Chapter 30 : Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Return
“But what do you mean you don’t want to fall out with me?”
“Suddenly?”
“That was the original topic, wasn’t it?”
“Janya… no. Lady Janya attacked you. Being with you, I think your personality is rubbing off on me.”
Ael, who had momentarily stuttered, frowned.
“Don’t blame others.”
“Are we others?”
“…So. She attacked, so what.”
“The attack. It was because she was wary of you. The clash between you and Beden also played a big part.”
“She wouldn’t want more competitors.”
Beden’s Selection Ceremony would be held next year.
Even if he succeeded in manifesting sword ki tomorrow, it couldn’t be helped. This year’s Selection Ceremony was already over.
It meant he was already falling behind Jahar or Ael. It was an unavoidable difference due to age.
‘Although Mectera isn’t a family that cares about such things.’
Any other noble family would gradually build up their standing. It was natural for the frontrunner to have an advantage.
But in the end, the competition for Mectera’s Sword Master was for later. Their standing for the next few years, let alone the present, was utterly meaningless.
‘It begins when the form of the direct descendants and adopted children has peaked. Other families would look at all the factors they can, but here, as long as you’re good with a sword, you’re golden.’
The head of Mectera. It meant the master of the sword.
Being good with a sword was all that mattered. Other shortcomings were the responsibility of the subordinates to fill.
‘Though it seems Janya doesn’t sympathize with that at all.’
Her ideology was still aligned with that of the Empire’s nobles. She knew it in her head, but she didn't accept it. She believed that other factors would surely be reflected.
‘But actually, it’s already over.’
That’s why Janya might think there was a possibility, but from Simurtr’s perspective, the competition was already over.
A mere two-year difference. If one couldn’t even overcome that gap, one didn't have the right to discuss the position of Sword Master.
‘Or maybe not. Is there still a possibility?’
Simurtr thought of Jahar and Ael.
In fact, if someone were to hold a bomb to his head and ask if these two were Sword Master material, Simurtr would shake his head.
Because they were far from the Sword Master he envisioned.
The key would be how much effort they put in from now on, but at least for now.
“And you… that, that… you don’t have a maternal family, so.”
Ael glanced around as she spoke.
Simurtr just nodded his head calmly.
“So what.”
At that reaction, Ael felt a lot more relieved and confessed her true feelings.
“There’s no guarantee that our mother won’t become like that.”
“……”
“Of course, our mother is very different from Lady Janya. She values individual ability, not power. There’s something she values more, but anyway.”
“Right.”
“She also participated… in forming factions, but that was purely out of concern that Lady Janya’s faction was growing too large. Out of worry for me and my brother.”
“You don’t have to speak so carefully. Just say it.”
“If you become enemies with Mother, my brother and I will naturally grow distant from you.”
It was a natural course of events. The siblings would naturally take their mother’s side. He felt nothing special about it.
He wasn't disappointed, nor was he resentful. Because that was the right thing.
“And… I don’t think you’d lose to Mother.”
But at the following words, Simurtr’s eyes widened. It was an unexpected answer.
Realistically, if he returned to the main castle like this, Janya was doomed. Simurtr, whom she had tried to kill, was alive, and he had already received a confession from the knight captain.
“I’m scared that Mother will end up like Lady Janya.”
Ael saw her mother’s figure in that.
“I know it’s selfish. Mother was already involved in your exile. Yes. I have nothing to say about that either, but…”
Perhaps her mother would suffer the same fate. Ael wished for her mother to be at peace.
“……”
An unexpected answer. Worry. As Simurtr stroked his chin wordlessly, Ael glanced sideways, observing him. Her gaze was mixed with anticipation. She wanted favoritism.
That he would drive Janya into a corner, but go easy on her mother.
Unlike Beden, she and her brother were on good terms with Simurtr. So wouldn't he do that?
That kind of expectation.
“I have no intention of attacking Lady Arnea. I want to be at peace in the main castle. Exile? I don’t even care about that. The intention was unpleasant, but I liked it.”
The exile mansion. For Simurtr, who needed to hone his Star-Breaking Style, it was the optimal environment.
The mistresses of the main castle had given him a raw deal, but that raw deal was more delicious to Simurtr than any delicacy in the world.
Of course, the intention was contemptible… but he didn't want to care about it that much.
All of Simurtr’s attention was no longer on Mectera. It was outside. It was different from when he had just entered.
Ael’s eyes sparkled upon hearing the answer. It was the answer she wanted to hear.
“But if they make the first move, I can’t help it either.”
“……”
They immediately went dim. The words weren't even finished, but the vitality in Ael’s eyes drained away just from the opening.
“I’ll take your and Jahar’s feelings into account, but I will strike back with the best of my ability.”
“…I understand. I would have done the same if I were you. It’s only natural.”
“But we can have a conversation after I return. It’s best if we can end it amicably without wasting each other’s energy.”
Janya alone was enough. He was sick of it already. Simurtr wanted to focus only on matters outside, not the main castle.
“Really?”
Ael regained her vitality. This was a satisfactory answer.
“But you. Where did you say your maternal family was from?”
Simurtr asked suddenly. Thinking about it, he didn't know the siblings’ maternal family. Janya was from the County of Jabad. Then what about Arnea?
“Mother’s family? Ah. You don’t know? You know Lady Janya’s.”
“We had a lot of contact with that side. So what is it.”
“Dujeu.”
“Dujeu?”
Simurtr’s eyes widened as he asked back.
“Yeah.”
“That Dujeu?”
“Yeah. That Dujeu. The Sword Tower.”
Ael smiled brightly and said it nonchalantly, but.
“Dujeu of the Sword Tower?”
“I told you so.”
***
A green shadow crossed the walls of Huit. At a glance, it also looked like a round puddle of water. However, the shadow took the place of the water.
There was no depth, and there were no objects around that could create a shadow. But the existing shadow continued to flow.
It climbed the walls of Jabad and crossed under the feet of the dense crowd. People did not notice the shadow passing under the castle gate.
Passing through the garden, through the inner castle, and finally to the main castle. The shadow that had moved ceaselessly stopped when it arrived at a certain room inside the main castle.
Janya’s room. Janya was not to be seen. Janya had left for Mectera’s land this morning. The shadow, knowing this fact, raised its body. A head popped out of the shadow.
Soon, a hand that had pushed through grabbed the floor and pulled its whole body out. Tap. Tap. The man who had set his feet on the floor tapped the floor with his foot. The shadow that had been drawn on the floor had disappeared.
It was a natural thing. Because the man, Deuhan, was the shadow itself. The sensation of standing was still awkward. Because he had been in the phantasm longer than he had been in a physical form.
Deuhan rummaged through Janya’s drawer. He found a fist-sized crystal ball in the third drawer and placed it on the desk. When he poured magic into it, the crystal ball emitted a radiance.
—Janya Jabad? I told you not to use this.
The voice that was heard was old.
But it had power in itself. Something that drew people in. An irresistible adhesion that made the listener nod their head for no reason.
Deuhan felt it and answered.
“It is I. Father.”
—Oh. Which son is it?
“It is the son of Degrate.”
—Ooh. Who is it? The first? The youngest?
“The first.”
—I see. Yes. What is the matter?
“The deal with Janya Jabad has ended.”
—Ah. I see. Right. I did make such a request. Yes. Did it end successfully?
“It failed. Ten knights of Jabad. And the youngest are dead.”
Deuhan’s voice trembled slightly.
When he mentioned the youngest, his body even shook.
It was because he remembered the magic of Simurtr, who had killed the knights and the youngest.
A magic of destruction, unfitting for the Mectera, who were called the Iron Fortress.
—Hmm? Dead? The youngest? Who was the opponent?
“It was the fourth of Mectera.”
—The fourth? Beden? Ah. Was that child Janya Jabad’s child?
“No. The fourth is Simurtr.”
—Hmm. Right, right. That was his name. But it failed?
“Yes.”
—Were the knights of Jabad that incompetent? Even though they have declined, to a single person?
Deuhan did not answer.
It was not a question. A monologue. It was his father’s way of reasoning. His father preferred to arrive at the correct answer by himself.
Hmm. The voice drawled once. It conveyed a sense of discomfort, as if he couldn't accept it.
—Was there help from the surroundings? No. The fourth must have been stronger than expected. Otherwise, there’s no way the youngest would have died.
“……”
—Did you say the fourth was sixteen?
“That is correct.”
—He has entered the realm of a Sword Master at that age. So that’s why the youngest died.
Your Phantasmal Abilities cannot yet deceive that level of magic concentration.
“Yes.”
—I see. So that was it. It makes sense that the knights of Jabad were defeated. Simurtr? Is that child’s father Orde?
“No. He is an adopted son. They are not related by blood.”
—The mother?
“She is known to have died upon childbirth. Her origin is commoner, but the details are not known.”
—The biological father?
“There is no information.”
—Find out. No. This father will find out. His origin may not be ordinary. The biological father and mother. Both of them. Such talent cannot manifest with the blood of only one side. There must be something.
“Understood.”
—And Janya Jabad?
“She returned to the main castle of Mectera this morning.”
—Even though she failed?
“It was before the news of the failure was known.”
—Her arrogance was excessive. She is still arrogant even though her family has declined.
Simurtr will also return to Mectera, won’t he?
“That is what I expect. Although the mission period remains, his internal injuries seemed severe.”
—Internal injuries. His achievement is not complete. Or the balance is off. Yes. Did you show the child the Phantasmal Ability?
At his father’s words, Deuhan hesitated for a moment.
Did he show him? The youngest moved at the same time as Simurtr coughed up blood.
…Deuhan, who had evacuated early, did not see what happened after. But he knew it had failed. He had watched the battle with the knights together. The youngest must have used his full strength.
“…Yes.”
—This is troublesome. Son. Where was your next schedule?
“It was Bahab.”
—Yes. One month. It was Bahab in a month. Let’s leave that to your brother. Let’s also entrust the matter of the fourth to that child.
“Understood.”
—We need to shut Janya Jabad’s mouth. And her son as well.
Although the hero's blood is not mixed, it wouldn't be bad. Mectera is Mectera, after all.
The old voice muttered to itself. Deuhan waited for his father's monologue to end before answering.
“It is impossible for me to infiltrate Mectera at my level.”
—Do not worry. Son. How many years has it been for you?
“It has been 7 years.”
—Then that will be enough. Come for now. I must also hear the rest of the explanation about the fourth of Mectera.
Crack. As soon as the old voice ended, the sound of something crumbling rang out in the empty air.
A crack appeared in the empty air in front of Deuhan. Crack. Crack. The sound grew louder.
What was only a hairline crack shattered like glass. A rift opened in space.
“Beden Mectera. He is the son of Janya Jabad. Bring that child along as well. By digesting my son.”
The old voice was heard not from the crystal ball, but from within the rift.
***
“Where have you been.”
The central mansion. Medeoban was waiting in front of it.
“I was just taking a walk.”
“Tsk, this fellow. That child will be here soon. And you haven't even prepared.”
“I’m sorry.”
Medeoban clicked his tongue at the sight of Orde bowing his head. To think he would procrastinate instead of going in advance.
“Enough. Is there anything to prepare?”
“No.”
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Medeoban took a step. He had only taken one step, but his form moved swiftly. He moved several meters in a single stride. Orde followed behind him.
“Do not forget. Simurtr will become the shield of the main castle.”
Familial love. After returning from the repository, Medeoban spoke of it to Orde every day.
Simurtr felt familial love for his mother.
He was still young, so he would feel it for you, his father, as well. So you must do well…
“…Yes.”
He was a father who prioritized the well-being of Mectera. But he was subtly rejecting the ideology of Mectera.
Mectera did not discriminate against adopted children. But he wanted to keep Simurtr by his side as a weapon, not as a future candidate for Sword Master.
He was a respected father, but it was difficult to sympathize with his distorted obsession with the family…
“He will assist Jahar’s side.”
“There are also Ael and Beden. The competition is still…”
“No. Jahar is the most suitable. His character is also so. He resembles Mectera perfectly. If there is anything lacking, Ael can help with that.”
Couldn't it be the other way around? Besides, Beden hasn't even had his Selection Ceremony yet…
Orde forcibly swallowed those words. He struggled to suppress the words that were about to burst out of his throat.
‘This is my karma.’
Originally, his father from the Senate of Elders would not have interfered in this matter. If he had, it would have been a matter for later.
“There they come.”
Three people entered through the castle gate.
Simurtr, who was in the lead, saw Medeoban and Orde and asked.
“Why are you out here.”
“It is your first mission, is it not?”
Medeoban smiled.
Simurtr felt his stomach churn at that smile.
‘He’s doing it again.’
Just like last time. It was an unresolved doubt.
During the Selection Ceremony, his killing intent had been overflowing so much.
‘It started from the time at the repository.’
His attitude changed completely in an instant.
What was frustrating was that he had no idea why.
‘Because I chose Pagna?’
Because I didn't attack when he ate the elixir?
No. Medeoban had started to become disgusting even before that.
“Greetings to the Head of the Senate of Elders and the Sword Master.”
Deban, who was next to him, bowed his head deeply.
“Yes. So you are from the 3rd Sword Order. Deban.”
Medeoban said. He knew all the companions of his biological grandchildren.
For Simurtr, it was Deban. For Jahar, Moit. For Ael…
“Where is Swordsman Juyce.”
He was not to be seen.
There were three people who had opened the castle gate and entered.
“I killed him.”
The one who answered was Simurtr.
Medeoban and Orde’s complexions hardened at once. Dead? On a mere direct descendant’s first mission? A companion?
“I will speak of that at a separately prepared occasion.”
“A prepared occasion?”
“Yes. Come to think of it, I have never had a meal with my family, have I? How about we have one when Jahar returns?”
My father invited me to a meal last time as well.
At Simurtr’s words, Juyce was completely erased from Medeoban’s mind. A slight warmth even appeared in his eyes as he looked at Orde.
“What would be difficult about that? A meal between family is a natural thing. There is no need to request it like that.”
He was already wondering how to get closer, and to think he would suggest a meal while mentioning family.
“Really?”
“Yes. I was planning to arrange one soon anyway.”
“Ah. And. This friend wants to transfer to the 6th Sword Order.”
“That is the authority of the Head of the Sword. It cannot be forced. Instead, I will let the 3rd and 6th Heads of the Sword know.”
“Then I will speak to them myself.”
“Do as you wish.”
“Thank you.”
“What is there to thank me for. Go and rest. I will hear the details at the banquet.”
Simurtr bowed his head and passed the two. Ael and Deban followed behind him.
Medeoban smiled warmly as he watched Ael following Simurtr. They looked quite close.
“Ah.”
Suddenly, Simurtr turned around and opened his mouth.
“I would like for Lady Arnea and Lady Janya to be at the banquet as well. You must.”
Looking at the father and son, Simurtr smiled brightly.
“Alright.”
The only one who smiled back was Medeoban. Orde felt something pierce his back.
Janya, who had returned with a bright smile the morning before.
Simurtr, who had just returned safely.
Didn’t he say ‘I killed him,’ not ‘he died’?