Chapter 33: Reunion (3)
33
“Haah…! Haah…!”
The great achievement of bringing down the Order’s Proxy.
But Klein did not even have the leisure to rejoice over it.
Chiiiiik-!
The surrounding snow melted away, and steam burst out from his entire body.
The side effect of accepting alien mana, circulating it through his body, and releasing it outward.
“Cough-!”
Along with excruciating pain that covered every blood vessel in his body, his mouth spat out dead blood.
“I don’t know whether to call that brave or reckless.”
Ian muttered as he looked at Klein, shaking his head as if fed up.
“Guh?!”
Pain surged through him, as if needles were stabbing his entire body.
It was agony so severe it felt as though he had been struck by paralysis.
“You should consider yourself lucky that it ended at this. You reckless brat.”
“I know, sir…!”
Thud-!
Before he could finish his words, Klein’s body lost its balance.
With his already low stamina pushed to the extreme, he lost consciousness on the spot.
“Even while all the meridians in your body were boiling, you managed to stay standing. Impressive, really.”
Ian let out a short sigh as he looked at him sprawled flat on the ground.
But that was only for a moment.
Sensing the killing intent from behind, Ian turned to look at where Garrison had been sent flying.
Kurururur…!
Several trees that had lost their balance from the impact collapsed further.
“As expected.”
Yet even amid that chaotic situation, Ian did not miss the sound of footsteps approaching him.
“There’s no way a Proxy of all people would die from just one technique.”
The combined strike of Klein and Ian that had pierced through the defense of the holy artifact.
It was a seamless coordination, like a painting—but that alone was not enough to defeat a Proxy.
“…….”
Looking at Garrison walking toward him in silence, Ian opened his mouth.
“Planning to try more?”
Garrison, who had been approaching slowly, stopped in place.
Boom-!
The shining hammer slammed down onto the empty ground.
The fighting spirit Ian felt from the man standing across from him—
It was a razor-sharp aura on a completely different level from the playful mood just moments ago.
“I heard it from Heinkel. That you’ve been in charge of this child since he was an infant.”
Even so, Ian continued speaking.
“If you truly believed this child was Akimond’s reincarnation, why didn’t you kill him long ago?”
It took Garrison some time before he answered.
“I simply lacked certainty. But now that he has learned necromancy…”
“A Proxy of all people talking about certainty? Don’t make me laugh.”
Ian’s sneering words cut off Garrison’s excuse-like reply.
“You’re not trying to kill this child by your own will, are you? Am I wrong?”
“……!”
As if struck at the core, Garrison’s face twisted.
He was a Proxy belonging to the Order.
Under normal circumstances, he should have joined forces with the Inquisitors and killed Klein.
‘He acted alone without joining the Inquisitors. That alone tells the story.’
In the brief clash between them.
Even amid the fierce exchange where neither side gave an inch, Ian was able to read his emotions.
Obsession and madness—and hesitation piled up on one side.
This was not the intuition of a swordsman, but the seasoned insight of an old man.
Wisdom forged by years pierced through the heart of a beast consumed by rage.
“Step back, Proxy. You cannot kill this child.”
At Ian’s resolute words, Garrison remained silent.
And then, after a brief moment—
Crackle-!
The holy artifact that had shone brightly for an instant vanished, and the killing intent that had overwhelmed the entire forest disappeared without a trace.
“I don’t understand.”
With his face tightly creased, Garrison spoke toward Ian.
“You have no loyalty to Leinrant, and you should have even less of a connection to Klein.”
“You’re right, as you say.”
Ian replied with a faint smile.
Ian Leinrant—the untamable wild man.
The ghost of Leinrant who vanished from the continent along with the infamous title of knight slayer.
That such a man would reveal himself for the sake of a nephew he had never even met, and confront him head-on—
It was something Garrison could not comprehend.
“Then why are you going this far to defend Klein?”
Faced with Garrison’s question, Ian lowered his head slightly and chose his words.
“I may not have seen this child, but I kept hearing news of the family.”
As he said that, Ian looked at Klein lying on the ground.
“And after meeting him in person, I came to a conclusion.”
The boy’s unconscious body let out faint breaths.
“Even if this child is Akimond’s reincarnation, it doesn’t matter.”
At those words, Garrison immediately flared up.
“For such a irresponsible reason, you would spare that bomb!”
“The death of his mother, the family’s rejection, and the burden of being called a demon’s reincarnation.”
“……!”
As Ian spoke of the life Klein had endured, Garrison’s face darkened.
From the time he was an infant to now, as he grew into a proper young man—
Garrison was the one who had watched Klein’s life, and the tragedies surrounding him, closer than anyone.
“Despite bearing all of that weight, this brat was not crushed by it.”
“…….”
“He found his own path, grew, and stood up for his own people.”
That was the greatest reason he had come looking for Klein.
Prodigies and geniuses.
Those so labeled were piled up across the continent like mountains.
Yet none of them had been able to satisfy Ian.
Some were arrogant, others looked down on the talentless.
There were a few who grew straight and true like Delain, but that was all.
None of them could break free from the limits surrounding themselves.
The possibility he had searched for. The quality in Klein that quenched his thirst.
That was the strength to stand alone in lofty solitude, beyond the walls that encircled him.
It was the heroic quality shown by the first Duke of Leinrant, Berkel Leinrant.
“What this child’s past life was, or what kind of power he uses. That isn’t important.”
As Garrison mulled over Ian’s words, Ian’s voice echoed through the forest as if driving in a final nail.
“There’s only one thing that matters. That I saw Berkel Leinrant in this child.”
The cold wind blowing across the snowfield overturned the layers of perpetual snow piled on the ground, creating a pale mist.
Around the time that mist cooled the steam covering Klein’s body, Garrison opened his mouth.
“So you’re saying that one who inherited the blood of Leinrant will accept a Necromancer?”
Ian’s answer came a bit faster than that.
“My younger brother benefited quite a bit from that Necromancer, you see.”
He had saved Rudel, who had been on the verge of falling into a wraith, and lifted the burden from the heart of Heinkel, the family head.
It was something the knights of Leinrant, unable to break free from the limits of being swordsmen, could never have done.
“What defines an existence is not its essence, but its actions.”
Ian spoke as he retrieved the sword riddled with cracks here and there.
A single phrase spoken by Berkel, the hero who saved the continent.
It was an inscription carved into the hearts of all who wielded the sword of Leinrant.
“This child’s actions are more than worthy of being called Leinrant.”
Having heard those words, Garrison seemed lost in thought.
No—rather than thinking, he was likely retracing his memories.
“…My decision will not change.”
At Garrison’s words after a long silence, Ian’s expression hardened.
“I am a Proxy of the Order. The mace that smashes the enemies of the Order, and the stake of holiness.”
At the moment Ian tightened his grip on the hilt upon hearing that—
“So, I will watch.”
After saying that while looking at Klein, Garrison immediately turned his back.
“Whether that thing becomes a hero as you say, or a reborn demon.”
“…Sheesh, you really know how to make things tense for no reason.”
Ian complained as he relaxed his guard and hoisted Klein’s body over one shoulder.
“Then help out a bit. If we just calm his ki and blood, getting to the wall won’t be a problem—”
As he was speaking, Ian looked again at the spot where Garrison had been.
“That damn priest bastard. He said he’d watch, and then he just leaves someone half-dead out on the snowfield and goes?!”
Ian’s irritation-filled shout echoed across the middle of the snowfield.
The giant priest who had threatened them just moments ago had already vanished without a trace.
“Hellian, that damn bitch!”
Kwaang-!
A dark basement.
When a man filled with rage slammed the desk, the other subordinates nearby broke out in cold sweat.
Their leader was a killing fiend who murdered people simply out of boredom.
If they caught his eye in this situation, they had no idea what kind of fate would await them.
“It was those brat bastards who failed, so why the hell are they taking it out on me, damn it!”
Kwachik-!
Still unable to vent his anger, the desk he kicked flew into the wall and shattered into pieces.
Even as fragments of the completely destroyed desk flew toward them, those lined up on either side did not so much as flinch.
“Since his son ended up like that, isn’t it only natural for him to run wild like this?”
A sly voice came from beside the enraged man.
A frail old man.
On the fingers hidden beneath his black robe were ornaments made of human bone.
“Go back and clean corpses while I’m still being nice, old man. Before I kill you.”
The anger-laced voice was directed at the old man, but the old man’s smile showed no sign of fading.
“How dare you threaten me, Glek.”
A group of black-robed figures appeared on either side of the old man.
At the razor-sharp aura they emitted, the assassins all drew their weapons at once.
But that, too, was only for a moment.
“We are one of the few partners you have. There’s no need to redden faces over such a trivial matter.”
At the old man’s words restraining his subordinates, the robed figures immediately withdrew.
“My apologies, Bishop.”
“Hehehe.”
Watching them, Glek crossed his arms.
“So then, this time you cult bastards are going to volunteer your services?”
When he asked in a curt voice, the old man’s lips curled upward.
“That’s right. If you give us Young Master Klein’s head, Hellian will no longer pursue you either.”
“So then, what do you want in return?”
“No payment is necessary.”
At those words, Glek frowned, but the old man merely let out a chuckle from within the shadows.
“There are conveniences that ‘Fallen Leaves’ has provided us. Consider this our own way of repaying that.”
As he spoke, the lantern tilted, revealing the old man’s face.
A body shriveled and twisted like a mummy.
The old man’s eyes, hidden in shadow, were demonic eyes with no whites at all.
‘Disgusting bastard.’
Knowing the origin of those eyes, Glek nodded while suppressing the boiling revulsion within him.
With the backlash from their failed mission, Polwyvern’s informants were now on their trail.
Shaking them off would not be difficult, but losing a major client would be a significant loss.
Rather than worsening relations further, using them to recover from failure would be more profitable.
‘Besides, outside the wall is those bastards’ territory, so it’s a perfect fit….’
Having finished his calculations, Glek spread both hands as if in agreement.
“Fine. ‘Fallen Leaves’ will pull back from the wall. In exchange—”
“You will certainly receive Young Master Klein’s head.”
A confirmation coming from none other than the Bishop.
Nodding as if satisfied, Glek turned his back and left his seat.
At the moment Glek closed the door, the assassins who had filled the room were nowhere to be seen.
“They really scatter well. You rat bastards.”
A stream of abuse poured from the mouth of a man named Venice.
Meanwhile, the old man who had been stroking the skull ring on his finger extended both hands.
“Listen, all of you.”
At his single utterance, everyone’s eyes immediately focused on the old man.
“After two hundred years of waiting, an opportunity has come to us!”
The necromancy used by Young Master Klein.
After discovering its traces at an assassination scene, they had moved into action at once.
“There lies the knowledge that was stolen long ago by that despicable traitor!”
The faces of those wearing black robes lit up.
“Go to the wall. Ravage the scarecrows guarding that place, and bring Young Master Klein before me.”
Uuuuuuh…!
Along with his words, a chilling chorus echoed through the basement.
It was the screams of wandering souls ensnared by the old man’s demonic energy.
“Through his blood, we will welcome Him!”
The old man’s eyes, dyed pitch-black, turned toward the sky.
“The King of the Dead! Our god!”
Eyes intoxicated with ecstasy gleamed rapturously as the name he had served for his entire life spilled forth.
“We will resurrect Lord Akimond with our own hands-!”
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