Chapter 4
Chapter 4
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: The Shadow's Fatal Mistake
-----------------------------------------------------------------
When it came to eliminating the target, using a dagger or poison was out of the question.
Of course, even if traces of assassination were discovered, he was confident he could avoid leaving any evidence pointing to the Shadow Corps. But there was always that one-in-a-million chance.
If his methods were ever exposed, it might cause unnecessary trouble for his lord.
Besides, hadn't he already disappointed his lord once before?
Thus, the shadow chose the most foolproof method.
He would infuse his aura into the Second Young Lord's body, shredding the mana roads within to pieces.
On the surface, it would look like a perfectly natural death—no traces whatsoever. Even if someone did notice, it would seem like the inept Second Young Lord had clumsily mishandled his aura, causing it to run rampant.
He gently placed his hand atop Ian's head as the boy sat quietly.
'There will be no pain, Second Young Lord.'
No matter that he had to kill him, this was still the only brother of the Eldest Young Lord, Alex Lichtenauer.
At the very least, he wouldn't inflict needless suffering.
'Farewell.'
The very instant the shadow tried to push his aura into Ian's body—
Snap!
"?!"
Ian seized the shadow's wrist, his eyes blazing like an active volcano as he glared up at the intruder.
"What are you?"
An event that shouldn't have happened—not even in a million to one odds—had occurred.
Just moments before the shadow's ambush on Ian.
"Whew! Nice and toasty."
After soaking in the warm bathwater for a good long while, Ian returned to his room. He straightened his back rigidly and perched on the edge of the bed.
"This body—its original owner, Ian—was quite the interesting specimen, huh?"
To the eye, it looked utterly muscle-less, the epitome of frailty among the frail.
But Lucas's soul wasn't too worried about that.
Muscles grew with good food and proper training.
Sure, innate bone structure made a difference, but with the right methods, one could elevate it plenty.
Far more crucial were the mana roads.
Mana Road.
The pathway that accepted the world's gift—mana—and refined it into aura to empower the body.
This path couldn't be altered by mere effort.
Those without talent from the start were out of luck, and even among the talented, innate disparities created clear gaps.
Ian Lichtenauer, direct descendant of the Martial Clan, was shockingly afflicted: every single mana road in his body was completely sealed shut.
The fact that he had survived this long without dying was a miracle.
Daily movements must have been a struggle.
For Lucas—who dreamed of revenge against Siegfried—entering such a body should have been despairing.
Yet his face brimmed only with wonder, like someone who'd laid eyes on a mythical beast in the flesh.
"Heh, Solar Meridian Blockage, of all things. I never dreamed I'd encounter a constitution that existed only in theory."
Solar Meridian Blockage.
A condition where the body was brimming with yang energy from birth, preventing the organs from harmonizing and circulating properly.
Without internal balance, mastering the Martial Clan's rigorous arts—which demanded intense physical exertion—was impossible.
Ian Lichtenauer, direct heir of the Martial Clan, was thus cursed: unable to practice martial arts.
But.
"You're lucky, Ian. You met a guy like me."
No, perhaps Lucas himself was the lucky one.
He had mastered the martial art perfectly suited to Solar Meridian Blockage.
"Huuuuuuuuh…"
Regulating his breath, Lucas—no, Ian—turned inward, sinking into the depths of his mind.
'So this is Solar Meridian Blockage.'
Beneath the surface of consciousness.
As the inner image solidified, the energy clogging his body took form before his eyes.
Nine strands of searing chains, hot as the sun itself, bound his mana roads in a tangled web.
"Solar Meridian Blockage... I've heard the name, but damn, it's twisted up like a nightmare."
Peering inside, Ian thought to himself.
The reason it was legend in Agena wasn't because it didn't exist—but because everyone afflicted had died long ago.
To still be alive with mana roads this tightly constricted was astonishing.
Probably no one in all Agena could unravel roads this clogged.
Anyone except him, that is.
The Hegemon of the Northern Continent, Lucas Alexei, had mastered the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art—a technique built on extreme heat.
In his past life, Lucas's mana road talent had been average, but his innate yang constitution and divine strength made him a powerhouse.
That alone had let him wield the art's full might, etching his name in continental history.
So then.
What if he unleashed the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art using the heavenly heat of Solar Meridian Blockage?
What unimaginable power would it yield?
'...It might not just avenge Siegfried and his crew. I could surpass my past life's realm entirely.'
…Gulp!
Ian couldn't hide his excitement already.
Were those infuriatingly tangled chains starting to look like gift-wrapping ribbons? Or was that just his imagination?
'No, not imagination.'
This was conviction.
Wooooong!
Slowly.
Calming his swelling emotions, he began circulating the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art's mental method, ever so gradually.
Not to bulldoze the mana roads with its destructive nature.
Trying to force through without unbinding those brutish chains would shred every mana road in his body.
How much time passed?
Success at last: he'd loosened one end of a chain. A tiny rice-grain-sized orb of energy began forming in the mana core below his navel.
'...Ngh!'
Even just slightly loosening one end felt like his organs were tearing apart fiber by fiber.
Pain even the continent-conquering Hegemon struggled to endure.
'...No wonder the kid who owned this body never dreamed of martial arts.'
Descendant of a Martial Clan or not, this wasn't suffering anyone short of mastery could bear.
But stopping here meant nothing—death or rice, as they say.
Quitting now would leave him marinating in lethargy, forever the family's disgrace, just like before.
'That won't do. Can't lose face as an ex(?) Hegemon!'
Grinding his teeth, he forced the circulation.
Goal: fully unravel one entire strand from the nine.
Tiny as a bean though it was, in his past life, Lucas had woven chains that painted the heavens red.
Suppressing the agony, he meticulously directed energy toward the first chain.
Whoooosh!
The chain blazed with world-scorching intensity, menacing the feeble energy approaching without fear.
A head-on clash meant instant annihilation—the gap was overwhelming.
But Ian wasn't trying to subdue the Solar Meridian energy.
Subduing could wait, step by step.
First: hostage the mana roads and pry the bastard loose.
…Crack!
Sizzle!
A mere graze, and his Blood Demon Iron Chain energy steamed like it was burning away.
Dark as the night was, no one noticed—but a crimson mist, like blood, wafted from Ian's nostrils.
'Damn... it's vicious.'
Urk!
His mouth filled with pooling blood.
Ian—no, Lucas—had underestimated Solar Meridian Blockage.
No one in history had reached his heights.
Nor had anyone overcome Solar Meridian Blockage.
Why was that?
Ian needed to reflect.
Crunch!
His teeth ground as if to shatter.
'...Me? Lose to some puny energy?'
As if.
I am the Hegemon, Lucas.
I unified a quarter of Agena—the Northern Continent—and only fell to the false hero Siegfried after he rallied the continent's scum.
That overwhelming madness steeled Ian against the Solar Meridian energy.
Clink! Clink-clink!
As the chains ground together, Ian delved deeper into his inner world, trading blows in a back-and-forth struggle.
The vortex within spiraled ever more wildly—
'...?!'
Mid-overheat, a external passage connected at his head.
Only one reason for an external link during aura circulation:
Someone touching his body.
And only two reasons for that:
To help... or to harm.
Which?
'Open my eyes and see!'
Snap!
Ian snapped his eyes open, gripping the intruder's arm—the external passage.
Staring at the black shadow filling his vision, he instantly knew the purpose.
The latter.
"What are you?"
Yohan, Shadow Corps operative sworn to the Eldest Young Lord Alex Lichtenauer's service, couldn't comprehend the situation.
The Shadow Corps specialized in espionage, infiltration, assassination—from its very inception.
Only the talented could join, given its importance.
Yohan was among its most promising elites.
Yet this Second Young Lord Ian Lichtenauer—infamously incompetent—had sensed his stealthy approach.
'No, sensing the approach is one thing.'
Those eyes burned to incinerate the world.
The opposite of the Eldest Young Lord's icy chill— not the eyes of the worthless.
Prioritize action, assess after.
Shadow Corps protocol for variables.
True to his elite status, Yohan moved without hesitation.
Wooooong!
His surging aura dove straight for Ian's awakened head.
Or tried to.
"Ignoring my question to pull some stunt?"
Incredibly, Ian perfectly blocked Yohan's aura.
"!"
Not just blocked—he counterattacked, shoving an immense volume of ultra-condensed, searing aura into Yohan's body.
Aura incomparable to Yohan's own.
"Gaaahhhhhhh!"
A agonized scream ripped from Yohan's throat.
Shadow Corps missions often led to capture and torture.
Pain endurance training was mandatory.
Yet all that training felt worthless now.
Unprecedented agony blanked his mind.
"Kuh... ughhh…"
Hot.
So hot.
He desperately wanted to yank his hand from the Second Young Lord's head.
But.
"I'm asking: who the hell are you?"
The Second Young Lord smiled casually, gripping Yohan's wrist iron-tight.
That smile was demonic.
"Spill it nice and easy. Then I'll let you go painlessly."
A temptation to corrupt even gods.
"I... I..."
Under its pull, Yohan's mouth opened unwittingly.
…Crunch!
He bit down hard enough to bloody his lips.
He couldn't speak.
Speaking now would betray his lord, the Eldest Young Lord.
That, he absolutely could not allow.
"Oh?"
Ian could read Yohan's resolve plain as day.
"Fine. Die then."
No hesitation, no regret.
Ian shoved aura into Yohan's body without a second word.
Roooar!
"!"
Watching his body ignite alive, Yohan's eyes bulged.
The Second Young Lord was known as incompetent, too soft-hearted to swat a bug.
Even against an ambusher, no one thought him capable of burning a man alive without flinching.
Yes.
That was the widespread view of Ian Lichtenauer.
'He... fooled the entire world...'
Revealing his true nature before the Gate Opening Ceremony could get him killed by wary rivals.
With no support base, the Eldest Young Lord—or even collateral powerhouses—could eliminate him effortlessly if they wished.
But after the ceremony? It changed everything.
He'd stand as a formal Martial Clan member, independent.
Seventeen years of suppression—for this day?
Terrifying.
A truly fearsome man.
'This one's... dan... gerous...'
He had to warn them.
Tell them the greatest threat to his lord lurked closest.
With that final thought, Yohan's mind ceased amid his ashen remains.