Chapter 430
Chapter 430
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 430
>Chapter Title: Pretty Thick-Skinned
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An unwelcome reunion for everyone involved.
After a brief greeting, the two men moved deeper into the Sestheraion Mountains as if nothing had happened.
The Fourth Elder's form faded into haziness, leaving only the two mind-controlled Hermits to follow in Pahren's wake.
It wasn't long before the Hermits spoke.
"Talk."
"Will be."
"Long."
"Apparently."
The two Hermits alternated syllables, but it took mere moments for their voices to merge into one.
"Ah, there we go. Heh heh. Anyway, it seems the talk will be a long one. Ask away if you have any questions."
The perfectly unified voice made it clear that the Fourth Elder's mental domination was no ordinary feat, but Pahren showed no reaction whatsoever, his face as impassive as ever as he calmly posed his question.
"Are you certain?"
"Of what?"
"That the Reverse Heaven Fragment is in the Sanctuary."
"Heh heh, do you think this old man would joke about something like that? It's certain. The Reverse Heaven Fragment is undoubtedly in the Sanctuary."
"I see."
"Heh heh, you don't believe me, do you? Well, fine. I'll just have to show you myself."
It was a peculiar conversation.
The one offering aid lacked faith, and the one under suspicion took no offense.
A relationship devoid of trust or expectation.
"But..."
The Fourth Elder peered at Pahren through the eyes of his two puppet Hermits. Then, with a smirk, he asked,
"Aren't you curious?"
"About what?"
"Your son, of course. The one and only commendable son of yours who left the family on your orders to retrieve the Reverse Heaven Fragment."
"My son..."
Pahren trailed off. Then he nodded shortly after.
"Right. So that's how it is."
"Aren't you curious?"
"Is there something I need to know?"
"Who knows. I can't guess what would pique your interest. Oh, and for reference, he's alive and well. Still diligently continuing his training."
"I see."
"Indeed."
"Right."
Pahren nodded. And that was the entirety of their conversation about Sallier von Decullan, the Young Patriarch of the Decullan Family and his son.
This time, it was Pahren who asked the question.
"What kind of help do you expect?"
"For now, just escort these puppets into the Sanctuary. As for after that... honestly, I can't promise anything."
"I understand."
Pahren replied as if he got it. There were no follow-up questions.
And so, a brief silence.
This time, the Fourth Elder spoke first.
"By the way, do you know Baron Maroon?"
"I do."
"Were you perhaps planning to use him as a key piece to take down the Tower Lord?"
"I was."
"My apologies. I unintentionally disrupted your plans."
"Disrupted..."
"I turned one of the observers into a puppet. Among the seven observers, Baron Maroon seemed the easiest target. But... things went wrong, and he ended up dead."
"I see."
Pahren nodded as if informed.
One of the key pieces meant for capturing the Tower Lord had been ruined without even being used, yet he acted as if it were of no consequence.
If anything, the Fourth Elder found his attitude odd.
"You didn't have high hopes for Baron Maroon, then."
"Who knows."
Pahren replied thus and fell silent again. He had expectations, but the man's death wasn't disappointing.
That was exactly the level of hope he'd held.
For reference, even when the Hermits first informed him of Baron Maroon's death while inviting the backup candidates, Pahren hadn't shown much agitation.
Even if Salvatium was involved in that death, there was no reason to be shaken.
Especially since.
'Count Taurus.'
This was the more reliable piece.
"But... are you prepared?"
"Prepared?"
The Fourth Elder nodded. Or more precisely, the two puppet Hermits under his control did.
"You know the unwritten rule of the Sanctuary. One misstep, and you could turn every mage against you. Especially..."
...now that the Adrian Empire had declared Salvatium's extermination.
If word spread in such circumstances that the Decullans had joined hands with Salvatium to defile the Sanctuary, what then?
That was precisely what the Fourth Elder was asking.
Whether he could withstand all of that.
"In a way, this could determine the Decullan Family's very survival."
"Who knows."
Pahren replied indifferently once more. But it was only for a moment. Soon, he halted his steps.
"...?"
"...?"
The two puppet Hermits under the Fourth Elder's control tilted their heads. It was then that Pahren looked past them... no, beyond them.
Pitch-black eyes.
As they took in the space, Pahren clenched the empty air. Or rather, it wasn't empty.
"...Guhk!"
The space had clearly been empty when he gripped it, yet the Fourth Elder materialized there. What Pahren had thought was empty air was now clutching the Fourth Elder's throat.
'Wha... t...'
The Fourth Elder was aghast at the incomprehensible situation.
Arch Mage.
He'd expected as much, given the man was challenging for that title.
...But he never imagined his own breath would be seized so easily.
As the Fourth Elder reeled in shock, a dry voice drilled into his ear.
"It's said that Salvatium has only three fingers."
What did that mean?
It meant Salvatium's elders numbered only three.
"Kuhk. Nonsense...! With my own two eyes wide open..."
"Nonsense or not. True or false. Reality remains unchanged. Engrave it deep in your mind. The moment you reached out to me, you became mere tools."
"Da, re..."
"Dare?"
A sinister smile curled at Pahren's lips. The Fourth Elder felt a chill run down his spine. He'd glimpsed emotion in those previously transparent eyes, and suddenly his airway was fully blocked.
"...Gulp!"
With his remaining air cut off, the Fourth Elder writhed in agony. His vision blurred without oxygen. He desperately tried to summon his dark mana. Or at least, he tried.
"A tool."
A low voice.
"If it's too difficult to handle, it's unnecessary."
"..."
"Ask yourself what kind of tool you are. Only speak to me when you want to be a troublesome one. I'll end your breath then."
In his fading vision, the Fourth Elder's limbs trembled violently.
Pahren's words were already beneath notice. All he cared about was the pathetic life he'd clung to for so long. Whether it would end.
'L-live...'
He mouthed the words, but no sound came.
Instead.
"P-ple... ase... spare..."
"...me. I was... wrong..."
The two puppet Hermits spoke in his stead.
Did that desperation get through?
"Huhk—!"
The Fourth Elder gasped ragged breaths through his freed airway. Forgetting all dignity, he collapsed to the ground and curled up. His heart pounded wildly.
Amid it all, Pahren's voice burrowed into his ear.
"Don't overreach. Decullan is a name you can't covet. Even if you're one of the 'three fingers.' A tool's worth is only its utility. No need for cleverness—just prove your usefulness."
With that, Pahren turned away. The Fourth Elder, scrambling on the ground, barely gathered himself. He looked up at Pahren.
The two puppet Hermits. Through their eyes and his own—three fields of vision in total—the man's figure loomed.
'This... insolent...'
Murderous intent gathered in the Fourth Elder's cunning eyes.
Deep, intense killing intent.
But the Fourth Elder knew.
This anger was an emotion that must not be revealed.
...Not yet, at least.
* * *
Above the clouds.
In the Sanctuary's corridors, carved into the mountaintops like sculptures.
A masked mage leaned against the railing, gazing below.
'Clouds.'
White.
Puffy white clouds flowing like a river. They looked like fog at a glance, but they weren't. The Hermits had said so, so it must be true.
But who built this?
'They say it was built ages ago.'
No ordinary architect, that much was sure. No normal builder could erect something like this up here.
If he had to guess, probably...
'...An earth mage.'
Even then, not just any earth mage. They'd need considerable... no, extensive architectural knowledge.
Yet he'd heard the Sanctuary existed even before anyone had reached Transcendence.
So it couldn't have been just one or two mages.
"Who built it?"
"The Sanctuary has many legends."
"..."
Aster turned to the owner of the sudden voice.
It was Kahazar, master of the Kutlan Family.
The one who'd fitted him with the mana restraints.
"You've got some nerve."
"I hear that a lot. Anyway, aren't you curious? About the Sanctuary's secrets."
"..."
Aster stared blankly at Kahazar before turning his gaze back below the railing. Then he murmured softly.
"I am. But..."
"But?"
"I don't believe in legends."
If asked why, he had no reason.
No, it wasn't just legends. He didn't believe in anything.
If there was evidence, he'd doubt the evidence; if there was evidence for the evidence, he'd doubt that too. Call it his nature.
Of course, when it was too much trouble, he'd believe without evidence, but generally speaking.
Anyway.
"You're really not Decullan's lackey?"
"I told you, no. I did owe him a debt once, but not enough to take orders and harm someone."
"What debt?"
"Just... a debt from my youth. Back when I was young, and Pahren was young too."
Kahazar's eyes stared into empty space. That gaze traced a distant past. Now a memory... no, not quite a fond memory, but a nostalgic one nonetheless.
"Curious? If you're that interested, I could tell you..."
"No."
"..."
Kahazar shut his mouth.
This time, Aster asked.
"Want to talk about it?"
"...No need."
"Right? Knew it'd be a hassle."
"..."
Kahazar fell silent. Then he glared at his gray hair. Perfect position, perfect size to strike.
The impulse was strong.
But.
'...Hold back.'
This type never forgot even the pettiest grudge. In the Hoaksen Kingdom, they called them 'Stigmas.' Branded ones.
Why?
'Because even a brush leaves a mark.'
They were marks in themselves. Best not to incur grudges with such types.
'Well... too late for that anyway. After slapping on the restraints.'
The thought crossed his mind briefly, but he didn't regret it. Among the observers, the Tower Lord was the most suspicious—no denying that.
One must prepare for contingencies.
Anyway.
"Mind if I ask something?"
"...?"
"I heard you have bad blood with the Decullans. And outside, they're saying the Decullans will do you in here at the Sanctuary?"
"That's right."
"May I ask why?"
"Why what?"
"Why come to the Sanctuary when you know it's dangerous."
"Well..."
Honestly, there wasn't any grand reason. Parun and Henji were taken hostage, and it was a good chance to gauge Pahren's movements.
But, how to put it.
There were many reasons, but in the end, it boiled down to one.
"Just."
"...Just?"
People intuited that shadows stemmed from light even before knowing it intellectually, unable to separate them.
Similarly, he just knew.
'For life...'
...That it was an existence he could never shake.
He thought that far when.
Step—
Dry footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor. Nothing special, just a small sound. Yet, for some reason.
"..."
"..."
Not just Aster, but Kahazar too.
Both turned to look at the corridor's far end.
Step, step.
Far off, a silhouette approached.
In the hazy corridor, a singular, overwhelming presence.
One who dominated the surroundings simply by existing, erasing all else without revealing power, standing out in stark clarity. He looked at Aster.
Aster looked back at him.
And from between his lips, that name slipped out.
"Pahren."
The unshakable, utterly loathsome name.