Chapter 69

Chapter 69
Milanon, a noble of the colony and a scion of the Count of Philmaria’s house, found the entire sequence of events completely baffling. For one, he could not comprehend why Seolrang, the settlement’s foremost Baba Yaga, had butchered all his personal guards and then seized his skull as though it were a melon ready to burst, all because he had derided a nobleman who appeared dazed.

He was equally perplexed by the appearance of Yutia Bludia, a cardinal of the Holy Kingdom of Rosario, renowned for her rapidly growing authority, who emerged from a carriage to clasp hands with that same mocked nobleman. The entire affair was an enigma.

Yet…

“Is that not Count Palatio?”
“It appears so.”
“He is accompanied by a Baba Yaga, so it must be him.”

Overhearing the murmurs of the onlookers, Milanon finally understood the reason for Seolrang’s violent reaction. The tale that Seolrang, the colony’s Baba Yaga, served Count Palatio, a noble from the Kingdom of Asteria, as her Master, had become common knowledge over the past year.

Even so, certain details eluded him. ‘Lord? She addresses him as Lord…?’

Milanon was familiar with the gossip surrounding Count Palatio. He knew Seolrang referred to him as Master, and that Deus Macallian, the Master Knight of Caliban, called him Benefactor. He was also aware of his strong ties to a senior official in the Labyrinth City’s council. But…

‘He is also connected to a cardinal of the Holy Kingdom?’

Milanon gaped at Alon and Yutia, his mind reeling. While Alon’s face was a mask of neutrality, Yutia’s expression was one of profound warmth. It was a warmth so genuine that even if Milanon had been genuinely wronged, she would never have sided with him.

‘Just who is he, truly…?’

As this stunned wonder filled him, Milanon heard Alon speak. “Seolrang, that’s enough.”

With those words, Milanon was finally set free.

“Guh…”

Clutching his throbbing, nearly-shattered head, Milanon winced in agony. Alon walked over to him.
“Are you unharmed? My apologies.”
The words of regret were plain and direct. Milanon’s instinct was to retort. He knew mocking a fellow noble like Count Palatio had been improper. Yet, the retaliation had been extreme. And there were multiple witnesses.

Of course, since Milanon had used his troops to seal off the area for his own convenience, he had no public sympathy. In fact, many appeared to relish Seolrang’s intervention.

“Even so~”

Feeling a sliver of justification thanks to Alon’s apology, Milanon opened his mouth to speak, but he promptly closed it again. He had no choice, for both Seolrang and Yutia, standing behind Count Palatio, were watching him unblinkingly. Their crimson and golden eyes gleamed, promising they would not overlook a single misstep.

Staring with unwavering intensity.

And so…

“N-no, it is nothing.”
“Are you certain?”
“Y-yes! I-I am alright… truly, I am fine…!”

With that, Milanon waved his hands frantically and scurried away from the scene.

***

Shortly after the noble, whose name Alon had not even cared to learn, had fled in terror…

Once the shock of their abrupt reunion had passed, they relocated to Seolrang’s guild to escape public notice. At last, Alon could talk with Yutia without restraint.
“You mentioned you had affairs to attend to in the colony?”
“Yes. I will not be remaining for long.”

Alon acknowledged Yutia’s cheerful smile with a nod, though his own expression became somewhat thoughtful. Her smile was so gentle, so virtuous, that it seemed fitting to label her a saint. Yet, it created a strange dissonance with his memory of her.

‘Perhaps it is because I only knew her as one of the Five Great Sins in Psychedelia, but she feels profoundly altered now.’

Alon suddenly recognized that, despite their regular correspondence, this was their first face-to-face meeting in a long while. A feeling of pride swelled within him. Yutia had matured splendidly. Especially with the devastating image of her as one of the Five Great Sins still etched in his mind, the pride he felt for her was even more potent than for anyone else.

Surveying the room, Alon spoke again.
“But… are the two of you not getting along?”
He asked because Seolrang, typically so vivacious, had been uncharacteristically stiff since Yutia’s arrival. But Yutia, her smile unwavering, answered, “Oh, not in the slightest. Seolrang and I are the best of friends, isn’t that right?”
“Correct,” Seolrang affirmed with a nod.

Yet, despite their claims, the air between them was strained. Alon tilted his head in slight bewilderment, but then shrugged, resolving not to interfere since they both affirmed their closeness.

Then, abruptly, Seolrang inquired, “Master, you will give it proper thought in two years, won’t you?”
The unexpected question confused Alon for a moment before he recalled she was talking about the marriage proposal. He stammered, “Well… I will consider it when the time arrives.”
“What is it you must consider?” Yutia asked with curiosity.

Alon hesitated, pondering how to frame the situation, but before he could utter a word, Seolrang declared boldly, “He promised to earnestly contemplate marrying me in two years!”
Alon, startled, let out a noise of surprise, “Ah—”
“Huh?” Yutia, equally shocked, voiced her disbelief.

Seolrang, meanwhile, looked more victorious than ever, as if her earlier tension had never existed.

Yutia, who had been staring at Seolrang in blank silence for a beat, suddenly released a soft chuckle, “Pfft—”
“?”
Then, with a placid demeanor, she turned to Alon. “There is no need to explain, Lord. I am certain Seolrang made an unreasonable demand, and you felt compelled to answer in such a manner to placate her, is that not so?”

Even without Alon offering a single word of clarification, Yutia seemed to grasp the entire situation, her wisdom seeming to exceed her years. Alon felt an inward smile. To any observer, she perfectly embodied the role of a caring older sister.

Just as Alon was about to nod in approval, Yutia went on, “Yes, that must be it. Since Seolrang is somewhat childish, you likely had to soothe her by offering a distant promise, aware that an outright refusal would have devastated her. I understand you only said it because you were left with no alternative. While dishonesty is not ideal, sometimes a lie is necessary, correct?”
“…??”

Alon was left utterly confounded, his mind swarming with confusion as Yutia, still smiling, delivered her speech without a single pause for breath.

She then shifted her gaze to Seolrang and stated, “So, you see now, don’t you, Seolrang? You must not place Lord in an awkward position. And, as I have told you before, you are far too young to be considering marriage.”
“I did not make it awkward! Besides, the vice guild leader informed me that a five-year age difference is ideal for marriage!”
“Seolrang, I said no. You should not cause trouble for Lord.”

Yutia continued speaking pleasantly, but Seolrang’s face contorted in irritation as she yelled, “You are the one who cannot! You are too ancient!”
“…What are you implying, Seolrang? I am merely two years your senior.”

Yutia’s smile remained, but…
“I heard it from Rine. Your actual age is believed to be thou—”

Before Seolrang could complete her sentence—
*Boom! Crash!*

Seolrang abruptly vanished through the floorboards.
“…?”

Alon stared dumbfounded at the scene, stunned by the speed of the event. Yutia, who had been glaring down at the spot where Seolrang had just stood, suddenly seemed to remember Alon’s presence. Her expression instantly softened back into a kind smile.
“It would seem the structure of this building is somewhat frail.”

It was a transparent falsehood, but Yutia delivered it with utter conviction.
“The building… is weak?” Alon asked.
“Yes.”
“…Is that so?”
“It is. It gave way quite suddenly, did it not?”

Despite her repeated assurances, as if she would never confess to having slammed Seolrang through the floor, Alon could only reply, “I understand…”

Alon gave a reluctant nod of agreement, while suddenly recalling that Yutia had once been numbered among the Five Great Sins. He thought to himself, ‘So, a woman’s age is truly a forbidden subject… But a thousand… a thousand years? I never anticipated that.’ Alon mentally stored away this new, unwanted piece of information.

“I shall go and retrieve Seolrang,” Yutia said, concluding the discussion.

A few minutes later, Alon watched as Seolrang, moving with the stiff, jerky motions of a marionette, was seated back in her chair. He was reminded once more of the absolute prohibition she had violated.

For the next half hour, they talked, exchanging various tales. Eventually, Yutia rose.
“Lord, I think it is time for me to depart.”
Alon nodded. “Yes, you did say you had other matters to attend.”
“Yes, I will likely be here for approximately three weeks, so I will be sure to visit frequently while you remain.”
“Very well.”

Just as Yutia turned to leave with a slight smile, she suddenly clapped her hands as if recalling something.
“Ah, and earlier, you mentioned you would be competing in the Colosseum?”
They had indeed discussed it during their conversation.
“Yes, that is correct. As I said, I aim to acquire an item from the royal treasury.”
“The Sparrow’s Staff, yes?”
“Correct.”
“Hmm…”

Yutia nodded gently, understanding his purpose.
“Well then, I shall see you again soon,” she said with a smile, before taking her leave.

Alon watched a white carriage depart in the direction of the colony’s royal palace, then turned his gaze to Seolrang, who let out an enormous sigh of relief, finally relaxed.

“Alright, I suppose I should begin my own preparations as well.”

***

The following day, after staying the night at Seolrang’s guild, Alon went directly to the Colosseum and filed his application to compete. With Seolrang’s assistance, the procedure, which normally required a week, was finished in a single hour.

“An F-rank fighter pass… This is only the start.”

Clutching the pass issued to all new contenders, Alon fortified his resolve for the challenges ahead. Two days later…

– Waaaaahhhhhhh!! –

Alon stood within the Colosseum’s arena, poised for his first contest. He let out a short breath and scanned his surroundings. The spectator stands were overflowing, not a single seat vacant, and roughly one hundred other combatants shared the arena with him.

His initial match was not a duel, but a battle royale, and the victory condition was straightforward: be the sole fighter left standing. No other rules applied—mere survival was the only objective.

While Alon typically favored one-on-one combat, he had selected the battle royale for one simple reason: winning it would propel him from F-rank directly to D-rank in one leap. Upon reaching D-rank, a fighter earned the right to issue challenges and exchange ranks with those above, allowing Alon to accelerate his ascent.

As he looked around, Alon thought, “The only path to enter the royal treasury and claim the prize I seek is to attain A-rank status.”

Naturally, achieving the status of a Baba Yaga would grant access to the national treasure, the *Rebo*, but Alon had no need to go to such lengths. The artifacts he desired, including the Sparrow’s Staff, were housed in the treasury accessible to an A-rank fighter.

“It will not be a simple task.”

Alon surveyed the area. The other fighters gripped their weapons and returned his gaze, as if they had all reached a silent, mutual understanding.

Some were nervous, others grimly determined, while a few sneered or assessed the situation warily. Their emotions differed, but they shared one universal trait: they were all prepared to turn their weapons against him.

Of course, Alon had expected this. Even though these combatants were all F-rank, not one was mere fodder. They had entered the battle royale with the explicit goal of crushing their rivals to advance.

And to them, Alon was the obvious primary target. Word had spread that he had repelled foreign invaders and played a pivotal role in handling the Baba Yagas. For anyone determined to win, eliminating Alon first was the logical course of action.

[“Alright then, the fighter’s match will commence shortly!”] the announcer’s voice thundered throughout the arena.

Most of the fighters grew tense, awaiting the signal, and the moment it came—
[“Let the match… BEGIN!”]
—they all charged directly at Alon.

The situation escalated in a heartbeat. The arena resounded with the frenzied roars of the crowd, while the battle cries of the fighters filled Alon’s ears. As the first combatant’s axe descended toward his skull—

With the slightest twitch of Alon’s fingers, sheathed in his black combat armor—

*Crack!*

A wave of intense, freezing cold erupted across the arena.

“|||”

The axe, mere inches from Alon’s head, halted, frozen solid in mid-air.

“Ice Crystal,” Alon murmured, forming a hand seal.

A barrier of ice began to erupt from the ground, encircling him.