Chapter 12

Chapter 12: The Perfect Opportunity

Human recollection is naturally imperfect and prone to fading. Yet, just like the instinct to inhale and exhale, certain memories refuse to vanish. In Ferda’s case, it was the faces of those who had wronged him—the meticulous record of his grudges known as his Kill List.

To stoke his rage, he had studied their triumphs; to plan their downfall, he had dissected their every vulnerability.

‘Looking back, it was a rather miserable obsession.’

Much of his old hostility had sprung from his own former mistrust and pettiness, enough to make him shudder at the memory.

‘Even so, having returned to the past, that knowledge is priceless.’

He possessed intimate knowledge of the strengths and shortcomings of individuals destined to become titans. Many had held extraordinary potential that languished simply because they lacked proper guidance.

‘There are far too many gifted people.’

Securing every single one was impractical; his list easily surpassed a hundred names, and putting them in the same room would breed chaos.

‘I must establish clear priorities.’

Considering his duties as proxy to the Archduchess, Ferda assessed their immediate survival needs.

‘The Valdrova territory is currently in disarray.’

With the Archduchess in isolation and no one overseeing governance, order had degraded.

‘I must look after the common people first.’

While setting priorities was simple, carrying them out was fraught with danger. Local uprisings and regional disputes were commonplace. Yet when Ferda had dispatched his initial demands to the nobility, their anticipated defiance failed to materialize. The remaining fourteen lords had swiftly sent pledges of unyielding obedience.

‘Ruri’s ruthless display at the gate accomplished its goal.’

Recognizing that Ferda held genuine power, the lords were keeping quiet, allowing him to leave them aside for now.

‘With internal stability secured, what of the outside threats?’

The greatest danger came from roaming fiends. Situated in the Far East adjacent to the Demon King’s blighted territory, the region was slowly deteriorating under creeping corruption.

‘The primary catalyst is the monsters.’

Beasts warped by demonic power were widespread, accelerating the decay of the land the longer they roamed unchecked. This constant threat ruined crops and poisoned surrounding nature, which was why monster hunting was always prioritized.

‘If I can curb the casualties and halt the decay…’

Harvests would recover, restoring ordinary life. While Valdrova repelled external horrors, Ferda would mend things from within.

‘To achieve that, we require advanced craft.’

His primary goal was equipping ordinary citizens, not just elite soldiers, to combat the fiends. Filtering through his Kill List with this aim, he settled on four particular names:

• Burnell Marquis

• Jed Swallow

• Echidna Philias

• Helus Fobidas

“These four individuals are our highest priority.”

Ruri glanced down at the parchment Ferda presented, furrowing her brow.

“I expected as much. They have yet to make names for themselves.”

Her expression hardened, and the chilling aura of Dragon Fear pressed against him. Though the sensation had lessened significantly since the engagement wine, it remained deeply uncomfortable, especially when directed by someone with the appearance of a young girl.

“Do you take me for someone who acts recklessly?”

“Your sensible appearance makes it even more concerning.”

“You contradict yourself.”

“Explain them to me, then. Aside from Helus Fobidas, these names mean nothing to me.”

Helus Fobidas was the renowned Sage of Water, revered across kingdoms for his strategic wisdom.

“I assure you, the other three are far more vital than Helus Fobidas.”

“Enlighten me.”

“The first man we need to visit, Burnell Marquis, resides within Escoleia.”

Ruri asked instinctively, “A scholar?”

“Indeed.”

Escoleia, located in the east-central continent, was celebrated as the City of Scholars. Traveling there almost certainly meant seeking an academic.

“You know that scholars receive designations upon finishing their studies, correct?”

“I am aware. What of it?”

“It matters greatly. His given designation is ‘The Shambles.'”

“Are you trying to bring ruin upon our fortress? You are revealing your poor judgment far too early.”

Because a scholar’s title often defined their future, scholars avoided derogatory terms at all costs. To be branded ‘The Shambles’ indicated that his pursuits were seen as utterly disastrous.

“There is a reason for that title.”

“There always is.”

“He refuses to compromise his path.”

“A stubborn fool, in other words.”

Ferda could not refute her. He, too, had viewed the man as foolish when they first crossed paths. Yet that solitary persistence in the face of mockery was strangely admirable. Even when criticized for wasting his life, Burnell Marquis’s neglected craft would eventually transform the world.

The man had often lamented:

‘If only I had possessed more resources, I could have achieved so much more.’

Naturally, no wealthy benefactor had wanted to gamble gold on someone titled ‘The Shambles.’ But Ferda understood his true worth.

“What is his area of study?”

“Refining Magic Stones and converting fiend corpses into usable power.”

He was destined to pioneer the age of Magitech.

At the heart of the city stood the colossal World Tree known as the Tree of Knowledge, soaring upward toward the heavens, bordered by five Great Libraries. Though one might expect endless shadows beneath such a giant, the tree lacked leaves, acting instead as an immense, radiating spire of light.

Below, the scent of roasted beans and dark tea saturated the thoroughfares. Crowds moved in endless streams, almost every passing academic carrying three thick tomes beneath their arms while eating toasted bread on the run.

“The congestion is incredible.”

“Naturally, given the location.”

“I fail to understand why they rush so furiously.”

“They pursue knowledge.”

“Still makes no sense to me.”

Ferda and Ruri observed the crowded lane. Countless figures in dark robes and round spectacles walked briskly past.

“Are we meant to locate a single individual in this swarm?”

“Indeed.”

“It will take weeks.”

Street vendors lined the alleyways, peddling quick snacks to the busy scholars who grabbed bites between their errands.

“The merchants might have information.”

Ferda glanced at Ruri and noticed an unusual look on her face. Her typical stern and detached expression had vanished, replaced by wide, glittering silver eyes fixated on a nearby confectionery stall.

Gulp.

Her throat moved slightly.

“Would you like some?”

“…What do you mean?” she muttered defensively. “I merely thought that merchant might offer guidance.”

“A sound idea. Let us inquire.”

They approached the cart, Ruri’s gaze remaining firmly locked on the sweets.

“Greetings.”

“Welcome, young master and your charming maid! How may I serve you?”

“I am seeking a particular individual. I wonder if you recognize him.”

“A person? Millions pass through here! Do you think I keep track of every soul who buys a treat?”

The merchant smiled skeptically until Ferda mentioned the name: “Burnell Marquis. The Shambles.”

The vendor paused in surprise. “Ah, The Shambles! Why didn’t you mention that first?”

“You know of him?”

“Know him? Everyone in this sector does! Ask any scholar on the street, and they will point you right to his doorstep.”

“Then there is no need to purchase the snacks, correct?”

Ruri flinched visibly.

“Come now, sir, a little generosity never hurts!” the merchant urged. “You look like a distinguished lord with plenty of coin to spare. Three skewers for five coppers!”

“He speaks reasonably,” Ruri interjected smoothly. “One ought to show gratitude when assisted.”

Ferda quietly agreed and paid the coins, taking the honey-coated skewers.

“Here.”

He offered the treats to Ruri.

“Will you not partake, Lord Ferda?”

“I am no child.”

“Excuse me? Neither am I.”

“I know.”

“Then why hand them all to me? You are clearly treating me like an infant.”

“Do you decline them, then?”

Though frowning indignantly, Ruri took the sweets without hesitation, instantly popping a glazed fruit into her mouth. Her silver eyes sparkled with delight.

‘She can look like that too.’

Seeing that she possessed ordinary childlike habits was oddly comforting. Sensing his stare, Ruri shielded the sweets protectively.

“Why are you staring? I will not share.”

Every society has its disparities. Even Escoleia, founded on the principle of universal equality through intellect, possessed impoverished slums tucked beneath its wealthy sectors.

Down in the deepest, lightless alleys where the stench of sewage lingered heavily, residents lived in squalor.

This was where Burnell Marquis resided.

Looking down at a low window positioned near the dirt path, Ruri expressed her shock. “To think someone truly inhabits such a hovel.”

“Mortals can adapt to severe conditions. I have seen men sleep in waste trenches.”

“Did you experience that within House Rosnova?”

“It was worse back then.”

During his penniless days under a greedy tutor, Ferda had learned the hard reality of surviving in foul spaces.

“Is he present?”

Ruri focused her senses. “I detect someone inside.”

Crash!

A loud disturbance echoed through the cracked glass.

“It seems an altercation is underway,” she added.

“An unwelcome visitor, perhaps…”

Stepping inside now meant plunging straight into someone else’s conflict.

“A perfect opportunity.”

Ferda rested his hands behind his back and calmly descended the worn stone steps.