Banquet 1
"We've caused you trouble. I never imagined the lady of House Pavria herself would grace this auction with her presence. I believe your last visit was two years ago."
The situation had been resolved thanks to the belated arrival of Melberk and the kingdom's knight order. In truth, there was nothing left to tidy up—Licht had already handled everything. Most people had emerged unscathed, though there were a few casualties. From Melberk's perspective, the silver lining was that none of the high-ranking nobles worth calling VIPs had been among them. It would be a headache, but cleanup wouldn't be too arduous. Especially since the perpetrator was none other than the Golden King himself.
A monster, perhaps.
Artal's reception room, where they had naturally been ushered, was extravagantly opulent. Artifacts lined the walls in every direction—from simple artworks and sculptures to strange magical tools emanating mana. Ancient artifacts weren't in short supply either. He couldn't even guess how much they'd fetch if sold off. And even now, their numbers seemed to be growing one by one.
Licht paid it no mind. He just thought it was an odd hobby.
Aila spoke up.
"It's all in the past now, so no need to blame anyone. It wasn't anyone's fault."
"I'm grateful for your understanding. And this gentleman beside you... of Barte's faction?"
"Aren Pavria. Lady Aila's exclusive mage."
"A high mage. Pavria through and through."
"You can tell?"
"All I know is how to play the money game, but I've got a sharp eye. I couldn't miss a 5th Circle mage if I tried. Thanks to you, we kept the damage to a minimum. My sincere thanks."
"No, it wasn't really because of me..."
Aren trailed off and turned his head. Melberk and Aila's gazes followed suit toward one side of the room. Licht, bowing his head slightly, was carefully wiping down his sword. There was more than one blade laid across his knees. A sword of blue light and one of golden light. And the battered training sword he'd carried from the start. Not two, but three.
Anyone else might have seen it as mere bravado, but it suited him perfectly—unnaturally so. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. That impression was amplified by his transcendent composure, as if slaughtering people moments ago meant nothing at all.
"If I'm right, you're from House Barbalte..."
"Licht."
"......"
"Licht Sientia."
Licht replied softly. Unlike before, his tone was polite. Infinitely rude when he chose to be, yet here he exuded the air of some refined young noble. Despite his unrefined attire. Was it the aura he gave off? Or his finely chiseled features? As Aila pondered this, Melberk nodded to himself in realization.
"Licht. Licht Sientia. In any case, thank you. You saved our lives."
"No big deal."
"So modest."
"If it's not too rude, I have a question."
It was Aren. He'd clearly been dying to ask, his face brimming with genuine curiosity.
"Go ahead."
"How did they breach Artal's security? This is the royal capital's First District, after all."
"......"
A fair question. Alpen was the capital—right next to the palace, no less. Its security was on another level compared to other districts. Eleven intruders? Enough to raise eyebrows.
"If it's hard to say, you don't have to."
"No, no. It'd be poor form to dodge now that you've come all this way."
Melberk hesitated, as if it pained him, then let out a sigh. He met their eyes squarely, his gaze resolute.
"We cut off Knox's main funding source. Over a year ago now."
"Main funding?"
"In collaboration with the royals. Ever heard of Queerix?"
"Ah."
Aren nodded faintly, as if he had an inkling. Only Aila and Licht were in the dark. Sensing this, Melberk elaborated.
"Not long ago, a massive batch of Queerix flooded Alpen. Fine if it were legit channels, but... most was black market. Worst part? It was low-quality crap laced with impurities. Maximized potency without a thought for side effects..."
"I've heard of it."
"Our investigation traced it to Knox dumping it on the streets via back channels. Naturally, we launched a massive crackdown with royal backing. Problem was, that Queerix was one of Knox's core revenue streams. Things went quiet after, so we let our guard down... and then this."
Aila nodded slightly at Melberk's explanation. He sighed deeply again. His sharp features didn't suit the weary exhales, Licht thought.
Prejudice on my part?
Merchants were usually plump and prosperous, weren't they? He'd assumed the Golden King Melberk would be especially massive. Reality was the polar opposite.
"...Anyway. That's that, and this is this. We must separate business from personal matters."
He muttered lowly, gesturing. The grand reception room doors swung open. A woman entered—likely a maid—and placed an ornate box on the table between them. Once she'd left, Melberk spoke slowly.
"A small token of our appreciation. Please, open it."
"A token?"
As Aila tilted her head, a soft blue glow emanated from the open box.
"This is..."
"The Miracle of the Heavens? How... Wasn't it already auctioned off?"
Inside was the Miracle of the Heavens the tall young man had won earlier. Up close, it felt different from afar. Mana faintly flowed through the pendant's rippling blue light.
"Don't worry about that. We've shown 'ample sincerity' to the buyer and everyone else involved."
Melberk brushed it off. Artal would suffer losses from this incident, but they paled against his overflowing coffers and reputation. Money could be remade. Prestige, built over years? Once tarnished, who knew how long recovery would take. Time couldn't be bought. Melberk knew that better than most. The compensation payouts were doubtless hefty too.
"Try it on."
Melberk gestured invitingly to Aila. She carefully clasped the Miracle of the Heavens around her neck. The large central blue mana stone matched her eyes perfectly—as if tailored for her.
"It suits you splendidly," Melberk said sincerely.
"...Thank you. But are you sure about giving away something like this...?"
"As I said, Lady Aila, no need to concern yourself. Refusing would put me in a bind. Please accept."
"In that case, I'll gratefully accept."
Her words were composed, but her sparkling eyes betrayed her—like a child with a new toy.
Or not?
Aren chimed in. This is why mages are... Licht clicked his tongue inwardly. The incident had ended without major harm, but Lady Pavria's presence there was fact. Handing over the Miracle of the Heavens so readily? His intentions were obvious.
He doesn't want friction with Pavria.
Fifty million silver was a hefty sum even for most nobles. Pocket change for Melberk, perhaps. Avoiding conflict with Pavria while forging ties? A bargain. Purely transactional. But Licht said nothing. He wasn't so tactless as to spoil the mood.
As Aren and Aila inspected the Miracle of the Heavens, Melberk's gaze shifted to Licht.
"For Young Master Licht..."
Licht cut him off.
"If you mean this sword."
He lightly raised the Ascension Sword in his hand.
"You knew? That it had no owner."
Silence. The mood sank. Barte's mages now eyed Melberk too. He finally spoke.
"Yes. Checking auction items is basic diligence. Especially the Ascension Sword... I inspected it myself. No owner. And authentic, not a fake."
"The source?"
The crucial question. Licht couldn't fathom auctioning the Ascension Sword without tracing its origins. Wasn't it suspicious? Utter folly.
Melberk spoke with self-mockery.
"I'm a merchant. Born not knowing my parents, money's all I've ever known. Lucked into talent for it... Thought I'd shed it all once established."
"......"
"Forgive me. My shame. All my oversight."
He bowed his head. Greed. He didn't deny it—owned it outright. That greed had fueled his rise to Golden King. Hard to discard. Seeing Orkin's Ascension Sword, reason must have warred with desire. In the end, merchant avarice won; he listed it unverified. A little care could have prevented this.
Water under the bridge.
As Licht feigned indifference, Melberk sighed softly. Then added,
"No charge for the Ascension Sword. The buyer died anyway."
"......"
"Can't sell it now regardless... Seems it's chosen its master."
"Wasn't intentional."
"I know. The Ascension Sword picks its own wielder. If it chose you, I'll respect that. You'll wield it better than I ever could."
The Ascension Sword in his hand quivered faintly. As if it understood. A subtle red glow traced its blade, drawing the eye naturally.
Fate, I suppose.
The sword that had tried to kill him moments ago now rested in his grasp. An odd sensation. But Licht saw it as just another thread of connection. He'd vowed, upon this new life, not to be bound by the past.
He hadn't asked about Azure Flower. It had looked like a rusted hunk of iron until recently. Curious glances lingered briefly, but they assumed it was his from the start.
"Well then, I'll take my leave. Apologies, but I'm swamped."
Business done, Melberk rose. Aren reflexively bowed.
"Thank you for your time. Please go ahead."
"Yes. Safe travels. May your journey home be uneventful."
With that, Melberk exited. Aila, sitting quietly, spoke.
"Licht."
"Listening."
"Let's go."
Aila and Aren stood. Licht slung all three swords at his waist.
***
"Wow, wow..."
Back in the carriage. Dusk had fallen outside, unlike the outbound trip. The interior glowed warmly from lanterns. Aila poured mana into the Miracle of the Heavens in her hands, marveling nonstop. That alone was fine, but Aren glued to her side, eyes gleaming? It made for a comical sight. What are they doing?
"Licht, Licht! Look at this. It actually stores mana. How?!"
"Whoa. I thought fifty million silver was steep... but this is worth more. Honestly, a hundred million would be fair..."
Mana permanence. Enough to make eyes spin. They fussed over it, pumping in mana. Licht was a swordsman using circles as aura substitutes, not a true mage. He understood the hype but couldn't relate.
She said, "So, you got your sword?"
"Didn't spend a coin."
"Wanna buy it? Ten million silver."
Licht shook his head. Aila smirked, as if expecting it. Azure Flower and Ascension Sword—two blades was unexpected.
Dual-wield as ethereal swords?
He'd faced plenty who swung two blades, but none matched his toehold in skill. He'd never tried it himself; two swords lacked purpose. Too wasteful to let one rust, though.
"Wha—?!"
"Sp-spatial magic! How?!"
"That's a 7th Circle spell!"
Azure Flower dissolved into light particles, scattering blue flecks before vanishing into the void. Aila and Aren, fixated on the pendant, yelped. Spatial magic—advanced, 7th Circle and up. Past-life Licht could've managed, but now? Barely weaving a third circle soon. Their shock was warranted.
Licht frowned faintly.
"An innate ability. Not magic."
"The artifact's unique power? What sword has that...?"
"That one? Does it too?"
She pointed at the Ascension Sword. Licht shook his head no.
"Why's the blue one work and not the Ascension Sword?"
"Not magic. Do I have to repeat myself?"
Shaping to the user's will was Azure Flower's trait. Summon only when needed—no scabbard, just blade. Awkward to belt otherwise. Unlike the Ascension Sword.
Aren chuckled wearily.
"Haha... Quite the eye-opening day. I was practically dragged here by the lady."
"How long to arrival?"
"Early morning. About when we left."
"...Right."
Licht gazed out the window briefly, then closed his eyes. Mana overuse backlash? Despite recent sleep, fatigue crashed in. Her voice faded. Consciousness sank soon after.
***
"We've arrived, young master."
He opened his eyes to a sky much like departure from Alpen. Carriage lights dimmed—Aren's courtesy for his exhaustion, likely.
"...What time?"
"Five minutes to 5 a.m. Dawn."
Aren checked a silver pocket watch matching Aila's. Dark circles under his eyes—he hadn't slept well.
"Pulled an all-nighter?"
"Slept a bit. Cast spells too. Still... tired. Gonna crash once home."
Licht felt oddly guilty at Aren’s drained voice. Escort duty seemed thankless.
Staring blankly out the window, the carriage soon halted. Licht stepped out into the chill dawn breeze. Aila had woken by then, eyes bleary—probably roused forcibly by Aren.
"...Going?"
"Yeah."
"I'm heading home now."
"Know."
"Next time's probably that guy's investiture."
"Less than a month."
"You... doing it on purpose. Can't say thanks once?"
Her hazy eyes bored into him. Licht hesitated, then,
"I did. Before."
"Not enough."
"Fine. Thanks."
"Wha—? Uh... that's it?"
"What."
"Once more. Have some conscience."
"...Go now. Sir Aren, safe travels."
"Haha, yes. Safe journey to you too, young master."
Aren supported her unsteady form to their carriage. Just before boarding, she yelled,
"Hey!"
"......"
"Not that I'd lose, but... still, fight hard. You lose, I'm sold off to that jerk."
Licht nodded to Aren. He gave a wry smile.
"Bastard. Get struck by lightning on the road."
She climbed in. The coachman checked behind and whipped the horses. Licht watched their receding figure, then turned slowly.
"...Home."
Barbalte's grand avenue was deserted both ways. Licht strolled leisurely through. The only difference: the golden holy sword at his waist glowed softly.
About two weeks left.
Counting days to Evan's investiture, he soon stopped. Time flew. He'd acquired all he needed; only the third circle remained.
Licht looked up. Dawn broke, pushing back the murky sky.