Chapter 41
The assassin was of Sardia bloodline. He wasn’t just trained in Sardian swordsmanship—he also knew the counters to the techniques and skills. If a knight relied solely on the conventional methods to overcome Sardian swordsmanship, they would be helpless against its modified forms.
‘It’s unfortunate for you, but the swordsmanship I’ve mastered is not Breio swordsmanship.’
My swordsmanship had surpassed its original bounds—it was a fusion of Hebron and Antaria techniques. Though the combination hadn’t reached the pinnacle of mastery, the aura cultivation method I had developed went beyond the theoretical limits I could establish.
CLAAANG!
With a full-power blow, I struck down the assassin’s sword. Accustomed to my earlier, restrained strength, he was caught off guard and lost his grip. He fumbled to pull out something from his robes, but I was a step ahead.
Sardia Maneuvering Footwork.
The moment he saw my movement, he froze.
He stared at me, stunned, without even getting a chance to pull out whatever he was reaching for.
Swish!
His arm and chest were cleaved open.
As his clothing fell apart, a cursed brand was revealed—so glaringly vivid it could be seen even from afar. Under the sunlight, the shimmering brand wriggled like worms, clinging to his entire body.
“Adol!”
A moment later, Knight Adol entered my office.
He flinched when he saw the corpse sprawled on the floor.
“A wild dog from the Wasteland has entered Hebron. Ready our defenses. If it’s rabid, beat it to death. Do not burn the corpse—we need it as evidence. If we lose the body… Hebron is finished.”
“Yes, my lord!”
DING! DING! DING!
Soon, warning bells rang out across Hebron.
Soldiers gathered in the training grounds, even reservists dropped their tasks and rushed to the lord’s manor.
I looked down at the assassin’s corpse. In his robe, he’d been trying to pull out a glass vial filled with a white liquid.
“Judging by the color, is this scorpion poison from the Wasteland? Its colour and density suggest it was extracted from a rare species. Just how many scorpions did they have to catch to gather this much?”
When it came to poisons, I could confidently say I was the foremost expert. After I had absorbed dragon’s breath and was given just three years to live, I extended that deadline to ten by researching every poison imaginable.
Some of them I tested on myself. In the end, around the ten-year mark, I died due to the accumulated toxicity of the dragon’s breath and medicinal compounds.
Even the awakening as a Swordmaster couldn’t have brought me back at that point.
I made my way to the laboratory. Though I had labeled it a mage's lab, it stored countless herbs, toxins, and alchemical ingredients, all sealed—and I was the only one who ever entered.
The moment I stepped in, I put on a protective mask.
Serpens who had been following behind, hesitated at the door. I handed him a mask too.
“Press it down firmly over your nose so it seals tightly. Otherwise, you could die from exposure.”
Serpens looked deeply regretful.
“You called, my lord?”
El, the wind spiritist, entered in response to my summons. She had diligently practiced her cultivation method and had acquired a significant amount of spirit power.
“Summon the wind spirit. I want the inner air blown outward.”
“Yes, my lord.”
She summoned the low-tier wind spirit, and thanks to the gust it generated, the air in the room turned crisp and breathable.
Wind spirits and water spirits also had purification abilities. Wind spirits purified air and water spirits purified water. Mid-tier water spirits could even enter a person’s body and detoxify it.
I put on gloves made of ratroll leather and opened the cap of the glass vial.
The moment the liquid met air, shhhh!—a faint mist hissed out as it oxidized.
I dabbed a bit of the liquid with a long cotton swab, then quickly resealed the vial.
The wind blew the smoke away, but I still channeled my aura to detect any trace of poison that may have entered my system.
Nod.
I signaled to Serpens that it was safe now.
He stood nervously at the door, watching me with wary eyes.
I divided the poison sample from the swab onto several cloth strips.
Because the toxin was rapidly oxidizing, the experiments had to proceed quickly.
Sssssst.
I poured several herbal and magical reagents over the cloth. Two of them reacted visibly.
“Inferno, burn these.”
Everything that touched the poison was burned.
I removed my ratroll gloves and mask and burned them as well.
All that remained were the vial of white deadly poison and another vial containing the cloth samples I had sealed. I stored both of them carefully in a box.
“This will make things a lot easier. Serpens, send a messenger to the royal court right away. Inform them that Viscount Slein has been colluding with the Dogs of the Wasteland, remnants of House Sardia.”
“W-what…?”
Few things were as dangerous as falsely accusing someone of treason. But that was exactly why the Kingdom of Xenon might take this seriously. To clean up a troublesome region swiftly, they might very well strip the local lords of their titles and appoint new ones.
At the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder whether the Kingdom of Xenon would even bother responding to an incident that had its roots more than a century ago. In my previous life, I had once welcomed the king to House Breio and overheard some of the Duke’s close associates discussing him.
‘A weak-hearted king who viewed anything that threatened royal authority as an enemy.’
In my judgment, the current king would never allow even the remnants of a century-old rebellion to take root again.
“I’ll take responsibility, Serpens.”
“Yes, my lord!”
By pinning the spark of treason on House Slein, I could also show the king that Baron Hebron remained a loyal subject.
If this plan failed, Hebron would be doomed.
“When Slein’s forces reach Delgain, send a messenger to tell them what I said. Was it your scheme to send the bloodline of House Sardia to assassinate me? Or was it the doing of Delgain?’”
“Yes, my lord!”
Evidence wasn’t necessary. The mere fear of being associated with treason would force Viscount Slein to withdraw his soldiers. Yet even then, just the act of sending forces to protect the Delgain barony might leave behind lingering suspicion.
‘The most certain way would be for Viscount Slein to kill Baron Delgain himself.’
So far, everything was theoretical. To bring it to reality, every cog had to turn at just the right moment.
I left the lord’s manor with heightened vigilance.
No further threats seemed to linger inside the manor. Even if another assassin had infiltrated Hebron, moving freely now would be impossible.
Because of the brand of the curse.
I ordered a sweep of everyone concealing their bodies and hurried off to find Amy, who was overseeing the transport of supplies.
“I’ll be away for a while.”
“Where to?”
Amy looked alarmed.
It seemed she had counted on me as part of our fighting force for the upcoming conflict.
Now that she had to revise those plans, her expression grew increasingly troubled.
“Don’t worry—it’s not the afterlife. I won’t be gone too long. A week at most. Ten days, perhaps.”
Viscount Slein’s soldiers were expected to reach Delgain in three days. There was a strong chance they would retreat before that, but regardless, a crisis capable of determining Hebron’s fate was barreling toward us.
“I’ll take some supplies. If there’s anything you need, tell Serpens and have him get it for you.”
I gathered a few items from the military supply warehouse.
“Syang!”
Baaaaaaaa!
Syang bleated happily and rushed over. I climbed onto its back and steered it toward the fountain—recently installed to provide clean water for the townspeople.
Children swarmed around us at the sight of Syang but didn’t dare get too close.
I was their lord, after all.
When I gave a slight nod of permission, a few brave ones reached out to pat Syang. He was familiar with the attention, the sheep let out a soft baaaaa and started drinking.
“Drink up. Might be a while before you see water again.”
With water and jerky in hand, I left the domain behind and charged headlong into the endless wasteland.
Doo doo doo doo doo!
* * *
Dressed in ragged peasant clothes that only the common folk would wear, I leaned back on Syang’s back, who was covered with a handspan-long wool.
This wasn’t a desert, so the blazing sun didn’t parch my throat—but the endless wasteland still provoked a primal fear.
‘This won’t be enough. I’ll need to try something more... effective.’
After what felt like forever riding into what seemed a boundless sea, I opened the bundle I’d brought from Hebron.
“I can handle basic sewing. And according to Father, I’ve even got a bit of talent for it.”
I pulled out a cloth, a bunch of mirrors, and a glass vial filled with liquid.
“Inferno, heat this up. Not too hot—just gently.”
As Inferno warmed the glass, bubbles rose from the surface of the white liquid.
“That’s good. That should be enough.”
The white substance was a kind of adhesive. I’d mixed it myself using highly viscous vines and medicinal herbs. It had one flaw, the bonding weakened as it dried out.
I crushed the mirrors into small pieces, applied the adhesive, and stuck them all over the cloth. The result was crude, ugly even—but I wasn’t aiming for art or utility.
Sparkle.
As I slipped on the mirror-covered garment, light exploded in every direction. Sunlight scattered off every piece, making me stand out in the wasteland like a flare. It looked almost like the brand of the curse glowing under the sun.
Barely three minutes had passed. Just as I was wrapping the cloth around my face—worried I might go blind or burn my skin off from the reflected glare—Syang gave a low cry.
Baaaaa.
The sheep shifted and let out another bleat. In the distance, a rider came into view. Too far away to see clearly, but in this non-desert wasteland, mirages weren’t possible.
“Syang, go get him.”
Baaaaaaaa!
Syang’s eyes flashed red as it took off like a bolt.
The rider flinched at the sudden movement, yanking his reins in a panic. He tried to break away from Syang’s charge.
‘He’s lost control.’
The horse wasn’t obeying. It screamed, rearing onto its hind legs. The horse tried to shake off the rider as if telling him to die alone.”
Baaaaaaaa!
Syang finally closed the distance.
As Syang grew larger with each step, both horse and its rider looked on in horror.
Syang rammed into the horse.
The horse’s neck collapsed with a sickening crack, killing it instantly. The man atop it was flung off, still clutching the reins.
His leg got caught under the horse’s body. Syang didn’t stop. He reared up and came crashing down, trampling the man without mercy.
“AAAAAGH!”
Syang showed no hesitation.
He crushed the man’s right shoulder, flattening it like a parchment, then stomped down on his left arm, snapping it cleanly.
“Easy now, easy…”
I gently stroked Syang’s neck. The beast finally calmed down, exhaling a heavy snort through his nose.
Leaning to the side, I peered down at the man trapped under the dead horse and spoke with exaggerated sympathy.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry. He has a bit of a mind of his own and doesn’t listen to me. Looks like you’re injured. I’ll treat your wounds, of course… though maybe not here. Is there anywhere nearby that offers a bit of shade?”
The man glared at me with unmasked hatred.
No—more than that. He looked at me as if I were his mortal enemy.
I could tell immediately that words weren’t going to work, so I drew my sword from my waist and let it catch the light.
“When I speak politely, I expect a fucking answer. I don’t like repeating myself.”
In my previous life, I had more talent in medicine than swordsmanship.
But while studying the human body, I’d naturally dabbled in the art of torture.
I knew plenty of places where a sword could go in and leave someone conscious—but in unbearable pain.
Shk!
The tip of my sword pierced the man's flesh. He bit down hard, but a muffled, strained scream forced its way through his clenched teeth.
“Aaagghhhhh!”
I twisted my sword and cut off the man’s airway.
