30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

Baron Ashcliff opened his eyes in the oily darkness. The world seemed small enough to fit in his hand beneath his black-stained pupils.

He sank his weary body deep into the chair.

– Boom!

Beyond the giant conference room, at the far end of this vast interior that humans would call an “audience chamber,” beyond the thick door adorned with ivory and ebony.

A small noise was heard from the distant corridor.

– Boom, boom!

Increasingly closer, increasingly threatening.

Soon, bang. A long crack formed in the solid wooden door. Yet Ashcliff did not rise from his chair.

Bang, bang, bang. A monotone burst continued, in perfectly identical rhythm. Soon the burst on the door expanded greatly. The web-like cracks quickly reached their breaking point.

“It’s been 500 years since I settled on this island.”

A voice split into two, and the intruder walked on undeterred.

“During that period, there have been fifteen major wars, and my subordinates killed in them amount to 38,312.”

“…”

“The last time anyone pointed a blade at me was 212 years ago. Before and since then, I have survived.”

When Ashcliff’s words ended, the intruder silently walked over the long carpet of the audience chamber.

At a distance close enough to clearly see each other’s features, Ashcliff asked quietly.

“You killed only 57 of my subordinates on your way here. Out of the thousands residing on this island, is that all? Do you think that’s the end of my forces? Do you think you can escape?”

“Where are they now?”

“What?”

“Only the living consider the future, elf. Where are those numerous troops you brag of between you and me?”

At the intruder’s words, Ashcliff bit his teeth tightly. Of course, most of them are outside the island, even at sea. Who would garrison all their forces within the castle?

Elves don’t act this way. Assassination is too undignified for them.

They prefer a political attack, or economic pressure. Raising an army comes afterward. And sneaking in with a dagger at night is the worst of all.

Individuals akin to monarchs don’t seize victory like thieves.

“If all elves were like you, my job would be easier.”

“Human, show respect.”

“I don’t tend to show respect to corpses.”

Since the time he killed the god of necromancers.

At Ivan’s words, Baron Ashcliff rose from his seat. Grinding his teeth, he spoke lowly.

“My years are no different from the history of your race. How many like you do you think I’ve seen in my time?”

His every step caused the darkness to float like oil. Magic that had spiraled out of control with rage thickened the audience chamber.

With each step he took, the ground recoiled.

It is said that when lights mix, they become white. Similarly, when colors mix, they become black. The combination of all colors soon resembles the murkiness of polluted filth.

The head of the alchemist faction was no different. Like the sudden rage of an old king who had to open the castle gates without even time to respond to an abrupt attack.

But he was still a king. The monarch of a country, his existence itself, was proof of the ages.

Thus, there was still an air of arrogance in his stride. His fierce, swirling killing intent alone possessed physical power. Ivan stood upright, facing the slicing killing intent like a blade.

“No one has ever stood before me and continued to live. No one!! Human, how many years have you lived? Only 30 or 40 years, and you disgrace yourself with decay and old age!!”

“Lucia.”

“Uh, yes?!”

“Do not grow old like that.”

“…Yes…?”

Is this something to say in this situation? Lucia, who had been clinging to his back, stared blankly at Ivan.

With a face devoid of humor, Ivan spoke bluntly.

“As he said, my lifespan is not long. You have inherited Enrique’s bloodline and will live for a very long time. So as an immortal, you should not grow old like that.”

“Uh… thanks for the advice, uh… I will listen… I will listen carefully… but, uh….”

-BOOOM-!!

Whether it was their words that finally snapped his patience, Baron Ashcliff’s aura exploded from his body.

“How dare you—!!”

“It is a typical symptom of dementia. The decline of vocabulary. Doesn’t the alchemist faction have an elixir for dementia?”

“I will cut out your tongue, gouge out your eyes, and sever your limbs!! You will live a long time. Even if I have to use every elixir at my disposal, I will make you wail in eternity!!”

Further dialogue was unnecessary. There were still many questions, but satisfying curiosity always came after subduing one’s opponent.

Pre-battle conversations were meaningless, except for provocation. And since enough provocation had already been made, Ivan put down Lucia and picked up his ax.

“Do you want me to step aside for the execution? I should step aside, right? I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

“Didn’t you say you would try to no longer be a hindrance since that day?”

“Hey, that was only a few months ago. I’m still working on it~”

“I will skin him, and you will handle the rest.”

“…Uh….”

Lucia stared ahead with fearful eyes. Facing a five-hundred-year-old maniacal elf, oozing dark miasma from every pore, shouldn’t this be left to the other maniacs on her side?

The ‘our side’ maniac next to her spoke stoically.

“In a controlled environment, in a situation where safety is guaranteed, we call that training.”

Ivan held the axe at an angle and closed his eyes.

“We call that training.”

Finally, the elf, who had lost his reason, charged at Ivan.

*

Baron Chesterhold, Elpheira, and Edelplat were sitting around a table on the deck, idly passing the time.

How much time had passed? Finally, the distant east was beginning to brighten.

Dawn had passed. The darkness crumbled, leaving a deep blue hue. The always-clear sky of Kalion started to shine brightly today as well.

-Rumble, rumble, rumble—!!

“?!”

Everyone at the table stood up abruptly. Their gazes turned toward the massive vibration echoing from the direction of the island.

Heavily armed troops, tense and alert, ran toward the castle. The soldiers already gathered outside the fortress swallowed nervously as they stared at the tall walls of the main structure.

-Rumble, rumble, rumble—!!

The epicenter of the reverberation shaking the entire island was clearly directed at the main structure. Edelplat narrowed his one remaining eye and grinned.

“It’s quite refreshing, isn’t it?”

“What do you see…?”

“Do you need to see it? You feel it.”

“What…?”

“The will of a swordsman who has reached the pinnacle of self-discipline.”

The sunrise finally ended. The sun, rising beyond the distant horizon, began to illuminate Kalion morning.

-Boom—!!

A column of black smoke rose. A part of the main structure completely collapsed, creating a long streak against the blue sky.

Murmurs spread among the soldiers. Edelplat smiled slyly and looked at Baron Chesterhold.

“Is it alright not to command the troops?”

“…Is this plan of the Sword Tower, or the Astronomical Faction?”

“Plan?”

“The plan to ambush the Alchemists! Have you sided with the Necromancers? Their schemes are true! The Privy Council is being deceived right now!”

“Well, let’s investigate them once.”

“…What…?”

Edelplat laughed as she spoke to the bewildered Chesterhold.

“I stopped by on my way. Got curious after being driven away. Just happened to have a very curious person among us. And we have many ways to satisfy our curiosity.”

“What do you mean… was all this a coincidence? Weren’t you afraid of the backlash, Edelplat Cohenulf! Without even a shred of evidence, you stopped by and attacked the main structure?!”

“Backlash? Who would that be?”

Edelplat clicked her tongue at the standing Baron Chesterhold.

Her snow-white fingers rested on the black wave.

“Don’t move, Chesterhold. Not a single step from where you are.”

“Take hostages and threaten…? All the elves on this island are watching your actions closely. Do you think the Privy Council will stay silent?!”

“It’s neither hostage-taking nor threatening. It’s advice. If you want to leave, leave, but if you want to retaliate, do so. Know this.”

In every ‘duel’ that took place after both parties confirmed their arms, I have never once been defeated.

As the master of the sword spoke in a low voice, Baron Chesterhold bit his teeth and glared at her with burning eyes.

He is within striking distance. At this distance, she had once even fended off the Seven Dragon Generals alone.

“Lady Cohenulf! They’re coming! They’re safe!!”

Elpheira’s bright voice echoed. Edel turned her gaze to look at the castle.

The gathered soldiers hesitated and retreated.

The arrogant elves were sweating nervously and swallowing dryly as they stepped back a few paces.

-Step.

Though it shouldn’t have been audible at this distance, Edel could distinctly hear that heavy footstep in her ears.

A man carrying Lucia on his back was casting a long shadow with the east behind him.

The path opened with each step. The elf soldiers, unable to receive any direction from their commander, were in disarray. Some were glancing anxiously in the direction of Baron Chesterhold.

“That’s right. Open the path. That’s what a hero of the age should do.”

Edel smirked and turned away. Chesterhold shut his eyes tightly.

“It looks like you know a lot. The most curious among us has come back alive, shall we compare our knowledge?”

“Do you think the corporations will stay silent? Do you think the old men of the Privy Council will let this slide?”

“I was about to meet Her Majesty the Queen. This is perfect timing.”

“Hah.”

In the end, Chesterhold sighed in resignation and bowed his head.

“So it was all orchestrated by that old queen. She’s like an old miser who never lets go of anything that comes into her hands.”

Edel didn’t bother to deny it. Misunderstandings can often serve as a good lead in conversations.

She aimed to find out what in the world was happening in this country, what the Privy Council was plotting, and what Veolgreen was up to.

“You’ve come.”

When Edel turned her head, Ivan, who had boarded the ship, threw half-dead Lucia onto the deck and started walking toward her.

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