Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Awakening in the Wild Mountains
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“Hiccup, hiccup...”
A deep night where even the moon had hidden itself.
The sobbing echoing through the dark, desolate hills—where not a single human shadow could be seen—was utterly heartbreaking.
“Tch, can't you drink it properly?”
At the boy's voice, still in the midst of puberty, the two thugs with swollen eyes froze as if they'd heard the devil himself, shooting their hands up in surrender.
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Lucas sat perched on a rock in front of the men, rubbing his temple like his head ached.
Sniff, sniff.
Even though he'd already shaken them down completely, the faint smell of dirt from his palm against his forehead and his clothes kept teasing his nose.
...Should I have squeezed them a bit more?
Lucas glared at the thugs for a moment, clenching his fist, then sighed and relaxed it.
Right now, taking out his anger on these small fry wasn't the priority.
“Hoo... Alright, let's go over it slowly one more time.”
The refined hand rubbing his temple looked utterly unfamiliar—one that seemed to have no connection to hardship.
Originally, the hand that had ravaged countless battlefields alongside the Golden Heaven Chain, devouring blood and lives, had been as hard as forged steel.
So it was only natural that this soft, pale hand—like a baby's, too delicate even to pluck a single flower—felt so awkward.
Damn, I can see it with my own eyes, and I still can't believe it.
Even watching the hand move at his will, it didn't feel real.
People die, and that's the end.
That was one of the immutable truths since the creation of the Mid-Realm, the continent of Avena—unchanged through all ages.
But this wasn't just surviving a brush with death.
Not even simple reincarnation would suffice; his very soul had awakened in someone else's body.
If such a thing were possible, Lucas wouldn't have ended up as a mountain of flesh by now.
He was one of the most hated figures on the continent, after all.
...I'll figure out the 'why' later.
Lucas was among the continent's top experts at ending lives and sending souls to the afterlife, but he'd never once pondered the deeper mysteries of life and death.
For that, he could always track down some twisted necromancer obsessed with death later.
First things first: I need to properly assess this body's original owner.
At the very least, he had to know whose son this body belonged to if he wanted to crawl back home.
Swish!
Lucas turned his head toward the two thugs, who raised their trembling arms and kept sobbing.
“H-Hic!”
A hiccup escaped the men's throats the moment their eyes met his.
F-Fuck. What kind of kid has eyes like that...?
It was only natural.
No matter that his soul inhabited a child's body, it belonged to Lucas—the Hegemon of the Alexandros Empire, the greatest overlord of the Mid-Realm Avena.
That gaze was far beyond what mere street thugs could withstand.
Damn it, we thought he was just some rich brat...
Their job had seemed simple enough.
Pick up Lucas, who was supposed to be passed out at the designated spot, and bury him deep in these hills where no one would find him.
It was a straightforward task with an absurdly generous payout—they'd hit the jackpot, or so they'd thought.
Of course, jobs with that kind of pay without reason didn't exist.
Damn it, we shouldn't have gotten greedy...!
Their eyes had rolled at the fat scroll of gold, leading to this disaster where they hadn't even broken even.
Confirming the thugs fully broken, Lucas spat out a single word.
“Where is this place? Who am I? What year is it? Tell me everything you know.”
“...Pardon?”
The thugs blinked dumbly at his questions.
Despite their fear, confusion flickered in their eyes.
Where is this? Who am I?
Those were the kinds of questions only local idiots would ask.
But the doubt didn't last.
The fists and feet of the child-monster that had crawled from the grave were far too painful for street thugs to ponder anything.
...Hmm, Ian, huh.
Lucas tossed his ID into the air and caught it repeatedly, having fished it from the thugs' pockets.
The identification was elegantly finished in gleaming gold—flashy, yet not tacky.
Its extraordinary craftsmanship alone proved this body didn't belong to some commoner.
“Who told you to stop talking?”
The thug who'd tried to pocket the gold edging on Ian's ID got smacked again, gingerly touching his swollen eye before jumping back to his story.
“Hic! Yes, sir! So, it's the year 273 of the Continental Calendar, and this is the back hills near the Titan Domain of the Aslan Kingdom.”
Ian read the surname on the ID as he listened.
Ian Lichtenauer of the Aslan Kingdom...
After hearing the full explanation, Ian let out a hollow chuckle.
“You two can't read, can you?”
“Gasp! H-How did you...?!”
Their eyes bulged, as if they thought it was mind-reading magic from some Eastern or Western sorcerer.
Of course he'd know.
Anyone in their right mind wouldn't dare kidnap a scion of the Lichtenauer Clan in the Aslan Kingdom.
If they weren't insane, their ignorance was their only bravery.
The Lichtenauer Martial Clan.
Even Lucas, the Hegemon who'd unified the Northern Continent under the Alexandros Empire, had heard of them.
They were the most renowned martial family in the Aslan Kingdom—the sole kingdom dividing the Southern Continent, facing the Forbidden Lands, the Great Tree Sea, and the borders.
Their presence was so formidable that rumors swirled they alone kept the Alexandros Empire from pushing south.
Of course, Lucas had never cared about other continents to begin with.
Still, for local thugs to rob a scion of such a prestigious clan, knowing full well who he was?
Unless their heads were stuffed with pasta instead of brains, it was unimaginable.
They say ignorance breeds courage—clearly meant for times like this.
Wasn't that what Stion Ballanty used to say to him endlessly?
I wonder how he's doing.
It had been a full decade since his body fell on the Cairn Plains.
With that cunning brain of his, he's probably not starving anywhere... Ah.
A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he asked the thugs.
“Do you know what's become of the Alexandros Empire in the North?”
He didn't expect much.
The continent was vast.
No matter the empire's fame, how would rural Southern hicks know Northern politics?
“The Alexandros Empire? Uh...”
See? That hemming and hawing was the reaction of the clueless.
“Forget it, I didn't expect—”
Then, one thug nudged the other.
“You know, that barbarian nation before the Dufer Empire was founded.”
“Oh, that one? No wonder the name rang a bell. Why bring up a country that croaked ages ago...?”
“Wait.”
Ian's eyes flashed as he listened.
“Who got founded, and who fell?”
Crunch, crunch.
As Ian—formerly Lucas—descended the hills, the thugs' tale swirled in his mind.
He'd let them go.
He'd considered punishing them for trying to bury him alive, but they'd given him the lay of the land.
Besides, I beat the crap out of them plenty.
That was payment enough for their sins.
Still.
“The Dufer Empire, huh...”
Dufer Empire.
The nation founded by Siegfried Dufer, the continent's most renowned hero.
Ten years ago.
On the day Siegfried's blade severed his neck amid the snow, Lucas had thought:
That sly fox wouldn't strike without massive gains.
He'd guessed at least 10% of Northern lands, but Siegfried far exceeded that.
On that fateful day, Siegfried rallied his expedition force, crossed the Cairn Plains straight to the imperial capital, Hecaronia.
The empire's powerhouses had long perished with their Hegemon on those plains.
Siegfried seized Hecaronia in one stroke and proclaimed with his fellow heroes:
-The Alexandros Empire has fallen! But the suffering of its people under Lucas's tyranny has not ended. Though enemies, what fault do the common folk bear? I, Hero Siegfried, along with the sacred heroes gathered here, shall remain by their side, easing their pain until it fades!
...That was the official tale of why he didn't disband the force and founded Dufer instead.
But Ian saw right through Siegfried's scheme.
-The Alexandros Empire is now ours to divvy up nicely with my allies. We'll swallow it whole without losing a hair.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Still dressing it up pretty, Siegfried. You damned bastard.
Siegfried was already famed as a hero.
The elites of other continents wouldn't want his influence growing.
But the problem was.
He's got the justification. Perfect justification.
Not for any other reason, but for the Northern people's sake—that grand 'cause' of Siegfried's.
With his expedition publicly for the North's sake, opposing it meant continental condemnation.
The 'cause' and 'justification' Lucas had ignored and failed to grasp.
Ironically, Siegfried wielded them masterfully, absorbing everything Lucas built in just ten years.
“...Interesting.”
Swish!
To repeat: the defeated have no say.
Lucas had lost.
So whether Siegfried grilled or steamed the Alexandros Empire, a dead Lucas had no right to complain.
However.
“...As Ian Lichtenauer, the position changes.”
A direct heir to a famed Southern martial clan.
For that bloodline to rise as a new hero—no, a new Hegemon—and challenge the false one?
That was an entirely different matter.
So his first task was clear.
Whoosh!
At the hill's edge.
Ian Lichtenauer's steps halted.
The long night with the thugs had passed; the dawn sun now illuminated a vast domain in the distance.
A massive, sturdy land, true to its name 'Titan.'
At its heart stood a proud mansion.
That was the main house of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan.
“First, shall I take that?”
Ian felt no worry.
With all of Lucas's martial prowess intact, reaching the top was inevitable.
Whether born to a martial clan or scholars—it didn't matter.
All obstacles on the Hegemon's path were just things to trample and brush aside.
Ian's steps slowly turned toward the Lichtenauer mansion.
“Found him?!”
“No, sir! We searched everywhere, even under the stable straw, but he's nowhere!”
“Wrong! We even checked the bottom of the latrine pits—same result!”
“Ugh, the smell! You idiots! Why the hell did you search there?!”
“But we've already combed every normal spot!”
The Lichtenauer Clan was in chaos from morning.
Ian Lichtenauer, second son of Marquis Paon Lichtenauer, lord of Titan Domain, had vanished without a trace.
“Damn it, of all days...! Does he know what today is and pull this? That Second Young Lord always stirs up hell from dawn!”
The search captain couldn't hide his rising irritation.
A worthless scion unfit for the clan: no martial arts, not even basic aura cultivation.
Aside from being the marquis master's son, he was utterly useless—couldn't do anything but eat and shit.
And now, this early, he had to get reports from a subordinate reeking of dung.
“Damn, if I find him, Second Young Lord or not, I'll tan his hide...”
“Haha, Search Captain. He's still direct Lichtenauer blood—go easy on the spanking, yeah?”
A clear voice came from behind the grinding captain, making his shoulders twitch.
It was a voice that shouldn't be here now.
Hoping he'd misheard, he turned—but his wish shattered before he could.
The dung-stinking subordinate snapped a crisp salute.
“Sir! Reporting to the Eldest Young Lord!”
“No need for that. My lacking brother's already made you all suffer from dawn.”
The Eldest Young Lord casually approached the reeking soldiers, patted their shoulders, and offered kind words. The captain didn't know where to stand.
No matter how worthless the Second Young Lord, he was the Eldest's only brother.
Unsure of repercussions, the captain fidgeted nervously.
“Search Captain.”
The Eldest Young Lord addressed him gently.
“Yes, sir!”
“Even if it's frustrating, can't you be magnanimous? It's an important day; he must be distraught. I'll apologize on his behalf.”
“N-No, sir! If anything, I overstepped...”
Awe at the Eldest's soft charisma bowed the captain's head.
This is the one.
The true heir to the great Lichtenauer Martial Clan.
Not just the captain—even the stinking soldiers thought so.
As the warm mood spread, a commotion erupted from the main gate.
“R-Reporting!”
A soldier checking the outer wall's drainage rushed up, shouting at the captain.
“The Eldest Young Lord is present! Mind your manners!”
But the soldier ignored the reprimand—he had no time.
“The Second Young Lord has been found!”