“……”
Crackle, crackle!
The faint embers fizzled, scattering as Johan’s body was reduced to nothing but ash.
Ian scratched his cheek as he looked down at the remains.
“Hm, still, that was quite the loyalty. The pain must’ve been unbearable.”
It was, after all, the heat contained within the Solar Meridian Vein.
That searing energy that tore through flesh and boiled blood was not something even Ian himself could easily endure.
“Well, I wasn’t planning to let him live even if he had talked.”
He had dared to raise a blade against him. Death was inevitable—but at least, Ian had hoped to learn who was behind the attempt.
“Who could it be… perhaps the Grand Prince?”
Considering the faint killing intent he had felt during the day, the possibility that the Grand Prince had sent the assassin was quite high.
‘Not that it really matters.’
Even if it wasn’t the Grand Prince but another martial powerhouse from the clan, it made little difference.
Whoever had sent the assassin—if they wanted Ian dead, he had no intention of dying quietly.
During his rule over the Northern Continent, assassination attempts had been almost routine. Tracking down every culprit had been impossible, and so Ian quickly erased the incident from his mind.
In fact, thanks to the assassin’s timely attack, Ian had narrowly managed to avoid a far greater crisis—there was no reason to dwell on it.
‘That was close. The Solar Meridian Vein… I can’t take it lightly.’
Johan would never have imagined that just moments ago, Ian’s condition had been on the brink of explosion.
As the energies of the Iron Blood Chain Art and the Solar Meridian Vein clashed within him, his inner state had overheated, and his body temperature was rising rapidly.
Had it continued even a bit longer, this untrained, fragile body of Ian’s would have melted away completely, unable to withstand the opposing forces of those two energies—
Just like Johan’s corpse now reduced to ashes before his eyes.
If the dead Johan had known, he would’ve regretted it bitterly—but it was too late.
Ian lived, Johan died. The result had already been decided; the past couldn’t be changed.
“I should be thankful to whoever sent the assassin.”
Thanks to that attack, Ian had been able to safely discharge the leftover heat that hadn’t been properly digested during the unsealing of one chain of the Solar Meridian Vein.
“Well, since you came to kill me anyway, don’t take it too personally.”
Scrape, scrape—
Using the fireplace tools nearby, Ian gathered Johan’s ashes together.
Rattle—
He opened the window, let the wind scatter the ashes away, and calmly went to sleep.
Having lived as a Conqueror King who’d survived countless assassination attempts, a visit from a killer was nothing out of the ordinary for him.
The next morning.
Despite the threat on his life the night before, Ian was sleeping soundly.
Knock, knock.
A voice came through the door, disturbing his rest.
“Young master Ian, this is Hans. May I come in?”
It was the familiar voice of Hans, the butler who had served Ian since the moment he was born.
“Come in.”
Screech—
Thanks to the well-oiled hinges, the large door opened without a single sound.
“Haam, it’s morning already?”
Ian muttered, looking out the brightening window.
“Young master, today is the Gate-Opening Ceremony. Normally I would let you sleep a bit longer, but I hope you’ll forgive me for not doing so today.”
‘Ah, right.’
Alex had mentioned it yesterday morning—originally, the ceremony was scheduled for yesterday, but he had postponed it by a day for Ian’s sake.
Clap, clap!
At Hans’s signal, the waiting maids entered in a flurry and began preparing Ian’s attire.
“Excuse us, young master.”
Rustle, rustle.
They tidied every strand of his hair, then dressed him in a black ceremonial robe.
Even at a glance, the material looked luxurious—flexible and resilient enough that it could easily serve as combat wear.
“Butler, dressing is complete.”
At the maid’s words, Hans flipped open his pocket watch.
Click.
“If we depart now, we’ll be on time. Let us go, young master. The ceremony isn’t far off, so we’ll head straight to the Main Hall.”
Step, step—
The Lichtenauer Martial Clan, one of the great powers representing the Aslan Kingdom—one of the two dominant nations dividing the Southern Continent.
Its scale was immense.
Even though they had departed fairly early, by the time they arrived at the main estate, the sun was already high in the sky.
Compared to an ordinary noble’s mansion, it wasn’t a residence—it was a fortress.
‘Indeed, worthy of its reputation as one of Agena’s most illustrious houses.’
Back when Lucas’s Alexandor Empire ruled the North, it was said across the continent that the Lichtenauer Clan’s continued existence was what kept the Northern Conqueror from invading south.
That alone proved how great the clan’s influence was.
‘Not that I ever intended to invade the south anyway.’
Even managing the vast northern lands had been enough to make his chancellor, Stion Ballantier, go gray from stress.
There had been no reason to covet the south as well.
Step.
As Ian approached the main hall, he felt a heavy, invisible pressure bearing down on his shoulders.
It was nothing to Lucas, but to Ian now, it was nearly overwhelming.
“Only blood kin of the Lichtenauer line and the captains of the elite strike divisions may enter beyond this point. Young master, I wish you a successful ceremony.”
Hans stopped right at the invisible boundary where the pressure began, offering his parting words.
To some, his tone might have seemed cold, even severe—but Ian appreciated it.
That kind of precise professionalism made him trust the man even more.
“Thanks, Hans. We made it on time thanks to you. Go ahead and rest.”
Pat, pat.
Just as Lucas once did in his past life, Ian lightly patted Hans’s arm and walked into the main hall.
“……?”
Hans felt a faint sense of incongruity watching him go.
He hadn’t noticed it yesterday, since Ian had gone straight to wash and rest after returning home—but now…
There was something distinctly mature about him. It reminded Hans of the Lord’s younger days.
Through Hans’s gaze, Ian’s back grew distant as he strode proudly through the suffocating pressure.
“…I have a feeling something interesting will happen at today’s ceremony.”
He couldn’t explain why—but his instincts told him so.
And Hans’s instincts, honed over a lifetime, were rarely wrong.
Adjusting his glasses, a subtle smile played on his lips.
‘The Gate-Opening Ceremony, huh…’
Ian walked silently through the corridor of the main hall, enduring the heavy pressure surrounding him.
‘Well, even at a glance, it’s clearly an important event.’
Anyone with half a brain could tell that much.
The question was what kind of ceremony it actually was.
“Gate Opening.”
Literally, it meant opening a gate.
Ian guessed it was likely a coming-of-age ritual of some kind.
‘Given that this is a martial clan, it’ll probably involve demonstrating one’s skills. But how exactly will it proceed?’
Maybe he’d be asked to display his realm to prove his talent—or perhaps to duel someone and demonstrate the spirit of a warrior.
‘If they want me to show my realm, I don’t have much to reveal yet. If it’s a duel, I’ll handle it carefully—not too rough, not too lenient.’
Ian had once stood at the pinnacle of the continent.
Even if the aura within his body was now weak as dust, the potential of the Iron Blood Chain Art was limitless.
No matter how famed the Lichtenauer Clan was for its martial prowess, Ian doubted he’d struggle much against their ordinary warriors.
‘Not that I’ve ever considered losing an option anyway.’
Step—
While musing about the ceremony and enduring the pressure emanating from the martial experts around him, Ian finally arrived at the audience chamber doors.
“Second Young Master Ian Lichtenauer requests entry to the main hall!”
The knights guarding the massive doors announced his arrival.
Rumble—
The enormous doors, easily over five meters tall, swung open, revealing the grand audience chamber beyond.
Centered around an empty jade throne, the direct and branch family martial artists stood in formation on either side, alongside the captains of the elite strike divisions.
‘…Ho?’
Ian’s eyes glimmered with intrigue as he surveyed them.
‘Their level… it’s higher than I expected.’
Perhaps it was because these were the Lichtenauer elite, allowed to stand in the presence of the Patriarch.
Not a single weakling stood among them.
Each one was strong enough to command a mercenary corps or serve as a knight captain for a high noble.
‘…Seems the rumors weren’t exaggerated after all.’
Had Lucas truly led the Alexandor Empire’s army to conquer the south in his past life, he might have struggled—a lot.
Without the empire and himself giving their all, the southern conquest would’ve failed for certain.
Step, step.
As Ian walked slowly along the carpet toward the center, murmurs from both sides reached his ears.
They made no effort to hide their words—no aura messages, just whispered talk.
“Tch. We’re already busy enough guarding against the Daesoo Sea, and yet we delay everything for the Second Young Master’s convenience? Absurd.”
“They said the Grand Prince personally requested it.”
“Tsk, the Grand Prince’s only flaw is that he’s too soft on his little brother.”
“Well, that gentleness is part of his charm—his ‘soft charisma.’”
“Heh, true enough.”
Their talk of praise for the Grand Prince, Alex, shifted into derision.
“Look at that frail body. Hardly a muscle on him. For a direct descendant of the great Lichtenauer line, he must’ve been lazy in training.”
“Well, there’s a reason he’s called a half-wit.”
“Pfft! True enough.”
Even outright mockery of Ian, the Second Young Master.
From that contrast alone, Ian could clearly see the difference between Alex’s standing and his own.
Of course, Ian paid them no mind.
Once he fully mastered the Iron Blood Chain Art, his strength would not betray him.
Even a lion is weak when it’s a cub.
Right now, he simply had to ignore the barking of dogs.
After all, when had a lion ever cared about the yapping of mongrels?
Ian reached the center of the hall and knelt on one knee.
Time passed—long enough that his knee began to tremble—
Then, from outside, a knight’s voice echoed once again.
“Entering now—the Master of All Weapons, the Pillar of the Southern Continent Vestrica—Marquis Paon Lichtenauer!”
At those words, the faint murmur within the hall vanished instantly. Silence.
Step.
Just one footstep.
Yet that sound alone carried enough weight to fill the entire hall.
As all eyes turned toward him, the man slowly walked to the jade throne at the center.
“Greetings to the Patriarch!!”
The gathered elites bowed deeply as the man took his seat.
Swish—
With a weary, indifferent look, resting his chin on one hand, sat the master of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan—
Paon Lichtenauer.
The Lord of all weapons on the continent, and alongside Lucas of the North, one of the greatest warriors alive.
Unlike the mutts barking earlier, Ian focused entirely on the man on the throne.
Just by looking, he could tell.
‘…He’s strong.’
Paon Lichtenauer’s realm was, shockingly, a half-step above even that of Lucas in his past life.
Whether it was because of the decade that had passed, or because Paon had always been stronger, Ian didn’t know.
But one thing was certain.
In all of Vestrica—and perhaps in all of Agena—
This man stood at the very summit of martial strength.
As Ian silently assessed him, Paon’s mouth slowly opened.
“Pointless formalities only waste time. Begin at once.”
With Paon’s command, Ian’s Gate-Opening Ceremony began.
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