Chapter 639: BattleBane Master
CH639 BattleBane Master
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Elsewhere...
Lady Rosa Mercier and Dalton Asheton arrived at an inconspicuous villa not far from the BattleBane Estate.
Unlike the estate, this villa appeared subdued and almost lifeless. Though modestly large, there were no servants present on the property—an absence that was highly unusual for the calibre of dignitaries permitted to lease such a residence within BloodIron.
Lady Rosa and Dalton paid the gloom no mind as they walked through the corridors with practised familiarity.
Before long, they arrived at the master study. Dalton stepped forward and knocked on the door with measured care and respect.
"Dalton, Rosa... you have arrived? Come in." A gentle voice sounded from within.
Dalton promptly opened the door, and the two entered without hesitation.
The moment they crossed the door, both Dalton and Rosa felt their bodies shudder involuntarily. It was as though they had passed through an invisible veil and stepped into another realm... a realm steeped in suffocating gloom.
In an instant, every trace of excitement, joy, and warmth within them was extinguished, as though erased without a trace.
What remained was an oppressive tide of unease, melancholy, and quiet pain.
Fortunately, the sensation lasted only for a few breaths before receding. Yet even in its brief passing, it left a deep impression upon their minds, prompting both of them to sigh inwardly as they regarded the figure ahead with faint traces of pity.
Before them stood a man clad in a full suit of plate armour. The armour was worn and weathered, its surface marred by countless stains and irregular marks.
At first glance, one might assume these were the scars of many battles—and one would not be entirely wrong. However, the truth was far more unsettling.
Upon closer inspection, it became apparent that these marks did not originate from external strikes, nor from enemy blades, but from the wearer himself.
Dalton and Lady Rosa regarded the armour with complicated expressions. They knew full well that it was not worn to protect the man from external threats... but rather to protect the outside world from the threat from within him.
"Master," both Dalton and Lady Rosa greeted in unison.
Indeed, this man was the leader and master of the BattleBane Guild, as well as the true owner behind the Jadewell Merchant Company.
Unlike Dalton, whose curse only flared up intermittently—particularly when his mana ran low or when he lost control over his body—the master of the BattleBane Guild bore a far more severe affliction.
A curse so grave that he was forced to remain within this specially crafted armour at all times, enduring constant torment from the ’sins’ of his past... reduced to a wretched existence steeped in melancholy and pain.
Some looked down upon the man for confining himself within this gloomy residence. However, Dalton, Rosa, and all others within their organisation who were aware of his condition held nothing but the utmost respect for him.
Others in his position had long since taken their own lives, unable to endure the relentless, unceasing torture—both the lesser, continuous agony and the greater, overwhelming surges of pain that plagued him.
Yet this man remained resolute, clinging stubbornly to his will to live and persevere through the curse... all for the sake of one day exacting vengeance upon those who had condemned him—and many others he held dear—to such a fate.
Dalton and Lady Rosa took their seats on the chairs positioned opposite the sofa where the armoured man sat, the table between them forming a quiet boundary.
"Dalton, how are you? I sensed you lose control earlier, though you regained it soon after," a deep, husky voice sounded from behind the armour.
It was the voice of a man unaccustomed to speaking, as though each word had to force its way through a long-neglected throat.
"Yes, thank you for your concern, Master. I did indeed lose control today, but my rampage was brought to a halt," Dalton replied with a respectful bow.
Dalton and Lady Rosa exchanged a brief glance before turning their attention back to their leader.
"We encountered a rather peculiar group of individuals today..."
They proceeded to recount the sequence of events as clearly and objectively as possible, making a conscious effort to strip away personal bias and unfounded assumptions.
"Someone who recognised our curse immediately... yet did not carry the aura of divinity..." the BattleBane Master muttered.
’Then again, one of the very reasons we came to the Wildlands in the first place was because it is one of the few regions where the clergy and the temple rarely tread,’ he mused inwardly.
"Do you know—or at least have an idea of who he might be?" he asked.
"We do not have anything concrete," Lady Rosa replied. "His Fortuna Company arrived in BloodIron approximately three months ago and has largely maintained a low profile. If not for the potion they intended to introduce, they would not have entered our sphere of attention at all.
"However, his movements, his manner of speech at critical moments, his presence, and his sheer prowess all suggest that he hails from a significant background. More importantly, he carries an air of regality, while at the same time unconsciously displaying a certain disdain—or perhaps dismissal—towards divinity.
"Taking everything into account, I believe he is an heir of... ’that’ place."
"I see... That would make sense," the BattleBane Master nodded in agreement. "They are the only ones capable of nurturing such an individual, while remaining entirely free from divine influence—be it Deity or Spirit."
He paused briefly before asking,
"What is your opinion of his offer?"
"I believe it is worth the risk. If there is any hope of ridding ourselves of this curse... then I believe we must seize it," Dalton said firmly.
His eyes burned with unwavering determination and resolve—not for his own sake, but for the sake of the many within their organisation who suffered under the same affliction. Most of all... for the man seated before them.
"I understand... cough—"
"Master!" Rosa and Dalton shot to their feet in alarm.
The BattleBane Master raised a hand, dismissing their concern even as his body was wracked by violent coughing.
The force of it was so severe that his combat energy began to surge chaotically from within him, barely contained by the armour encasing his body—an effort that only served to further aggravate his condition.
Rosa and Dalton could do nothing but watch, powerless, as their master coughed up blood repeatedly. There was so much of it that an ordinary person would have long since succumbed to blood loss after experiencing such an episode even once or twice.
Yet for him... this had been a reality for years.
Eventually, the coughing subsided.
With a practised motion, the man casually wiped the blood from the mouth opening of his armour before rinsing his hand in a nearby bowl—one that was already stained a deep crimson, as though it had long since surrendered to the colour of blood itself.
He noticed the look of deep concern etched across Dalton and Rosa’s faces and shook his head lightly.
"Do not look so grim. This is not the first time this has happened, nor will it be the last... yet I am still standing," he said.
His gaze drifted towards the moon hanging high in the night sky.
Determination, derision, disdain, and mockery—a tumultuous cocktail of emotions—flickered through his eyes in that fleeting moment.
He turned back to Dalton and Rosa as he walked over and resumed his seat.
"I harbour my doubts about a man without divinity who claims he can lift a divine curse... and who demands a divine statue as remuneration.
"However, you are correct. No matter how unlikely it may seem, if there exists even the slightest possibility of treatment—or a cure—then we have a responsibility to pursue it. If not for ourselves, then for those who depend on us," he said.
The BattleBane Master paused briefly, taking a moment to stabilise the restless flow of his combat energy.
"Dalton, seek out the surrounding monster dens and acquire a divine statue," he ordered.
"As you command, Master," Dalton responded with a respectful bow.
The BattleBane Master then turned his attention to Rosa.
"Rosa, once Dalton has acquired the statue, I want you to handle the trade. You are more adept in matters of negotiation. If you sense even the faintest sign that something is amiss, withdraw immediately."
"Understood, Master," Rosa replied with a bow of her own.
The BattleBane Master looked at the both of them, his gaze heavy with intent.
"I understand that this may seem like the closest we have come to a cure—or even a treatment—in decades. However, I do not want either of you to lose yourselves in its pursuit. Until they can truly prove their claims, our relationship with them will remain strictly transactional.
"Even if they find themselves in peril—on the brink of annihilation—you are not to intervene out of fear that the cure might be lost.
"Am I understood?"
"Yes, Master," both replied in unison.
"Now leave me, before my curse intensifies further," the BattleBane Master dismissed them.
Rosa and Dalton bowed once more before taking their leave, exiting the room and soon after the villa itself.
Not long after, the BattleBane began to move—joining the many unseen forces that operated within the shadows beneath the calm façade of the Wildlands... a city built upon blood and iron.
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