Chapter 260
Chapter 260
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: One Empire, Three Legends (19)
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Rattle, rattle. Rattle, rattle.
“Haaaaah...”
Rattle, rattle. Creak, rattle.
“Pheeeew.”
A forest path with nothing worth seeing. It had been quite some time since leaving Haunu Manor, but the carriage heading toward the Empire along the dim forest road was filled with sighs.
“Cut it out already. You’re gonna wear a hole in the carriage floor.”
“It won’t cave in. We’ve got less luggage than one werewolf would take up.”
“Ottoman, do something about him. He’s been like this all day.”
“Hm? Oh... Sorry about that. I was spacing out for a bit. The forest path looks so nice. Normally around here, a massive werewolf would be walking beside the carriage, blocking the view outside, but now... it’s so clear. Perfectly clear and wide open...”
.
.
.
.
“Haaaaah....”
“Hmmmmm....”
This had been the mood ever since leaving Haunu Manor. Everyone had agreed to let Borkah go, but they’d all grown so fond of him that his absence was keenly felt.
I wasn’t any different from the rest.
Sure, there was regret over losing a reliable comrade who’d had my back, but now that it was over, I couldn’t help but think back on the things we’d missed out on in Haunu Manor.
Like that chat room blowing up right now, for instance.
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- Take a Look: I knew I’d heard that name before. Blue mane? That’s gotta be it. Lataya of the Blue Mane. The Lataya bloodline. You didn’t know?
- Professor: His surname’s Dalun. Tusan Dalun. Marka Dalun. Their heroes don’t get names like ~~ Lataya, right? Like Shanatel Lataya or whatever.
- Take a Look: Dude! It took 120 years to go from World 1 to World 2, 70 years from World 2 to World 3! Nearly 200 years up to World 3’s storyline! You think werewolves wouldn’t change? Way back in ancient times, they had a matriarchal society, but it could’ve changed by now. Look at Borkah—he’s the tribe chief, isn’t he? The kids probably took their dad’s surname. Mom’s name was Dalia. Dalia Lataya. Tusan and Marka were her bloodline. That scam blue wolf. [“Yeah, full moon rises and we win~”] Famous for that!
- Jokasss: There were some solid hints. Borkah straight-up said, “My wife was more beautiful and stronger than me.” And he bragged about his blue mane. You know the power of the Lataya bloodline, the pinnacle of werewolf genes, right? No way you missed those World 1 super hard-carry videos.
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Of course I saw them. While eating lunch, I scratched my head in frustration at this tall werewolf woman who burst out, deflected arrows with her bare body, single-handedly slaughtered nine thousand charging barbarian riders, then grumbled that her meat had gone cold.
That blue-maned bloodline preserving the race’s origins could be called one of the few S-rank hero units in this game.
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- Jokasss: I think the Borkah character itself was meant to be the starting point for continuing the Lataya bloodline in World 3. His backstory even points toward finding a specific person. Kinda sucks we missed it.
- Professor: It sucks, but it was my choice. You know how badly Tusan and Marka wanted to return to the forest? How else was I supposed to get characters like that to join me?
- Deer Drug Please: Revenge? Heart?
- Professor: Yeah. Haunu Manor’s got Empire master knights, imperial lackeys, even ties to a prince. If Borkah died at one of their hands, it might’ve worked. But even so... that’d be too much, right?
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The end of the Haunu Manor event. Borkah was moving so stubbornly that players couldn’t intervene. If I’d just watched, he probably would’ve completed his revenge alone and died. That’s how the event was meant to end. I stepped in and derailed it.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. But sacrificing the life of a comrade I’d lived and fought alongside for months as the price? Unthinkable. If this were just some data scraps in a game, maybe. But GG had become another reality for me. Hell, it was my entire reality right now.
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- Professor: So no regrets.
- Take a Look: Yeah. Zero regrets. Even though World 1 Lataya could slice a hill in five with one claw swipe, a total superhuman.
- Deer Drug Please: Right, right. World 2 Lataya clan showed up on the battlefield and it was like undead eraser Superman, but no regrets at all~
- Jokasss: As if. Would our “Saint” care about worldly gains like that? In Holy Professor’s eyes, all that matters is his comrades and their kids’ happiness.
- Holy: Ahh, Lathura~
- Take a Look: Lathura.
- Heung An Mandu: Lathura, may the light be with you.
- Deer Drug Please: That toga-like robe suited you so well. Tons of fabric but still super revealing—such a great contrast. Name-brand churches really do everything right, huh?
- Take a Look: Hey! That’s not shameful, it’s [holy]! Professor’s exposed chest isn’t lewd, it’s divinity itself! Like the Venus de Milo’s beautiful protrusions, that’s the word!
- Professor: Look at it, please just look at it, you damned bastards.
- Take a Look: We are. Infinite loops of the recording, plus the community’s “Holy Professor” memes. We’re looking real hard.
- Professor: No, fuck, not that...
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I turned away from the gloomy mood, but this was gloom bordering on despair. No way I’m checking the community lately. I’d pop a vein if I did.
Getting popular is good... sort of, but the side effects were brutal.
Steel myself and peek at the feed—
[★Shocker! Let’s Dive into Park Professor X Professor’s Gap Moe Overload!☆]
[Our community’s agreed to say “Jesus Professor” instead of “Jesus Christ”...]
[Park Professor Zero-Two Dance Deepfake Version]
[Park Professor Transformation Strip Gif at 0.1x Speed. Look with your heart’s eye and you’ll see. No idea what, but you’ll see.]
“Eugh! Ugh! Uwaaagh!”
‘I, I can’t look!’
[Oof, wow.]
All it did was inflict massive mental damage and bounce me away.
[At least it’s a blessing in disguise. Hero Points and Villain Points both ballooned like compound interest, so we dodged the worst-case scenario.]
‘Ro Ha-ram, fuck yeah, bless you GG. Damn it.’
Just like Hyde said, the hero point protagonist correction and villain point major antagonist correction saved me from social suicide. A naked hulking dude lightning-jumping between canyons couldn’t be the world’s black幕 or protagonist by this world’s logic. Like Hulk’s indestructible underwear, the church robe faithfully did its job despite my low durability.
The system blessed me like a protagonist or deep villain in my play videos, yet the community was a mess.
Rumors, exaggerations, even fanfics like [The Sleeping Connector’s Saint]. Maybe living in here forever wouldn’t be so bad.
[That’s why names matter so much. Right, Eternal Honorary Leader of the Elite Combat Group ‘BDSM’, Professor Park?]
‘Kaaagh!’
Professor shoved aside the bad memories burrowing into his head—the top ten pages of community posts stuffed with “Park Professor”—and refocused on the forest path and his companions.
There was something he’d meant to look into when he had time, anyway.
“Aldrich.”
“What.”
“Boring as hell. Tell us some old stories. You were a pretty famous noble, right? That... what family?”
“...Teldmaier. Sorry, but I won’t go into details.”
“Uh... tough to talk about?”
Aldrich shook his head. Half a century had passed since his family vanished. Time healed all wounds; he could easily tell the tale to others now. Especially to these people he’d shared life and death with.
But,
“Lucilla. Sometimes it’s better not to hear certain stories. You’d understand, Professor? There are things that drag you in just by knowing them, regardless of your will.”
“...I get it. Usually, people want those side stories buried, and they’ll go after anyone who learns them somehow. I know all too well.”
“Right. I figured you’d understand. It’s not that I don’t trust this group—”
“That’s exactly why I need to hear it.”
Aldrich’s face crumpled at my response, but I pressed on regardless.
“Fifty years ago, you said. Fifty years is enough time for memories to fade away, isn’t it? Yet you’re wary of even bringing up old tales. That means whatever happened fifty years ago—turning Aldrich Teldmaier from a noble family’s teenage heir into a black mage—is still ongoing.”
“You...!”
“Heh, come on. You see me too sporadically. I’m a professor, Professor. Pulling a cart at the Empire’s edge, yet predicting those Palkatus bastards stirring in the north? You think I wouldn’t notice my comrade right next to me acting weird? I know you’ve been oddly quiet since entering the Empire, Aldrich. How you vanish wordlessly among the group sometimes? On the airship to the elf forest, your face was all relaxed~, but the second we crash and I say ‘Let’s swing by the Empire,’ it turns to stone?”
“...”
Creak.
Professor handed the cart reins back to the horse, then climbed into the now-spacious carriage that could easily fit him.
“There’s something in the Empire. Whatever happened fifty years ago is still so alive it’s scary to even mention, and it’s still there. Right, Mr. Aldrich Teldmaier? So, should we stumble into the Empire’s worst demon den—the imperial court—blind and get wrecked, or go in knowing and get wrecked? Which is better? Huh? Aldrich.”
Last night, Aldrich had shared exactly three things about it. His name was Aldrich Teldmaier. Fifty years ago, his entire family vanished without a trace. No political intrigue or physical foes—just gone, so they were still listed in the imperial noble registry. He’d clammed up like a shellfish after giving just what was needed to find the three nobles for contract cancellation.
Now that we had time, it was time to hear the details. This wasn’t your average incident—it wiped out a whole noble house. Better to know and prepare.
Clink!
While I settled into the carriage, Notum and Idrasil had already rummaged through the luggage and neatly set out Haunu Manor mare’s milk liquor, wide cups, and dried fish snacks.
“...Did you all conspire without me?”
“Gruk. Old story. Sour face. Need booze.”
“We heard in the village that intoxication rises from the depths of the human soul. Filling the bottom will bring sunken old memories to the surface.”
An instant drinking setup and audience. While Ottoman, who didn’t drink, quietly slipped out to the driver’s seat, he marveled at the seamless process.
“Good lord. Even Idrasil and Notum? Following you around’s corrupting them too, Professor.”
“Why? Plenty of folks wear grabbing my collar as a lifelong badge of honor. If they learned from me, they learned good.”
“The world’s gone properly mad.”
At Ottoman’s words, Aldrich squeezed his eyes shut, heavy with anguish. His wrinkled, sturdy hand snatched the liquor bottle and poured into the cup before him.
“...You’re right. The world’s been mad for a long, long time.”
Glug, glug—
After filling his own cup, Aldrich began filling everyone else’s. Lucilla touched her tongue to hers, then shoved it away with a scalded face. Idrasil sniffed it thoughtfully, then accepted the bowl-like cup with a nod of approval.
Aldrich saw a glimmer of expectation in the old black mage’s face reflected in his cup and let out a hollow laugh. Expectation. What the hell was he expecting?
“Yeah... It’s getting dark. Just one carriage on a quiet forest path. Perfect time for this kind of story.”
“What... kind of story?”
“Ghost story. The unknown. About people who vanished entangled in the inexplicable.”
Shattering the expectations in their cups—or embracing them—Aldrich downed his in one go and began spilling the tales buried inside with his heated breath.
“Fifty-two years ago. When I was thirteen, everyone in the Teldmaier house vanished without a trace. Mother and father. Relatives, retainers, knights, servants—even a merchant who’d stopped by briefly for a delivery. The Empire’s inspectors rushed out on a resident’s report and arrived in less than a day. What they found was a silent estate with no sign of human life. Official survivors: zero. That was the full report on the Teldmaier lands. The inspectors who went to investigate after that letter all vanished too.”
“Official. So unofficially...”
“Two. Two clueless kids survived. Me, and Nell. My little sister, bright as spring sunshine. Neria Teldmaier. The Teldmaier siblings fled that cursed land covered in blood and flesh...”
Click.
Aldrich downed another cup and opened the locket he always wore around his neck. As his fingers stroked the photo inside, a sinister blue glow came with a ghostly whisper.
“Yeah. As you’ve guessed, this is my sister. Neria. I thought my sibling and I had escaped safely. That we’d finally escaped that long nightmare of a night. That at least the two of us survived...”
He trailed off, but the unspoken words were clear. If both had survived unscathed, that girl wouldn’t have become this eerie evil spirit frozen in her childlike form.
Thwack!
“...I’ll say this upfront. I don’t know how you all judge me, but you probably think I’m different from your average black mage. That soul mages are different. That I’m not like those wicked black mages. So I’ll say it now: even if you end up despising me after this story, I won’t hold it against you. No matter how clean I pretend to be. I’m a black mage too, after all.”
His slightly cracked, rough voice calmly began unraveling his past. It started fifty-two years ago. When 65-year-old Aldrich was thirteen.
“Oswald. Feeling sick again?”
It began with a young master’s concern for his coughing butler.
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