Chapter 50 : Chapter 50
Chapter 50: Debt
Growing old is generally synonymous with becoming wiser.
And becoming wiser means becoming better at distinguishing right from wrong and making fewer mistakes.
You focus on what will succeed, and discard what will fail early on, giving no room for emotional waste. In a broader sense, it’s not much different from the virtues of a commander.
“What is it.”
Nevertheless, the reason he obsessed over a mission with a high probability of failure, the reason he still couldn't forget Exa and was wandering in search of him, must be because he was less old and less wise.
In any case, Aran succeeded in pulling himself together from his disappointment overnight.
Just as the ignorant former 1st Head of the Sword had changed into the seasoned 6th Head of the Sword, he had learned how to sew up the hope that had swelled and burst through 20 years of repeated failures.
“Hmm. Are you busy?”
“It’s fine.”
“Really? You don’t look so good.”
“I stayed up all night swinging my sword for a change. Something strangely brilliant came to me.”
“Take it easy. You’re old now.”
In the first place, what he should be focusing on was not Semenu, who had achieved nothing for the past 20 years, but the Simurtr in front of him.
Exa’s successor. The only clue that might know Exa’s whereabouts.
“Did you come all the way to my office to be considerate of this old man?”
“If you put it that way, you could see it like that.”
“So. What’s the business?”
Aran let out a hollow laugh and looked at Simurtr. Simurtr, whose protection measures had ended, had visited the 6th Sword Order without even training. It meant there was something more important than the training he loved so much.
“You said the Information Bureau gives information to the idle Sword Order, right? To try and use the right to summary execution.”
“If you put it that way, you could see it like that. The pretext is the peace of the empire, but.”
“And the Director of the Information Bureau is on good terms with Aran?”
“Strictly speaking, no, but it’s not entirely bad either.”
“And the mission organization based on the information given by the Information Bureau is the Head of the Sword’s job?”
“That’s right. What’s the business that you’re beating around the bush like this. You probably didn't learn your way of speaking in Degrate. Just speak as you usually do.”
Aran said, but Simurtr beat around the bush again.
“Is the main house free to go out?”
“It used to be. If you’re talking about a swordsman, you just need the Head of the Sword’s permission.”
“And not now?”
“It depends on the purpose. If it’s for sightseeing in the territory, it’s perfectly possible.”
“Can I go see Bahab too?”
“Do you think you can?”
“Right? I probably can’t, right?”
Unless the first generation is present, the Hero Families do not invade each other’s territory.
In fact, even Bahab and Basor, who are above Mectera, do not visit Mectera.
Most of it would be worries about a bomb left by Gerehk, but publicly, it’s known that they just keep quiet or respect each other.
Even if the purpose is simple tourism, visiting without permission could lead to some kind of problem.
“Will they give permission if I contact them?”
“Do you think they would for the Young Master?”
“They wouldn't for me. But they might for them, you know.”
“Well. I don’t think so. Bahab doesn't particularly like the main house either.”
“Do they still have an inferiority complex?”
“Do you think something that has festered for hundreds of years will disappear in just 20 years?”
Mectera was the sword family that the thousand-year Empire of Melken prided itself on.
When other countries or outsiders thought of Melken’s sword, they would only mention Mectera.
It was natural for Bahab, another sword family, to have an inferiority complex towards Mectera.
“They’re so petty for a Hero Family.”
“Well. What can you do. The people only praise Akarr Bahab, not Bahab.”
“If we’re talking about members, the sword of Mectera is superior?”
“Isn’t that the truth. This Sword Order alone could probably wipe out two or three of their knight orders.”
“Well. That’s true.”
The reason the current Mectera was being pushed back by Bahab was because they had no hero to stand against a hero.
Simurtr also agreed with Aran’s ideology.
Pitting Mectera swordsmen against Bahab’s knights? Then the former would win by a landslide. It was a matter of course in their minds.
“So. Is going to Bahab the objective?”
“I wanted to do some sightseeing.”
“Should I believe you?”
“Are you giving me permission?”
“I’ll create a mission near there for you. But you can’t get caught. Right now, the Young Master is forbidden from entering not only the Hero Families, but also Huit and Jabad.”
“I know. That’s why I learned Phantasmal Ability.”
The protection measures were over, but the restrictions remained. The contact points with the faction. So, of course, he couldn't go to Huit and Jabad.
“…Don’t overuse it. It’s not good for a swordsman to get used to something other than the sword.”
There must be a reason.
Aran recalled Semenu’s words.
He still didn't like the fact that he had imprinted Phantasmal Ability on his heart, but… if it was the Young Master’s idea, he was willing to understand.
“Don’t worry. This is a means to an end.”
“Then I’m relieved. Come to think of it, this makes three. They’re small, but if you add up three, it’ll be quite large.”
Three. He was talking about the debt.
One for joining the Degrate expedition, one for learning Phantasmal Ability, and also for this mission.
“You seem to want something big. You pretended not to all this time.”
“It might not be to the Young Master, but to this Head of the Sword, it is huge.”
“What do you want?”
“I’ll tell you when you return after this sightseeing.”
It was hard to endure any longer.
“Just give me a hint. So I can prepare myself.”
“The Star-Breaking Style.”
Truly, Aran had endured for a long time.
“What?”
He had chased it for a whopping 20 years. Without any results.
Without any information, more than any other Baperr squad member, from scratch, even by asking Semenu.
“I hope you won’t postpone it for long. Please.”
Nevertheless, he couldn't give up.
Because it was only 20 years, and he was still not wise enough.
***
The next morning.
“Meram… Ah. She’s not here.”
Simurtr, who had come down to the first floor, looked around and sighed. Meram was solving her meals and lodging in the research lab.
“I’ll just go out and eat.”
His lips were quite dry. The area under his eyes was slightly dark. It was because he had stayed up all night. Though he had the body of a Sword Master, it was still frail, and mental strength was a separate issue.
“How… no. How much does he know?”
The Star-Breaking Style. That secret technique had already been discovered by Semenu.
This meant that even Aran, who was not as familiar with it, could harbor a suspicion.
“But that’s a conviction.”
But Aran had a conviction that what he had learned was the Star-Breaking Style. He wasn't doubting his reincarnation. He could be sure of that.
“It’s not to that extent yet.”
Aran was a follower of Ruo. Though not that devout, he believed. Most Mectera swordsmen were the same. The Ruo Holy See was the state religion of the empire.
“Even if that weren't the case, if he suspected my reincarnation, he wouldn't have acted like that.”
With Aran’s personality, he would have fixed his way of speaking first. He would have used honorifics as soon as he realized it.
Aran was someone who had refused the order to speak comfortably from their first meeting. If he had realized that he was Exa, he would have blurted out honorifics.
That's why it was a headache. He was certain about the Star-Breaking Style, but he didn't suspect him of being Exa. He still spoke casually.
“What does he think I am.”
He had thought about it all night, but he couldn't even catch a tail.
According to Semenu, Aran was looking for Exa’s body. But then, all of a sudden, the Star-Breaking Style.
Simurtr was born four years after Exa’s death. It didn't add up. There was no connection whatsoever.
“Is he suspecting that I might have left behind something like a secret manual?”
And he wants to kill me because he can't accept it? No. If so, he would have drawn his sword and threatened me first.
Aran liked him. He called him Young Master, and he had readily agreed to his selfish request to create a mission.
“No. He readily agreed for this reason.”
Having an ulterior motive didn't change anything.
Didn't he rack up and collect the debt to ask a question about the Star-Breaking Style?
“A secret manual, a corpse, that’s all there is.”
In the end, it was going in circles. It was the same conclusion he had reached after thinking all through the dawn.
He had secretly left the exile mansion, found a secret manual somewhere, and learned the Star-Breaking Style.
In that case, Exa’s body might be near that secret manual. It was a topic that Aran, who wanted to fill Exa’s memorial, couldn't help but be tempted by.
“How do I deny it.”
Any conclusion was uncomfortable.
This was a conclusion where he had to find the body of his past life that he didn't even know about. And if he said there was no such thing as a secret manual, he couldn't explain the Star-Breaking Style.
“Just deny it? I don’t think that will work.”
He couldn't say anything about the Star-Breaking Style. Aran was already convinced.
“…Let’s just say it was hidden in the exile mansion. What can he do. I said so.”
Sorry to Aran, but that was the best ending.
“And the body wasn't there.”
Without getting him unnecessarily involved.
And in the process, if possible, make him give up on looking for the body.
***
“Long time no see?”
As expected, Aran had created a plausible mission overnight. He had sent Deban to deliver the orders for it.
“Did you miss me?”
Deban bowed his head low and then smiled. The companion for this mission. The day before, Simurtr had designated Deban to Aran.
It wasn't that the other swordsmen of the 6th Sword Order were uncomfortable, but for this journey, he needed a companion who wouldn't complain no matter what he did.
“I thought of you when I went to Degrate.”
“Why?”
“I think you’re going in the wrong direction.”
“They had a Black Snake over there.”
“Are you going to apply for a transfer?”
“Will they accept me?”
“They’d probably allow it for you.”
“In the Young Master’s opinion, do you think I can get stronger faster if I go there?”
“Wouldn’t being by my side be the fastest?”
“Are your internal injuries okay?”
“They’re already healed.”
The internal injuries from Huit had healed before the expedition to Degrate. For Deban, it was a greeting since they hadn't seen each other in a long time.
His overall condition was not bad. His crappy body was perfect within its limits, and he had also obtained a new means called Phantasmal Ability.
‘Three lines.’
Because of the training in Degrate, he hadn't been able to store magic power separately. He had only managed to reach three lines last night.
‘I’m a bit worried about having only three lines on my way to Bahab… but well. It’s not like I’m going to fight them.’
There probably wouldn't be a big problem. He had no intention of fighting Akarr Bahab right now. Even if he had the opportunity, he had to avoid it.
‘It’s not time yet.’
If, by some chance, a truly amazing stroke of heavenly luck came and he got a chance to kill Akarr.
‘That’s where it ends.’
He had to endure. If that happened, the other heroes would now focus on the existence of Simurtr.
It might be different in his past life, but for the current Simurtr, it was too much attention. An attention he couldn't handle at his current level.
He might even be dragged to the execution ground under the imperial family’s lead. Since a mere adopted son had killed a hero.
“Did you see the mission details?”
“No, not yet. I was going to look at it when I go out. Did you see it?”
“The Head of the Sword told me to check it with the Young Master when you check it.”
It was probably because it was a hastily made mission. Simurtr let out a chuckle. The office work of the 6th Sword Order was mostly Naor’s domain. Because Aran hated desks.
“Wait here.”
“Yes.”
The entrance of the central castle. Simurtr left Deban and went inside. Belying the size of the castle, the Sword Master’s office was on the first floor.
‘Because the lord of this place must stay on the battlefield, not in the castle.’
Come in. As soon as he reached the front of the door, a voice rang out. It was due to a sense of presence proportional to his skill, but the voice lacked strength for the power it held.
“Excuse me.”
It was probably because of Janya and Beden.
Simurtr thought as he opened the door.
Sword Master Orde’s disheveled hair was impressive. Sunken eyes, slumped shoulders. He looked even more devastated than when he had seen him a while ago.
“What brings you here. If it’s about the pursuit of Janya and Beden, not yet……”
“No, sir. I came for the next mission.”
Simurtr cut him off and placed the mission document on the desk. He had no intention of bringing up Janya. He didn't want to unnecessarily damage Orde’s mental state.
Though it was already in tatters, still.
‘That was Janya’s doing.’
From Orde’s perspective, he might hate him. Regardless of right or wrong, in the end, the reason Janya had taken a drastic measure was because of the existence of the fourth adopted son.
You should have just died without responding. If Orde thought so, Simurtr would give up the mission and somehow track down and kill Janya.
…By doing so, he would prove that his responses so far had been considerate.
“You’re already starting a mission? It hasn't been long since you returned……”
Orde looked at Simurtr with a troubled expression.
“How about resting a little more? It hasn't been long since you returned from Degrate.”
There was no hint of resentment in his eyes or voice. Fear or apology. Simurtr felt such emotions.
‘He’s too nice.’
Simurtr clicked his tongue inwardly.
‘It doesn't seem like he resents Janya either.’
If he had, he wouldn't have become such a wreck.
Orde was worried about Janya and Beden.
‘The Sword Master is also hoping that Janya and Beden were kidnapped.’
Simurtr recalled Aran’s words.
Blood is thicker than water. Orde was too soft to scold his own family for their faults.
No matter what Janya had done, no matter how bratty Beden was, in the end, they were his beloved family.
“The atmosphere in the main house is not so good either. You don’t know what might happen outside.”
“It’s fine. I want to move my body a bit too. I can protect myself.”
“…….”
He didn't think of him as a father, but still, as an adoptive father. Simurtr recognized that his heart was softening without him realizing it.
“I hope you don’t blame yourself. I have no particular feelings for my father. The exile case, too. And Lady Janya’s incident is not your fault either, father.”
“…They are things that wouldn't have happened if I had kept a better watch.”
“That’s… not true.”
That’s right.
Simurtr almost said that inadvertently.
“It might not have happened right now, but it would have eventually exploded someday. This incident too… in fact, I suspect it was a kidnapping. No matter how I think about it, there was no reason to take Beden too.”
The existence of Simurtr had become the kindling, but in the end, the one who had lit the fire was Janya.
No matter how well Orde did, that fiery woman would have definitely caused trouble someday.
“…Thank you for saying so.”
Orde’s expression eased a little.
Kidnapping. Only Simurtr had sided with Orde’s opinion and wish.
“Yes. Be careful. Is there anything you need from the main house?”
Orde asked as he stamped the mission document with an approval seal.
“It’s fine. However, there is one thing I would like to ask.”
“What is it.”
“By any chance, did my mother leave a last will?”
From the moment he found the tombstone in the west annex, Simurtr had been curious about it.