How to Survive as a Mage Inside a Game-Chapter 16: Orc Invasion (1)

He simply stared back at the two of them.

Yurie raised an eyebrow and spoke.

“The lady here saved your life. I know you’ve just woken up and your head must be spinning, but let’s start with your identity. Why were you collapsed and dying in the middle of the plains?”

“......”

Karl blinked silently, then glanced at the clumps of herbs plastered on his wounds and pieced things together.

'So they’re the ones who treated me?'

Judging by the carriage, it clearly belonged to a noble family.

They probably found him while passing by and rescued him.

“Answer me, now.”

Her tone made it sound like she’d draw her sword if he didn’t respond properly.

But Karl did have a way to prove his identity.

He reached into his inventory to retrieve his Altius ID, but stopped.

'There’s no mana in my body...'

Still not a trace.

The poison from that old man—Sanma Toxin—hadn’t worn off yet.

Which meant the mage ID was useless for proving anything.

The ID required a mana reaction to trigger the enchantment that proved its owner.

A mage from Altius who couldn’t use even a sliver of mana? That was enough to get him accused of theft on the spot.

'This is bad.'

Sure, he could explain the situation—that he couldn’t use mana because of poisoning.

But that meant explaining what Sanma Toxin was, how he’d been exposed to it, whether or not they believed him, and so on. Just a whole mess of exhausting explanations.

'Forget it.'

Karl chose a safer answer.

“Just a traveler. I was ambushed by some bandits...”

Clang!

A blade halted right at his throat.

Yurie glared at him with cold eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“......”

“I guarantee it—that wound is not from some random bandit. Speak the truth before I decide to cut your head off. Who are you really, and what happened out there?”

Karl let out a sigh internally.

Judging by how things were going, bluffing his way through wasn’t going to work.

As he stared at the edge of the blade near his neck, trying to think of a good answer, Lette interjected.

“Yurie, don’t be so harsh. He’s injured.”

“My lady, it’s a matter of safety. I—”

“I get it, now lower the sword. He looks like he can barely move.”

With a reluctant grunt, Yurie withdrew the blade.

Lette looked at Karl and spoke gently.

“I am Lette Rubedom. Of House Rubedom, the family that defends the Empire’s southwestern frontier.”

“......”

“What’s your name?”

“Karl.”

House Rubedom?

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

The name rang a bell, and Karl tilted his head slightly.

“Yes, Karl. As you’ve probably figured out by now, we’re the ones who treated you. We found you collapsed on the way back to Bard.”

“Oh... Thank you very much.”

Karl bowed slightly in gratitude, thinking to himself.

'Bard? Then we’re on the road between Gaster and Bard City.'

Bard was a large city northwest of Zarop, Karl’s original destination.

The teleport must have flung him in that direction.

Lette continued.

“No need to thank me. Just tell us what you’re hiding. As the one who saved your life, I think I deserve at least that much honesty.”

“......”

Karl went silent again.

Telling the whole truth was absolutely out of the question.

He’d encountered a slave trader convoy on the road to Zarop, been caught up in an elf raid, barely dealt with that, and was about to move on when a high-ranking officer of Aranhel ambushed him. He’d ended up using the Aranhel heir as a hostage and barely escaped with a teleport.

How was he supposed to explain all that?

He’d be lucky if that knight didn’t draw her sword again, accusing him of mocking nobility with some dumb story.

'And I really don’t want to bring up Aranhel.'

Karl knew exactly how dangerous that group was.

These lunatics had bombed the royal palace of the Delkin Kingdom in the east and assassinated a prince.

He had no intention of dragging the people who saved him into that mess.

The only fortunate part was that this noblewoman didn’t act like the usual self-important nobles. She seemed unusually compassionate and considerate.

So Karl decided to just shamelessly bluff.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“...I was being pursued by some dangerous people.”

“Dangerous people? Who exactly?”

“...I’m afraid I can’t say. I truly appreciate you saving me, but if I tell you, my life will be in danger again.”

Yurie’s face darkened once more.

But Lette remained calm.

“I see. Then you don’t have to say anything.”

“......”

Wait, seriously? That easy?

Karl blinked and asked, a bit baffled.

“I mean, it’s not really my place to say this, but... aren’t you letting that slide a little too easily?”

Lette smiled.

“If you were truly hiding something, you could have come up with a more convincing lie. Instead, you plainly admitted you can’t tell me. That’s why I’m choosing to believe you.”

She finished speaking and patted her knee.

“Your mana has probably recovered enough. I’ll resume healing now. Come here and lie down.”

“...??”

Karl glanced at Yurie, not quite understanding.

She let out a sigh and said,

“My lady, there’s no need for that anymore. He’s fully conscious—”

“You said lying down reduces the bleeding, didn’t you?”

“The bleeding’s stopped already. His injuries are still serious, but sitting is enough.”

Yurie stood and gestured for Karl to come over and sit.

Karl awkwardly moved his still-sore body and sat beside Lette.

She placed her hand on his wounds and began casting healing magic.

“It’s strange, though. Even with deep wounds, the recovery rate is unusually slow...”

Karl already knew why.

He was still suffering from the effects of Sanma Toxin. His mana was scattered, so the healing spell wasn’t working properly—just like the recovery potion hadn’t.

It was like pouring water into a broken pot, but if you poured enough for long enough, it would still help a little.

'Didn’t expect to find a noble like this.'

Karl felt a bit grateful as he watched her sweat, pouring mana into the spell.

She’d probably been doing this while he was unconscious, which was the only reason he’d survived at all.

He wanted to pull out a mana potion from his inventory and offer it, but showing someone else that kind of item wasn’t an option. A pity.

'Still... that monster old man isn’t going to track me down, right?'

The thought crossed his mind, but logically, there was no way.

He was over 100 kilometers away from that place—how could anyone follow him that far?

Especially after a teleport, there’d be no trace to follow.

Sure, a high-level mage could possibly trace coordinates, but that old man wasn’t a mage—he was a swordsman.

Even if he found a capable mage to help, by the time they ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ arrived, any trace of mana would’ve already faded.

Though he had just woken up, his body wasn’t in top shape yet, and fatigue returned quickly.

Karl gave up thinking and decided to just rest.

'“Dangerous people,” huh...'

Meanwhile, Yurie was also watching Karl, lost in thought.

She’d checked his internal energy while healing and could tell he hadn’t trained in mana or aura.

He was clearly trying to hide his identity, probably some shady underworld lowlife. But whoever gave him that sword wound... that person had serious skill, which made her wary.

'Hope we didn’t get ourselves dragged into something nasty.'

Whatever the case, all she could do was pray nothing happened until they returned to the estate.

* * *

Several days passed as they rode in the carriage.

Compared to when he was dying, Karl’s body had recovered significantly. The Sanma Toxin was gradually clearing out, and his mana had partially returned.

Once he felt better, he considered joining the coachman up front, but Lette insisted he rest. So he continued lounging in the carriage, watching the scenery.

'I wonder... if I’d just died, would I have returned to Earth?'

The plains gradually turned into dry, cracked ground.

He was idly watching the change, letting his mind wander into meaningless thoughts, when—

“You said you were heading to Zarop City, right?”

Lette, who was also gazing out the window across from him, asked.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Are you aware that the southwestern frontier is in a precarious state due to the orcs of Gwangrim?”

Karl nodded. He’d heard rumors.

'It’s odd. Orcs aren’t exactly known for cooperation. Their innate savagery makes coordinated action nearly impossible.'

Something flickered in his mind.

'...Wait. Rubedom? And orcs?'

Rubedom.

That familiar name—was it that?

A memory resurfaced from when he’d played the shaman class.

'The Great Disaster of the Empire’s Frontier...'

Karl’s face darkened.

“I only mention this just in case, but if you were planning to cross the border—trying to go through Gwangrim would be suicide. So...”

Clatter!

The carriage came to a sudden halt.

From the coachman’s seat, a voice rang out:

“We’re under attack!”