Chapter 147
Chapter 147
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 147
Chapter Title: Chasing the Betrayer
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"What the—!"
Seeing the gate shake unstably under Darkan's single slash, Elena cried out in alarm and hurriedly poured mana into it.
"Merlin, reinforce the magic circle! Don't let the vortex fade!"
"Y-Yes!"
Merlin tried to repair the magic circle as Elena instructed, but it was far easier said than done.
The gate leading to the Tower of Trials had gone unused for ages, leaving its durability in poor shape. On top of that, the additional spells Elena had woven in during her modifications made it impossible for Merlin to touch without risk.
In the end, Elena had to handle the repairs herself—but that wasn't the only problem.
Merlin's mana alone couldn't hold the shaking gate steady while Elena worked.
"You there—with Hexagon, pour your aura into the gate!"
In the end, the only high-quality energy on hand to substitute for Elena's mana was Bacchus's aura.
But Bacchus was a swordsman.
Even if he shoved in energy equal to Elena's, the gate's maintenance efficiency would inevitably suffer.
Only after Bacchus and four members of Hexagon—including Arandal—began channeling their aura did the gate finally start to stabilize.
With so many hands on the gate, Darkan's movements naturally loosened up.
"Well then, I'll be off. Good luck sorting this out!"
Darkan kicked off the ship's railing and fled across the water's surface.
"Th-that...!"
Elena stomped her feet in fury, even stuttering in her rage as she glared after him.
But with most of Hexagon and Bacchus tied up.
The only Hexagon member left was the Ice Knight, Beskin.
Darkan was the strongest in Hexagon aside from Arandal.
There was no way Beskin alone could handle him.
Unsealing wasn't Beskin's privilege alone, after all.
The only option left was to repair the gate as quickly as possible and then mobilize the family's forces to hunt him down.
'If anything happens to the children... I swear, I won't let him get away with it. Not ever.'
She could stomach mishaps during the trial for the family's sake, but dying pointlessly like this? Unacceptable.
As Elena steeled herself to call in even the royal magic tower if needed for the pursuit.
Bacchus, still channeling aura, spoke up.
"Jerome, go after Darkan with Beskin. The two of you should be enough... If Darkan has any brains, he won't unseal all the way to stage two."
Elena's head snapped toward Bacchus on reflex.
Had this man caught too much of the cold northern wind and lost his mind? Telling the bug they called a son to capture Hexagon's second shield?
"What in the world are you—!"
"Understood."
But Jerome responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world, ordering Beskin to prepare—and Beskin obeyed without hesitation.
"We'll capture him alive if we can."
Boom!
Jerome and Beskin's bodies launched across the lake surface.
"......!!"
Elena's mind went blank as she watched it all unfold.
What did I just see?
Running across water was a technique only a top-tier expert—on par with the first or second son—could attempt.
And the runt they'd called a bug was performing that advanced footwork with effortless grace.
"...My lady. I get why you'd flee to the royal magic tower to escape rumors of the third son's incompetence. But that boy now... he's not the same bug he used to be."
Bacchus's words reached Elena's dazed ears.
"He's grown into a son who'll shine glory on this viscount family—no, on the kingdom itself."
"......!!"
Only then did it start sinking in for Elena.
Bacchus, and even Arandal—called the best of Hexagon.
Not one of them had rushed after Darkan in panic.
They were confident Jerome could hold out until they stabilized the gate and followed.
Suddenly, odd moments replayed in her mind—like how Darkan had drawn his scabbard to block Jerome's kick.
It made no sense for a knight of Darkan's caliber to pull his scabbard against a mere bug's kick just to defend.
And when that boy boarded the ship to enter the Tower of Trials, not one of Hexagon had batted an eye.
'No way... really?'
Had that boy... changed?
While she'd shut out the world with blinders on her eyes and ears, had he quietly carved his own path?
Elena's shaken gaze chased after Jerome and Beskin, vanishing into the distance.
Crack!
Lately, Darkan felt like he was grinding his teeth down to nubs.
Nothing had gone right since that damned third young master stuck his nose in.
Before Mercy was even born, he'd despaired after losing the Light Knight title to Arandal.
That's when they came—proud bearers of light brighter than anywhere on the continent.
They extended a hand to Darkan.
Shake the Shield Family from within, they said. Do that, and they'd make him not just a so-called Light Knight of some backwater viscount house, but a true knight devoted to the land of light.
But it was nonsense. The lord's son, Ares, was born with supreme talent.
Without some 'major upset,' he was all but tapped as the next lord.
So there was no way to shake things from inside, nor any reason to.
They saw 'hesitation' in his refusal and backed off gracefully.
Six years later.
The 'major upset' to shake the next lord arrived.
The lord's daughter, Mercy, was born with talent equal to Ares's.
They returned to Darkan soon after, offering the exact same deal word for word. But the rewards were sweeter.
Wealth, honor, and power beyond imagination, they promised.
Darkan's choice differed from six years prior. No—he moved even more aggressively than they'd hoped.
Unlike the other Hexagon members, who waited until the kids were old enough to act before picking sides, Darkan backed newborn Mercy from the start. Faster than anyone.
Ares was already too grown to manipulate easily, and Hakaren and Lyke had pledged support first anyway.
Better to go all-in on the girl. It balanced the scales better.
Fortunately, Darkan's life-or-death gamble paid off.
The child born after Mercy was talentless trash that made the Shield Family name a joke, and even Kamit—who'd chosen her out of pure fondness—rounded out her faction, tipping the balance even.
Darkan's groundwork was complete. When Mercy grew and succession conflicts heated up, he'd exploit the family's cracks, he figured.
If Mercy became lord? Even better.
So he endured silently. Lived as one of their top vassals, just as they wanted. Awaiting that fateful day.
Then it all crumbled in an instant.
'All because of that thunder-headed bastard!'
Twenty-three years.
Twenty-three years wiping the ass of a green girl whose blood hadn't even dried.
Years playing the perfect knight whom not even Mercy—or lord Bacchus himself—ever suspected.
All down the drain because of some snot-nosed kid not even twenty.
Out of the lake now, Darkan pondered his next move.
He didn't worry about pursuit. Lady Elena talked tough, but she doted on her kids fiercely.
She wouldn't prioritize chasing him over a shaky gate with her children inside.
'If word gets out I turned my back on the Shield Family, no country will take me in exile.'
The Shield Family wasn't just a key kingdom house—they were core to the alliance defying the empire.
As one of their top knights, he was too infamous to flee anywhere.
'Can't head to the empire either. Wonder what that rude little bitch would sneer...'
Pfft!
"Heh, guess she'd have reason to, looking at me now."
Beaten by a kid whose blood hadn't dried? He'd mock anyone else in his shoes too.
'No choice. Hide out on the Punish Isles in the South Sea for a few years till things cool, then fake an identity and flee... Huh?'
As Darkan thought of the southern Punish Isles, an itchy tingle prickled his nape.
A figure racing toward him from afar.
The figure closed the distance swiftly and called out brightly.
"Ah, found you."
The man smiling so breezily was none other than the third young master, Jerome, whom he could strangle and not feel it'd be enough.
"Third young master...!!"
"Beskin and I split up to cover different directions. Lucky me, I picked the right one. Having a good day."
Seeing that smug grin made something boil up inside Darkan.
"...Fine. Since it's come to this, no matter how pressed for time."
Shing!
Darkan's thumb lightly nudged the sword in its scabbard, baring a sliver of gleaming blade.
"I've got time to claim at least your head."
The third young master had racked up achievements lately, sure—but he was still successor-level at best.
Darkan, who'd been the Shield Family's second shield for decades, figured lopping off Jerome's head would be a cinch.
He'd love to skin the brat alive, rub salt in, and stake him on the beach.
But Bacchus and Hexagon would stabilize the gate soon and give chase. No time for luxuries.
"Count your lucky stars I don't have time, trash."
Whoosh!
Before his words even finished, his sword flashed out like lightning from the scabbard.
Stealth and ambushes were his specialties, sure—but relative ones. His draw was poetry in motion, aimed straight at Jerome's neck.
Darkan had no doubt this swing would sever the boy's head.
Clang!
"......?!"
But the sound wasn't flesh parting—it was a dull, grating clash of metal.
Screech, screech!
Jerome jammed Darkan's blade between his crossed gauntlets, locking it tight—then whipped a kick straight at Darkan's head.
Boom!
A blow that could've exploded his skull, but Darkan wasn't helpless.
In that split second, he'd shielded his face with the scabbard.
Shock was plain on Darkan's face, though.
Dented scabbard. Left arm numb and buzzing.
Jerome's power exceeded his expectations—by a lot.
"Hey, traitor."
I dropped the honorifics for Darkan. No reason to respect a family turncoat.
"If you don't wanna die, you'd better give it everything you've got."
"You little punk!"
Darkan's face twisted in fury, but his eyes gleamed with startling calm.
He'd planned to lop off the punk's head and bolt, but Jerome's level was higher than expected.
'When did he advance this far?'
Even hearing he'd beaten the Silver Knight Mihail—who'd reached master in Philador Kingdom—had only mildly surprised him.
No way the kid did it solo.
Even Darkan himself could only shatter half the thick wall above master without unsealing.
But his throbbing arm told the truth.
Jerome really had taken down Mihail.
'If I unseal, I can take him...'
Darkan kept up his rage-masked expression while his mind raced.
"Whoa, looking deep in thought there."
Right then, Jerome flashed a knowing sneer.
"Here's a tip: don't hold back. Unseal if you know what's good for you. I'm not letting you escape, period. You'll have to kill me to leave."
"......!!"
Jerome's taunt snapped the thread of Darkan's restraint.
Roooar!
The black aura pouring from Darkan's body darkened another shade, near pitch now.
He'd finally released the first stage of the Shield Family's restraint.
"...Never thought I'd have to unseal against the likes of you."
An overwhelming presence poured from him now, incomparable to before—like facing one of the four marquises.
"...You'll pay dearly for forcing my hand. I'll leave you neither dead nor alive."
The gloomy, savage pressure made every hair on my body stand on end.
Facing it, I grinned wide.
"Looking forward to it."
Crushing this traitor today would let me glimpse even higher realms.