don't tell me. That's what this is?"
Sirocco's ruby-like eyes were already gleaming with anticipation. True to form, she had instinctively grasped what he was about to do.
Just then, a man with a particularly loud voice shouted, "Everyone, listen to me!" and stepped forward.
All eyes turned to the very back of the crowd.
A freelancer in his late twenties.
He held a short pistol in his hand, but he was nearly unscathed. Nine times out of ten, he had run from every battle without properly fighting.
His nose and face were flat, and his round, fleshy cheeks gave him a pudgy look. It might not be the kindest description, but he was a pathetic, worthless-looking man.
Face flushed red like a monkey's, the man stuttered his way through a loud tirade.
"D, don't bother listening to this brat! The 19th Outsourcing District is done. It's over! If we're going to die anyway, how about we at least make a last-ditch effort to run and survive?!"
At his instigation, the majority of freelancers voiced their agreement and murmured restlessly.
He certainly had a point.
They already knew better than anyone. Every stock in the 19th Outsourcing District's market had plummeted to the value of toilet paper, and the savvy companies were getting ready to pull out.
Despite this being Victoria Kazimieśi Domain — a territory that used magic-stone-catalyzed "gem magic" as its main discipline, known for its abundant resources, talent, and unique Victorian architectural tourism that gave it a better reputation than other Outsourcing Districts.
The wealthy and the famous were already preparing to flee to other Main House domains or Outsourcing Districts, and no one who knew the truth was betting on the freelancers' victory.
It was simply too cruel a situation to ask anyone to hold onto hope.
The man shouted again.
"Let's all run! It's fine, nobody's stopping us anyway! Even if there's no escape route, if we freelancers band together we might survive! That so-called Direct Lineage everyone's heard of — in the end, it's all his House mages and his Follower Family doing the heavy lifting!"
"H, hey. This openly……! Rumor has it he's beyond 10th Rank……!"
"Who cares if he awakened some Unique Magic or whatever! There's no way a brat like that can lead us! Bet he doesn't have the guts to try!"
A nearby freelancer tried to rein him in, but the man only sneered.
"Don't you get it? There's nothing to be scared of. Under a gutless leader like that, sure, his precious 10th Rank Follower Family or squad might be fine, but the rest of us are dead for sure!!"
He pointed straight at Enoch.
"Look at this. Our new leader is apparently so terrified without his Follower Family that he can't even speak on his own!"
Enoch watched him in silence, his dark blue eyes dim and still.
The man made a show of flipping his middle finger at him and snickered.
"Hey, Young Master. You said come at you with questions. Got anything more to say?"
"Anything more to say, huh."
Enoch replied, his expression unmoved.
"No. Nothing comes to mind."
"Huh?"
The man looked dumbfounded for a moment, but then glanced at the supporters who had gathered around him and started sneering down at Enoch.
"Would you look at this. You all heard that? He's got nothing to say! Heheh. Direct Lineage of Elsyde or not, he's not much after all!!"
Enoch stared at him, expressionless, then slowly walked forward and reached out to take the double-bladed axe April had been resting on the ground.
"Borrowing this."
Leaving April's cry of "Wait, hold on!" behind him, Enoch stepped down from the platform and approached the man.
The crowd parted wide. The man snorted.
"What, you want to go? Come on then, you gutless coward who's only tough because of your Follower Fam——!"
Before he could finish, Enoch buried the double-bladed axe into the man's shoulder without so much as a change in expression.
The surrounding air froze solid.
In the moment of total silence radiating outward from Enoch, a choked gasp cut through.
The man, frozen stiff, slowly turned his head, and with disbelieving eyes, stared blankly at the axe blade embedded in his shoulder.
"GAAAAAAAHHHH!!"
After looking coldly down at the man writhing on the ground with the axe still lodged in him, Enoch lightly pulled the heavy axe free and spun the haft in his grip.
"……Well then."
With the man screaming and spraying blood before him.
Enoch slowly moved his eyes beneath his black hair and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Next question."