Chapter 128: Fragments of Memory
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 128: Fragments of Memory
Seeing the undead collapse under Herdin’s magic, Caligo rushed to the carriage.
The magic wouldn't kill the undead permanently—it would only take them a short while to recover. He had to secure the carriage before they rose again.
Meanwhile, Herdin dismounted and strode over to Blair’s group, immediately checking on her condition.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
Blair stared blankly up at him as he came to her side.
The moment she saw his face, the tension that had frozen her body melted away. At the same time, she wanted to laugh at herself.
She inwardly scoffed at her own weakness. To think she would feel such relief and want to lean on the very man she had pushed away. Her own opportunism felt detestable.
“I’m fine—”
But before she could finish, her body gave out and she collapsed.
“Blair!”
Herdin caught her just as she fell. His brow furrowed as he scanned her body and discovered the bite mark of an undead on her arm.
Although the wound wasn't deep, injuries inflicted by the undead were dangerous; the flesh would rot if not quickly purified with holy water or divine power.
Her collapse was likely due to the sudden release of tension after the ordeal, not the wound itself.
The thought that she, who had likely never seen such unholy abominations, had to endure this while pregnant grated on his nerves.
“Your Grace!”
Just then, Caligo, having secured the carriage, approached them.
Herdin placed the unconscious Blair and her maid inside before giving Caligo his orders.
“Once you return to the mansion, summon the cleric to treat her wound and call a doctor to check on the Duchess’s condition.”
He loathed the idea of accepting help from Miella of all people, but this was no time to be picky.
Caligo looked at him with concern.
“What about you, Your Grace?”
Herdin gestured with his chin.
“I have to hold them off.”
In the direction he indicated, the undead that had collapsed from his magic were already stirring. There were too many to simply shake off; he had to destroy them.
“……Understood. Please be careful.”
Caligo immediately drove the carriage out of the plaza. As he did, the newly risen undead began to chase after it.
Seeing this, Herdin’s expression darkened.
Is it just my imagination, or are the undead targeting Blair?
A possibility flashed through his mind, but he had no time to dwell on it.
To destroy the pursuing undead in one fell swoop, Herdin plunged his sword into the ground and began to cast a spell. A massive magic circle spread out with his sword at its center. It was a wide-area spell, and a massive amount of mana began to surge.
But the moment he felt the mana flow through him, a familiar headache struck.
“Ugh……”
This time, the pain was so excruciating it stole his breath.
Along with the pain, the mysterious memories that had occasionally plagued him surfaced all at once.
Of all times, why now...?
Herdin gritted his teeth, gripped his sword tighter, and continued to channel his mana.
In response, the immense mana within him writhed precariously as a dark magic circle manifested on his back—the very seal that bound the Second Constraint.
Herdin sensed something ominous in the flow of mana, but he did not stop casting. The writhing energy amplified to a point where it threatened to escape his control at any moment.
Finally, just as Herdin, having fully manifested the magic circle, was about to unleash the spell—
The undead chasing the carriage and attacking the citizens all collapsed at once.
Staring at the sudden turn of events, Herdin let out a hollow laugh.
“What on earth……”
The undead that had been rampaging just moments ago now lay scattered on the ground, like puppets with their strings cut.
* * *
A dagger flew out of the darkness.
Focused on his black magic, Gerard sensed the movement and dodged the dagger by a hair's breadth.
The razor-sharp dagger grazed his shoulder. Instantly, the blood-red magic circle illuminating the dark basement flickered and died, the spell broken.
Gerard glared into the darkness with piercing eyes.
There was only one entrance to the basement, and the outside was guarded by black mages. For an intruder to bypass his guards and reach this basement meant they were skilled enough to overpower them all.
“Who is there?”
As his voice echoed through the basement, a man in a black robe emerged from the shadows.
“We finally meet.”
Stepping forward leisurely, he pulled back his hood.
Beneath it, vivid green eyes shone, piercing the darkness. Those cold, sunken eyes bore a striking resemblance to Gerard’s own.
“Father.”
At the word that slipped from Mikhail’s lips, Gerard’s eyes widened in shock.
Only then did he remember.
The stain on his life he had long since forgotten—no, the one he thought he had erased more than ten years ago.
“How are you……?”
Mikhail was born in a brothel.
Like most children born in such places, he grew up without knowing his father’s identity.
When Mikhail was ten, his mother, lying on her deathbed, went to find Gerard, worried about the son she was about to leave behind.
But that night, it was not his mother who returned to him, but an assassin.
It was a cruel gift from a heartless father.
But on the brink of death, a miraculously manifested divine power healed him.
The divine power inherited from his father had saved the child who had nearly died by his father’s hand. It was a cruel irony.
His mother, for whom he had waited even as he lay dying, was found dead by the river the next day. Her death was ruled an accidental fall.
The very day his mother went to meet his father, an assassin came for him, and she returned a cold corpse.
Even a ten-year-old could deduce that his father was involved in her death, a reality he desperately wanted to deny.
Mikhail searched through her belongings and uncovered his father’s identity. He was a cleric of the Temple. There were so many things he wanted to ask his heartless father.
Why did you kill Mother? She was dying anyway.
Why did you try to kill me? I would have lived my whole life as if I didn't exist, if that's what you wanted...
Swallowing his simmering resentment, Mikhail fled the Imperial Capital, unable to even hold a funeral for his mother.
He fled from the threat of death, and from his own murderous urge to kill his father.
With his strength at the time, revenge was impossible. Confronting him then would have only resulted in a meaningless death.
So, first and foremost, he had to survive.
After surviving, Mikhail eventually became a guild master and began gathering information on Gerard. That was when he discovered Gerard’s connection to the House of Delmark.
Still, he never imagined his father had murdered the late Duke of Delmark, let alone that he was planning to kill Herdin in the same way.
He first suspected the truth when he investigated Caligo at Blair’s request, confirming it after acquiring Esmeralda’s records.
Mikhail had kept the truth hidden, trying instead to sway Blair's heart and break the imprint between her and Herdin, but he had failed.
However, there was one other way to break the imprint.
The imprint was, after all, a product of black magic.
And all magic ceases when its caster dies. In other words...
If I kill the Pope, the imprint will be broken.
Mikhail knew it instinctively.
This was the only way to achieve his revenge, and the only way to atone for the sin of hiding the truth from Blair.
Drawing his sword, he stepped toward Gerard and spoke in a low voice.
“I have come to erase the greatest stain on my life.”
Just as you tried to do to my mother and me.
* * *
“This way.”
Summoned in haste, Miella crossed over to the annex with Ruth at her side.
Ruth led her straight to the bedroom, where the unconscious Blair lay.
As Ruth, who could not linger in a noblewoman’s bedchamber, turned to leave, Miella stopped him.
“Has His Grace not returned yet?”
“He is dealing with the undead in the plaza. He should return shortly.”
News of the undead attack had already thrown the Mansion of the Lord of Nerha into chaos, so Miella was aware of the situation.
“I see… Once I finish treating the Duchess, I should go offer my support as well.”
“That would be a great help to everyone, Cleric. I leave her in your care.”
Once Ruth left, Miella stepped up to Blair. The maids attending to her quietly withdrew.
Miella spotted the wound on Blair’s arm at a glance. The flesh around it was already beginning to rot, and necrotic tissue could not be restored, even with healing magic.
Miella drew a medical dagger from her robes, carefully excised the dead flesh, and immediately cast a healing spell.
Yet, the wound did not heal.
What is this? Why isn't the healing magic working—?
Confused, Miella examined Blair more closely and discovered a magic circle glowing with a vivid red light near her collarbone.
This is...?
Miella’s eyes widened in shock as she realized what it was.
Just as Miella managed to close the wound with a stronger surge of divine power, the door opened and Herdin entered. He dismissed the waiting maids.
“I will stay with her. Everyone, leave us.”
Once the maids withdrew, Herdin stumbled toward the bed. Channeling such a massive amount of mana in the plaza had triggered a terrible headache, and unfamiliar memories were surfacing in scattered fragments.
The only thing driving him through the pain and confusion was the desperate need to see that Blair was safe.
Noticing his state, Miella quickly approached him.
“Your Grace, are you alright? You look terribly pale—”
Herdin brushed past Miella’s outstretched hand, his focus entirely on Blair.
“Blair…… No, how is the Duchess?”
“I excised the necrotic flesh and healed the wound. She will be fine.”
Only then did Herdin let out a sigh of relief and collapse onto the edge of the bed. Just as he was about to dismiss her, Miella spoke first.
“More importantly, Your Grace, are you aware?”
“……Of what?”
“About the black magic circle on the Duchess’s body.”
“……A black magic circle?”
“I don't know much about black magic, but it seems to be related to mana… If you remain by her side, Your Grace, it might affect your own.”
As Miella spoke, the red magic circle on Blair’s collarbone began to resonate with his mana.
Instantly, a memory that had once surfaced in his mind returned with vivid clarity.
'You must stay away from the Duchess. If you remain by her side, you too, Your Grace...'
That single memory acted as a key, unlocking a flood of others. A tempest of emotions swirled within him.
What on earth are these memories...?
Herdin gritted his teeth, covering his mouth to suppress a wave of nausea. Amid the torrent of memories rushing in like a broken dam, the image of Blair smiling at him appeared with striking clarity.
The moment he saw her face, Herdin knew.
These were his memories. The ones he had forgotten.