Noble Scion, or Exile

"A bug...?"

At that scale, it was closer to a bug than anything else. Add up every cent I had ever poured into the game, and the total still wouldn't have come within shouting distance of the number on the screen. And yet why were there so many Blue-White Stones? Was it actually a bug?

The thought had barely formed when the display in front of me changed. The game interface vanished, and a video of the real world took its place: a press conference crammed with reporters, and on the screen a hunter with a familiar face.

"Martial Emperor Jeong Eun-ho. He saved this world."

It was the woman who had ranked sixth among the S-Class. She announced that the final gate had at last been extinguished, and before the gathered reporters she walked through how that gate had been cleared. My own part came up as a matter of course — the man who had thrown himself through the dimensional portal together with the boss.

The image shifted again. This time it showed some nameless civil servant.

"Yes. The will of the late Hunter Jeong Eun-ho requested that his entire estate be used for the reconstruction of the cities. In accordance with that wish, our government—"

Right. I had written something to that effect in the will I prepared ahead of time. It hadn't been out of any particularly noble sentiment, though. I simply hadn't had any family to leave an inheritance to. Footage of that sort kept rolling on, and the message of it was perfectly plain. After my death I had become a hero not only of Korea, but of the world — a man who, faced with a crisis that threatened everyone, had not spared even his own life, and had perished together with the gate boss. Once the contents of my will came to light on top of that, I was elevated nearly to the status of a saint.

"I, too, will carry on his wish."

Celebrities and ordinary people alike were joining in the donations, just as my will had asked. The video closed on an announcement from Crius Saga.

That I had been a ranker in Crius Saga was no particular secret. The press had covered it often ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enough, and I had even appeared in the game's own advertisements. Most of the notice was about what I had expected — praise so thick it was embarrassing, the sort of language that hoists a man up as a hero. But at the very bottom, one passage caught my eye.

The video ended there. I stared at the screen as it returned to the main menu of Crius Saga, and for a long while I said nothing.

"Haa..."

Only then did my thoughts finally settle, and a long sigh escaped me. Questions still remained. Why had I ended up in a world like this, and what did any of it have to do with the people running Crius Saga? And yet, at the same time, those questions ceased to matter.

"A second life..."

Of everything in the message they had left, only that short phrase lodged itself in my memory. If this truly was something like the reward for saving the world, then there was no harm in accepting it with a glad heart.

"All right."

At last I felt as though I understood. And as if in answer, a knock came at the door. I opened it, and there stood Walter — the man who had brought me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the ducal house.

"Greetings."

"What is it?"

"The meeting will begin shortly."

"A meeting? What meeting?"

"......"

At my question, Walter stared straight at me, his eyes full of displeasure. Even now he was probably wondering whether I knew perfectly well and was only pretending otherwise. I couldn't quite bring myself to take offense at that. Over the past three days I had been picking through the memories of the man whose body I now inhabited — Lucas — whenever I had the chance. What I found was that Lucas had been trash of a rather impressive grade.

This is worse than your average villain...

I had seen no shortage of villains in my years as a hunter, and among them there had been plenty who truly deserved to be called vicious. Even set beside those men, Lucas was someone you could fairly call evil.

However far a villain had fallen, look closely enough at most of their lives and you would find some motive for the crimes — a hard life, a deep grudge, or any of a hundred other reasons. Those reasons never justified what they had done. They did, at least, leave a little room for pity.

Lucas was not like that. He had been born the eldest son of a ducal house that wanted for nothing, and he was not some talentless boy nursing an inferiority complex. He had never made an effort in the first place, so he didn't even know whether he had talent.

He had simply been born wicked and lazy, and with no thought of correcting that nature he had gone on, right up to this day — the year he turned eighteen — scattering nothing but trouble in every direction. A man who answered even his own family's love with malice.

Walter was a knight who had watched that Lucas since childhood. He had endured the boy's wickedness head-on, and he was also one of the very few people who could handle him.

"Are you truly asking because you don't know?"

"I'm asking because I don't. Why do I have to go?"

I copied the way Lucas usually spoke. The aristocratic cadence felt awkward in my mouth, but Walter didn't so much as blink. He simply went on.

"Today is the day of the family council."

"And I absolutely have to be there?"

"Of course. Is it not the session that will decide the severity of your punishment, Young Master?"

Only when I heard that did the memory surface. Lucas laying hands on the family's jewels. Selling them off to gamble and drink himself blind. That was what he had been doing before he took a knife in the back alley.

"That crazy bastard..."

"Cursing will do you no good. Prepare yourself."

Walter pressed me in a stern voice.

"...Fine."

I shut the door again and took stock of the situation I was in — whether anything like this had happened before, and what punishment had followed then. I rummaged through Lucas's memories for anything useful, and the conclusion came quickly.

Slip up here, and I'm getting thrown out.

Lucas's position was dire. He already had almost no standing within the family, and half a year ago he had caused yet another incident, earning a warning from his father, the master of the house: there would be no next time. But being driven out like this was not what I wanted. This was a second life I had only just been given. Given the choice, I would obviously rather live as a proper noble of a ducal house than as a vagrant wandering the streets. It was then that it happened.

A quest window had appeared before my eyes. A title quest, it said. In Crius Saga, a title was the word affixed in front of your name, and despite being nothing but a label, titles came with stats attached, so they were treated as items of some real importance. But the titles on offer here were Noble Scion and Exile.

This is basically deciding whether I keep my place as a noble, or get kicked out looking like a beggar in a single stroke, isn't it?

No matter how I looked at it, this was a quest I absolutely had to clear.

"Haa..."

I drew a long breath. I had only just resolved, full of spirit, to live a new life. There was no way I could let the thing go crooked from the very first step. In the short time I had to prepare, I turned over how I might persuade the duke — my father, in other words. The place to start was the status window. Know yourself and know your enemy, and you need not fear a hundred battles; taking my own measure came first.

Stats, for a start... there's nothing worth looking at.

Create a character in Crius Saga and every stat begins at 10. By comparison, my Strength was a generous 5, and every other number sat at 1. The body I had taken over was in that poor a condition. Even so, there was hope.

The class... is Hunter.

Classes in Crius Saga belonged to a fantasy setting — knight, mage, elementalist, and the like. Which meant this class called Hunter was not Lucas's doing. It was mine.

Then...

I opened the possessed-skills entry at the bottom of the status window. I currently held exactly one skill. The moment I saw it, the corner of my mouth lifted.

Seen one way, it was a skill that might look trivial. I knew its effect better than anyone, though. It was the very first skill I had gained when I awakened as a hunter — the foundation that had let me become an S-Class, and the reason I could be called the Martial Emperor. On top of that, by the effect of possession, the weapon mastery of the S-Class hunter I had been was inherited as well.

"Well... only natural, I suppose."

I muttered it with a bitter smile. However the body had changed, the memory of holding a sword was not about to go anywhere. Just then I sensed someone outside the door once more.

"Are you ready?"

Walter was urging me on. I weighed the situation one last time — the disposition of Duke Keiser, as it remained in Lucas's memory, and everything I might be able to show him. If I used all of that to the fullest, persuading the man would not be entirely impossible.

"...This much, I can manage."

Having settled on that, I changed my clothes and opened the door.

A short while later.

"I'll go in, then."

With Walter guiding me, I stepped into the chamber where the family council was to be held. The room was a broad one. Beneath a chandelier swaying in an old-fashioned way, tables had been set in the shape of a C, and more than a dozen people were already seated along them. I was not given a place at that table. I was made to stand in the center — less a participant in the council than a criminal called up for judgment.

"So you've come."

The speaker was the middle-aged man in the seat of highest honor: Lucas's father, and the master of this House Roenheim, Keiser Ignatz von Roenheim.

That presence is vicious.

I kept the thought to myself as I looked at him. On the surface his face was simply blank, but the force churning beneath it was nothing to take lightly, even to the eyes of a former S-Class hunter. Nor was that any surprise.

House Roenheim was one of the great sword houses of the empire, a name that, together with the Margrave of the North, had produced no end of excellent knights. Duke Keiser himself was spoken of as one of the finest knights in the empire. It would be no exaggeration to call him this world's equivalent of an S-Class hunter.

"Are you feeling all right?"

A gentle voice came from beside him. It belonged to Katrin Amalie von Roenheim — Lucas's mother, the duchess. Before I could answer her, though—

"Save that talk for later. This seat exists to punish Lucas."

My father, Keiser, cut across her. At that voice — flat, and yet heavy with dignity — Katrin forced herself to look away.

"Then, Lucas. State for yourself why you have come here."

The words were hard, thick with anger. I answered evenly.

"I stole the family's jewels."

"And?"

"That is all."

"Nonsense!"

Keiser slammed his hand down on the table and roared. Just as Lucas's memories had it, the man's temper was fire.

"If you had only stolen the treasure, taking it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back would have been the end of it! But you sold it off to some nameless wretch, so you could squander the money on gambling and drink!"

He even jabbed a finger at me as he bore down. It was the truth. But the truth, spoken as it was, would not serve me, so I laid a lie over it.

"That is not so."

"Not so? Then you mean the treasure is still in your hands?"

"No. But I turned those jewels into something of greater worth."

"And what is that? Speak."

"...Swordsmanship."

At that, Keiser's brow creased. A moment later, having taken my meaning, he spoke again.

"You mean to say you used those jewels to learn the sword?"

"Yes."

With that answer, silence settled over the hall and held there. It was not a good sign. Keiser, of course, and the elders of the house seated around him — even my mother, Katrin, did not seem to believe a word of it.

"...I don't believe I need to hear any more."

At the end of the silence Keiser spoke as if he could not even summon anger, a sigh riding the words. Then he passed a grave sentence upon me.

The southern wall. I had a rough idea of what sort of place that was. The southern edge of the Regenhart Empire, to which House Roenheim belonged — a frontier joined to the Great Southern Forest, where barbarians and all manner of demonfolk were said to live.

In Crius Saga, together with the frozen reaches of the empire's north, it had been famous in the early game as a high-level hunting ground. And so, telling the Lucas of the present day to go and distinguish himself there...

It's an order to go and die quietly.

In practice, it was no different from an execution.