Chapter 131

“…I have no idea what you’re talking about, all of a sudden. Have you ever said you needed me?”

Marius blinked blankly.
He even tilted his head as if he truly didn’t understand, to the point that one might mistake it for a genuine misunderstanding.
But no matter how carefully he managed his expression, he couldn’t hide the faint tremor at the tip of his eyebrow.

“Still, don’t push me away so harshly. Do I really seem that suspicious, this old man? For all that, I’m someone who wants to see you do well.”
“You must have thought the greenhorn who knows nothing beyond the Empire was laughable. No matter how capable he is, he hasn’t even lived twenty years, so his experience with unexpected situations would be shallow.”

Lucian didn’t respond directly to Marius’s words, instead muttering as if to himself.

“You thought that if you left me isolated and helpless in foreign lands, I’d follow your will whether I liked it or not. Army or whatever—one has to stay alive first, after all.”
“Hey!”
“But you know it now as well. From the moment I arrived here, I had no need to rely on you.”

Marius’s face twisted as if he’d been struck right in the heart.
Only then did Lucian meet Marius’s gaze head-on and speak.

“You’ve already made a prophecy about me. If you go back on your words now, your authority will crumble. No matter how I act, you’ll have no choice but to keep supporting me.”

“On the other hand, I have no reason to beg you for anything. I can handle the trial on my own, and looking after my own life isn’t difficult either. No—rather, you’re the one who’ll have to look after my life.”

“If I disappear, there’ll be no one left to fulfill your delusion.”

At those words, Marius could offer no rebuttal and merely clenched his fist tight.
Because there wasn’t a single thing wrong with them.

I was a fool.

No matter how much he was called a hero’s star, he was still a greenhorn not yet twenty years old.
Marius had thought that if he stood beside a mere sapling just beginning to grow and played the part of a sage, it would be more than enough to sway him.
All the more so in foreign lands rather than the Empire—like it or not, he would have to rely on him to survive.

But when he peeled back the surface, this wasn’t a sapling of a hero at all—it was a fully grown tree that had matured long ago.
There wasn’t even the slightest gap to wedge himself into; if anything, it was Marius who would have to beg to be allowed to rest beneath its branches.

But from the start, there was no other method.

Unlike Marius, who might die of old age at any time, Lucian’s future stretched endlessly ahead.
No matter how much Marius raged and tried to rebuild the Magic Tower on his own, Lucian wouldn’t lift a finger to help.
From Lucian’s perspective, even if it meant taking a longer route, it was better to firmly establish a foundation of people who would be loyal to him.
There was no reason to rush into rebuilding the Magic Tower just to grant the dying wish of an old mage with whom he had no particular bond.

So this is my last chance.

Even if it meant becoming Lucian’s enemy, he had to secure a card that could move him.
If he failed, he would never live to see the Magic Tower rebuilt.
He knew it meant burdening the younger generation, but obsession wasn’t something that could be dealt with rationally.
Marius steeled himself and looked at Lucian.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m no longer needed at all to conquer the Snowfield. However—just once, in the next trial, you’ll need me.”
“The next trial? Are you saying you know what it is?”
“Of course I do. At this point, there’s only one trial Ivar can possibly set.”

Marius met Lucian’s curious gaze and let out a cold smile.

“He’ll try to tear you to pieces with the Dragon’s Heart.”

The chieftain’s eldest son, Ainar, respected his father, Ivar.

Certainly, Ivar—his own father—was far from flawless as a warrior.
He was obsessed with power, tolerated no challenges, and was so stubborn that he never went back on his word.
Yet despite all those shortcomings, Ivar was the strongest warrior on the Snowfield and the most trusted chieftain of all.

Back then, I thought my father was the strongest person in the world.

Ainar let out a bitter smile as he recalled the duel that had taken place earlier that day.
It was a battle that completely overturned his long-held image of what the “strongest warrior” was supposed to be.
From the fact that the warrior was a woman, to the realization that a human could reach such heights—
everything was a shocking revelation, and naturally, his father was pushed beneath her in that ranking.

Even so, the respect Ainar held for his father did not diminish.
Since childhood, he had watched his father reign from the mountain peak time and time again.
Even if someone new now stood above the clouds, that was only another reason to offer greater admiration—not a reason to lose the respect he had already given.
Yet even for Ainar, that respect for his father wavered at this moment.

“What did you just say?”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said I’d give you a piece of the Dragon’s Heart.”
“A piece…?”

Ainar couldn’t continue speaking and stared blankly at his father.
Only the chieftain was ever allowed to approach the Dragon’s Heart.
No one else was permitted to enter the sacred ground—ever.
Yet Ivar was trying to break that tribal law with alarming ease.

“I intend to let you enter the sacred ground tomorrow. Officially, it will be to see whether the Dragon’s Heart accepts your existence or not. You will go inside and absorb the power contained in a fragment of the dragon.”
“W-Wait, please. What do you mean by that? Absorb it?”
“There is still dragon power left within the Dragon’s Heart. It’s far too vast to absorb completely, but a very small fragment can be taken.”
“How do you know such a thing, Father?”
“Because I, too, have once taken power from the Dragon’s Heart.”

Ainar felt as though he’d been struck on the head with a hammer.
Was the Dragon’s Heart not merely a sacred relic preserved to honor their ancestors?

“Don’t misunderstand. It was only in my generation that the Dragon’s Heart became usable. The ancestors before me didn’t even know how to make use of it.”
“Make use of it…? What happens if one takes a fragment of the dragon?”
“You gain incomparable power. You become tougher, faster, and stronger than anyone else. Of course, that’s only if you take an appropriate amount. If you grow too greedy, your body won’t endure it and will be torn apart.”

After saying that, Ivar paused with a complicated expression and muttered to himself.

“Come to think of it, I misspoke. It would be more accurate to say stronger than anyone—except for an extremely small number of monsters.”

Ainar could tell that Ivar was thinking of Felicia, just as he himself was.
Ivar must have believed that, having obtained even a fragment of the dragon and become the strongest warrior, it would be impossible for him to be surpassed—yet being outdone by a woman younger than his own child left him conflicted.
But Ainar felt no sympathy for his father at all.
If it were power achieved through one’s own efforts, that would be one thing—but what room was there for anguish over strength stolen from a dragon’s remains?

“Father.”

“Say no more.”

Ivar cut Ainar off in a firm voice.

“You’ve always been a rigid one. You cling to rules more than anyone. Naturally, you won’t like the proposal I’m making now.”
“You came to me knowing that.”
“I am the chieftain. It’s my duty to use every means at my disposal for the safety of this Snowfield. I can’t hand this land over to outsiders just to spare your pride.”
“That’s—!”
“I’ve already spoken to Brunda.”

Ainar froze, about to retort.
Brunda was better than Gormsen, who cared nothing for honor—but Brunda, too, placed more weight on practicality than ideals.
If he learned of a way to take a fragment of the dragon from Ivar, he would carry it out without hesitation.
No matter how hard Ainar tried to preserve honor on his own, it would amount to nothing.

“If you won’t listen to me, then do as you please. But in that case, don’t even lay a finger on the Dragon’s Heart. The moment you meddle with it, the immense power will tear your body apart.”
“Hoo…”

A short sigh escaped Ainar’s lips.
It wouldn’t be hard to intoxicate himself with the paltry satisfaction of having preserved his honor alone.
But in that case, the position of chieftain would undoubtedly pass to Brunda.
If Brunda—who would readily accept such an offer—were to rule the tribe, what would become of its future?
That alone was what truly worried him.

For the sake of the tribe’s future, am I the one who has to endure this disgrace?

Ainar gave a bitter smile as he reflected on the thought that had just crossed his mind.
He couldn’t even tell whether it was his true feeling or merely an excuse.
Having made his decision, Ainar lifted his gaze to meet Ivar’s eyes.

“Tell me the method.”

At the eldest son’s satisfactory answer, Ivar broke into a broad grin and said,

“First of all…”

***

“Manipulate the artifact in a specific way to regulate the flowing magic power, then take it.”

Back at Gunstein’s house, Lucian repeated aloud the method Marius had explained to him.
According to Marius, regulating the magic power this way ensured that only an appropriate amount would be absorbed, yielding nothing but benefits.
He had also stressed that if the artifact wasn’t adjusted, the surging magic power would cause the body to burst apart—so regulation was absolutely essential.

—At best, Ivar only took the residual magic lingering on the surface of the Dragon’s Heart. But if you use this method, you can store an enormous amount of magic power within your body and draw it out whenever you need it.

Put simply, it was like storing a massive lump of a supreme elixir inside one’s body.
If things worked exactly as Marius claimed, Lucian would become several times stronger than he was now.
The real question was how much he could trust Marius.

“Hugo, Felicia. What do you think about what that old man said?”
“He’s not someone you can trust.”
“It’s suspicious.”

The two of them gave nearly identical answers at the same time.
Then, one after the other, they explained the reasoning behind their conclusions.

If he’d told us to use the same method as the chieftain, I might’ve believed him. But to claim there’s a better way and propose something entirely different—doesn’t that strike you as strange?

“If side effects arise from following a mage’s words, Your Highness would have no choice but to rely on that mage just to heal your body. That might be exactly what he’s aiming for.”

At the sound of their master being criticized, Helen and Colin flushed red, but they couldn’t offer any real rebuttal.
By now, even the disciples no longer knew what their master was truly thinking.
Lucian let out a short chuckle and affirmed their speculation.

“You’re right. It seems he tried to provoke my greed in his own way, but he made far too many slips of the tongue. At this point, it only makes things more unsettling.”

Condensing enough energy inside one’s body to burst a person apart?
There was no guarantee that such a massive mass of magic power would remain stable indefinitely.
If it were released all at once, the body would explode and die; even if it were released gradually, one would writhe in agony as the pathways of magic were torn apart.
An ordinary person simply didn’t have channels wide or sturdy enough to endure that kind of power.
But Lucian possessed a constitution far removed from the ordinary.

“Raymond, what do you think?”

At Lucian’s question, Raymond—who had remained silent until now—burst into laughter and said,

“Congratulations, Your Highness. At last, you’ve found something new to fill yourself with in place of the nektar you lost back then.”