Reincarnated as the Adopted Son of a Prestigious Swordsmanship Family

Chapter 65: Serepes (1)

The exiled Black Tower.

That disgusting Magic Tower is in the territory of Serepes.

However, its location is in the frigid lands at the northern end. The end of the Melken Empire.

Near the border that touches the forbidden zone of the mystical species Aitentel, which is said to inhabit the northern end.

The circle connected to the border of the forbidden Aitentel, with that entrance as a starting point, is the territory of the Serepes rangers. That patrol is operated very strictly.

That, Raphaelo himself, who had lived as a ranger for 65 years and served as the commander-in-chief for 30 of them, could guarantee.

The Black Tower is thoroughly isolated.

The rangers monitor its perimeter. To prevent outsiders from entering, and to prevent those related to the Black Tower from leaving.

Because it became impossible to check the inside. It was possible in the past, but Basor had grown too large due to the Doom War. The interior of the Black Tower became the jurisdiction of the Hero Family Basor.

Daily necessities? The magic items they wanted? Many things came periodically from Basor.

Accompanied by strict inspection, nothing suspicious had ever slipped in.

This too, Raphaelo could confirm with certainty.

‘How did these outsiders get in?’

Raphaelo could not understand it. They broke through the rangers' patrol network and were trying to get out again? This was grounds to kill them and intervene inside the Black Tower.

But the reason he hadn't killed this strange group and hadn't entered the Black Tower was due to one person.

‘Exa Mectera.’

The successor of the Star-Breaking Style. The Grand Duke's former fiancé.

Raphaelo looked at the people tied in a line. The man who had mentioned that name was at their head.

“If it is a lie, you will not be safe.”

“You've already tied us up.”

The man smirked.

Confidence. He didn't know who had insulted the deceased, but his faith in them was laid bare on the ground.

“I don't care about myself or the person at the end, but could you please untie the children?”

Deban gestured with his chin towards the back.

Children? Raphaelo's eyebrows twitched. There was no one here of an age to be called a child. The black-haired one at the end of the line was the youngest.

“They may look like that, but they're all young. Because someone was careless in monitoring the Black Tower. Of course, not you, Commander Raphaelo.”

“...You know me.”

The title of commander was a thing of the past. The Doom War. At that time, Raphaelo had performed a role greater than that of the ranger captain.

“They say that if Mectera has the 6th Head of the Sword, Aran Lubeil, then Serepes has Commander Raphaelo.”

It was a fairly famous story in the world. Neither of them was of noble birth. Yet, they had existed for the longest time in the highest position a commoner could reach.

“It's hard enough as it is. The children are scared. Surely you're not persecuting children, are you? The great Commander Raphaelo.”

Beden, hearing Deban's words, covered his mouth.

The situation was already dangerous, wasn't he being too aggressive? It was hard to see it as the words of the smooth-talking Deban.

“I heard that the 6th Head of the Sword, Aran Lubeil, even sponsors an orphanage.”

He did not look favorably on the Serepes rangers. They had monitored the Black Tower carelessly. That was why his younger siblings were born. And on top of that, they were tormenting them like this.

“...I am a ranger now.”

Raphaelo waved his hand. Something so transparent it reflected the sunlight untied the children's bonds. An invisible weapon. The armament of the rangers used in the white North.

“When we arrive at the Black Tower, you will have to explain everything.”

“Clearing up the Black Tower comes first.”

Deban's surroundings sparkled. At some point, Raphaelo's weapon had been constricting Deban from all sides.

“The person who asked me to deliver the message is doing someone else's job for them. Inside the Black Tower.”

The reflected sunlight was dazzling, but Deban did not avoid Raphaelo's eyes.

“I will see for myself and decide.”

Raphaelo retrieved his weapon.

The confidence Deban was showing. That had created hesitation in Raphaelo's hand. He was cursing the Black Tower and blaming Serepes.

For Raphaelo, who had great pride in Serepes, it was difficult to make a decision easily. Pride was something that could not be formed by simply covering up mistakes or faults.

“Name.”

“It's Deban.”

It was a personal curiosity.

Loyalty to someone in the Black Tower.

A brazen attitude despite his life being held by a stronger person, a knack for getting under one's skin. It suited the virtues of a ranger....

“Aren't you going to ask for my affiliation?”

“Identity is meaningless here.”

Deban secretly clicked his tongue.

Even if Serepes was arrogant, they had a young master of a Hero Family on their side. If he asked for their identity, the situation could end surprisingly simply.

‘He asked for a name but in the end, doesn't ask for an identity... for the sake of convenient processing.’

It was one way to make rules strict.

Not making exceptions. It's easier to kill without knowing than to kill while knowing.

That way, it's easier for the underlings working in the field.

The area around the Black Tower must have been treated as a forbidden zone even in Serepes. Those who crossed the zone would have been executed on the spot.

Governing with strict rules is like a warning to other lands. We handle our laws strictly, so don't come here and cause trouble.

‘Serepes is of the Melken Imperial bloodline.’

Under the land of Serepes, the Grand Duke is equal to the Imperial family. The Emperor allowed it by catching the disaster known as Serepes.

That was why such boldness and unconventionality were possible.

“Shall we enter?”

He had been so meticulous in his assessment on the way. The Black Tower was already in front of them. The journey was several times faster than the time it took to get there.

Indeed, the footsteps of a ranger are different. And this was Raphaelo, who was comparable to Aran Lubeil.

“Can you take me too?”

“As long as you don't do anything foolish.”

“As long as you don't touch our young master.”

“I will decide after we talk.”

“Good heavens.”

The conversation was cut short. Deban and Raphaelo's eyes turned to Beden.

The bound Beden's mouth was wide open.

That sight was quite familiar to Deban. Beden was looking straight ahead, at the Black Tower. Deban and Raphaelo's gazes turned back to the front.

“...Who dares.”

Ruuuumble. The ground shook violently. The high piles of snow on the ground swayed back and forth. What the nearby snow-capped mountain had shaken off turned into an avalanche.

…The exiled Black Tower, the managed area of Serepes, was collapsing.

“You're amazing.”

Deban let out a hollow laugh.

***

…Honestly.

I took it too lightly.

Simurtr acknowledged that arrogance.

‘A careless Great Magician.’

In the end, he did prove that statement.

The careless Gerehk Adre had matched the output of his defense formula to Simurtr's full power. That was why he was able to pierce it and bring down the Black Tower.

‘It was thanks to Pegna.’

The reason Gerehk Adre's calculation turned into carelessness was purely thanks to Pegna.

Star-Breaking Style 4th Star. His current level.

The wall of a Great Magician, he still could not overcome it. He had almost died at the hands of a mere Death Knight. He was almost captured by Gerehk Adre and offered as a sacrifice to the man called father.

‘Pathetic.’

A means is ultimately a means. It ends there. In the end, the main thing is not Phantasmal Ability, but the Star-Breaking Style. It is my level, my achievement. I must train my body, I must raise my achievements. I must build my strength.

“Cough.”

Look at me now. Simurtr let out a hollow laugh as he looked at the clear pool of blood amidst the dust cloud. Point five. Amplification using Pegna. The body cannot handle it.

The body that had been restored through the elixir had turned into junk again. It was worse than before he took the elixir. Joints everywhere were dislocated, and his muscles felt like they were trying to shrink like a wrung-out rag.

‘My insides.’

He couldn't say they were good even with empty words. It was incomparable to the act he had put on for Ael in Huit. Simurtr felt the pieces of his internal organs on his tongue and moved his feet.

It was because he had withstood the collapsed debris. He had already pushed himself so much, and in the middle of that, he had tried to protect his body.

Fortunately, the wall with the movement formula engraved on it was intact. As much as the formula was engraved, the magic for durability was also maintained. It was the one on the 1st floor, and it was the entrance to the outside.

‘I want to rest.’

If he had his way, he would spit out everything that kept rising up his throat and take a rest.

No, more than that, he wanted to recover.

As his revenge became clearer, his own body became precious. He was afraid of any possible damage to his body.

It was a worry he had never had in his past life.

Back then, if he just breathed quietly, everything would heal.

‘The body comes first.’

That was more urgent than the achievement of the Star-Breaking Style. It was something he had always felt, but this time it hit him harder.

Simurtr walked slowly. He saw the entrance but didn't rush. He carefully made his way through the collapsed debris.

“Young master!”

The movement formula was intact. When he touched it and forced out his mana, the scenery changed. A welcoming voice pierced his ears.

“Is that you, Deban?”

Simurtr pressed his closed eyes with his thumb and forefinger. His eyes had adapted to the darkness of the Black Tower. It was difficult to see ahead because of the sunlight reflecting off the snow that covered the land.

“You… why are you tied up?”

After squeezing his eyes shut and opening them, his vision finally cleared.

Simurtr tilted his head as he saw Deban with his hands tied behind his back.

“Why are the kids here? I told you to send them to Serepes.”

Ten of them. And Beden.

All the people he had sent out were in front of him. Simurtr frowned. He was already exhausted.

“I was trying to do just that.”

Deban's eyes shifted to the right. Simurtr looked where Deban was pointing. An old man.

Someone who looked to be of a similar age to Aran was looking this way.

‘An old ranger.’

The person he had mentioned to Deban earlier, who fit Simurtr's request perfectly. He must be a ranger.

The problem was, why was such an old ranger here? And why was he tying up Deban and Beden, and even leading the children?

“Didn't you relay what I said?”

“I'm here because I did.”

Simurtr looked at the old ranger.

He knew that face. Raphaelo Drecie, the idol of the Northern rangers. A man famous for his deep loyalty to the Grand Duke.

“Why? Why did you bring them?”

But Raphaelo's achievements, reputation, and position were things that did not resonate with Simurtr.

“You heard my words. Then why did you subdue them?”

A sudden surge of irritation arose.

“Raphaelo Drecie.”

“You know me as well.”

Raphaelo's eyes widened slightly.

“I do. You're famous.”

“The successor of the Star-Breaking Style. I heard you have the last will of the Grand Duke's former fiancé.”

“We know everything. But you seem to be full of things you don't know.”

Gulp. Simurtr quietly swallowed what had risen up. He couldn't show weakness here.

“Answer me.”

Alertness appeared in Raphaelo's eyes.

It was because he expected Simurtr to be a strong person. The fact that he had destroyed the Black Tower was proof enough.

“If you wanted to hear that, you should have listened to our demands. You should have opened Serepes, let us in, and ensured the safety of the children.”

Simurtr feigned being fine and spread his arms wide. He tried to hold onto his trembling arms with force.

Where his gaze was directed, the children were shivering in the cold.

“...What can I trust from an intruder found in the Black Tower's territory?”

Raphaelo's eyes trembled slightly as he looked at the children.

Children. Just like the man named Deban, he called the ten adults children.

The Black Tower. Raphaelo realized that it must be related to the now-collapsed Black Tower.

“I have been very lenient. Normally, they would have been executed on the spot where they were found.”

But he doesn't back down. The rules of the North are more precious than life to a ranger.

His loyalty to the Grand Duke had already made him break the rules once, but he couldn't go any further than that. Raphaelo raised his hand.

“Then I don't trust you either. What can I trust to tell you?”

Raphaelo's hand is empty, but... Simurtr knows there is a transparent weapon there.

If he fights, he'll lose. It wouldn't have been different even if his body was fine. Raphaelo is a strong person of the North, comparable to Aran.

He had no intention of fighting anyway. He had no particular feelings for the Grand Duke's Raphaelo. If he had to point out any wrongdoing, it would be about the Black Tower, but it wasn't a certain matter.

‘The last will left for the Grand Duke.’

The reason he was trying to have a conversation with an intruder, who had even destroyed the Black Tower, instead of killing him.

Because it was left for the Grand Duke, Raphaelo could not make a decision easily. It was the reason he was breaking the rules of Serepes.

‘There is none.’

There is no last will. However, he could make one up.

‘Even if I make it up, am I crazy to say it now?’

The last will is a shackle that holds Raphaelo's ankle.

If he recklessly released it, he didn't know how Raphaelo would react.

“The Black Tower managed by Serepes was up to all sorts of nonsense. Who knows if you're on the same side.”

That was why Simurtr had tied Serepes and the Black Tower together. He felt the need to divert Raphaelo's attention. He hoped his focus would shift from the last will to the Black Tower.

“You came to help the Black Tower, right? You look like it.”

Simurtr pointed at Deban and the children.

The escaped children, and the Serepes ranger who had brought them back to the front of the Black Tower.

Regardless of Raphaelo's intentions, this scene looked that way.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Simurtr's statement was a troublesome one for Raphaelo. It was also a statement that hurt the pride of Serepes.

However, to express his anger about it, at least the current situation could be seen that way.

“Big brother…”

“Oppa…”

“I'm cold.”

Because it seemed that calling the ten adults children was not wrong.

Because the thought that the Black Tower had committed some atrocity while the rangers were monitoring the outskirts strongly arose.

“I don't know, but why did you catch the children who had just escaped?”

Simurtr barely held onto his wavering vision. He was starting to get dizzy. How much blood did he spit out while leaving the Black Tower?

‘This is the limit.’

In his blurring vision, he could see Raphaelo's mouth moving. He couldn't hear it.

What? Simurtr asked. Was what he said correct? He couldn't confirm it. Piiiiing. A ringing started in his ears.

“Hmph.”

Inevitably, Simurtr rotated all his remaining mana. Fortunately, his body, which had already reached its limit, did not feel the resulting pain.

Raphaelo reacted to that. He mistook it as Simurtr transitioning to combat.

What he had held in his hand spread wide in front of him. A snow-like aura was injected into the transparent object.

“Let's clear up any misunderstandings at the castle.”

But he took a step back. Raphaelo did not harbor any killing intent. He had to ascertain the truth of the last will and find out the reason for the collapse of the Black Tower.

It was then that a roar was heard.

Just as Raphaelo's weapon was about to capture Simurtr's entire body.

“My son!”

A voice filled with profound mana shook the snow-capped mountain, which had already shaken off its snow once.

Simurtr heard it not with his ears, but with his ki sense. He couldn't hear the voice, but he felt the mana. A mana resembling a great mountain.

Raphaelo's head snapped around. He could see a force approaching in the distance, stirring up a blizzard.

Among them, the one at the head. The man who was giving off a profound black color. The crest of the black sword held by the standard-bearer next to him.

“...Mectera.”

Sword Master Orde.

Raphaelo instinctively knew that the man at the head was the Sword Master. Not just a Head of the Sword. A jet black that seemed to have cut itself off from the world. Only the Sword Master of Mectera could produce such a color.

“...The timing is impeccable.”

He didn't know how they found him, but.

He could finally rest. The mana that had been fueling Simurtr was extinguished in an instant.

“Then, please take care of the….”

Gwaaaaaaack!

Simurtr vomited all the blood that had risen up as a backlash from raising his mana, and then collapsed on top of the pool of blood.

“...Who dares.”

Seeing his third son subdued, and his fourth son collapsing while vomiting blood, Orde's eyes... turn to Raphaelo.

To be precise, the weapon he held, the aura shimmering around Simurtr. Thɪs chapter is updated by noveⅼfire.net

“Raphaelo Drecie.”

“...Sword Master.”

Orde's eyes, which were always gently lowered, become fierce. The light in his eyes grows increasingly vicious.

The Sword Master of Mectera.

The 3rd Sword Order, led by the 3rd Head of the Sword, Saana.

Even the Black Snake of Degrate, who served as a guide.

“It's a misunderstanding. I didn't do it.”

The circumstances were too clear.

No one believed Raphaelo's words.

“How dare Serepes cross the line.”

Facing the ominous momentum that had gathered and taken over the space, Raphaelo broke out in a cold sweat.