Chapter 31: Why Needlessly Pick at a Scab?
Maltion, the black mage known as such, trembled with overwhelming emotion at Cael's declaration. The mere fact that the great lord of the abyss had taken them under his wing was enough to shatter the limits of his loyalty.
"I shall obey your command, O great lord!"
Maltion cried out, slamming his forehead against the floor. At that, the hundreds of remnants followed suit, prostrating themselves en masse and swearing their fealty.
"H-Hey, what's goin' on?"
"Hell if I know, you moron! Boss is pledgin' loyalty—just smash your head down too!"
Such chatter filtered into his ears, but Cael saw no need to correct them. Stroking his chin as he gazed down at the scene, he sank into quiet contemplation.
Hmm. Bigger influence than I thought. Interesting.
Even to Cael's eyes, Maltion's reaction was no act. Perfect control through demonic qi—this was typical behavior for mages lost to madness.
Guess I should look into this black magic business separately.
His original plan had been to slap a collar on Viscount Frank Leshold and drag him back to the main estate, hurling him right in the face of Silina Restis, the acting head of the house. Even if she tried to cut off a limb to save the body, it would stir up no small turmoil within the family, shaking her position—that had been the calculation.
But mulling it over carefully, there was no real reason to stir up trouble right now. After all, Silina was the legitimate acting head of the Restis Ducal Residence. Meanwhile, he was nothing more than the sickly eldest son who had just risen from a long sickbed, with zero support base in the family.
In this unfavorable situation, tossing one viscount at her feet and forcing a head-on clash would only drag him into the mudslinging of that sly fox Silina's political games.
Cael decided to change tack.
To make my voice heard in the family, I need a solid base of my own—and some forces. In that sense, Vollex Territory and this underground outfit are just perfect.
Cael glanced down at the viscount, bound and unconscious on the floor, and asked,
"Maltion. Did you pull any special tricks on that viscount bastard?"
Maltion bowed his head as if it were the most natural thing and replied,
"Indeed, noble one. The viscount is already ensnared by my black magic's yoke. He is little more than a puppet who cannot defy my will."
So the viscount had been under the mages' control all along.
Cael narrowed his eyes and pressed,
"Hm? So you're saying that fool didn't commit his evils of his own accord—he's just an innocent victim caught in your spells?"
"Noble one, far from it. From the start, it was he who reached out to me first, blinded by dirty money and power. The yoke of black magic cannot be so easily fastened unless the target's soul craves corruption. He's nothing but a wretch who dug his own grave in his shallow greed."
In the end, the viscount had dug his own pit. A noble blinded by power, joining hands with a black mage only to have his soul devoured.
Cael let out a scoffing chuckle.
"Then I guess I don't need to feel the slightest bit sorry about using that scum."
"It would be an honor for such vermin to serve you, noble one."
Cael issued his command, his resolve firm.
"Stay here as you are, prop up the viscount, seize control of the territory's commerce, amass wealth, and quietly build your forces."
"As you command."
"But mark this well: No more excessively vicious crimes from now on. Got it?"
Maltion tilted his head slightly, asking cautiously,
"Noble one, what exactly do you mean by 'excessively vicious crimes'? What line are you drawing?"
Vague platitudes like "live righteously and protect the weak" or "uphold justice" would fall on deaf ears with these shadowy mages. Cael gave them a clear criterion matched to their level.
"Don't do anything that could cause political trouble if it got tied back to me, the duke's eldest son."
A crystal-clear order: Don't harm your master's political standing or justification.
Maltion's vertical pupils flashed as he nodded deeply, enlightened.
"I understand perfectly. I shall act so as not to blemish your noble reputation."
"And change your name for operations. Keep yourself out of the spotlight, and spread rumors inside and out that the bandit gang called Legnum has been completely eradicated."
"Your will be done!"
"Good. Then I'm leaving this territory in your hands."
In martial world terms, it was like scooping up a top-tier information network like the Hao Clan, masters of underworld funds and intel—in one fell swoop. And with no fear of betrayal, bound utterly by demonic qi.
With the situation settled, Oden approached cautiously and asked,
"Young master. Leaving the viscount unpunished like this... won't it rob us of leverage to pressure Lady Silina when we return to the main castle?"
Cael gave Oden a faint smile in response.
"Why needlessly pick at a scab? Shaking Silina right now gains me nothing. Her judgment should wait until the head returns."
Silina was undoubtedly mad with lust for power, but her administrative skills and territory management were exceptional enough for the duke to entrust her as acting head. There was zero reason to poke at the vast ducal house that would one day be his foundation and weaken it now.
It's mine eventually anyway. Better to swallow it whole.
Trash like Silina was just a roadside pebble he could crush anytime once he regained his power.
What truly piqued Cael's curiosity now was something else.
For now, I'm more curious about what kind of man the head of the house really is.
The head, mentioned in Sword Master Collection as possessing tremendous martial prowess. He wanted to see the real deal.
Cael looked at Oden and said,
"You lot don't need to worry about that. Focus on training. Especially you, Oden—you'll have to relearn swordsmanship from the ground up."
Oden's eyes wavered.
"Pardon?"
"You won't achieve mastery with that sword style. It's like forcing yourself into ill-fitting clothes. Keep it up, and eventually the cloth tears—or you get tangled and die in it."
The lord's single remark had elevated his skills before. Oden was now resolved to believe Cael even if he claimed shit made good medicine.
"If you grace me with instruction, I'll train diligently."
Cael smiled in satisfaction and assumed a starting stance.
"Since it's come up, let me show you one. Grasping the essence of this form alone should be entertaining for a guy like you."
What Cael prepared was the Four-Style Sword Method of the Geomchang Sect, unrivaled in swift swordsmanship.
"One question: What's the fastest thing in swordsmanship?"
Oden, pondering, answered,
"I believe it's the thrust."
"Right. Thrusts are powerful but dangerous too. Know why?"
"If blocked or dodged, it leaves too many openings."
"Exactly. So people thought: Why not make it too fast to dodge?"
As he spoke, golden light radiated from Cael's body.
Flash—
No preliminary motion, nothing. Just something light-like streaking past.
"?????"
Oden's face went blank. But one thing was clear: A distinct hole had appeared in the distant wall.
What the hell did I just see?
"Four-Style Sword Method, First Form: One Flash Like Daylight. The name of the sword art you'll devote your life to."
Oden could only gape, eyes wide.
No, young master... how am I supposed to learn if I can't even see it...?
A few days later, at the Restis Ducal Residence main estate.
In the acting head's office, Lady Silina snapped her quill in irritation. Deep furrows creased her brow, while the fidgeting chief steward sweated bullets before her desk.
"What did you just say? Repeat it clearly, once more."
At Silina's icy tone, the steward prostrated himself and stammered his report.
"W-Well... News that Young Master Cael has completely eradicated Legnum has spread like wildfire across the territory. The people are hailing him as a hero and singing his praises!"
Silina's face twisted in rage.
"That idiot Viscount Frank Leshold—he really screwed everything up! Couldn't handle one sickly brat and got his whole organization wiped out!?"
"Milady, if I may... The Leshold viscount's side claims Young Master Cael quelled the criminal gang's rebellion, bringing peace to the territory. They've even sent a massive tribute of gratitude to the family."
Silina clutched her forehead, dizzy. Not only crushed, but her own puppet viscount groveling to the eldest son, claiming debt? This was a blatant signal he was turning his back on her.
She couldn't grasp how the situation had spun this way.
"A-And one more thing, milady..."
The intelligence chief glanced nervously at her, stumbling over his words.
"Out with it. No beating around the bush."
"Y-Young Master Cael has sent word that he will return to the main estate triumphantly at noon tomorrow. His broken body is fully recovered, and as the duke's rightful eldest son, he's preparing an official declaration to rejoin the family succession."
Crash—!
Silina hurled the ornate teacup from the desk to the floor. It shattered with a sharp crack, tea splattering everywhere.
"That damned bastard...! What? Challenging for the successor spot again!?"
Silina clutched her face with trembling hands.
Cael's return declaration was a bombshell that would upend the positions she and her son held in the family.
Publicly, Cael remained the legitimate first in line. If he returned healthy and with achievements, the elders and knights would naturally side with him on principle.
"Insolent whelp. The main estate isn't some pushover you can waltz into after a few swings of the sword!"
Vicious poison gleamed in Silina's eyes.
Playing it that way, huh? Fine, I've got plans of my own!