Chapter 123 : Chapter 123
Chapter 123
After spending the morning replaying the earlier events and devising plans alone in his room, Aquila Reschenhardt finally received a transmission.
[As it happens, I heard from Shen and was informed about you. I was told you are currently in eastern Banahan, and that something serious occurred along the way…….]
The voice of Lexenbert Fad Reschenhardt feigned composure, yet beneath it lay unmistakable agitation.
Once he had heard Aquila’s reply, he abandoned even the pretense of restraint and poured out an astonishingly long stream of concern.
Even when Aquila tried to tune him out, the voice that continued endlessly through the Communication Bracelet resembled an interminable speech.
‘Was he always this talkative……?’
Aquila found himself genuinely wondering.
To make matters worse, Astia Reschenhardt and Cahena intermittently added their own remarks, their voices overlapping in chaos.
At first, Aquila attempted to half-listen, but eventually he could not endure it any longer and cut in.
[I am perfectly fine. I am not injured, not ill—entirely healthy. Since arriving here, I have not been apart from Sir Heinen or Porzelin for even a moment, and there has been no trouble. At present, a kind merchant has lent us a room, and I am staying there. Ah. I have also repaired Sir Heinen’s Two-Way Mana Communicator, so please inform Ianpel that he may reach us through that as well.]
Aquila condensed his responses as succinctly as possible.
The parts he deliberately omitted, he had no intention of revealing.
How could he possibly mention that he had encountered the very culprit who had sent them here? Or that said culprit’s companion had proposed forming a party? Or that he intended to enter the Black Forest Dungeon?
They would oppose it without question. Worse, if anyone even suggested traveling from Labyrinth to the East, it would create a far greater complication.
‘It would be better to say, after returning to Igrail, that I happened to explore a dungeon back then.’
Even if he were scolded, what could they do?
By that point, he would already have entered and exited.
Adjusting his posture, Aquila dismissed the matter lightly.
In truth, he was more curious about what had occurred on Lexenbert’s side.
He had spoken to the Saint only yesterday, yet the reply had come only late this afternoon.
The moment Aquila asked about it, Lexenbert’s voice sank.
[Ah. It was not my intention to delay again. And yet I have made you wait once more…….]
Lexenbert suddenly began reproaching himself.
‘What is wrong with him?’
Aquila blinked in disbelief, then cleared his throat softly.
“You are not late. It is true that I was waiting… but you are not late, Father.”
He had almost said he had not been waiting, but quickly corrected himself.
For some reason, he felt that such a remark might sulk Lexenbert.
‘……One truly learns after long experience.’
Fortunately, his reassurance seemed effective. Lexenbert ceased his self-reproach.
According to Lexenbert’s explanation, upon arriving in Labyrinth, the first thing they encountered was an ambush.
From the maze-like streets, between towering buildings and scattered shadows, assailants emerged as though they had been hiding from the start.
Blades and poison rained down.
Even so, the warriors of Igrail were formidable.
Above all, at the vanguard stood Lexenbert himself.
As a Sword Master, he had never been merciful to begin with. Yet when curses involving Aquila’s name were hurled at him, his blade grew even more ruthless.
Thus, all present were granted the rare opportunity to personally experience the sword of Lexenbert Fad Reschenhardt.
Half with severed necks.
Of those, half left crippled.
And of the remainder, half bound and awaiting tortures so excruciating that death might have been preferable.
With the legend of the Sword Master further cemented, the subjugation of Labyrinth seemed complete.
Had it not been for the sheer number of enemies lying in ambush—allowing several to escape amid the chaos—it would have ended entirely.
[Even if remnants flee, we can pursue them. But our numbers were few; we could not capture them all. Still, we secured six-tenths of them. However…….]
Lexenbert paused briefly.
[That was when the problem arose. We had received reports, but as expected, some bore formulas of Black Magic engraved upon them.]
The remnants who fled to the surface.
Three warriors of Igrail who pursued them became entangled in Black Magic.
Fortunately, those who escaped had chosen secluded corners rather than the middle of crowded streets, so the Self-Destruction Magic did not claim many innocents.
But the true problem came afterward.
[Fad Friadel… Orphe was caught in Black Magic and gravely injured. By great fortune, he survived—but he lost his right arm.]
Even Aquila could not suppress his surprise.
‘……This is a path I have never encountered. The head of House Friadel has never lost an arm before.’
He frowned, searching his memory.
[Orphe suddenly seemed to lose his reason. As the battle was ending, he spotted someone fleeing and immediately gave chase.]
Lexenbert explained briefly.
The man Orphe pursued had once visited the Friadel Estate—a member of the Guild of Darkness who had attached himself as Morel Friadel’s personal escort.
It was the same man who had come to lay the Venomous Curse upon Friadel.
Thus, Orphe chased him down and drove his sword into him, ending his life.
But death did not halt the formula.
He was caught in Black Magic as well.
“So he did capture one of the masterminds.”
[…Indeed. Astonishingly so.]
Though his arm had exploded beyond even Divine Power’s capacity to restore, Orphe had reportedly rolled across the ground laughing—his face radiant with joy.
‘Understandable. He cherished his daughter.’
After losing his daughter to the Venomous Curse, House Friadel had inevitably walked the path of ruin.
Once Erzet Reschenhardt announced the Curse Removal Method, the investigation fractured the house from within.
Thereafter, Orphe Fad Friadel’s end had always been bleak.
He had never properly avenged his daughter.
He had never even been granted the opportunity.
Yet in this cycle, for the first time, Orphe had seized such a chance.
Had that altered his fate?
‘At the very least, we have gained an ally capable of eliminating Morel attached to Tirgan.’
In any case, between Orphe’s injury, those ensnared by Black Magic, and the partially ruined Labyrinth, there had been much to resolve—hence the delayed communication.
Lexenbert apologized once more.
[That is the situation here. If we conclude matters swiftly, we are closer to the East than Denimarad. We could proceed to Banahan and—]
“Pardon? You, Father?”
Aquila cut him off immediately.
“Shen is already coming east to retrieve us. What purpose would you serve by coming as well? Once your affairs are settled, please return.”
[But would the road back not be dangerous? I came seeking you. Even if I were to go east—]
“That is precisely what must not happen.”
Aquila frowned.
“The capital Denimarad and even Labyrinth City are acceptable. But the East is not.”
[Quil. I—]
“The moment you set foot in the East, he will come.”
Ordinarily unmoving, remaining within his domain.
But the instant Lexenbert crossed into the East, the other would respond.
The East’s sole Sword Master.
Long ago, they had agreed never to trespass upon one another’s boundaries.
Aquila added quietly,
“Do you intend to start a war? To overturn the continent merely to retrieve me?”
Lexenbert fell silent.
He knew his proposal was reckless.
Though he had already broken his promise to the Imperial Family by entering Denimarad, that had been justified—however slightly—by the Empire’s share of responsibility in the ambush.
There had been grounds for his anger.
But such justification would not extend further.
Now that Aquila’s safety was confirmed, stepping into the East out of emotion alone was an entirely different matter.
One Sword Master was a calamity.
Two, crossing blades, would not end in something ordinary.
[You are aware of the promise I made with him long ago.]
After a pause and a heavy breath—
[…Must a father require permission—require justification—to see his son?]
His voice carried anguish.
Aquila understood it.
Yet he responded coldly.
“Yes. When one possesses power, such matters are unavoidable. You know this better than anyone, Father. Once everything is concluded, return to Igrail.”
House Reschenhardt had always fulfilled its duty.
Guardians of the North.
Defenders against the chill of the Frost Forest.
Protectors not merely of the Imperial Family, but of the people.
They possessed overwhelming martial power.
And because of that, from childhood they were taught what consequences such power could bring.
From this incident, Reschenhardt would gain not only fame for toppling the Guild of Darkness, but fear.
Some would praise them.
Others would tremble at the thought that provoking Lexenbert meant annihilation.
He knew this, yet he had come.
But that was as far as he could go.
If trust were entirely broken, what returned would be fear, condemnation, and isolation.
And that burden would not fall upon Lexenbert alone.
All of Igrail would bear it.
A long, weary sigh came through the bracelet.
[…You are right. I have no position from which to insist. I only fear you may face danger again.]
From the other side came Astia’s faint murmur: “Father……”
[But let me make one thing clear. It is not ‘merely’ to retrieve you. If something were to happen to you, I would brave any risk. I hope you understand that.]
Lexenbert spoke with solemn sincerity.
Whenever he spoke as a father, Aquila was still startled.
And still uncertain how to respond.
‘This counterfeit life.’
Aquila exhaled deeply.
“…Yes. I understand.”
He answered in a way that would be conveyed to others listening as well.
A relieved breath followed.
The conversation concluded with promises of further contact should anything arise and the information that Shen would require approximately three days to reach them.
After confirming that the Mana Stone had dimmed, Aquila ran a hand through his hair.
‘Three days. More than enough time to clear a dungeon.’
Now that Denimarad and Labyrinth were stabilized, he could focus solely on the East.
He sprang to his feet.
There was no time to rest.
It was evening.
The taverns would be crowded.
‘I do not expect someone on Levlorne’s level, but surely there is at least one capable fellow. There must be.’
Draping his jacket over his arm, Aquila left the room.