Chapter 61
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Star Shadow (2)
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Ten minutes after leaving the king's chamber.
Bran was still following Lahir's guidance.
A three-way fork appeared, and a guiding voice flowed from Lahir's mouth.
"Hm. Straight ahead from here. Don't step on the golden paving stones—they're traps."
"The golden ones, right."
Bran nodded.
His head was flickering thanks to the buff, making it feel just like a real navigation system.
There was no longer any need to ask if he was sure.
Unlike his uncertain tone earlier, Lahir remembered the tent's internal structure almost perfectly.
'This is disconcerting. Is it really okay to suck the honey like this?'
It was dozens of times more comfortable than Bran had anticipated.
Whenever Lahir said a fork was coming, a fork appeared, and when he warned of a trap, a trap showed up.
The only unpredictable element was the ghosts residing in the tent.
Whoosh!
A translucent man's face burst through the ceiling.
"Kieeeek!"
Kael, locking eyes with the ghost, hugged Arjan tightly.
The ghost of the twisted man, resembling a mummy, was clad in ancient Cargai armor.
"Begone. This is a royal command."
But even this, Lahir could handle.
"Kiek...?"
The ghostly man flinched.
Slipping away.
The ghost glanced alternately at Lahir and Bran's group before vanishing back beyond the tent fabric.
Even in death, his loyalty to the king remained.
Arjan sheathed her dagger.
"...Impressive."
"Haa... haaa... That really scared me."
Kael patted his chest.
At least it ended without triggering something like a sanctuary. That was a relief.
Right now was the time to steadily recover the divine power and mana spent on the speedrun.
Lahir, watching the spot where the ghost had disappeared, wore a wry smile.
"Let's keep going. We're almost there."
By Bran's senses, they had come quite far.
Skirting the golden paving stones carefully, they entered a wide room.
A single wooden round table stood alone in the empty space at the center.
"The conference room. This is where we held talks with the empire's emperor."
Lahir murmured.
Bran raised an eyebrow at the voice tinged with subtle nostalgia.
"So the peace treaty was signed here too?"
"Yes. It was a five-hour-long meeting. It dragged on so much we even shared a meal. If not for Namm's betrayal, Cargai would still stand strong."
"Would the emperor really have kept his promise, though?"
"Of course. He was a warrior before he was a ruler. A fine man, even as an enemy."
Hearing the past from the man himself felt strangely surreal.
Navigation, and now docent duties too.
If Bendan were here, he might have fainted from sheer happiness.
"Ah, but even that perfect bastard had one flaw."
"What was it?"
"He couldn't handle spicy food at all. When he asked where the bathroom was, I deliberately gave him directions the long way around. He probably didn't soil himself, but he must have suffered. Uhahaha!"
Lahir chuckled heartily.
This was trivia even Bran didn't know.
Considering the empire was a superpower even back then, it was utterly insane mischief.
Arjan tilted her head at the echoing laughter.
"Unexpected."
"Hm? What is?"
"I'm surprised you're more cheerful than I thought. I figured you'd be tormented by guilt over failing to protect your nation and people. Doesn't it hurt?"
A frosty silence descended.
"Eek."
Kael clamped his mouth shut with both hands.
Smack. Bran pressed his palm to his forehead.
Arjan's trademark bluntness had finally caused trouble.
The scariest part was that she wasn't being sarcastic—she was genuinely curious!
"Heh, of course it hurts."
Lahir smiled.
"Naturally, it's sad and regrettable. The despair of the moment when the ritual completed with my blood and my children's as the final offering... I'll never forget it. Even as a soulless puppet harvesting lives, that pain tormented me endlessly."
"Then how can you laugh like that?"
"To not waste the miraculous opportunity that came my way."
Their steps didn't halt amid the conversation.
Lahir continued.
"Wallowing in misery helps nothing in slaying Namm. It only clouds judgment. Botching things due to emotional turmoil—that's the true sin against the people who perished unjustly."
"Logical."
"Of course, it's not a forced smile. I'm truly happy right now. Not only has an unimaginable second chance been granted, but I've met my descendant. How could I not be grateful and enjoy it?"
From his perspective, it was as good as a miracle.
A chance to right all wrongs had fallen from the heavens.
Lahir laughed.
"Thus, I'll savor the present. I'll laugh. Until the moment I kill Namm and free my people's souls, I'll set this guilt aside. Satisfied with that answer?"
"Yes. Quite."
Arjan nodded.
Complex emotions swirled in her eyes.
Knowing why she'd asked, Bran could only hope it helped.
"Haha, glad to have such a sharp-witted descendant."
"No. Thank you for answering."
"No need for thanks. Though I didn't say it, frowning or grimacing isn't ideal—especially for an unsightly creature like me. Doesn't an ugly guy look even uglier when he cries?"
Lahir chuckled again.
The more Bran saw, the more he liked the guy's personality.
Having aced docent and counselor roles, he returned to his main gig: navigation.
"Alright. Turn left here. Not stopping by the treasury?"
"No. Doesn't seem worth it."
"What nonsense! Even the emperor marveled at its splendor!"
Lahir was aghast.
The treasury was indeed a must-mention in Cargai-related texts.
A garden of treasures piled to the ceiling with gold and jewels unseen in life!
But Bran's stance was firm.
"Just a bad feeling about it. Would Namm really leave treasures untouched? Probably squandered them over the long years on pointless nonsense."
"Hm... That makes sense."
Lahir nodded.
Not just sense—it was actually empty.
A classic trap in the cursed king's tent.
Users twisting through to arrive, only to face crushing emptiness and a few gold coins scattered like rat droppings.
'Farming spots are elsewhere anyway.'
No reason to visit the treasury.
Better to reach Namm quicker.
Lahir clicked his tongue.
"If that's your will, so be it. Tch, should have made you grab my bow at least."
"Didn't see a bow in the king's chamber."
"What? Even that's gone?"
The king's bow, one of the tent's final rewards, had been pilfered by Namm too.
Only choice: press on.
As the group moved to step forward—
Whooooosh...!
A chilling wind blew from the distant corridor.
The presence of an otherworldly being presses down on you!
A message popped up simultaneously.
A tiresomely familiar one by now.
Kael shuddered.
"Ugh, chilly. What's this sudden—?"
"I felt nothing."
"Me neither."
But it wasn't severe.
Just a chill—at most, a cool breeze to those with high mental fortitude.
Bran's eyes narrowed slightly.
'Doing well, I see.'
Not Namm.
The wind came from very far and deep.
Turning toward its source revealed endless darkness.
'Wait just a bit. I'll be there soon.'
The target to confront right after slaying Namm.
The cursed king's tent's greatest secret, unknown even to Lahir.
Bran turned away from the wind and walked on with the group.
"Haven't opened my eyes in ages—curious about the outside world. Is the empire still the strongest?"
"Yep."
"Lasts forever, doesn't it? Even after centuries."
"They secured their position well. And the imperial bloodline helps."
"Tch, if not for that damned dragon, we'd have advanced far more. Losing the southern plains for farming was our eternal regret. Why did Ezekiel have to nest there of all places..."
Chatting with Lahir.
For Bran, scraping every bit of Return Lord's lore, it was pure bliss.
"Ezekiel? Never heard of that dragon—is it still around?"
"No. Dead. Two days before the highlands fell."
"Huh? How?"
"Felled by a stronger dragon. If memory serves, Alto."
"...Who?"
"Alto. True heir of Zarheim, I think. Far younger than Ezekiel, yet terrifying bloodline."
Even more so when familiar names dropped.
What the hell had that mad bastard Alto been up to?
Made noisy Ilak seem impressive.
About ten more minutes passed.
"Hm? We're here."
Finally, they reached Namm's chamber.
A blood-drawn magic circle adorned the silk distinguishing door from tent wall.
The real entrance, no doubt.
"Unbelievable."
Bran chuckled.
Just over fifteen minutes from the king's chamber.
Unprecedented, considering usual times.
Simply amazing! The Emperor's Navigation!
"Alright. Let's go in."
"S-suddenly? We should prepare at least...!"
"It's fine."
Bran lifted the tent flap without hesitation.
Flutter!
A room wider than a decent hotel lobby revealed itself.
Kael's eyes went wide.
"Wh-what?"
"...This is where the sorcerer lives?"
Arjan's brow furrowed.
Cognitive dissonance hit hard.
The entrance screamed 'evil sorcerer's lair,' but the space beyond was utterly different.
Like a royal mage's study.
Expensive experimental tools, rare even in the capital, lined the area.
Dinosaur-sized bookshelves brimmed with lavish tomes that screamed value.
'Mongol ger turned Oxford.'
One reason the treasury was empty.
Probably collected bit by bit from the capital.
While pursuing forbidden research, little by little.
Lahir sighed deeply at the unforeseen sight.
"Namm. What in the world have you..."
It must have been shocking.
Especially from Lahir's viewpoint.
The Namm he remembered was frugal, distant from civilization.
In any case, the room was empty.
"As expected."
Bran smiled.
Namm was absent, just as predicted.
He'd suspected as much when no reaction came despite ripping through the tent.
Kael, meerkat-like, looked around in bewilderment.
"Wh-where'd the sorcerer go?"
"He'll be back soon. Ten minutes at most."
70% luck, 30% savvy aligned perfectly.
Namm occasionally left the tent for about an hour, and they'd hit that window spot-on.
Even more time left than expected.
Thanks largely to Lahir's navigation.
"We can leisurely prepare to welcome him. With a slightly different vibe than usual."
"What kind of prep?"
"Let me see..."
Bran surveyed the room.
Something better than swords should be around.
A wooden chair, seemingly Namm's frequent seat, caught his eye.
Crack!
Bran smashed the chair and picked up a leg.
"B-Bran?!"
"Hm. Perfect."
Bran nodded in satisfaction.
Ideal thickness and length—a club that fit his grip snugly.
Before Arjan could ask what he was doing—
Crash!!!
Gripping the club two-handed, Bran smashed the crystal orb on the desk.
"What."
Glass shards flew.
The flickering ember inside fizzled out with a hiss.
Seemed like crucial research, but Bran didn't stop.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The relentless club pulverized the desk beneath too.
"Hiii! Bran?!"
"Bran! What the hell?!"
Kael and Arjan freaked out.
Explosions echoed with each swing.
Even wolf Baihir couldn't hide his shock, fur bristling as he watched.
Whew, refreshing.
Bran wiped sweat from his brow and nodded at the remaining chair legs.
"You guys too."
"What?"
"This is the strategy. Smash the pricey-looking stuff first. I'll wreck that storage over there—you handle this."
With that, Bran headed to the room's storage.
The main event, essentially.
Lahir's buff made the club stick perfectly to his hands.
Arjan, standing dazed, let out a hollow laugh.
"...Ha."
Absurd behavior.
No clue how this related to catching a sorcerer.
But she didn't argue.
Bran wasn't one for pointless actions.
Arjan hopped off the wolf and grabbed a club.
"If you say so."
"I-I'll buff you."
Kael already held one.
Not sure if he'd do well, but he'd smash what he could.
Thunderous crashes boomed from Bran's storage.
Crash!!
Arjan swung, shattering a distiller.
Worth a fine carriage, but who cared.
Parts flew with a cheerful clatter, scattering across the floor.
"T-to think you'd do this..."
Lahir murmured.
He and the wolf stood stunned.
Utterly barbaric destruction.
Even against a nemesis, smashing centuries of accumulated space in moments?
This was...
This was truly...!
"...Brilliant."
The room's owner returned exactly seven minutes later.
Crackle!
Space tore before the sorcerer's entrance, and a woman stepped out.
Impressive in Cargai traditional garb and long limbs.
A deer's skull hood veiled her eyes, but her lower face hinted at beauty.
A thrilled voice escaped lips like Arjan's.
"...Soon now."
She was in high spirits.
Her centuries-long research was finally bearing fruit.
Plus, praise from her master after nearly a decade.
"Need a break."
Anyway, after such a grueling day, rest was due.
Traversing other realms in human form was no easy feat.
Glad she'd set up the room well.
Her sole sanctuary amid the curse-ridden highlands.
Imagining herself sprawling on the plush bed, she lifted the entrance flap—
"What."
The woman's time froze.
A scene of utter devastation unfolded, unlike any nightmare.
Nothing resembled her memory.
"Wh-what is this...!"
Her sole sanctuary was trashed.
No furniture intact.
Hard-sourced capital tools reduced to pre-assembly wreckage.
Unreal.
Less than thirty minutes away.
Judging it a nightmare, she closed and opened her eyes slowly.
"Ah."
...All unchanged.
The woman staggered.
Barely staving off blackout, as she stepped forward—
"Haha! That guy's really letting loose!"
"Woof! Woof!"
A familiar voice echoed from somewhere.
Turning, the woman froze.
A house-sized wolf was pissing on her prized research compendium.
The stream from its raised leg defiled centuries of accumulated data.
"Wish I had a body! I'd smash along too!"
"Awoo!"
A gleaming head sat on the wolf's scruff.
Handsome face and boisterous laugh felt eerily familiar.
He was fulfilling his prior pledge to 'enjoy' more than anyone.
Sorceress Namm's lips parted slowly.
"...Lahir?"
"Ah, welcome back, madam!"