Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: Bait (2)
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Federback headed to the secret reception room prepared underground.
Creaaak...
As he pushed open the thick iron door and entered, the interior came into view—a space no different from an underground prison.
Black stone walls and flickering candles casting eerie shadows.
The sofa and table were expensive pieces, but they seemed somehow grotesque, tainted by the room's grim atmosphere.
The man sitting on the reception room sofa jumped to his feet.
A goatee dangling from his chin, a gaunt face drained of all fat, and dark circles under his eyes like spilled ink that cast shadows with every glance.
His clothes looked pieced together from rags and scraps, and his shoes were so worn that his toes poked out from the front.
"Young Master!"
The goateed Sancho cried out, his voice choked with emotion.
He spread his arms wide and approached Federback.
"It's been far too long! I hope you've been well! Your unworthy Sancho has been traveling the Northern Region at your command, gathering information on the various houses... Ack!"
But Sancho's words didn't reach their end.
Because Federback had kicked him.
"Urk! That's too much, Young Master!"
"You're too late. I've already caught and interrogated both the Prossange and Levarb houses."
"Y-Yeah, I heard. I was on my way back with info on their rebellion plot when... I ran into this terrifying monster."
"Monster?"
"Yes, sir. A massive centipede called the Frozen Horror. Some lunatic must've messed with its young, 'cause it was going berserk. On my way to report to you, I nearly died several times. But thanks to my experience dodging Ice Dragon Adara, I somehow survived!"
"..."
Federback nodded silently at Sancho's words.
A Frozen Horror that had lost its young—it was the mythical beast from ancient times that Federback had provoked and drawn out.
It seemed Sancho had been nearby when it went on its rampage.
"Good."
"No, seriously, why would a monster that lives under hundreds of meters of frozen ice suddenly pop out like that? I have no idea. What kind of bastard woke it up and..."
"Make your report."
"Right away. Excluding Prossange and Levarb, here's what the other houses are up to..."
Sancho had been traveling the Northern Region at Federback's command, investigating the other noble houses.
A master sycophant who knew how to grease palms, Sancho had fully utilized his talents to seduce the bureaucrats of each house and extracted some high-quality intel.
Federback nodded.
Most of the information Sancho brought matched what Federback already knew, and some aligned perfectly with his memories from before his regression.
And very rarely, there were pieces even Federback was hearing for the first time.
Federback nodded again.
"Well done. You've had a hard time."
"Waaah— No hardship like this one, sir. But hearing your warm praise, Young Master, makes my body melt away."
"Now for your next orders."
"It's melting so much it's crumbling to pieces."
"Rest for about a week, then head to the Imperial Capital."
"!"
Sancho's eyes went wide at Federback's words.
The Imperial Capital was the heart of the Reikeion Empire, where all power, wealth, and culture converged.
The grandest, richest, and most refined city in the world.
Of course, there was no guarantee such a place didn't exist beyond the empire's borders, but the empire officially treated all foreign peoples and cultures as barbaric savages.
Thus, the Imperial Capital was the pinnacle of everything.
Federback continued.
"The North is too far from the Capital. We need to plant an intelligence network there."
"What should I do once I'm there, sir?"
"Nothing much. Start a decent business and make some money. Then forge ties with the Berserkir Marquis House."
"...You make it sound easy, but the Berserkir Marquis House is the hottest ticket right now."
"Easier than slaying an Ice Dragon. You survived the Frozen Horror, didn't you?"
"True enough. Do I go alone?"
"Meet a merchant named Portia and work out a business plan with her. With your skills, you can assist her."
"Pardon? Assist? I thought I'd be the boss?"
"Do as you like. But if things go south with the marquis house, it'll be your head on the block, not just your hands."
"On second thought, I've always loved being someone's right-hand man. I'm your right arm again, aren't I, Master Federback? Hehe—"
"Get your operating funds from Rorschach. Be careful not to let anyone trace the money flow when setting up the business."
"I'll buy a few fine antiques on the way. Don't worry about a thing. You know how many gold coins I laundered back when I was the Meursault administrator."
Sancho thumped his chest proudly—not quite bragging, but close.
Federback clicked his tongue lightly.
"Among the Capital's nobles, some despise aristocracy. Watch out for them."
"Understood. I'll keep it in mind."
"Also, never set foot in District 9. Avoid contact with anything there. If unavoidable, take the loss and respond amicably—no matter what. Report immediately."
"That's scary, Young Master. W-Why?"
"If I explain, you'll get dragged in deeper. Can you handle it?"
"...I won't ask. Avoid noble-haters and stay out of District 9. Got it!"
Sancho saluted.
Federback nodded.
"Depart immediately."
"Pardon? You said rest a week..."
"I'll provide the finest carriage. The journey takes a week—recover inside it. Start work right upon arrival."
"..."
Sancho shut his mouth.
He had learned thoroughly while climbing Meurso Mountain to the Beauvoir abandoned mine.
Arguing with Federback only made things worse.
Late at night, after Rorschach's final report, Federback lay down in bed.
He hadn't slept a wink in nearly four days while reviewing documents.
As he lay down, the thorns of the thornwood bed pricked his back.
Federback always slept on a bed of thornwood.
It was the unerring end to his days since regressing.
His body, hardened like iron upon reaching 4th Circle, drew not a drop of blood from the thorns.
Federback lay there with eyes closed for a while.
Then, his lips moved briefly.
"I only sleep three hours. If you're coming, come quick."
In that instant, the ceiling's darkness thickened and descended.
...Thud!
A black trajectory plummeted from above.
Federback kicked out the dragon sinew shield 'Yeokrin' from under the bed, blocking the falling dagger from overhead.
Claaang!
The dragon sinew strapped to his instep grew taut.
Federback spun his foot, rotating the shield.
The twisted handle strap flung the dagger's owner far away.
Thud!
As the black-masked assassin rolled across the floor and rose.
Whooosh—whoosh—Boom!
Federback whipped the dragon-sinew handle like a sling and hurled the shield.
As the assassin leaped aside, the shield smashed through the stone wall.
Screee—
Federback drew the dragon fang sword 'Adara' from under his pillow.
Scraaape!
As the assassin ducked, Federback's blade carved the stone wall like clay.
...Whoosh!
A liquid-like crimson-black aura blade extended from the assassin's sword tip.
A slash stretching like blood-mixed honey.
The assassin's swordsmanship had reached the pinnacle of 4th Circle.
"Not bad for a rat."
Reclaiming the shield by yanking the strap, Federback immediately deployed the Meursault style.
Meursault 1st Form: Bloodletting
Short, staccato thrusts—the basic form.
Gripping the hilt in reverse grip, Federback hammered down on the assassin's body from above in rapid succession.
Stab— Stab— Stab— Stab—
The straight awl-like sword, without a guard, faced almost no air resistance on thrusts.
Federback stabbed at tremendous speed, punching four holes into the assassin's left arm.
Craaackle...
The pierced left arm froze solid.
Not just the skin—the muscles inside, the fibers between, and the blood in the veins all froze rock-hard.
Snap—drop!
The assassin made the optimal choice: severing his own left arm.
In exchange, he hurled his now-lighter body forward, thrusting at Federback's lower abdomen.
However.
Meursault 2nd Form: Skin Peeling
Twist the blade tip.
Federback immediately twisted the blade tip.
Twirl—
The reverse-gripped sword spun a full rotation in his hand, facing forward.
A white lightning bolt slashed horizontally, cleaving the assassin's entire right arm in two.
Craaackle!
The right arm became a grotesque sight, like forcibly ripping apart a two-headed snake.
Yet the assassin showed no sign of pain, twisting his waist.
Pop!
A purple awl shot from his left toe, aiming for Federback's throat.
Clearly coated with deadly poison.
Federback leaned back to evade.
Meursault 3rd Form: Bone Extraction
Split the surface to debone the interior.
Snap—crack!
Federback's blade sliced halfway through the assassin's right ankle.
...Thud!
Unable to support himself, the assassin rolled across the floor.
In the midst of battle, his torn mask fluttered in the air.
Federback nodded.
"Leader of the New Moon's Descendants. Sangsanno-ya... was it?"
He'd even dredged up pre-regression memories to name him, but no reply came.
Just eyes filled with darkness stared back.
"I see. Discarded by the Berserkirs."
Then he had likely suffered a fate similar to Serubret Viscount, former head of Prossange.
[Grrrrrr...]
As if affirming Federback's guess.
[Kyaaaaak!]
Sangsanno-ya rose.
His body had already regenerated fully.
...Flash!
The liquid aura at 4th Circle's peak hurtled in.
Dense and thick, nearly solid.
In contrast, the pale aura on Federback's blade tip was still thin.
He had only recently crossed into 4th Circle.
"Tch."
Federback furrowed his brow.
He pressed the shield tight to his left side and swung his right-hand sword.
Meursault 4th Form: Flesh Carving
Draw blood, peel skin, extract bone—now neatly portion the remaining flesh.
Federback recalled the essence of the Meursault sword forms from the secret manual.
—Grasp with the hand, support with the shoulder, press with the foot, pin with the knee.
—Extract bone, portion flesh.
—The hand must advance one span beyond technique.
—See not the enemy's form, but their spirit.
—Trust not what comes through eyes, nose, mouth, ears, skin.
—Thrust the blade according to natural reason.
—Part muscle fibers, pry open bone joints, sever tendons and nerves.
—Novices sharpen their blades monthly, experts yearly, masters never.
—Close the eyes and light fades, flay the skin and heat vanishes; close the mind and nothing endures.
—Transcend self, forget all, and nothing in the world cannot be severed.
In that instant, the pale sphere at Federback's blade tip doubled, no, tripled in size.
Splaaash!
As it scattered into the air, it became hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of tiny white droplets exploding outward.
Papapapapapapapapapung!
The galaxy-like spray of liquid sword energy deeply pierced Sangsanno-ya's entire body.
Countless grains sliding along muscle fibers turned his body into literal tatters.
As if gunpowder had detonated point-blank, scattering countless steel balls.
Boom boom boom boom!
Sangsanno-ya tumbled across the floor.
[Grraaaaa...]
As he tried to rise.
"Young Master!"
The door burst open, revealing Houndred, Scolseiji, and other knights.
Federback shouted instantly.
"Fall back!"
But it was too late.
Sangsanno-ya widened his all-black eyes to the tearing point.
Jet-black lightning spewed from his ragged body in streams.
His suicidal intent was obvious to anyone.
Federback moved.
Swoosh—
The arcing dragon fang sword Adara, paired with shield Yeokrin, exhaled cold to form a frost shield.
'This won't be enough.'
How much of Sangsanno-ya's self-destruction an improvised ice wall could block was uncertain.
As Federback frowned.
Fwoosh!
A hot wind blew from somewhere.
Flames from the table's candles swirled into a massive vortex, blocking Houndred and Scolseiji's path.
"!"
Federback saw it.
The crimson orb in the chest at his bedroom's corner.
The dragon egg taken after slaying Ice Dragon Adara was manipulating nearby fire to bar Sangsanno-ya's front.
"Good work."
Federback poured intense cold through sword and shield.
One side rose a thick ice wall, the other a barrier of searing flames and heat haze.
Simultaneously, Sangsanno-ya's body erupted in massive explosion.
Booom!