Chapter 242

Chapter 242 – A Piercing Winter Wind

The following afternoon.

Waking up as the first light broke, we dismantled our camp and assembled by the canyon mouth to bid our farewells.

“Leader of the Tower, our Master extends an open invitation for you to call upon us whenever you wish. Act as it pleases you.”

The armored commander directed a rather resentful look in my direction before riding off alongside the Shadow Knights.

Several of Hazen’s subordinates went with them to act as guides along the hidden pathways.

I gave a sluggish wave of my hand, tracking the steady retreat of Lortel’s caravan until it disappeared from view.

‘So these are the ones who chose Lortel…’

A count of 244 trainees and 73 vagrants.

Altogether, 317 individuals.

As I watched this massive line of over three hundred souls snaking across the terrain, Senior Myrcella’s voice suddenly drifted from right beside me as she closed the distance.

“Gives you a bit of a swell in the chest, doesn’t it?”

“……”

Senior Myrcella offered a warm, gentle grin.

After studying her face for a brief second, I redirected my attention to the vanishing line of Lortel’s people and gave a slow nod.

“I suppose so.”

“These are the youngsters whose lives you preserved. You could at least try to look a little pleased.”

Senior Myrcella beamed with immense satisfaction, appearing far more delighted by the outcome than I was.

“On another note, when do we set off?”

Ah, for context, Senior Myrcella had resolved to travel with us toward the Second Black-White Slums.

Her justification was that it would be terribly ill-mannered to simply dump the vagrants back into the custody of the Blandoga family without offering a proper explanation…

I narrowed my eyes at her, offering a freezing look.

“Your plan is genuinely just to consult Lady Gamo and then take your leave immediately, correct?”

“Ho ho.”

“Tell me you aren’t plotting to just park yourself on our doorstep.”

“My, look at how beautiful the sky is today.”

Senior Myrcella lifted her gaze toward the far-off peaks, utterly fabricating an interest in the scenery.

The group that had aligned with Senior Myrcella consisted of 42 trainees and 12 vagrants—meaning a crowd of over 50 souls was bound for the Second Black-White Slums. Just contemplating the logistics made a shiver run straight down my spine.

‘…No, surely not.’

An individual possessing even a shred of decency wouldn’t pull a stunt like that.

Furthermore, she claimed the title of Damian’s instructor. There was no way she would actually establish a permanent residence in the Second Black-White Slums alongside all those youngsters, right?

Even so, to be perfectly safe, I threw down a stern caution.

“Senior, you ought to recollect that there is a very narrow boundary between showing deference and being taken advantage of.”

“Now whatever could you mean by that?”

What else could it possibly mean?

Just ensure you don’t transform a junior’s respect into an elder’s entitlement.

Senior Myrcella cleared her throat rather uncomfortably, seemingly catching the drift of my mood. Then, as if suddenly recalling a piece of forgotten business, she shifted the topic.

“That reminds me… how is that boy holding up? He appeared rather crushed.”

Her attempt to deflect was entirely transparent, but I chose to let it slide without calling her out on it.

And who exactly was ‘that boy’?

It was Lucifer, naturally.

• Learning spirit arts is impossible for you.

• I possess my own liberty. The Leader of the Tower has no right to constrain me.

• No, you misunderstand…

Certain liberties can be permitted, while others simply cannot. And where spirit arts were concerned, it was a definitive impossibility for Lucifer.

‘His aptitude for spirit arts was fundamentally nonexistent even during my previous existence.’

Yet since I couldn’t just reveal that piece of information directly, I had forced Senior Myrcella to evaluate his capabilities right then and there…

• …This simply cannot be real.

The massive, stocky fellow had been utterly devastated by the revelation.

“Well, he will simply have to endure it. What alternatives exist if he cannot?”

“Ahem, should he desire it, I could perhaps offer some guidance.”

“A caterpillar must stick to mulberry leaves if it wishes to grow.”

Just who did this woman think she was dealing with?

Lucifer had already given his word to affiliate with the Magic Tower.

Granted, it was merely a verbal agreement extracted while he was in a terribly drained state, but he had given his own affirmation nonetheless.

Furthermore, there was a separate, critical reason I refused to let Lucifer wander off.

‘He is the destined laborer… no, the true heir of the Magic Tower.’

When it came to upholding the core philosophy of the founding Leader of the Tower—which was myself—no finer replacement existed on the continent.

In truth, the very foundational tenets of the Magic Tower had drawn their initial inspiration from Lucifer himself.

Though he failed to perceive it at this exact moment, the second he grasped the ultimate objective of the structure in the days to come, he would embrace it with open arms.

Setting that aside for a moment.

‘…Why on earth is this fellow tagging along?’

My eyes narrowed as I focused on a particular youth standing amidst the crowd that had chosen the Magic Tower.

A total of 14 trainees, Lucifer included, alongside 12 vagrants had selected our faction, and quite shockingly, an entirely unanticipated individual had embedded himself among the vagrants.

The scout.

“Hehe, Leader of the Tower. Did you enjoy a peaceful rest last night?”

“Shouldn’t you be heading elsewhere? It is not too late for me to transfer you over to Lortel’s group if you wish.”

“Aieee! You mustn’t joke about such things, my lord. From the exact instant this scout laid eyes upon your magnificent self, I discerned the truth instantly!”

Discerned what, precisely?

I chose not to prompt him.

Given the way he purposely left the thought hanging, he was clearly fishing for me to ask for clarification.

Brushing past the sycophantic scout, I turned my back just as Shine stepped out from the mouth of the canyon.

“Are you present?”

“Indeed.”

“Did you manage to assemble the youth without issue?”

“Yes. Every single one of them is bound for the Sword Garden.”

I cast my eyes over the young ones gathered behind Shine’s form.

Astaroth and Lerazie were positioned there, with the wounded brings bringing up the rear.

Well, given that their ailments had been thoroughly tended to by now, they weren’t technically injured any longer, but regardless—the very faces I had observed within the medical tents were now arranged in an orderly column.

Shine had taken it upon himself to provide sanctuary for the remaining children within the Sword Garden, extending his protection far beyond just Astaroth and Lerazie.

Blood ties were irrelevant; the resources of the Sword Garden were more than ample to sustain these young souls.

“Is that the entirety of our preparations?”

“Correct, we are prepared to depart at your command.”

I gave a firm nod toward the subordinate of Hazen who had delivered the confirmation.

Then I shifted my gaze across Shine, Senior Myrcella, and the assembly of youths arrayed behind them.

A fresh glimmer of vitality danced within the children’s eyes, a stark contrast to their previous hollow stares.

Observing them, a specific memory suddenly resurfaced in my mind.

• My only wish is to exist as a human being.

The declaration from No. 17 that had weighed so heavily upon my thoughts.

I still lacked a definitive resolution to that dilemma.

Yet one truth remained absolute.

‘I might never uncover that solution myself…’

However, these young ones marching in our footsteps—they would undoubtedly discover it.

The weight of disgrace faded from my heart.

There were far too many children capable of unearthing that truth in my stead.

“Very well, let us move out.”

…Retreating back toward the Second Black-White Slums.

In stark contrast to the moment I had abandoned everything, my stride now felt remarkably unburdened.

Ah, that reminds me.

‘I recalled assuring Decullan that I would forward the precise schedule and location.’

That shouldn’t pose any real issue, correct?

Indeed, it will be perfectly fine.

After all, commitments are fundamentally designed to be disregarded.

Naturally.

The grand assembly hall of the Lortel family.

Scores of high-ranking vassals were seated around an immense mahogany table, a stifling solemnity permeating the chamber.

[…And that summarizes the entirety of the intelligence gathered.]

The moment the transmission emanating from the communication orb—belonging to the Shadow Knight Captain—ceased, a profound, weighty stillness settled over the entire assembly hall.

The family Patriarch, Muhard, tapped his thick, heavy fingers against the polished surface.

The rhythmic thuds reverberated through the space at precise, calculated intervals.

It took some time before Muhard finally broke the silence.

“We have acquired every scrap of leverage available.”

[Correct, this encompasses the entire functional methodology of the Troubleshooters as well as their operational ties to Decullan. Along with several additional matters…]

As the Shadow Knight Captain elaborated, an intense, unreadable burning desire sparked within the eyes of the gathered vassals.

And why wouldn’t it?

Gaining complete knowledge of the Troubleshooters’ inner workings meant they had thoroughly dismantled every single one of their clandestine strategies.

This would provide an overwhelming upper hand in the impending intelligence conflicts on the horizon.

Furthermore, that was merely a fraction of the prize.

They now possessed undeniable verification that Decullan was illicitly deploying Troubleshooters—a weapon capable of bending them to their knees, now gripped tightly within the fist of Lortel!

It was precisely due to this realization.

The vassals, who had previously kept their tongues firmly in check, began airing their thoughts one after another.

“We could expose these findings to the public domain and deal a devastating blow directly to Decullan…”

“We managed to extract the technique to undo the bindings from the Leader of the Tower, did we not? We could weaponize these very Troubleshooters to lay bare Decullan’s internal rot moving forward…”

“No, that misses the wiser path. Should we push them to such an extreme, Decullan will hardly remain passive. Even a desperate beast will lash out at its hunter when cornered—and Decullan is far grander than a common beast…”

The various vassals meticulously balanced the advantages and perils in accordance with their personal factions.

They debated how to extract the utmost leverage from this scenario, and what specific gains could be secured in the looming confrontation.

An immense amount of time drifted away in this fashion.

The arguments, which had commenced in measured tones, had escalated into a fervent roar when a commanding, resonant voice sliced through the chamber.

“Cease this.”

“……”

“……”

Muhard instantly rendered the vassals silent, sweeping his freezing gaze across the entire expanse before rendering his verdict.

“Manage the affairs regarding the Troubleshooters with the utmost confidentiality.”

It was a solitary directive that effectively cast aside the myriad advantages of a public exposure, yet not a single vassal dared to voice an objection. This deference arose from their unshakeable confidence in their Patriarch’s judgment, and Muhard deliberately laid out his strategic rationale for navigating this asset.

To put it briefly:

Exploit the actionable data we have secured, but maintain our actions strictly within boundaries that will prevent Decullan from resorting to desperate, scorched-earth retaliations.

And what exactly did those desperate measures entail?

Assassination and the permanent silencing of witnesses.

Massacring active Troubleshooters to ensure their secrets died with them.

With the primary agenda thoroughly addressed.

A senior vassal hesitantly raised a hand to request the floor.

“Speak your mind.”

“Your profound wisdom is so vast that our minds struggle to fully encompass its depths. Therefore, I must humbly inquire… why must we invite such complications upon ourselves?”

The aging vassal was fundamentally inquiring why Lortel should concern itself with the physical preservation of the Troubleshooters—and the wider complications attached to it.

Moreover…

The Patriarch’s directive clearly indicated that any captured Troubleshooters in the days ahead were to be treated with absolute civility.

It was not intended as a challenge to his authority, but rather a sincere quest for understanding, prompting Muhard to illuminate the matter with patience rather than anger.

Why would Lortel take on such a cumbersome burden?

The justification was elementary.

“It is dictated by our alliance with the Magic Tower.”

That solitary declaration was more than enough.

The Magic Tower, as the holder of the prestigious platinum badge, stood as Lortel’s most intimate confederate.

To possess the platinum badge signified that one resided within the absolute inner sanctum of Lortel—and Lortel never deserted those it considered kin.

And most critically of all…

• It proved impossible for me to gauge the true boundaries of the Leader of the Tower’s power.

A specific observation that had been dropped during the briefing by the Shadow Knight Captain.

What did such an admission signify?

The Shadow Knight Captain, an individual standing on the very precipice of transcendence himself, had been incapable of measuring his baseline capability—meaning…

True transcendence.

The Leader of the Tower was a legendary sorcerer who had shattered mortal constraints.

Though the full extent of their collective military power remained shrouded in mystery, the sheer presence of the Leader of the Tower demanded that the Magic Tower be afforded the highest tier of deference.

Coupled with the Master of the Sword Garden, a warrior of supreme caliber, and the master of the wind element from the ancient conflicts who had stepped out of the shadows on this occasion.

Their collective leverage was immense.

…Naturally, this did not imply that Lortel’s inner circle would simply yield without thought at the mere mention of the Leader of the Tower.

“We comprehend your perspective, Patriarch. Still… might you afford us the opportunity to deliberate further on this matter? Granted your leave, we shall formulate methods to milk this situation for maximum advantage without fracturing our compact with the Magic Tower.”

They offered him respect, but they would not worship him blindly.

They intended to carefully map out the exact limitations of the Leader of the Tower’s patience and extract every ounce of material gain possible.

With that, the gathering reached its conclusion.

All at once, as if orchestrated by a silent signal, a suffocating quiet descended over the assembly hall.

The environment, which had been burning with fierce energy moments prior, was now entirely overrun by a freezing, ominous draft.

Every soul present understood the reality.

Hostilities.

The hour had finally arrived.

“Striking before the arrival of the spring thaw would be the ideal course.”

The biting winter wind drifted through the air, carrying a sharp, metallic odor.

Whether it was the scent of freshly forged steel or the fragrance of spilled blood, none could truly say. Yet one reality was undeniable.

It was bound to be an incredibly bitter winter.