Chapter 190
Chapter 190
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Appointment (3)
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“Raise your head.”
At the king's command, Jamie raised his head.
King Friedmoor's face came into close view.
He had caught a glimpse when he first entered, but up close, the king looked younger than expected.
Early to mid-thirties, at most.
He had heard the king was older, but the Friedmoor royal bloodline aged more slowly than most.
Jamie rolled his eyes to look at the boy and girl seated on either side of him.
His gaze landed on the girl, and his eyes widened slightly.
That girl from yesterday...
The frail-looking girl sitting by the fountain.
She was heavily made up now, unlike then, so he hadn't recognized her from afar.
A princess, of all things?
But how had a princess been sitting alone by the fountain late at night?
As Jamie puzzled over it, his eyes met Isabel's.
Isabel gave him a sly smile.
It looked like teasing, but he kept his composure and turned back to King Friedmoor.
The king spoke.
“Haha. Truly just a young boy.”
King Friedmoor muttered as if he still couldn't believe it despite seeing him.
Up until the moment Jamie walked in through the doors, he hadn't seemed like a child at all.
On the contrary, he exuded the triumphant air of a general returning victorious from battle.
Was it even possible to sense that from an eight-year-old boy?
The king had seen all sorts of people, but Jamie Welton stood out head and shoulders above them all.
A child with such presence...
The king nearly let out a hollow laugh but held back for the sake of dignity.
“I've heard of your exploits. You held off the Zenith Church and demon assaults at Upton, and now you've saved the mage society too?”
“It was only what had to be done, Your Majesty.”
“And at just eight years old, you've reached the 7th Class. I've seen many master-class mages, but I can say with certainty that you're the first of your kind.”
“I am deeply honored.”
Jamie bowed his head in restrained gratitude.
King Friedmoor nodded in satisfaction.
“Indeed, the rightful heir to Count Welton.”
The king said this while glancing at Count Welton, who was seated at the front of the second-floor gallery.
The count met the king's eyes briefly and bowed politely.
“Seldam's future is bright. Attend me.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
At the king's call, an attendant brought forth a scroll wrapped in fine cloth.
The king took the scroll and slowly rose from his seat.
He descended the steps and stood before Jamie.
“Hear this, Jamie Welton.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The scroll unfurled.
King Friedmoor read from it.
“You were born the heir to a noble house, gifted with exceptional talent, yet you strove ceaselessly to hone your realm. In doing so, Upton and the mage society were saved by your hand. At a tender age, you achieved the feat of ascending to archmage. Furthermore, chosen by the Pyro Goddess herself, you became a saint, forging an even stronger alliance between our kingdom and the Pyro Church.”
“Thus, this king recognizes your achievements and, to honor your name, appoints you as the eleventh Master of great Seldam!”
Master.
The title the king invoked was a position of sorts.
An 'extraterritorial privilege' granted by royal decree.
Not a formal office with defined duties, but one that placed its holder above any noble.
“Jamie Welton!”
“Jamie Welton, you stand here!”
“Dedicate yourself to the kingdom!”
“I accept the command!”
Thunderous cheers and applause erupted.
Jamie felt his skin vibrate as he looked at the king.
The king spoke in a voice too low for others to hear.
“I leave it to you, Sir Welton Junior.”
“The honor is mine, Your Majesty.”
The two exchanged faint smiles.
High in the sky under the blazing sun.
A lone eagle soared through the cloudless heavens on vast wings.
Below stretched a vast golden desert, where a crude rectangular building stood.
Encircling the prison-like structure was a ring of black lines crackling with high-voltage currents.
Invisible to the eye, the currents formed a wall around the entire building.
An impenetrable barrier, even for skilled experts.
A man approached the site.
Bald with dark skin, he carried an enormous greatsword on his back.
Blazer, Sword of the Sun God Ra.
“Open.”
Stopping before the high-voltage currents, he addressed the air. The barrier rippled, and the currents parted in blue arcs to either side.
Blazer passed through and entered the building.
The interior was sparse.
A couple of desks for guards on duty and two small beds for rest—that was it.
One might wonder why such a place existed, but the above-ground level was merely ceremonial.
The real facility lay 'below'.
“How's the prisoner?”
“Still not saying a word.”
“Stubborn bastard.”
Blazer shook his head, thinking of the man imprisoned deep underground.
“Take me to him.”
“This way.”
A guard led the way.
He approached a plain pillar on the right, placed his hand on it, and pushed carefully.
Pfsh—the spot sank inward with a thud.
Rumble—
The floor shook, and a section glowed with a magic circle as it split apart left and right.
“After you.”
The guard descended the newly revealed stairs first, with Blazer following.
Save me—
Guuuuaaaah...
Die die die die die die die
Hello it's me hello it's me hello it's me
Hey got any spare change?
29,154th... 29,156th...
The path downward was dark, but the chilled air revealed the vastness of the shadowed space.
And the voices echoing from all sides brimmed with 'despair'.
“This place is as horrific as ever.”
“That's why we rarely open the Catacombs' gates.”
Catacombs.
The word meant 'tomb'.
Though not a true grave, it was little different.
A prison under Ra's domain for those guilty of grave crimes.
Once confined here, they would never see the sun again—save in death.
Outside... outside...!
Light, give me light!
Hehehehehe—
Water... I want water...
“Quiet!”
Blazer bellowed, infusing his voice with mana.
The Catacombs' inmates fell silent at once.
All were mad.
Beyond any semblance of humanity.
Yet these wretches, unmoved by guards' shouts or punishments, didn't dare utter a sound at Blazer's command.
The Sword of the Sun, indeed...
The guard swallowed dryly at the soul-shaking cry, even though it wasn't aimed at him.
If it affected him this much, for the inmates—reduced to base instinct—it must have shattered their very spirits.
Sounds of bodies collapsing echoed from the shadows.
“We'll need to clear the corpses.”
Blazer remarked nonchalantly, having slain several with his voice alone.
“...We're here.”
They reached the Catacombs' deepest level.
The abyss.
“I'll open it. Please step back...”
“No need.”
Fair enough—the prisoner here couldn't best Blazer even at full strength.
Now, utterly enfeebled, freedom would only hasten his end.
The tense guard opened the abyss's door.
Whoosh—cold air rushed out with the wind.
A ferocious killing intent followed.
“Gahk!”
Struck by it, the guard foamed at the mouth and collapsed.
“Pathetic.”
Blazer glanced pityingly at the fallen guard and stepped inside.
The abyss was pitch black, but Blazer saw clearly.
He called to the prisoner.
“Crion.”
“...”
Zenith's Sword and the church's top warrior, Crion was now wasting away in Ra's Catacombs abyss.
“You've grown gaunt.”
“...Blazer.”
The weak voice was a ruse, and Blazer knew it.
“No theatrics before me.”
“Kuk. Damn monster.”
Crion dropped the act, laughing defiantly at Blazer.
Hard to believe this was the same man who moments ago seemed on death's door— but for one of his caliber, altering his body was trivial.
“It's been over half a year since you were locked up.”
“Yeah. About time you let me out.”
“Can't do that. Why release someone who'd put a blade to our throats one day?”
“...Just a matter of time, Blazer. I'll get out eventually.”
“If Zenith moves personally, maybe. But he shows no sign of it.”
“Not here to free me, then? Just to mock my state?”
“Not exactly to mock your state. Though I am here to mock.”
“What nonsense is that?”
Blazer grinned and raised a finger.
A small sun appeared, banishing the abyss's darkness like a lie.
“Kuh! The light!”
After half a year in darkness, even this was lethal to Crion.
He nearly went blind.
Were he not a sword master adept at aura control, he would have.
Blazer ignored it and continued.
“Wanted to show you this.”
He tossed a rolled-up newspaper through the bars.
Despite bound hands, Crion unfolded it easily enough to read.
He squinted at the headline.
“Seldam Kingdom Produces Youngest Archmage. Protagonist Is Heir to Renowned Sword Family Welton: Jamie Welton.”
Jamie Welton.
Crion's eyes bulged at those five letters, and he began raving.
“Jamie!!! Jamie Welton!!”
His shackles rattled as if they'd shatter; the thick chains binding him stretched taut, on the verge of snapping.
Ra's high priests had reinforced them, or they'd have broken instantly.
“Kraaaah! Jamie Welton! That little shit!! I'll kill him!! Kill that little shit right now!!”
Crion's face flushed crimson.
Veins writhed across his skin.
His rage and killing intent swept through the entire Catacombs.
Inmates above collapsed. Intent fierce enough to claim lives.
First time I've seen him this furious.
Blazer understood.
Jamie Welton was the one who ruined Zenith Church's grand plan.
Without him, Crion wouldn't be here, and Zenith would be at war with the northern continent alongside allies.
That aside, it's astonishing. Archmage at eight...
Even Blazer knew of Seldam's Weltons.
A storied sword house, famous even here on the opposite end of the continent.
And now, they produced not a sword master, but an archmage.
Was Crion's defeat no fluke, then?
He couldn't gauge the potential of an eight-year-old archmage.
Perhaps even destined for the supreme 9th Class, king of all mages.
No, highly likely.
“Gaaaaah!! I'll kill him!!! Kill that brat!!”
Blazer thought to himself.
The continent's balance will get interesting.
He turned from Crion and ascended the stairs.