Chapter 83

Chapter 83
Chapter 83
Colin leaned his head against his palm, sinking into the task of deciphering the omen.

By their very essence, prophecies were murky glimpses into what was to come. Because even the medium of the vision frequently failed to grasp the specific implications, it was wiser to parse the meaning himself rather than trusting another’s intuition.

The message wasn’t overly complex. Three encounters and three windows of time. Two instances of failure and a single remaining opening. Grasp it, and a savior appears; fail, and the Grim Reaper follows.

Taking the words at face value, it suggested Colin had three specific opportunities, and he had already squandered a pair of them. If he could successfully navigate the final moment, immense prosperity awaited, but another stumble would result in his demise.

The irritation stemmed from the fact that he couldn’t identify those previous “failures.”

I’ve certainly had two recent setbacks. I had to abandon Bornholm and Krepelt without receiving my full compensation. However, those were merely freelance contracts; I wasn’t pursuing a specific individual.

A savior and a Reaper.

Who was this person described in the vision who could embody such polar extremes?

Had the locations been less crowded, he might have narrowed it down. But both Bornholm and Krepelt were theaters of war where massive battalions collided. It was impossible to pinpoint a specific soul among the chaotic throngs.

“Is the riddle proving difficult?”

“No, the literal translation is straightforward. The issue lies with the term ‘meeting.’ Could ‘meeting’ be intended as a figure of speech?”

Responding to Helen’s inquiry, Colin slid the parchment back across the table. After a period of silent contemplation, Helen shook her head.

“Typically, it isn’t metaphorical. If the vision specified a ‘meeting,’ it likely refers to a literal encounter.”

“How troublesome. I haven’t sat down with anyone twice in recent memory.”

“Perhaps the failure is found in the fact that you had the chance to cross paths with them, but the moment passed you by.”

“Missing an encounter that was within my reach?”

“Goodness, I’ve overstepped. A seer is forbidden from meddling once the prophecy has been delivered.”

Helen concluded with a non-committal grin and clamped her jaw shut. Colin hoped for further clarification, but she remained resolutely silent.

Letting out a weary breath, Colin pushed himself up.

“Well, if that’s the prophet’s decree, I’ll have to rely on my own wits to figure it out.”

“That is the right mindset. I truly wish for you to find your savior, Senior.”

Colin exited the cavern, leaving behind the brief blessing of his fellow student. He saw no reason to caution her; her mastery of astrology ensured she was more capable of self-preservation than anyone else.

The priority now was his own skin, especially since the prophecy had linked him to the “Reaper.”

Three encounters, two misses… Curse it, who is this benefactor supposed to be?

Trudging back toward his secret base, Colin cycled through every possible identity for this mysterious figure. Yet, no matter how hard he strained his memory, he came up empty. Just as a dull ache began to throb behind his eyes from the effort…

“You’re behind schedule, you fraud.”

“…Sir Palmyr. I recall requesting that you notify me before showing up.”

Colin’s brow furrowed at the immediate insult. Shifting his gaze, he found the very man he expected looming over him.

“If you truly practice the mystic arts, shouldn’t you be perceptive enough to sense my arrival? You call yourself ‘The Living Miracle,’ yet you’re oblivious to someone standing at your front door.”

“As I have explained repeatedly, magic is partitioned into vastly different disciplines. A man who can break a horse isn’t automatically equipped to tame a wolf.”

“Is that the case? To my ears, it sounds like a convenient justification, though perhaps I am simply uninformed.”

“I doubt you climbed this hill merely to trade barbs. What is your business?”

Colin cut through Palmyr’s condescension with a blunt question. Prolonging the pleasantries would only invite further belittlement.

Palmyr gave a short click of his tongue before finally revealing his intent.

“There is a person I need you to eliminate. I am told you have the means to summon lightning?”

“Do you intend to frame it as an act of God? It is doable, though it may look suspicious if storm clouds materialize out of a clear sky.”

“That is irrelevant. I am not asking for a public performance. It only needs to carry the appearance of a natural occurrence.”

“If those are your terms.”

Despite taking the job, Colin felt a pang of resentment. He considered himself a man of the arts, a scholar of the arcane, and yet he was once again reduced to a common assassin. While survival demanded such choices, he was occasionally struck by a wave of self-disgust.

“I will provide the exact time and place later. Focus your energies for the task. If you squander your power elsewhere and offer me excuses when the time comes…”

“That will not be an issue, rest assured. However, I require the identity of the mark.”

“Lucian Valdek. The third-born of Grand Duke Valdek.”

“I see.”

The House of Calix is treading on very thin ice.

Colin kept the thought to himself. As a mercenary, the political fallout for his client was of no concern to him, provided his fee was paid.

“I shall prepare accordingly. Inform me once the schedule is set.”

“Hmph.”

Palmyr offered only a dismissive grunt before retreating down the slope away from the hideout. Colin muttered a string of curses at the man’s departing back, which radiated arrogance until he was out of sight.

“A man who abandoned the code of chivalry long ago, yet he still wraps himself in unearned pride.”

Tsking, Colin stepped into his sanctum and began methodically arranging his glass containers. He intended to synthesize several catalysts to boost his magical output for the upcoming mission.

Come to think of it, Valdek. I seem to run into that name with strange frequency. Like the time I traveled to Bornholm, and my involvement with the faction at Krepelt. This marks the third…

Clink.

Colin went still as he placed a vial on the shelf. A cold shiver raced down his spine as the realization struck him.

The third? Did I just say the third?

Three meetings, two failures. Perhaps the failure is found in the fact that you had the chance to cross paths with them, but the moment passed you by?

An overwhelming sense of foreboding took hold of him. He instinctively knew that if he brushed this coincidence aside, the “Reaper” would inevitably find him.

Leaving his equipment where it lay, Colin bolted for the exit. He needed to uncover every available detail regarding the third son of the House of Valdek.

—

The moment Lucian dispatched his formal response to the House of Calix, he mobilized his inner circle. Given the escalation, there was no benefit in allowing his rivals a chance to steady their footing. The strategy was to strike with the speed of a thunderbolt and conclude the matter before they could mount a defense.

“Viscount, will you not join our party? There are sure to be many remarkable developments.”

“I am deeply honored by the invitation, Your Grace, but my lands are currently in a state of flux, making it impossible to depart. I must maintain order until my second son arrives to take the reins.”

Lucian gave a small nod, acknowledging Harald’s somber explanation. Since the firstborn had been branded a traitor, the region remained volatile, and there was no telling what schemes Calix might still have in motion. Harald couldn’t leave his post until a stable succession was established.

Accepting the situation, Lucian’s retinue departed, leaving Harald behind as they rode toward their next objective: Vaile, the solitary village remaining under the jurisdiction of the House of Duke Grimaldi.

“I’d heard the rumors, but this truly is the back of beyond.”

Lucian let out a dry, incredulous chuckle as he surveyed the settlement. Even though it was technically a ducal seat, the inhabitants were no more numerous than those of a tiny farming hamlet.

“It may be hard to believe, but eight centuries ago, this place thrived due to two veins of precious ore. It fell into ruin once the mines were bled dry.”

“How long ago was that? Eight hundred years is enough time for an empire to crumble and rise twice over.”

“Quite right. In many ways, this village ought to have vanished long ago, but it persists today primarily as a historical landmark.”

Once he finished his history lesson, Raymond shifted his focus toward the Duke’s estate. In stark contrast to the dilapidated village, the manor stood with a grandeur and cleanliness that seemed almost surreal for its surroundings.

It looks like a frantic attempt to stave off the end.

Was this the final vestige of Northern honor? He had been told that during his grandfather’s tenure, the local lords had pooled their resources to fund the upkeep. Following his death, the House of Calix had poured money into its maintenance simply to exploit its image.

Consequently, the exterior of the residence appeared perfectly maintained and ready for occupancy.

“Stand down! Identify yourselves!”

As they drew near the crumbling fortifications of the inner keep, a line of soldiers obstructed Lucian’s path. Lucian clicked his tongue as he spotted the emblem of the House of Calix emblazoned on their gear.

“Who are you people?”

“We represent the security detail for this estate.”

“I didn’t ask for your job description; I asked why you are standing in my way. I never authorized your employment.”

“Pardon?”

“I am the rightful owner of this property.”

“…!?”

The guards exchanged bewildered glances at Lucian’s declaration. They seemed genuinely stunned, their logic failing to bridge the gap.

Just then, the rhythmic metallic clanking of a knight signaled his approach from the interior.

“I am unaware of which noble house you hail from, young sir, but you are speaking fantasies. This is the private home of His Grace, Duke Grimaldi. Perhaps you have lost your way?”

The knight’s words were formally polite, but his tone carried a razor-sharp edge. Regardless, Lucian maintained an unwavering stare.

“No, I am exactly where I intend to be. I am the Duke’s grandson.”

“…Are you perhaps Lord Lucian? The third son of the House of Valdek?”

“You are well-informed. I appreciate you keeping the hearth warm without being asked. Now, be so kind as to move.”

“I am afraid that is not an option.”

The knight delivered his refusal without the slightest pause. Or at least, he attempted to. Before he could provide a justification, another figure stepped into the light.

It was Glen, the official inspector sent by the Imperial Throne.

“There is no ‘cannot.’ We have arrived to oversee the legal transfer of the late Duke’s estate. Stand aside. This is a direct Imperial mandate.”

“What…!?”

The knight’s eyes nearly bulged at the mention of the Emperor’s authority. His confidence vanished the moment his eyes fell upon Glen’s official seal.

Arguments of local custom and regional tension only carried weight in a vacuum. The second “legal protocol” was invoked by the crown, those excuses lost all power.

“Why are you still standing there? Yield the path immediately. The grandson of the deceased Duke has arrived to claim his title and his birthright. Do you require any further validation?”

“But… the House of Calix has been the sole provider for this estate’s upkeep until now!”

“How remarkably charitable of them. To care for a legacy that wasn’t theirs with such devotion. I shall have to find a way to pay them back in kind someday.”

“….”

The knight gnawed at his lip but finally retreated. To argue regional loyalty in the face of an Imperial inspector would only result in a harsh reprimand for insubordination.

Furthermore, the visitor had explicitly stated he was here to assume the “title” of the House of Duke Grimaldi. Had he only come for the coin, it would be different, but taking the title meant he was becoming a peer of the North.

I can no longer frame him as an interloper; no one in the North would back me. Curse it, I have to stall.

The knight offered a faint, nearly imperceptible nod to a high-ranking soldier nearby. Catching the cue, the man turned and hurried back into the manor.

Just as Lucian’s party crossed the wooden span of the drawbridge and neared the primary entrance…

Thump!

Neigh!

“…!”

Without warning, the massive main gates slammed shut with a bone-jarring crash. While the group worked to steady their horses, which had been spooked by the sudden noise, Felicia barked out in frustration.

“What is the meaning of this!? You make a show of stepping aside only to barricade the entrance!”

“Please, it is a simple misunderstanding. It appears the gate’s internal gears have seized. If you would be patient, we will clear the obstruction shortly.”

The excuse was patently absurd. There was no chance the gate, which had been functional and meticulously maintained by the House of Calix, would suddenly fail at that exact moment. They were clearly feigning a mechanical failure to buy themselves a window of time.

They must be truly desperate to resort to such a transparent ploy. Is there something they need to smuggle out before I step inside?

The House of Calix likely coveted this manor for its symbolic weight. With no rivals in sight, they probably felt they could leave the contents undisturbed. But now that Lucian had arrived unannounced to seize the fortress, they were scrambling to react.

I’m afraid I can’t permit that.

Even if the items were mere relics, everything tied to the Grimaldi name belonged to Lucian. He had no intention of letting Calix walk away with so much as a dinner plate or a tattered rug.

Leaping down from his saddle, Lucian unsheathed his blade and projected his voice toward the barricade.

“If there is anyone behind this gate, move away now. I would hate for you to be caught in the fallout.”

“I suggest you stand down. That gate is reinforced with an Adamantium alloy; no blade can pierce it. Accept the delay and wait.”

The knight’s tone remained civil, but it was dripping with mockery. Contrary to expectations, Lucian actually grinned and raised his weapon high into the air.

Simultaneously, he tapped into the absolute limit of the mana he could currently command, flooding his entire physical form with energy.

Vroooooom!

“What is happening…!?”

The knight stumbled back, paralyzed by fear. Intense shock distorted his features, as if he were witnessing the physical manifestation of mana for the very first time.

Just before the knight could find his voice to shout an order…

KABOOM!

Accompanied by a deafening eruption of mana, the blade descended and bit into the gate.