Chapter 275
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 275
Chapter Title: Part 2 Chapter 28: Bestow Mercy (1)
“Breaking news!”
A courier burst into Scadium, the royal palace of Seldam, clutching an urgent dispatch.
The king and his ministers, deep in a council on the upcoming war, shot him irritated glares.
“What business does a mere courier have barging into the throne room like this?”
One of the ministers stepped forward, berating the man.
Normally, a courier would hand the dispatch to a low-ranking official, who would pass it up the chain to the king via formal petition.
For a lowly courier—one even nobles rarely got to enter the throne room of Scadium—to waltz in unannounced was bound to draw scowls.
But the minister's words fell on deaf ears.
Panting heavily, the courier dropped to his knees before the king and reported in haste.
“Forgive this lowly worm for presuming to enter unbidden. B-but there was no time to follow protocol, Your Majesty!”
“Guards! Drag this fool away...!”
“Enough.”
The minister, feeling slighted, flushed red and called for the guards, but King Friedmure silenced him.
Propping his chin on his hand, the king commanded the courier.
“Speak plainly. But know this: if it's nothing of import, you'll answer for it.”
“You'll be overjoyed, sire!”
The courier slammed his forehead to the floor and relayed every detail of the news he'd brought.
It concerned the battle that had unfolded in Egene just last night. Upon hearing it all, the king and ministers stared at him in disbelief.
“Is this truly what happened? The Third Elder truly subdued an army of fifty thousand?!”
In response to King Friedmure's shout, the courier bowed low once more.
“Yes, sire!”
“H-however, Your Majesty. How much faith can we place in a single courier's word?”
“Indeed. Crediting some nobody's tale seems... unwise.”
As skeptical ministers eyed him suspiciously, the courier frantically shook his head.
“It's no lie! Why would I deceive the realm's sovereign in this sacred hall?”
“Even so, it's too outlandish...”
“Your Majesty.”
At that moment...
An elderly man who had been sitting silently in the front row stepped forward.
The chamber fell quiet at his appearance.
It was proof of the immense stature the old man commanded in Seldam.
Marquis Bell addressed King Friedmure.
“If I may be so bold, might this humble servant speak, as the matter concerns my grandson?”
“You have the standing. Speak.”
The ministers who had voiced doubt moments ago flinched at the king's words.
He was subtly chiding them for speaking out of turn, without even being granted leave.
Marquis Bell smiled kindly.
“I believe the courier speaks true.”
“And why is that?”
“My grandson spent time until recently in Abrakhas, the northernmost forbidden zone, alongside Beryl Onyx.”
“With Beryl, you say?”
“And yesterday, Beryl was in Egene as well. Isn't that right, courier?”
“Y-yes, exactly!”
The courier nodded vigorously.
Marquis Bell nodded back and turned to King Friedmure.
“I exchange frequent correspondence with Beryl Onyx, so I'm broadly aware of events. Moreover...”
“Moreover?”
“I've also received word that my grandson, Jamie Welton, has ascended to the supreme realm.”
King Friedmure shot to his feet, stunned.
The ministers doubted their own ears.
The supreme realm!
No one present was ignorant of its meaning.
“Can you stake your honor on this, Marquis?”
“I stake my honor upon it.”
“Then why speak only now?!”
“I lacked certainty, Your Majesty. I trust Beryl Onyx, but without proof, I hesitated to burden you with unverified news. Forgive my disloyalty.”
“So now you're certain?”
“Yes. A mage of the supreme realm could traverse that vast distance in an instant and single-handedly crush an enemy host.”
It made perfect sense.
Even reaching the eighth circle allowed tremendous solo travel; the ninth—the supreme realm—could span the continent with ease.
And as if to prove it...
“Y-Your Majesty!”
A minister at the end of the line listened to a whispered report, then rushed forward and knelt in alarm.
“What is it?”
“Fresh dispatch from Egene! We've slain twenty-eight thousand of the enemy, captured the remaining twenty-two thousand as prisoners, taken Commander Katarina and Lance Master Draksar alive. Sword Master Peros is missing, but presumed dead!!”
In other words, Jamie Welton hadn't just secured victory in Egene's defense—he'd inflicted devastating losses on the foe.
The throne room of Scadium erupted in cheers that lingered for some time.
‘Jamie Welton.’
Princess Isabel, seated demurely behind King Friedmure, smirked.
She alone showed no surprise.
She had known.
‘I didn't know when, but it was today.’
She had foreseen this scene.
Her precognition told her so.
Thus, she knew what came next.
‘...Jamie. The darkness draws near.’
Darkness that might be light to some would slowly erode him.
And Jamie Welton knew it better than anyone.
‘What will you do now?’
Could he navigate the thorny path ahead?
Even precognition couldn't pierce to its end.
Isabel's smile faded, worry clouding her face.
“...My son, you say.”
Count Welton, receiving the news late, wore a faint smile.
He hadn't imagined his son defeating fifty thousand foes alone.
It had been hard to believe at first, but the urgent missive from Scadium left no room for doubt.
‘The supreme realm, no less.’
What would Sears make of it?
Jamie had been away from home for two months now, and she was struggling.
This news would surely lift her spirits.
Sara would feel the same.
His heart raced at the thought of seeing his son.
“Stronger than me now, is he?”
He'd have to see for himself, but Count Welton didn't bare all before his children.
He wasn't ready to be eclipsed just yet.
A father had to preserve some pride, after all.
“Heh. What a remarkable boy. Ah, but is ‘boy’ still fitting?”
“Hardly. His build's no child's, but he's just thirteen.”
Count Welton glanced at the old man riding beside him.
This man, too, had emerged from five years of seclusion, and Count Welton sensed undeniable power in him after so long.
Archmage Offen Ginger, first elder of the mage world and the king's former tutor, chuckled.
“Heh, you'll be shocked when you see him.”
The last sight was five years ago, right after the demon incident in the mage realm.
A novice then, now a supreme archmage.
“Genius is a fearsome thing.”
“He's my son, but yes—even I find it a bit frightening.”
“Can't wait to lay eyes on him, then.”
“Nor I.”
They shared low laughs and spurred their mounts faster.
Two days passed.
Jamie gazed at Katarina, imprisoned underground.
Bound in mana-suppressing restraints, she looked decades older in just days—wrinkles etched deep.
That was her true face.
Until now, spells and false skin had preserved her youth.
At eighty-four this year, she was Linmel Marquis's contemporary.
“...Kill me.”
“I told you. I'm making you mine.”
“You think the Twelve Gods will forgive such blasphemy?!”
“It's fine. I'm a saint.”
Jamie showed her the Pyro mark on his left hand.
Katarina's eyes twitched.
She seethed, but that was all she could manage.
Victors owed no regard to the vanquished.
Squatting to meet her gaze, Jamie said,
“Thing is, your skills are solid, so the prep's taking longer than expected. Just relax. No need to stress.”
“You demon.”
“To kill scum like you, I'd become worse than any demon.”
As Jamie's violet eyes gleamed in warning, Katarina flinched and looked away.
Those eyes harbored a chilling malice that prickled the skin on sight.
Jamie snorted and eyed the man lying corpse-still beside her.
Lance Master Draksar, quite renowned.
His signature Gae Bolg was sealed away here for safekeeping.
The reason? It was a potent cursed lance; even untouched, it slew weak life nearby with its curse.
Direct impalement meant certain death, no matter the victim.
‘As for the other one—dead or alive? No traces if dead.’
Draksar survived being devoured by light head-on; could Peros truly vanish without a mark?
Jamie doubted it.
No presence lingered, though.
‘Detection spells cover the city. Any unknown movement will show.’
No Sword Master could evade a ninth-circle mage's detection.
Unless he wielded some evasion power.
‘Even if not...’
Jamie smirked faintly and strolled out of the dungeon.
The next day.
“Hm.”
Jamie scratched his chin at the sight of Katarina and Draksar—their necks severed, hearts carved out.
They'd been fine yesterday, checked periodically by guards.
Yet murdered overnight.
The cuts suggested the killer knew of his undead plans.
Jamie laughed.
“What a ballsy bastard.”
He'd slipped the detection spells entirely.
Confirming Jamie's fears: he possessed power to fool them.
But the fool overlooked one thing.
“Idiot. Falling for it like this.”
Jamie had never intended to turn Katarina or Draksar into undead.
Simple reason.
They bore Zenith's baptism.
He'd checked their faiths upon capture; Katarina even bore the holy sign.
Undead conversion abandoned.
Zenith discovering it would ruin everything.
Instead, bait.
Half-certain Peros lived, Jamie needed a lure.
“Now, time to peek into your memories.”
Corpses don't remember with brains.
They hold life's echoes in their very being.
Jamie extended a hand toward Katarina.
As black mana pierced the corpse, he incanted.
“Rise. Memories from the grave.”
"Rise. Memories from the grave."
⟨ Corpse Memory ⟩
The headless corpse twitched, flooding Jamie's mind with last night's memories.
Having read them all, Jamie grinned delightedly.
“Run hard, Peros. Run even harder.”
That way, the chase would be fun!!
Jamie's form vanished in violet light.