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HELHEIM SCANS
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Chapter 171: Each One’s Dawn (5)
A man in a suit entered the abandoned factory.
The suit, which once gleamed with elegance, was now covered in dirt and dust, stripped of its former dignity.
Amid the stench of decay filling the factory, he quietly scanned his surroundings.
“……”
The man, Neil Brion, frowned as he took in the sight of the abandoned factory, littered with corpses ravaged by wild animals.
This place was a secret base he had personally set up as a contingency, in case things ever went wrong.
Naturally, fewer than five people across the entire continent knew of its existence.
‘Someone’s already been here.’
Who?
When?
Neil Brion stood still, momentarily debating whether he should wait for the contact he was supposed to meet or leave the area.
Fortunately, his deliberation did not last long.
“Ah, you’re here?”
A voice emerged from the shadows of the factory, followed by a man stepping forward.
Seemingly indifferent to the corpses scattered across the floor, the man casually sank into a worn-out sofa.
Though it was the first time Neil had seen him, he didn’t display much caution and asked bluntly:
“Was this your doing?”
“What, killing everyone here and looting the safe? Nah, wasn’t me. Must’ve been the early bird.”
Psssh!
The man cracked open a can of beer and took several gulps.
“Ahh! That hits the spot. Why the grim face? What was in the safe, anyway?”
“……Just some emergency cash.”
“Pfft, that’s nothing. You broke? Need me to lend you some?”
“It’s not about the money. It bothers me that someone knew about this place.”
Though he had only lived as a fugitive for a short time, he had grown hyper-aware of every little detail.
Noting his unease, Dirje nodded slightly.
“Alright. If you’re that on edge, let’s relocate. Got another place in mind?”
“……”
“Guess not. Then how about we stick to my original plan?”
“Original plan?”
“The assassination of Oscar Crucian, of course. That’s why we got together in the first place, right?”
Dirje smirked and added with a mocking tone:
“After all, it’s the grand order from the First Finger himself.”
“……Don’t speak carelessly about him.”
“Wow, such unwavering loyalty. I bet he’d be touched if he heard you.”
“Just tell me the plan.”
“Sure, but first—”
In the blink of an eye, Dirje vanished from the sofa.
A cold sensation pressed against Neil’s cheek.
“……!”
“Heh, startled?”
Neil whipped around, only to see Dirje chuckling softly behind him.
Leaning casually against the sofa again, Dirje took another swig of beer.
“Don’t give me orders. I’m not your subordinate, remember?”
“……”
Recognizing that Dirje was the stronger of the two, Neil felt an unmistakable pressure from his smug tone.
He bit his lip slightly and gave a small nod.
“Understood.”
“Good. Let’s get along from now on.”
Dirje grinned meaningfully and shared his plan.
“First, we’re heading to Sirin.”
“……You want us to go straight into enemy territory?”
“Enemy territory? What makes you say that?”
Dirje tilted his head in mock confusion.
“It’s not like we’re going to send a warning letter before the assassination. No one will see it coming.”
“Oscar Crucian knows my face.”
“That’s nothing I can’t fix.”
Shrrk!
Dirje ran his hand over his face, instantly transforming his appearance.
The change happened so naturally and swiftly that it felt almost supernatural.
“With my mastery of disguise, that’s easy.”
“……And the plan once we’re in Sirin?”
“We’ll wait until he’s alone and then strike.”
“Hah.”
As expected, it was hardly a plan—more of a reckless outline.
Neil let out a sigh and shook his head.
“That’s far too sloppy. He never moves alone these days.”
“Then?”
“Fran Sirius, Veronica Fricks, and Killian Lockwood—each one is a formidable Level 4 mage. They’re always by his side, like a single entity.”
“Hmm. A group of Level 4 mages, huh?”
“Don’t underestimate them. They’re far from ordinary.”
If they were just average mages, Oscar Crucian would have been dead long ago.
Dirje chuckled softly at Neil’s warning.
“I could say the same to you. You shouldn’t underestimate me either.”
“……”
Neil didn’t bother arguing.
After all, Dirje was a Level 6 assassin, but unlike most, he was far from ordinary.
He had even successfully assassinated high-ranking mages in the past.
“Frankly, knights, mages—it doesn’t matter. In the end, they’re all just people. And when it comes to killing people, I’m the best there is.”
The assassin known as Faceless Dirje, whose true face no one had ever seen, belonged to a special group called Handback, which did not serve any of the Fingers.
“And if I feel like it, dragging that bastard out alone is child’s play.”
“……”
In the end, it was best to leave the assassination to the expert.
Neil’s role was simply to support him.
“I’ll follow your lead.”
“Smart choice. Ah, but first…”
Dirje licked his lips playfully.
“Some rats are sneaking up on us. Smells like the imperial forces… Let’s clean them up before we move on.”
* * *
At midnight, beneath the full moon.
After finishing his duties for the day, Oscar headed not to the training hall but to the 13th floor.
“Huh? Well, look who it is! Oscar!”
As he entered the 13th floor, the dwarven workshop, a wave of heat greeted him along with a familiar voice.
Oscar smiled warmly at the young boy who ran toward him.
“It’s been a while, Hagor.”
“Where the hell have you been? You’re never around anymore!”
There was a distinct tinge of disappointment in the voice.
Come to think of it, Oscar realized he had been neglectful for far too long.
Hagor had left his own tribe behind and relocated, solely for Oscar’s sake.
“I’ll make sure to visit more often from now on. How’s the work coming along?”
“Better than ever! Wanna take a look?”
Like someone itching to show off, Hagor eagerly led Oscar to one side.
“Oh….”
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Night]
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The moment they entered the hangar, Oscar let out an involuntary gasp of admiration.
Suspended in midair was a massive ship under construction, commanding his attention.
Its size was so overwhelming that it made the ceiling of the magic tower feel low by comparison.
The mere presence of the colossal vessel exuded a sense of grandeur.
“Is that an airship?”
“What do you think? Pretty impressive, huh?”
“……”
Oscar’s eyes slowly traced the ship’s sleek, flowing lines.
The elegant curvature of the hull made it look as though it had been born in the sky itself.
The deck was densely inscribed with large and small magic circles, though there were still many empty spots.
‘I guess the work isn’t finished yet.’
Even so, the most significant magic circle was immediately recognizable.
At the center of the hull was an enormous, familiar sigil, several times larger than the others.
‘Ouroboros.’
The majestic magic circle spun with a steady rhythm, as if the ship itself were impatient to take to the skies.
It was clear from a glance—this was a vessel born to fly.
It stirred Oscar’s heart in a way that no airship from his past life, even during the Imperial Sky Project, ever had.
“Has it been named yet?”
“Huh? Why are you asking me that?”
Hagor gave him a puzzled look.
“You’re the one who should be naming it.”
“……Me?”
“The Tower Master and Elder Schwein both agreed. They may have started this project, but it was you who brought it this far. So, it’s only right that you name it.”
A name, huh.
In truth, the moment Oscar laid eyes on the ship, a word had naturally surfaced in his mind.
“Nosphela.”
The name meant “Our Sky.”
An impeccable name for the vessel that would open a new era of the heavens.
“Hah, that’s quite the name.”
“……If you need my help, let me know.”
“Will do. It should be complete before the White Night Festival next month.”
As Oscar’s momentary excitement subsided, Hagor asked,
“So, what brings you here? Judging by your reaction, you didn’t come just to see this.”
“Ah, I actually have somewhere to stop by.”
With those words, Oscar glanced around.
‘Master did say that there were spaces hidden throughout the tower, created in memory of his wife.’
His master had also mentioned that each time he erased one of those spaces, his spatial abilities would grow stronger.
Even if that weren’t the case, it was still a task his master had entrusted him with—one he would have to complete eventually.
Oscar figured now was as good a time as any.
‘I don’t know how many of these spaces there are, but I should at least experience what they feel like.’
Before long, he gave a slight nod.
“Ah, I think I found one.”
As Oscar strode toward the wall, Hagor tilted his head in confusion.
“Huh? Where are you going? That’s just a dead-end wall…”
But before Hagor could finish his sentence, Oscar’s figure vanished as if it had been swallowed by thin air.
* * *
Oscar could feel the dense spatial energy concentrated around the wall, and he tugged on the thread he sensed.
The next moment, he was no longer on the 13th floor of the magic tower.
Instead, he stood in an entirely different space.
“This is….”
It was a lake.
A breathtaking lake under a radiant full moon, as picturesque as a painting.
Oscar quietly took in the scenery before a realization struck him.
‘Wait… could this be?’
As he scanned the terrain, it dawned on him.
This was Silvarin Lake.
The lake, before the artificial island had been built.
‘Of course… This is a replica of Master’s memory.’
As he continued to observe the surroundings, Oscar spotted a man and woman strolling along the lakeshore.
He didn’t recognize the woman, but the man was unmistakable—his master, in his younger days.
“!@#$%$#@”
“@#%@!^#&”
He couldn’t make out their conversation.
It was as if some magical filter distorted the sound, leaving only static in his ears.
‘Master must have enjoyed walking along the lake with his wife. Are they not married yet?’
Though Oscar wanted to etch this idyllic scene into his memory, he knew he couldn’t.
His master’s final wish had been to erase this lingering attachment—to rid him of his regrets.
Letting out a soft sigh, Oscar closed his eyes.
He began sensing the spatial threads.
‘It’s vast… but it only looks that way. With just a few tugs on the right threads, it’ll unravel easily.’
Before long, he found the threads that would dismantle the space.
‘It was good to see you again, Master.’
Slowly, he opened his eyes, intending to capture his master’s youthful image one last time.
“……?”
But instead of his master, he only saw the woman standing alone, staring at the lake.
His master was nowhere to be found.
‘Where…?’
A strange unease crept over him.
The moment he pulled on the spatial thread—
Snap!
The end of the thread was severed.
And standing before him was his master, young and cold-eyed.
“%@$!#@$?”
“Huh… uh… what?”
Caught off guard by the unexpected confrontation, Oscar stammered awkwardly.
Wait a minute—you wanted me to erase this, right?
But before he could say anything—
“%!@#%@#!”
His master’s fist slammed into Oscar’s jaw, sending his head whipping to the side.
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HELHEIM SCANS
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