Chapter 33

Reunion (3)

"Haa…! Haa…!"

It was a tremendous achievement—bringing down one of the Order's Executors.

But Klein didn't even have time to rejoice.

Sssssss-!

The surrounding snow melted away as steam poured from his entire body.

The aftereffects of accepting foreign mana, circulating it throughout his body, and forcefully releasing it.

"Cough—!"

Agonizing pain spread through every blood vessel in his body as dark blood spilled from his mouth.

"Should I call this bravery, or sheer recklessness?"

Ian muttered while looking down at Klein, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Ggh…?!"

Pain like countless needles stabbing into his flesh surged through him.

It was agony severe enough to resemble a stroke.

"You should be grateful it only ended like this, you reckless brat."
"I… know…!"

Thud-!

Before he could even finish speaking, Klein's body lost balance.

His already frail body had been pushed far beyond its limits, and he finally lost consciousness on the spot.

"Even with every blood vessel in your body boiling over, you still managed to stay standing."

Ian let out a brief sigh while looking at Klein sprawled flat on the ground.

But only for a moment.

Sensing killing intent from behind him, Ian turned toward where Garrison had been blasted away.

Rumbleee…!

Several trees destabilized by the impact collapsed one after another.

"As expected."

Yet even amidst the chaos, Ian did not miss the sound of footsteps approaching.

"There's no way one of the great Executors would die from a technique like that."

The Combined Strike Technique unleashed by Klein and Ian had pierced through the defense of the Holy Relic Weapon.

It had been flawless coordination worthy of a painting.

But that alone was not enough to kill an Executor.

Watching Garrison silently approach him, Ian spoke.

"Planning to continue?"

Garrison, who had been slowly walking forward, stopped in place.

THUD-!

The radiant hammer struck the empty ground.

The battle intent emanating from Ian as he stood facing him—

It was utterly different from the playful demeanor he had shown moments ago.

This was sharp, terrifying killing intent.

"I heard it from Heinkel. That you've been taking care of this child since he was an infant."

Even so, Ian continued speaking.

"If you truly believed this child was Archimond reincarnated, why didn't you kill him long ago?"

Garrison took a long time to answer.

"It was because I lacked certainty. But now that he has learned necromancy—"
"Certainty? Don't give me that bullshit."

Ian's mocking voice cut off Garrison's excuse.

"The desire to kill this child right now isn't truly your own will, is it? Am I wrong?"
"…!"

As though struck directly in the core, Garrison's face twisted.

He was an Executor of the Order.

Ordinarily, he should have joined forces with the Inquisitors to eliminate Klein.

'He acted alone instead of joining the Inquisitors. That alone says enough.'

Their battle had only lasted a short time.

Yet even amidst that relentless clash, Ian had read Garrison's emotions.

Obsession. Madness.

And beneath them all—hesitation.

This was not the instinct of a swordsman.

It was the insight of an old man.

Wisdom forged through time pierced through the heart of the beast consumed by rage.

"Stand down, Executor. You cannot kill this child."

At Ian's firm declaration, Garrison remained silent.

Then, after a moment—

Fwoosh-!

The Holy Relic Weapon shining brilliantly for an instant vanished, and the overwhelming bloodlust suppressing the forest disappeared without a trace.

"I don't understand."

With a deeply furrowed expression, Garrison spoke toward Ian.

"You have no loyalty toward Leinrant, and even less of a connection with Klein."
"That's true."

Ian answered with a faint smile.

Ian Leinrant was an uncontrollable wild man.

The Ghost of Leinrant, who vanished from the continent alongside the infamous title of Knight Slayer.

For someone like him to appear for the sake of a nephew he barely even knew—and stand against Garrison himself—

It was incomprehensible to Garrison.

"Then why are you protecting Klein to this extent?"

Receiving the question, Ian lowered his head for a moment before carefully choosing his words.

"Even though I never met the child directly, I continued hearing news about the family."

As he spoke, Ian looked toward Klein lying unconscious on the ground.

"And after meeting him in person, I reached a conclusion."

The unconscious boy released faint white breaths into the cold air.

"Even if this child truly is the reincarnation of Archimond… it doesn't matter."

At those words, veins bulged across Garrison's forehead.

"You would spare that ticking bomb for such an irresponsible reason?!"
"His mother's death. His family's neglect. And even the burden of being called the reincarnation of a demon."

"…!"

At the mention of the life Klein had endured, Garrison's face stiffened.

From infancy until now, when he had grown into a young man—

Garrison had been one of the people who watched Klein's life and the tragedies surrounding him from the closest position.

"Even while carrying all those burdens, this boy was never crushed by them."

"He found his own path, grew stronger, and rose up for the sake of those he considered his people."

That was the greatest reason Ian had come looking for Klein.

Prodigies. Geniuses.

The continent overflowed with those who were called by such names.

Yet not one of them had ever satisfied Ian.

Some became arrogant.

Others looked down on the untalented.

There were a few who grew upright and honorable like Delline, but that was all.

None of them could surpass the walls surrounding themselves.

The possibility Ian had sought all this time.

The quality within Klein that had quenched his thirst.

It was the strength to overcome the walls surrounding oneself and stand proudly alone.

The very qualities of a hero shown by the first Duke of Leinrant, Berkel Leinrant.

"No matter what this child's previous life was, no matter what power he uses. None of that matters."

As Garrison mulled over Ian's words, Ian's voice echoed throughout the forest like a final nail hammered into place.

"There is only one thing that matters."

The cold wind sweeping across the snowfields stirred up ancient snow, creating a pale white haze.

By the time it cooled the steam covering Klein's body, Garrison finally spoke.

"So a descendant of Leinrant intends to accept a necromancer?"

Ian answered even faster than the question finished.

"My younger brother happened to benefit quite a bit from that necromancer."

Klein had saved Rudel, who had been destined to become a vengeful spirit, and lifted the burden weighing on Heinkel's heart.

Those were things the knights of Leinrant, bound by the limitations of mere swordsmen, could never have accomplished.

"What defines a being is not its essence, but its actions."

Ian retrieved the sword covered in cracks and opened his mouth.

A single phrase once spoken by Berkel, the hero who saved the continent.

Words engraved into the hearts of all who wielded the swords of Leinrant.

"This child's actions are more than worthy of bearing the name Leinrant."

After hearing those words, Garrison appeared deep in thought.

No—

Rather than thinking, he was likely recalling old memories.

"…My decision remains unchanged."

At Garrison's eventual response, Ian's expression stiffened.

"I am an Executor of the Order. The hammer that crushes the enemies of the faith, the sacred stake of divine judgment."

The moment Ian tightened his grip on his sword at those words—

"Therefore, I shall simply watch."

Looking toward Klein, Garrison spoke before immediately turning his back.

"To see whether he becomes the hero you claim… or a reborn demon."

"…Tch. You really know how to make people tense for no reason."

Grumbling under his breath, Ian relaxed his stance and hoisted Klein's unconscious body onto one shoulder.

"Then help me out a little. Once his circulation settles down, getting him to the Wall shouldn't be a probl—"

Mid-sentence, Ian looked back toward where Garrison had stood.

"That damned priest bastard. Says he'll watch over him, then leaves us to die in the middle of a snowfield?!"

Ian's irritated shout echoed across the snowy plains.

The gigantic priest who had threatened them moments ago had already disappeared without a trace.

***

"That fucking bitch Helian!"

KWAAANG-!

A dark underground chamber.

The moment the enraged man slammed his fist against the desk, cold sweat broke out on the faces of the subordinates around him.

Their leader was a murderous lunatic who killed people simply because he was bored.

If they caught his attention right now, there was no telling what kind of fate awaited them.

"It was those useless bastards who failed, so why the fuck am I the one getting screamed at?!"

CRASH-!

Still unable to vent his anger, the man kicked the desk, sending it flying into the wall where it shattered apart.

Fragments of the destroyed desk scattered toward the assassins lined up on both sides, yet none of them even flinched.

"Well, considering what happened to her son, it's only natural she'd react that way."

A gloomy voice echoed beside the furious man.

A frail old man.

On the fingers hidden beneath his black robe were ornaments crafted from human bones.

"Go crawl back and polish corpses or something while I'm still being polite, old man. Before I kill you."

The man's furious voice lashed toward the old man, yet the smile on the latter's face never faded.

"How dare you threaten me, Glek."

A group of black-robed figures appeared beside the old man.

The chilling aura emanating from them caused the assassins to draw their weapons all at once.

But only for a moment.

"We are among the few business partners left to one another. There's no need to ruin relations over something so trivial."

At the old man's command restraining them, the robed figures immediately stepped back.

"Our apologies, Bishop."
"Heh heh heh."

Watching them, Glek crossed his arms.

"So this time your cult bastards are volunteering to handle things for us?"

At the blunt question, the corners of the old man's lips curled upward.

"Indeed. If we present Young Master Klein's head, Helian will stop hounding you as well."

"And what exactly does your side want in return?"
"We require no payment."

Glek frowned at the old man's answer, but the elder merely chuckled from within the shadows.

"'Falling Leaves' has already provided us with a great convenience. Consider this our way of repaying the favor."

As he spoke, the lantern tilted slightly, revealing the old man's face.

A body shriveled like a mummy.

And hidden beneath the shadows were demonic eyes devoid of any whites.

'Disgusting bastard.'

Knowing the origin of those eyes, Glek suppressed the revulsion rising within him and nodded.

After failing the mission, Paul Wyvern's informants had begun hunting them down.

Breaking away from pursuit wouldn't be difficult, but losing a major client would be a severe loss.

Rather than worsening relations further, using these people to make up for the failure would be more profitable.

'Besides, outside the Wall is these bastards' territory anyway… perfect.'

Having finished his calculations, Glek spread his hands as though in agreement.

"Fine. 'Falling Leaves' will withdraw from matters concerning the Wall. In exchange—"
"You shall receive Young Master Klein's head without fail."

A direct guarantee from a Bishop himself.

Glek nodded as though satisfied and turned to leave the room.

The instant the door closed behind him, the assassins filling the chamber vanished without a trace.

"They sure scurry around well. Like rats."

Curses spilled from a man named Venice.

Meanwhile, the old man stroked the skull ring on his finger before raising both hands.

"Listen well, all of you."

At a single word from him, every gaze in the room turned toward the old man.

"After two hundred years of waiting, our opportunity has finally arrived!"

The necromancy Young Master Klein had used.

The moment traces of it were discovered at the assassination site, they had immediately begun moving.

"The knowledge stolen long ago by that wretched traitor exists there!"

The faces of the black-robed figures twisted with excitement.

"Go to the Wall. Crush the scarecrows guarding it and bring Young Master Klein before me."

WOOOOOOO…!

A horrifying sound reverberated throughout the underground chamber.

It was the screaming of the resentful souls captured within the old man's demonic energy.

"Through his blood, we shall welcome Him once more!"

The old man's pitch-black eyes rose toward the heavens.

"The King of the Dead! Our God!"

His eyes gleamed with ecstatic madness as the name he had worshipped his entire life spilled from his lips.

"We shall resurrect Lord Archimond with our own hands—!"