Chapter 134

This is insane…!

With the Dragon’s Heart before him, Ivar found himself unable to move either way.
He didn’t know how Lucian was managing to hold the Heart with his bare hands, but the immense power was still clearly emanating from it.
Now that it had been completely separated from the artifact, touching it would mean being unable to withstand the surging power—and dying in an explosion.

Yet with the tribespeople watching, he couldn’t simply refuse Lucian’s proposal without reason.

Damn it… what am I supposed to do now?

There was no way Ivar could produce the same dramatic effect Lucian had, so the outcome of this so-called “kindness” was practically decided already.
Even if he couldn’t absorb the Heart’s power, he at least had to show that he could hold the Dragon’s Heart and remain unharmed.
Only then could he prove that he had once been a warrior chosen by the Heart.

But what if he had supposedly held it safely in the past, only to explode the moment he tried again now?
That would make it obvious—he had never been chosen at all, merely a fraud who stole the Heart’s power.

If the lies I’ve told until now are exposed, it won’t end with just my name being disgraced. My sons could suffer for it as well.

No matter how outstanding one’s children might be, a parent’s infamy is not easily shaken off.
Whatever achievements they accomplished, people would sneer and say that the blood of a swindler could not be erased, condemning them to lifelong scorn.
All the more so since Ainar and Brunda had taken the dragon’s power using the very method Ivar had taught them.
People would believe that the entire family had known of Ivar’s deception from the beginning—and willingly taken part in it.

…

Of all times, for this to happen after I’d already laid everything bare…!

Driven into a dead end with no escape, Ivar squeezed his eyes shut.
Things had gone too far—there was no way to get through this without taking some damage.
All he could do now was give up what had to be given and somehow minimize the losses.

“What’s the matter? Go on, take hold of the Heart. I’m giving you this chance.”

At Lucian’s voice, dripping with mockery, Ivar drew a deep breath.
There was only one thing he could surrender that would both be significant enough and minimize the damage—
his pride.

“I appreciate your consideration, but I’m fine. There’s no need to grasp the Heart to know the result.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can hear the dragon’s voice. It says it has already chosen its master, and that I should not cling to regrets. Even if I were to take hold of the Heart now, nothing would happen.”

Ivar struggled to steady his twitching cheeks and put on the expression of a sage.
From a distance, he looked like someone who had attained enlightenment—someone utterly free of attachment to the Heart.

“Even if it is a tribal relic preserved for generations, if its rightful owner has appeared, returning it is only proper. As a warrior who was once chosen, I intend to fulfill that duty.”
“So you acknowledge me as the Heart’s master?”
“That I do. Take it. From this moment on, the Heart is yours. However, the dragon’s choice and the chieftain’s trials are separate matters. Remember that a third trial still awaits you.”
“Oh?”

Seeing how swiftly Ivar had handled the situation, Lucian let out a note of genuine admiration.

If he touched the Dragon’s Heart, his body would explode.
If he refused outright, he would invite the tribespeople’s suspicion.
An ordinary man would have gone blank under such pressure, unable to do anything at all.
Yet Ivar had promptly abandoned the Heart, turning the entire situation into a tale of noble relinquishment.

He had recast himself—not as a defeated loser rejected by the Heart, but as a magnanimous man who followed the natural order.
On top of that, by drawing a clear line between the dragon’s choice and the chieftain’s trials, he even secured an image of fairness.

“Sharp mind. You gave up a bit of pride and walked away with everything else.”

Even at Lucian’s whisper, Ivar didn’t so much as blink.
It seemed he intended to let the matter pass as though nothing had happened.
But the words that followed snapped his mind wide open.

“Alright then. I was thinking of making the same offer to your sons.”

Just when he thought he’d caught his breath, Ivar froze on the spot.
If the Heart were presented to them as well, his sons would either touch it and explode—or, like Ivar, be forced to acknowledge Lucian.

The problem was that Ivar’s situation and his sons’ were not the same.
In the midst of competing for the chieftain’s seat, admitting that Lucian stood above them was tantamount to surrender.
If things went wrong, the mood alone could sweep Lucian straight into being proclaimed the third chieftain on the spot.

“P-please…!”

Breathing raggedly, that was all Ivar could manage to force out.
As cold sweat soaked his entire body, Lucian’s voice reached his ears.

“Let’s conduct the third trial fairly and squarely. No tricks like this. Understood?”

At Lucian’s words, Ivar nodded frantically.
Only then did Lucian smile in satisfaction, hoist the Dragon’s Heart high, and declare:

“Even one who was once chosen by the dragon has acknowledged me—so how could anyone deny my right? I am the rightful owner of this Heart, and from this day forth, the dragon shall walk with me!”

“Waaahhh!”

The tribespeople burst into cheers as one, all directed toward Lucian.
Not a single person showed anxiety despite the sacred relic passing into an outsider’s hands.
Every one of them firmly believed that Lucian would become their new king.

Gunstein could hardly collect his thoughts amid the cascade of earth-shaking events unfolding one after another.
It was only yesterday that he had been left speechless by Felicia’s utterly absurd level of mastery.
And now, just one day later, even the owner of the sacred relic that the tribe had safeguarded for countless years had changed.

…I’ve been shocked so often that I don’t think ordinary things would faze me anymore.

He finally understood, at least a little, why Lucian’s attendants were always so unflappable.
If one’s lord constantly dragged disasters of this magnitude in his wake, getting used to it was only natural.
In a way, Gunstein even felt a bit proud, thinking that he had grown slightly closer to the other attendants—

“Unbelievable.”

As if to mock that very thought, Gunstein let out another cry of astonishment.
And no wonder—the arrogant instigator was now kneeling before Lucian, their lord.

“Marius, second son of a farming household, offers his greetings to His Grace the Duke, the rightful heir of Valdeck and the Asagrim. I beg you to forgive all my insolence until now.”

“… ”

Marius’s actions left not only his two disciples, but even Lucian’s attendants, at a loss for words.
Among living mages, Marius had reached the highest realm.
Though unrecognized due to the Empire’s policy of persecuting mages, in the old days he would have been treated as the equal of a Sword Saint.
Because of that, his arrogance had been tolerated—understood, even.
Yet now he was suddenly behaving with such humility.

“M-Master! What are you doing all of a sudden!?”

Even at Colin’s stammered cry, Marius remained silent, lips tightly sealed.
It was as if he could not even lift his head without Lucian’s permission.
His posture resembled that of a peasant paying audience to a noble, prompting Lucian to frown.

“It’s unpleasant. Lift your head.”
“You are too kind.”
“Too kind, my ass. Why did you suddenly stop pretending to be a sage and start acting like a farmer? Are you mocking me?”
“No. I only—”

Marius parted his lips a few times, then closed them again.
He had remembered that things never ended well whenever he spoke at length.
Clicking his tongue, Lucian deliberately leaned back into a crooked, casual posture.
He looked ready to stand up and leave at any moment if he didn’t like the answer.

“What are you trying to pull? Your plan fell apart, so now you’re bowing to curry favor?”
“I simply realized something.”

At Lucian’s question, Marius finally spoke.
In that brief moment, his face seemed to have aged another ten years.

“I believed my wish was nothing but delusion. An obsession I couldn’t abandon even in death—one where dying would be better than giving it up.”
“And it wasn’t?”

A snort of derision came from Hugo behind Lucian.
With the dream of rebuilding the magic tower crushed, seeing Marius now trying to snatch even the chief mage position—once meant for his disciple—was simply distasteful.
Hugo didn’t laugh outright, but Felicia and Raymond wore equally incredulous expressions.
Only Lucian showed no reaction at all, calmly asking again.

“You want the position of Chief Mage?”
“Yes. But if that is not possible, then please allow me to serve in some other post beneath it.”
“And if that, too, is unacceptable?”
“Then entrust me with magical research. I would even accept the role of an educator, nurturing the next generation of mages.”
“And if I refuse that as well?”
“Your Majesty.”

“Yes. Then all of it was merely my misunderstanding.”

Marius said this with a self-mocking smile.

“I dreamed because I believed everything could be achieved—because I thought there was a possibility. If there truly had been no possibility at all, I would have compromised from the start.”

Long ago, one mercenary Marius had met once said that if you couldn’t have everything, it was better to tear it all down.
Obtaining something half-baked brought no joy—only the foul taste of cheap pity.

Marius had strongly agreed with those words, believing himself to be the same kind of person.

“But when I was faced with a situation where I truly could achieve nothing, I found I couldn’t endure it. I am not the kind of man who can abandon everything just because his greatest dream has been crushed.”
“So?” Lucian asked. “Your dream of rebuilding the magic tower is over, so now you’ll dream of something else?”
“Yes.”

“Interesting. And what dream would that be?”
“Please allow me to serve as your Chief Mage.”
“Hah.”

Marius’s voice trembled roughly.
As people turned in surprise, they saw that his face now looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment.
Abandoning even the formal bows of etiquette, Marius rubbed his hands together like a tenant farmer begging a land steward.

“Please… I beg you… I’ll grovel like this, so please…!”

“… ”

At the pitiful sight of their once-great master, Colin and Helen quietly lowered their heads.
Marius was a man who had reached an incomparably high realm as a mage, yet had spent his entire life hunted by witch trials.
Despite standing at a level that deserved the same reverence as a Sword Saint, he had received nothing but hatred and fear—how could he not feel wronged?
That was likely why he had dreamed such an enormous dream as rebuilding the magic tower, one meant to wash away all that injustice at once.

But Marius’s plans had collapsed.
He had failed to become someone Lucian needed, and he had not built even a shred of personal goodwill.
Far from rebuilding the magic tower, he now faced a future where he might not even leave his name in history.
His final chance depended entirely on Lucian’s mood—leaving Marius with nothing but miserable begging.

The wretched sight of a man of Sword Saint–level strength reduced to pleading left even Lucian’s attendants speechless.
Felicia, in particular, squeezed her eyes shut without realizing it.
If she had never met Lucian and had grown old without achieving anything, she felt she might not look any different from Marius now.

After staring at Marius in silence for a long while, Lucian finally spoke softly.

“For someone so desperate, you’re offering nothing at all.”
“Pardon?”

“You haven’t said a single word about what you can do for me, or how useful you’d be. Not a word. And yet, until recently, you were so eloquent.”

“I like that.”

At Lucian’s voice, tinged with a hint of laughter, Marius jerked his head up.
Lucian was looking down at him with an expression far gentler than before.

“If you’d said, ‘I can do this for you, so you should use me,’ or ‘I’m useful, so you must take me in,’ I would’ve thrown you out on the spot. But you changed my mind.”
“Y-Your Majesty…”
“I’ll give you one last chance, precisely because you left everything to my judgment. Don’t disappoint me this time.”

Hot tears streamed down Marius’s cheeks.
He had spent his entire life running like a sewer rat, unable to let go of his paltry pride, repeating mistake after mistake in how he dealt with others.
Yet the moment he cast aside all pride and truly lowered himself, a path finally opened.
Regret at not having done so sooner and elation at seizing a final chance swirled violently in his chest.

“Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you…!”
“That’s enough. Since you’re under my command now, I’ve got a few questions. Answer those first.”
“Ask me anything!”

Fwoosh—

Lucian kindled flames formed from dragon magic power in his hand.
Fixing his gaze on the fervent Marius, he asked:

“How do you use this dragon magic?”