I Already Know My Magic Power Is Ridiculously High! Now I Just Need a Cute Wife... - Episode 98

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Outside the Shalka Company, two men were arguing.

“Please, lower the commission fees! If this continues, people will think we’re betraying the ‘Neck Snatcher’ Shalka-sama!”

The one speaking with sweat on his brow was a portly man with a thin mustache.

“That’s the result of you underestimating us. You reap what you sow.”

The one who replied was a large, muscular man with his hair tied up in a scorpion-tail-like bun.

“Don’t say that! Neck Snatcher-sama’s influence is now surpassing even the Judiciary! If this keeps up, our Merchant Guild’s reputation will plummet!”

“That’s none of our concern.”

“Grrrr—! Fine! How about a six percent discount?! You’d accept that, wouldn’t you?!”

It was strange for the buyer to be the one begging for lower fees.

But the fact that he was haggling over single percentage points spoke volumes about the Merchant Guildmaster’s stinginess.

“It’s not about the discount. We already have a contract stamped with the official seal, obliging us to pay your guild a forty percent commission. You’re making plenty. Be happy with that.”

“B-but that makes it look like we’re oppressing you!”

Forty percent was outright extortion.

Shalka had only agreed to it back then because he hadn’t planned on openly opposing the Judiciary at the time.

“That’s just how it is. Besides, we’re currently negotiating that matter with Shalka-sama.”

“Hmph, as if nobles understand anything about money.”

“Guildmaster, are you insulting Shalka-sama?”

“…N-no! Absolutely not!”

“……”

The Guildmaster shrank under the scorpion-haired man’s glare.

“L-look, just accept it as soon as possible! If word gets out about this, I’ll be in trouble too!”

“—Guildmaster, I’m disappointed in you.”

A cold voice came from behind.

A magic bullet was fired from its owner.

The simplest form of long-range attack.

But for Dust, it was a lethal threat.

“Guh—!”

The Guildmaster became a silent lump of flesh.

“To betray us and grovel before a fool like Shalka… How pathetic.”

“…!”

The ones who had suddenly taken the Guildmaster’s life were a group wearing curly wigs.

Their leader was a man with an especially extravagant wig, a Stella-ranked man.

“I am one of the Judiciary’s four Special-Class Tax Collectors—Fruga! We received reports that you’re harboring street assassins here. Under the Special Taxation Act, we hereby freeze all your assets.”

“That’s a lie! This is unjust!”

The scorpion-haired man raised his voice.

“Unjust? That’s not for you to decide. You must be hiding something here perhaps the secret to producing seedless cotton? Hand it over, and we’ll spare your lives.”

“Never! I am Chang Guerrero, General Manager of the Shalka Company under Shalka-sama! You won’t take another step past this point!”

The scorpion-haired middle-aged man named Chang took a strange stance, like a snake poised to strike.

“That stance… You’re from the south. Disgusting. Seeing refugees like you strutting around Ortenatris as if you own the place makes me sick. We should have wiped you all out back then! Then filth like you wouldn’t be running rampant here!”

Fruga stomped the ground in a fit of boiling rage.

“That damn brat keeps getting in my way! Just like in Bangwall! Because of him, I was humiliated! Damn iiiit! He keeps mocking me, over and over!”

The force of his stomping shook the earth, causing nearby buildings to collapse with a crash.

The market descended into chaos.

Eventually, as if his anger had subsided, Fruga’s expression returned to calm.

Chang found this emotional whiplash terrifying.

“Sigh… Fine. I’ll kill that brat through proper channels. First, I’ll take what he’s hiding here. Then, I’ll deal with that damn street assassin. Don’t worry, we haven’t failed yet. If we succeed, everything will go back to normal. So…”

Fruga muttered incoherently, his eyes unfocused.

“Hand over what you’re hiding… NOW!”

Fruga gathered his magic in an instant and lunged forward.

Chang braced for death.

But it never came.

What crossed Chang’s vision was an enormous beam of light.

A torrent of overwhelming magic.

“GYAAAAAAAH!”

Fruga let out a hideous scream.

Both his arms were scorched and charred.

“Don’t know who you are, but could you not cause trouble in front of my company?”

The one who fired the magic was a black-haired boy.

Fruga’s face twisted in ugly fury upon seeing him.

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Hearing there was trouble outside the company, I rushed over to find our General Manager about to be attacked by a man wearing a Bach-style wig.

I immediately fired a Meteor Ray in the man’s path.

The man, unable to stop his momentum, yelped as his arms and half his wig were scorched.

That distinctive getup probably meant he was from the Judiciary.

Still, that Bach wig… I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before.

“Haah… haah… Guh… Y-you… Neck Snatcher Shalka! Why are you here?!”

The man spoke while healing his arms with magic.

He seemed deeply unsettled by my presence.

And it looks like I’ve been given another ridiculous title.

“This is my company. It’s not strange for me to be here.”

I am the CEO of Shalka Company, after all.

“Attacking out of nowhere—how cowardly! Do you know who I am?! I am Special-Class Tax Collector Fruga! You stand accused of murdering First-Class Tax Collector Uzerashi in Bangwall, as well as multiple tax collectors here in Ortenatris! How dare you show your face, you vicious criminal!”

The Judiciary man, Fruga, spat as he ranted.

“The first part’s true, but I don’t know about the second. I only just got back the day before yesterday. Don’t pin your made-up crimes on me.”

The latter was probably the work of that “street assassin” mentioned earlier.

Whoever they were, they must’ve had a serious grudge against the Judiciary.

“Hmph! You admit to the crimes! Then the street assassin must be one of your subordinates?! No doubt you ordered them to attack?!”

“Nope, wasn’t me. You’re awfully fixated on this assassin. Got a reason?”

“…That’s none of your concern.”

Fruga dodged the question.

(Weird.)

He seems more concerned about the assassin than me, a wanted criminal.

Sure, he’s furious about his men being killed, but there’s more to it.

“Neck Snatcher Shalka! To kill our brethren without a shred of remorse, you deserve death ten thousand times over!”

“Then why don’t you execute me right here?”

I began gathering magic.

I’d already decided to deal with the Judiciary before heading to the academy.

Having one of their top dogs come to me alone is actually convenient.

“…How bold. I’d love to torture you to death right now but I won’t kill you yet.”

“?”

“—Do it, men.”

The Judiciary men activated the “Seal of the Righteous Chains” on their right hands.

In response, dark chains materialized all over my right arm.

(A debuff, huh? Annoying.)

A restraint used by those affiliated with the Ranecki family.

The effect stacks, and its strength scales with the caster’s magic power.

“Now you can do nothing. Five years ago, you defied me, but this time, I’ve reinforced the seal.”

“Five years ago? …Oh, right. You’re that tax collector.”

The one I let live.

If I’d killed Fruga back then, the Judiciary might’ve retaliated even harder.

So I held back, playing the fool to protect the people.

“You… forgot about me until now?! You insolent brat… Oops, almost lost my temper. Well then, we’ll be taking our leave.”

“…You’re seriously retreating?”

“I’ll kill you without fail once our preparations are complete. Be grateful today isn’t that day.”

“……”

This is anticlimactic.

Even if it means losing face, retreating here makes no sense.

(…Maybe a little provocation.)

“To think a Special-Class Tax Collector would tuck his tail and run. Pathetic.”

Fruga’s temple twitched at my words.

“We’re not running! We’re sparing your life out of mercy!”

“Hmm. By the way, your wig’s looking pretty rough. You okay?”

I pointed at Fruga’s scorched, mangled wig.

He touched it and realized half of it was gone.

“Eh? …KYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Fruga let out a shriek as his magic exploded in rage.

“My hairpiece… How dare you… HOW DARE YOU?!”

Finally riled up?

But just as quickly, his anger fizzled out.

“…Grrr! Almost fell for your taunt. But remember this—I will repay this humiliation! Until then, prepare yourself…!”

To my surprise, Fruga turned on his heel and walked away.

(Definitely suspicious.)

To suppress that much bloodlust… There’s something else going on.

He came here with a purpose, but fighting me wasn’t part of the plan.

The Judiciary’s intentions are unclear, but they’ll likely come for me later with proper preparations.

—Not that it matters.

I gathered my magic.

“Wha—?! You—?!”

Fruga turned back in shock.

Why did he think a minor seal would make me hesitate?

Why did he think I’d let someone who vowed to kill me walk away?

(Truly baffling.)

I cast a lethal spell without hesitation.

“—Thunderbolt.”

A massive pillar of lightning descended from the sky.

It struck the Judiciary men, incinerating their bodies.

Eyeballs burst. Internal fluids vaporized instantly.

A deafening roar and shockwave followed.

“—Thanks for grouping up in such a convenient spot.”

A finicky lightning spell with strict conditions.

I rarely use it since moving targets can dodge.

But turning your back and walking away? That’s just asking for it.

“Oh? You’re still alive.”

“Why… Why attack?! We weren’t fighting?!”

Fruga, though charred black, clung to life.

He must’ve raised a barrier at the last second.

Not that it would’ve helped.

“I was always going to fight. That’s all.”

“Huh…? I’m a Special-Class Tax Collector of the Judiciary. Why defy us? And we sealed your Righteous Chains! How can you stilluse such power?”

Fruga seemed genuinely confused.

Why would anyone dare oppose the privileged elite?

And why was he now crawling on the ground, dying?

“Confused? But I’m not. You just forgot. The world doesn’t always go your way.”

“Huh?”

Fruga looked utterly bewildered.

That’s why you’re dying so pathetically turning your back on the enemy, never even showing your Stella-ranked power.

“Ugh… I’m the Judiciary! Don’t… kill me! DON’T KILL MEEEE!”

“Truly, nothing is more fragile than the authority of those who’ve forgotten struggle.”

…Squelch

I lopped off his head with a hand-chop.

Well, that was anticlimactic.

Now to see how the Judiciary, the Ranecki family, and that street assassin react.

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“Shalka-sama, your hands.”

“Thanks.”

Nicolette poured water to wash my hands.

“…Was that alright?”

“Yeah. To restore Ortenos’s Righteous Chains, we have to handle things one by one.”

“I see… I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

Nicolette spoke with solemn determination.

No need to be so dramatic…

“R-right… Any casualties?”

“None, though the Merchant Guildmaster was killed.”

“Ah, right.”

Utterly irrelevant information.

According to our middle-aged manager, he was a worthless man anyway.

“Shalka-sama, allow me to handle the selection of the new Merchant Guildmaster.”

The scorpion-haired GM, Chang, spoke up.

“Oh? What’s your plan?”

“Many in the Merchant Guild are sympathetic to us. I’ll pull some strings to ensure a candidate favorable to the Shalka Company is chosen.”

Chang grinned wickedly.

Truly a reliable GM.

“Got it. I’ll leave it to you.”

“Understood.”

“Ah, right. Chang, I’ve decided to make our move on the imperial capital.”

“Oh! So the Cotton Road Project is finally launching!”

Ortenos lags behind other territories in many ways.

One of them is financial power.

First, we need to open the markets and bring them up to par.

Then, we’ll boost competitiveness and grow Ortenatris into a major commercial hub.

“Exactly. For now, gather suitable personnel for the capital.”

“Understood! Leave it to me!”

Best to start fundraising early.

It’d be foolish to struggle with poverty after marrying my lovely bride.

Better to build our wealth steadily now.

With business concluded, we set off back to Ortenatris Castle.

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