Chapter 85 : Chapter 85
Chapter 85: House Guest (2)
Bahab had a great many loyal retainers.
At one time, Simurtr had thought that to be natural. Akarr’s temper was something few could endure. It was only natural that only the loyal retainers remained.
“I heard he openly demanded the Swelling Flame.”
“I didn't know Mectera was a place that coveted others’ things.”
They had become a Hero Family, coveted all the talents in the world, and remodeled someone else’s castle into a talent hall called The Ember of the Swelling Flame.
The loyal retainers, who should have been few, had increased drastically compared to his past life. And they all disliked Simurtr.
“He defeated Lady Hejel and even spouted the nonsense of asking to be taught the Swelling Flame, yet how could the Duke accept such a person.”
“I heard he refused The Ember of the Swelling Flame. And yet, calling him Lady Haryun’s partner, she even gave him a villa in the West Palace.”
From the servants on up, everyone. Especially the hostility from the Bahab knights was tremendous. The backbiting never ceased whenever he was on his way somewhere.
“Let’s move on. He’s getting closer. He might hear us at this rate.”
“Alright. I don’t understand how the captains and vice-captains can remain so quiet when that bastard is running wild like that.”
But Simurtr couldn't hear it.
Though the backbiting was endlessly replayed, the place they shared it was always far away from Simurtr.
“My point exactly. Sir Noel was attacked, yet the Swelling Flame and the 1st squad didn't step forward.”
Renate Noel. The rising star of the Spark who had entered the Swelling Flame by taking first place in Bahab’s test.
Renate, having found out Simurtr’s impure motive, had drawn his sword and was half-killed on the spot.
Simurtr had neither explained it as a misunderstanding nor tried to resolve it with conversation.
He had simply cut him down with his sword and thrown the unconscious Renate outside the main gate. Telling them to clean it up themselves.
“The Duke must have her reasons. Ones we could not dare to know.”
“I know. What I don’t like is that the superiors are not avenging Sir Noel.”
Renate Noel was still lying in a sickbed.
Though he took recovery potions and had a healer attend to him, the extent of his injuries was too severe.
Nevertheless, no one had avenged Renate. It wasn’t because they thought it was Renate’s share to be paid back upon his return.
Akarr had instead ordered a punishment for Renate. She said it was the crime of drawing his sword on a house guest.
“He’s going to the direct lineage’s training ground again. Does he really think the Duke will teach him? How foolish.”
“I heard that the Mectera have scabbards for heads. That they’re empty inside.”
“That’s right. I heard that too. That’s why they’re called Sword Fiends. Ghosts without brains to think.”
Savage Sword Fiends.
It was a term used to refer to the Mectera who did not know chivalry. Just as swordsmen held knights in contempt, knights did not like the Mectera.
9 AM. The knights, having checked the time, predicted where Simurtr would go.
The direct lineage’s training ground, which only the Bahab bloodline could enter. That damn Black Sword bastard was training every day in that sacred place.
Simurtr, who had arrived in front of the training ground, suddenly turned around and opened his mouth.
It was too far for his voice to be heard, but the knights, who were focusing their vision, confirmed the shape of his mouth.
“Pathetic bastards.”
The knights uttered in unison.
It was the same, meaning they had read it correctly. Their faces instantly turned red, but that was all. They did not close the distance.
Simurtr shook his head and opened the door. Those who only watched and talked behind his back from afar were never any good. They should at least launch a preemptive strike like Renate.
‘It would be great if it were only losers like them.’
Simurtr thought of Renate Noel.
Akarr’s loyal hound who had shown him around the Bahab territory and had charged at him without a second thought on the day he found out Simurtr’s purpose.
‘She’s building an elite force.’
The Ember of the Swelling Flame.
That talent hall was the foundation for it. Renate Noel was a knight who was not lacking even when compared to a high-ranking swordsman of the 6th Sword Order.
‘His loyalty too.’
To swordsmen, Mectera was an ideal.
It was similar to that. The ideology that had been born over a thousand years, Akarr was quickly chasing after it.
Hadn't Renate, who had been so favorable as to allow his name to be used, suddenly charged at him with a do-or-die attitude?
‘The Ember of the Swelling Flame. While I’m here, I should look into that place too.’
For now, Mectera was superior in the number of such high-level forces, but it was a matter of time.
Bahab knew well how to wield the power they had gained through the hero.
“It’s been a while.”
He stopped for a moment as he entered the training ground. A previous guest was here. A face he hadn't seen for the past month.
“Are you meeting me now?”
Haryun was looking this way.
Her expression was unchanged, but Simurtr knew that Haryun was displeased.
“The rumors about you never cease. Why do you keep making enemies. This isn’t Mectera, you know.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Is that what a person who did that to Sir Renate would say?”
Haryun’s lips parted as if she had seen something disgusting. It was because she had recalled Renate’s appearance.
Renate’s arm had been half-dangling, and his knees were twisted as he was thrown in front of the villa.
“Or what, should I have just let him have his way?”
“You could have subdued him more gently.”
“A bastard who was aiming for my neck from the first move? Why should I?”
“Sir Renate simply considered you to be disrespectful.”
“So he should be punished. It was a mere dog ignoring what its master had permitted.”
Akarr knew the reason Simurtr had accepted the position of a house guest.
In fact, hadn’t she punished Renate, not Simurtr? It meant she had acknowledged Simurtr as the victim.
“Sir Renate is still lying in a sickbed. His limbs have recovered, but his internal injuries are still severe.”
“If he intended to kill, he should have been prepared to die himself.”
Simurtr was stating a sound argument.
If someone were to attack first with killing intent? Haryun was not confident she could respond to that leniently.
“A mere knight bastard tried to kill a Mectera. He should be grateful I didn't report it to the main castle.”
Simurtr was not a simple house guest.
Though an adopted son, he was acknowledged as one of Mectera’s legitimate heirs.
If the victim had been Akarr or Hejel, Renate would have been executed, not put under confinement.
“That bastard should thank me twice. Once for me letting him live. Once for me not telling Mectera.”
Simurtr passed by Haryun and stretched his arms wide in the center of the training ground.
Then he slowly began to warm up.
One month. A month had passed since Simurtr had come to Bahab, and Renate had been carried away just ten days ago.
‘That day too.’
On the day Renate charged at him, nothing had changed. Simurtr had carried out his schedule just as it was.
After throwing Renate, who had charged at him in the morning, outside, he had gone to the training ground. He had swung his sword as he always had and had only returned to the villa late at night.
Today was the same. At some point, Simurtr was holding his sword. He operated his mana and controlled his breathing.
Should I talk to him? Haryun hesitated.
His training hadn't started in earnest yet. Now was the best timing, but she had gotten off on the wrong foot. She had come to apologize.
‘Let’s wait.’
Haryun casually found a spot in the corner of the training ground.
Their eyes met for a moment, but Simurtr said nothing. It must have meant it was okay for her to watch.
The surging white mana formed a hemisphere.
The hemisphere swallowed Simurtr. Haryun didn’t know what it was, but she realized it was putting immense pressure on Simurtr.
Simurtr was already sweating, and his fully expanded muscles were trembling.
‘Is this a Mectera training method?’
The sword tracing its trajectory was absurdly slow. A speed that didn’t match his writhing muscles. From that speed, Haryun could indirectly feel the pressure exerted by the white hemisphere.
‘How does he do it?’
Haryun quietly drew up her mana.
She let it flow around her just as Simurtr had done.
She tried to imitate the shape of the hemisphere, but it wasn't easy. She could create the shape, but that was all.
Inside the hemisphere, materialized mana, so distinct it was visible to the eye, was surging.
It was an application and control that Haryun could not dare to imitate. She couldn't even grasp how such an environment could be created.
‘How can he do this?’
But Simurtr didn't stop there.
While maintaining that environment, he was constantly flowing mana through his own body.
Sword Ki flowed on his sword.
Every time he swung his sword, it would pre-emptively condense on that trajectory and restrain Simurtr even more. It suppressed the sword from advancing.
‘How can he move in there?’
Nevertheless, Simurtr moved.
He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth. His whole body trembling, he moved forward slowly but steadily. Eventually, he reached the end of the trajectory he had intended to go.
‘So that’s why.’
Body, mana, swordsmanship.
The daily routine of the Bahab Knight Order divided the schedule for those three. The time was perfectly allocated.
Just because one was a knight didn't mean they swung a sword all day. They had to build stamina and develop muscle.
They had to polish their minds and invest even more time in mana.
‘So that’s why they’re called Sword Fiends.’
Haryun found herself nodding her head.
She understood the reason why the Mectera were called Sword Fiends.
Without needing to separate them, all at once.
They sought to train them all at once, so that they would have more time to hold a sword.
‘Do all Mectera do that?’
Eventually, Haryun shook her head.
She didn't think all the swordsmen of Mectera would be like that. It would be a handful, and Simurtr was one of them.
Simurtr’s formidable mana application ability made such an absurd training possible.
By creating an optimal environment, he sought to resolve everything at once, in the process of training the sword.
It was a training method solely for the sword. So that time and effort would not be wasted.
So that all elements would be trained with the sword as the focus.
***
“What. You’re still here? Shall we have lunch together?”
Simurtr spoke to Haryun exactly four hours later.
His daily routine was really strict. It must have been like this for the past month. Simurtr, having finished his simple stretches, was approaching Haryun with his sword dangling.
‘Is that also a part of training?’
Index and middle finger. Simurtr was casually holding the sword with two fingers.
Perhaps because she had watched his training before, every small movement seemed to hold a meaning for the sword.
No. Haryun shook her head hard once.
This was not the time to assign meaning to Simurtr’s gestures.
She had to undo the first button that had been wrongly fastened and correct the missed timing.
“I’m sorry.”
Suddenly? Simurtr began to make such an expression, but it wasn't sudden.
“I know too. It was Sir Renate who was rude, you did nothing wrong. But I just, I just got angry and said that.”
Haryun had been anxious for a whole month to utter these words.
But to find fault and mention Renate as soon as they met, it was because she had become discontent again upon actually meeting him.
“Why were you angry?”
“…Can’t you not ask?”
“Sure.”
He had a more indifferent side than she had thought. Haryun began to understand the person named Simurtr.
Yes. Everything Simurtr had done for her was not because Haryun was special.
She had actually known. From the time Simurtr had told her not to look for him at the underground banquet. Probably.
‘Is asking if I’m finally meeting you after a month something to say?’
Thinking about it, she felt ridiculous for being sulky over something so trivial.
‘Who do I think I am.’
She felt ridiculous for her past self who had misunderstood that perhaps Simurtr had come as a house guest because of her.
She had guessed and expected on her own. When her guess turned out to be wrong, she was ashamed of herself for getting angry at Simurtr and being disappointed.
‘With what confidence.’
Defeating Hejel and raising Haryun’s standing were all thanks to Simurtr.
She hadn’t been satisfied with that and had coveted more. The one who was supposed to give the rice cake wasn't even thinking about it.
The gaze that had softened became harsh again. Making a person misunderstand like that.
Making things difficult.
“Are you really not going to ask?”
Haryun didn't know how to control her own heart.
She was only 17, and it was the first time she had harbored affection in her life. She had barely grasped the edge of her own emotions.
“You told me not to ask.”
“That’s right. Don’t ask.”
“…Alright then.”
17 years old. Simurtr recalled Haryun’s age. She was the same age as the siblings.
‘Jahar is the unusual one.’
Beden, Ael, and Haryun.
At that age, it was common for a rebellious phase to come now and then. It was an age where pent-up frustrations would pop out.
Time would solve it. Sometimes, a strong shock would fix it all at once. Wasn’t Beden an example of that?
‘Well. Time will solve it. What could happen to Bahab that would be such a strong shock?’
As he took a step, Haryun awkwardly followed behind him.
“The training. Is it okay for you to show it to me?”
“Is there a reason why not? It’s nothing special.”
“Isn’t it Mectera’s training method?
“Who knows?”
The Black Hemisphere. Training using it.
That was something Simurtr had thought of on his own, and it was a surprisingly effective training method.
Perhaps the siblings were already doing it. The Black Hemisphere was originally Mectera’s.
Rather, it might be stranger that they hadn’t applied it to training. For a thousand-year-old family.
“That could be it. It probably is? I haven't really been educated in Mectera.”
Throughout his past life, he had never experienced training infused with mana in Mectera.
In his past life, he had a body without mana, and in this life where he knew the optimal method, it wasn't necessary.
“What are you talking about. You have your secrets too. How can you ask someone to teach you their secret art then?”
“No. I’m saying I’ve never been trained in Mectera.”
Simurtr was being sincere, but to Haryun, it sounded like an excuse. He was a hypocrite, just like anyone else.
He had boldly demanded someone else’s secret art. Yet when his own family was mentioned, he pretended not to know.
It wasn't even a secret art like someone else's, just a training method.
“Alright. Let’s say that’s the case.”
“I really don’t know, you know?”
At his rather resentful-looking reaction, Haryun let out a small laugh. He always seemed so mature, but seeing him like this, he was definitely her peer.
“So, have you always been like this? Alone?”
“That’s right. Because someone ignored the order to help me adapt.”
“…I’m sorry. If I had been there, that incident with Sir Renate wouldn't have happened.”
Haryun lowered her head as if she was ashamed.
“It’s fine. There wasn’t much to adapt to. Nothing changed except the environment.”
Thinking about it, nothing had changed.
Meram and Mectera were not here, but his routine was the same. He woke up in the morning, bathed, and headed to the training ground.
“You haven't met with Mother?”
“She didn't come.”
Haryun tilted her head.
She remembered the conversation the two had in the office. Once a month. Akarr had made that promise to Simurtr.
“Then you’ve been training alone all this time?”
“That’s right.”
Already a month.
Simurtr hadn't seen Akarr since the first day. He hadn't seen even a glimpse of that unmistakable red color from afar.
‘She’s changed.’
Why hadn’t she appeared?
If it were as usual. If it were the Akarr that Simurtr remembered, she should have been pushy from the first day.
She should have clung to him until he was sick of it, whining that since she was nobler, it was only right for him to follow her.
‘Her head has gotten bigger. Since I died.’
I didn't want to admit it, but she had become a little more mentally mature. I had thought she would never change.
‘Annoyingly so.’
That was the conclusion Simurtr had reached, and The Ember of the Swelling Flame would be the proof of it. Akarr had learned how to capture the hearts of talents.
Just as this side had realized its direction through death and reincarnation, Akarr too had learned by killing Exa.
‘She must have investigated me.’
Akarr had recommended The Ember of the Swelling Flame.
It was impossible to embrace him right away, but she had hoped he would be influenced even a little there.
But she had failed, and she must be aiming for another method. A preliminary investigation would have been necessary before that.
Information about Mectera was not difficult to obtain. Of course, there wasn’t much information about Simurtr, but for Bahab, it would be easy to get.
‘The investigation should be over by now, and she must be contemplating a method of persuasion.’
The Swelling Flame? It wouldn't be that.
If she had intended to entice him with that, she would have just taught him on the first day, without any investigation.
‘Because I openly demanded the Swelling Flame. She probably had no intention of teaching it in the first place. Even if she showed it, she would show it bit by bit. Since it’s her bread and butter.’
It wasn’t the memento from his past life either.
Akarr seemed to have no intention of giving it up.
‘Or it’s not here.’
The memento in Bahab was the cherished sword, Elder.
That was something more than Pagna or Pegna.
The things he had in his past life were mostly for the Star-Breaking Style, but among them, Elder was special.
‘20 years. I don’t know about the others, but Elder is something she should have given up on first.’
Elder was not an object from which one could achieve something just by holding onto it and spending time.
The Akarr that Simurtr remembered was a sword she would have thrown away long ago.
‘Did she just keep it for ornamental purposes?’
No.
She would not keep something belonging to the person who, in the end, became a threat and was eliminated, for ornamental purposes.
Consider it a spoil of war? Unlikely. It was the result of a cowardly backstab. Akarr would have relived the shame looking at that sword.
‘It’s not here.’
Not in Bahab’s fortress.
As soon as she realized there were no results, she would have put it away. Simurtr thought so.
‘Or, as Aran said, it was really stolen.’
Honestly, that possibility was low.
Bahab would have started a war for the sake of honor.
‘Then what’s left?’
Simurtr thought of an idea that might make Akarr light up.
“…Shall I go and ask? She won’t teach the Swelling Flame, but it might still be helpful.”
Haryun Bahab.
Excluding the memento, the only point of contact between myself and Bahab.
‘Don't tell me she's trying to.’
No matter how much of a trash Akarr was, would she go that far? Even though Haryun was somewhat of a cold rice in Bahab, she was still her daughter.
“Really?”
Though he thought so, there was really only her.
Simurtr looked at Haryun with troubled eyes.
“Pardon? Ah, yes. It would be strange for a house guest to be neglected too much… If you wish, I’ll go and ask her soon.”
“No, no. Not that. It’s fine. Won’t the Duke call for you soon? Probably?”
If so, then it was real.