Escape from the Pantheon (2)

Sielertia hummed with resonance.

The sword newly forged for me. Yet it felt as if it had been by my side for an eternity. The grip in my hand was utterly familiar.

'Sielertia is the sacred sword of the Reinhardt family.'

Holy Ramir Empire. From the moment the empire was first established as a kingdom, it had been wielded by the inaugural Reinhardt.

Though it had been destroyed a century ago in the era of Atlin von Reinhardt, the family head of that time. Now, it had been reborn in my grasp.

'And I've tumbled around sticky-sweet with Erti.'

Its will was intimately linked to mine. No taming required—Sielertia had already become a blade solely for me.

In that instant, Erti's wings enveloped my hand like a blessing.

At the same time, an intense surge of energy gathered into my mana heart. Far superior to my usual state.

A torrent of mana, evolved one step further, spun wildly within my mana heart.

'This sensation is only felt during the second stage of dragonkin transformation.'

Of course, I wasn't in dragonkin transformation now. It granted buffs beyond human limits, but it temporarily turned my half-human body fully draconic—altering my form into something inhuman.

'I can't reveal that form recklessly in the imperial capital.'

Not just the capital—the dragons were considered demonic kin throughout the Ramir Empire. As the heir to the margrave and son of the great saintess, I couldn't casually expose that I was one of them.

Thus, dragonkin transformation was a buff I couldn't use openly. And between 5th Tier and 6th Tier, the power gap was heaven and earth.

If ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I only wielded my power as a human, as a Reinhardt, I'd be forfeiting an entire tier.

'The difference between an aura user and an aura master. It's on another level from the tiers below.'

But now, there was no need to lament that drawback. My appearance was perfectly human. I hadn't drawn on draconic power.

"H-how?"

I swung Sielertia as is. The six Imperial Guard members who had put my companions on edge all collapsed in heaps on the spot.

Lucia, utterly shocked, murmured softly at my side.

"I couldn't track Lord Yulian's movements with my dynamic vision. I only barely caught glimpses of the afterimages..."

As she said, even without dragonkin transformation, I had displayed the flawless movements of a master.

'Sielertia's tier elevation effect. I pushed the fusion method to its limit with a 6th Tier mana heart.'

The fusion method—a mana cultivation technique blending the Reinhardts' majestic power with the Orhains' speed, incorporating both strengths.

The blade I swung in that state was unreadable even to the scion of the Orhain family, renowned for superior speed, reflexes, and dynamic vision.

"Don't just stand there stunned. Lucia. You must have sensed something in my movements."

Lucia nodded vigorously. I didn't forget to prod her along.

'The official name for my fusion method... better to call it that.'

Since I'd perfected my fusion method through Lucia, I'd already decided to rename it from the provisional "fusion method" to the Lucia-style mana cultivation method.

I whispered in her ear.

"Since it's the Lucia-style we created together, you'll catch up to this realm in no time too."

"L-Lucia-style...?"

Lucia flushed with embarrassment. But there was no time to dawdle.

"Rozette. Cast transformation magic on everyone here. The same spell you used on Fabian and the others."

"Transformation magic? Then the spell on those combat division cadets will wear off..."

"By now, the Imperial Guard officers we drugged should be asleep. And with those three's skills, no need to worry.

"In fact, cross-dressing will be more of a hassle for them." I continued.

"Even after leaving the Pantheon, rebels will be everywhere. We can't let them spot us like this."

Rozette nodded. The group hurriedly broke through to Endia Hall. And as the Pantheon's rear gate came into view beyond it,

I addressed my companions.

"Rozette knows where Marquis Aiterne's reinforcements are assembled. Once we're out, we'll escort Her Highness Lilia there by any means necessary."

"I leave it to you, Lord Yulian."

Lilia's expression was resolute. With that, the group slipped out of the Pantheon.

***

Chloe stood before a man, her face taut with tension.

The haughty noble lady of House Aiterne. Silver hair like the finest silk, ruby-red eyes.

A beauty befitting those silver locks and crimson gaze. And a voluptuous figure.

Beyond her prowess as an alchemist, Chloe possessed keen mercantile instincts that stood out even in her merchant house.

Naturally, she was aloof and arrogant before any man. Countless noble youths had vied for her heart, but to Chloe de Aiterne—the epitome of noble perfection—men were less than passing insects.

'I've conveyed everything I needed to say.'

Yet Chloe clasped her hands demurely before the man standing ahead of her and bowed deeply.

A formal greeting befitting a high noble lady, infused with genuine respect. Only two men in the world merited such sincerity from her.

The first, of course, was Yulian von Reinhardt. Chloe remained utterly smitten with him.

And the reason she bowed now was precisely because of Yulian.

"I understand ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what you're saying, Chloe. Your words piqued my interest, so I've mobilized my private troops personally. For now, at least."

The man who accepted her bow spoke. He was the other one.

Gerald de Aiterne.

Master of House Aiterne, owner of the continent's premier merchant conglomerate, Aiterne Merchant Group. The grand marquis who dominated the central region.

He was, naturally, Chloe's father. At Marquis Gerald's words, Chloe's face lit with uncharacteristic candor.

"Then you'll heed my words, Father? And bring the house's private troops here...?"

The two stood inside a field tent. Marquis Gerald, chin propped on his hand as he sat in a chair, gazed at Chloe.

Silver hair like his daughter's. Crimson eyes. A cold, aristocratic haughtiness. It unmistakably proclaimed their blood tie.

"No. I'm intrigued by your proposal, that's true. But I haven't decided yet."

"That means..."

Marquis Gerald glanced beyond the tent. The flap was open, revealing his private troops.

Less renowned than the empire's three great knight orders, yet perfectly equipped.

And each soldier's caliber rivaled the elite of those orders.

Those versed in imperial politics openly said that Marquis Gerald refrained from forming a knight order for political reasons alone. His private forces could rank just below the three great orders.

House Aiterne's vast wealth and superior capital had forged them into true rulers of the central region.

A merchant to his bones, he merely observed. Yet like the Reinhardts of the north or the Orhains of the south, he wielded earth-shaking power.

Marquis Gerald tapped the armrest with a fingertip, then regarded Chloe with evident intrigue.

"No, more than that—I didn't expect you to decide so readily which side to back. Informing me of that intelligence beforehand is praiseworthy, of course. But you know as well as I: even with these private troops, our house is fundamentally a merchant house."

Chloe concealed her inner tension. She pondered his words. The house's guiding principle was always profit first.

Though she'd outmaneuvered her brothers to win the succession race, it could flip anytime before she inherited the marquisate.

Grious's rebellion especially hinged on House Aiterne's alignment—the balance could shift entirely.

Chloe's proposal to the marquis: side with the anti-Grious Imperial Guard loyal to Princess Lilia and oppose the rebels.

'Of course, Father has likely already decided. The central region borders Duke Pedro's southern lands directly—backing Grious would be clutching a rotten rope.'

Grious's rebellion was folly to begin with. The empire's mightiest sword was unquestionably Essemont and Margrave Wilhelm.

The old lion's loyalty was solely to the emperor and House Asterik. Even if the rebellion succeeded,

Grious would then face the empire's strongest force: the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠White Night Knights and Essemont's elites.

Monsters might delay a full army, but a single White Night company drawing blades on the capital would rob Grious of even one peaceful night.

'This rebellion is suicide, plain and simple.'

Thus, the central region should naturally aid Lilia and forge ties with Essemont.

Marquis Gerald was one of the two men Chloe truly respected.

No—until mere months ago, when she fell for Yulian, he was the only one. In alchemy, the marquis was already deemed Iseland's finest.

'So Father can't think my proposal wrong. He won't choose Grious.'

Yet Marquis Gerald never spoke idly. In his recent words, he'd emphasized that Aiterne was a merchant house.

In other words: explain, as heir to Aiterne, the value of her proposed choice—what the house ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stood to gain.

Reading his intent, Chloe fell silent. Instead, Marquis Gerald spoke first.

"An uncharacteristic delay in your reply, Chloe. Does that mean it's because of your feelings for that Reinhardt count?"

Chloe's heart sank. Her father already knew of her bond with Yulian.

She'd never hidden their meetings. No—she'd even boasted of them openly, inviting him aboard the house's luxury yacht.

'Father is no pushover.'

A typical father might pry into his daughter's romance. But he knew Yulian was Third Princess Lilia's fiancé.

Still, calling it "feelings" implied:

As a merchant weighing profits, was she pushing to deploy the house troops out of personal sentiment rather than calculation?

'If my answer displeases him, he could withdraw the troops to our lands in an instant.'

Not that he'd join the rebels.

He'd already calculated the optimal moment to intervene—enough to manipulate Princess Lilia from the shadows later.

'Purely for profit, delaying the deployment might be better.'

Chloe's urgency for swift action was, naturally, for Yulian.

At his request, to quash the capital's rebellion as fast as possible, she'd begged her father to move the troops at once.

If things had gone as planned, Yulian and Lilia would already be en route here.

Thus, the troops had to hold position. Marquis Gerald pressed once more.

"I'm asking if you're dragging the house's private troops into your little romance game. A sharp mind like yours can't miss that, can she?"

Now was the time to answer. Chloe spoke from the heart.

"Father. This proposal is actually..."