Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 79
Chapter Title: Golden Heaven Chain
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Thud, thud!
After wrapping up a brief conversation with Tamrang and Darta in the training grounds, Siegfried slowly made his way down an empty corridor.
Suddenly, he twisted the arm of a knight's suit of armor that decorated the hallway.
Groooan!
The floor beside the armor sank away, revealing a hidden passage.
Step!
As Siegfried stepped inside, the passage sealed itself up again as if it had never been there.
The imperial palace of Bergina was of absurdly massive proportions.
So it was hardly surprising that it housed secret chambers unknown even to ordinary servants.
How far had he gone?
Siegfried finally arrived at the deepest, most silent spot in the palace, where a massive stone wall etched with intricate patterns barred any further passage.
Click! Click!
As if he'd done it countless times before, Siegfried deftly touched the patterns on the wall.
Rumble rumble groan!
The thick stone door ground open, revealing the sight beyond.
It was a vast space, large enough to deserve the word "spacious."
Yet the chamber's emptiness was overshadowed by a single translucent pillar standing at its precise center.
Considering the chamber's location, it was a profoundly anticlimactic scene—but Siegfried didn't see it that way at all.
No, anyone who knew the true nature of the translucent membrane enveloping that pillar would think otherwise.
That pillar, which looked like it had been slapped together carelessly, was in fact an absurd construct layered with multiple Absolute Shields—an ultimate defensive spell—imprinted upon it.
Even if Siegfried himself tried to destroy it, he'd need to hammer away at full power for at least ten minutes to crack it. It was security of the highest order.
What could possibly require such obsessive precautions, sealed away almost like a prisoner?
Inside the pillar gleamed a cluster of golden chains, radiating an overwhelming presence.
Golden Heaven Chain
Agena's strongest and most infamous magic weapon, a divine armament that once plunged the continent's heroes into terror, lay dormant within.
Swoosh!
Siegfried arrived before the Golden Heaven Chain and trailed his hand along the pillar's transparent surface as he murmured.
"Lucas, did you hear that? Haha! It's been quiet for a while, but lately, word is your successor has shown up again. You really were a tenacious one, weren't you? Another fool's come along to follow in your footsteps, undeterred."
Ten years.
Ten years—a span long enough to dry up rivers and wear away mountains.
Even after all that time, even after relentless suppression, for people to still follow a mere mortal who wasn't a god... it was remarkable, setting aside whether they were enemies or not.
"Well, your skills were no joke, after all. Even I get chills sometimes when I think back on it."
Siegfried could never forget the moment he severed Lucas's head—the look in his eyes as he stared back at him.
He had pierced straight through Siegfried's ambitions, ambitions no one else had ever seen through.
Maybe that insight was the real reason he'd been so dangerous.
Thinking of Lucas always brought unpleasant memories flooding back.
Whenever that happened, Siegfried came to this chamber.
"But listen."
Thud!
Siegfried lightly tapped the pillar and intoned coldly.
"In the end, I was the one who brought you down. So this world should be filled with praise for Siegfried Duffel—not crawling with ghosts like your followers."
Siegfried was certain.
"I will erase everything you built here in Agena, be it people or ideals."
The day he succeeded in wiping out every trace of Lucas from Agena...
"I won't leave a single thing to remind anyone of you."
Siegfried himself would finally be free of the headaches that plagued him whenever Lucas came to mind.
Clop, clop!
The steady, rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels seemed to melt away all the tension from their bodies.
And with the breeze fluttering their hair through the window, drowsiness was inevitable.
Whether it was their luck or not, every day since leaving Shurton had been clear and sunny.
For a squad heading back to the clan, nothing could be better.
Whoooosh!
"Achoo!"
But the breeze, now laced with a growing chill, subtly heralded the approach of winter.
"Sniff! Ugh, cold."
Ralph rubbed around his nose and chafed his palms together.
"Yeah, it's cold, but think about it—this time, the results are huge compared to the effort. Totally worth it."
Sylvia rubbed the goosebumps prickling her skin as she replied to Ralph.
And as she said, unlike the trip to Shurton, a long procession of wagons trailed behind the Latent Dragon Squad's carriage, laden with riches.
There were the massive reparations from the royal family for Isabel Aslan's life, plus documents of commissions entrusted to them by various envoys, trusting in Elder Luyen's words and Ian's feat of rescuing Princess Isabel.
"Fire Mountain, Birch Forest, and now rescuing the princess... Wow, this blows past what a mid-tier strike team builds up in two or three years. This winter's gonna be cozy."
Ralph and the others' lips twitched with irrepressible grins.
They probably couldn't calm their excitement.
Normally, Ian might have chided them for slacking off, but not this time—he let it slide.
They'd worked hard all year, by his judgment, and the achievements were substantial.
'Yeah... for a while, no one's gonna pick fights with our squad.'
And that wasn't all.
Those riches and commissions were just the visible rewards.
Ian figured Paon wouldn't care much about them.
Other strike teams brought back endless commissions and loot anyway.
If Ian was right, Paon would value far more their success in mending ties with the royal family.
Had Ian failed to save Isabel, repairing those relations would have dragged on far longer, with much more pain.
Still, something had nagged at Ian the whole way back from Shurton.
'No matter how I look at it, the timing's too perfect.'
Paon had said: Attend the banquet for Isabel Aslan's birthday.
Demur had said: We used you and Isabel to improve relations with the royals.
At first listen, it sounded like a stage they'd set up together in advance.
A setup so Ian's test and reconciliation between the clan, the magic tower, and the royals could happen simultaneously.
But that plan had a critical flaw.
'...How could they be so sure the beastkin would show up?'
Exactly.
The plan only worked if they'd known long ago that beastkin were targeting Isabel Aslan.
If Ian went and no enemies appeared, there'd be no dramatic reconciliation.
If someone other than Ian or Alex had gone, the mission might have failed outright.
In other words, Paon and Demur...
'It was all scripted from the start. They knew someone was after Isabel all along.'
Pfft!
"...Man, I don't back down easy either, but these guys are on another level of infuriating."
Ian chuckled dryly, piecing together the truth late but surely.
Southern continent, Kingdom of Bestrika, Aslan.
Maybe it was a lifetime facing the otherworldly disaster lands—but no leader in this small kingdom was a pushover.
That only made him hungrier for it all.
"Huh? Captain, what is it?"
Dane asked, catching Ian's mutter.
"Nothing. Just... made me want something even more."
The harder and tougher the path, the sweeter the prize.
As Titan Territory came into view, flames of ambition to devour the clan reignited in Ian's eyes.
Misreading that gaze, perhaps?
Dane subtly hid something behind his back and edged away.
"...N-no, I can't give this up. No way. You wouldn't even use it anyway, Captain."
"...?"
What the hell was this out of nowhere?
Ian's eyes drifted carelessly to Dane's back.
Then he saw it.
The magic reagents Dane had hoarded, stacks of spellbooks piled high.
Glancing at the others, they flinched like they'd touched fire and tried hiding theirs too.
Of course, it didn't work.
Maybe it was because he'd been dying for spoils?
Ian eyed them coldly and said flatly.
"...Hand it all over. Like always, we'll split the loot evenly."
"...Tch!"
Grumbling but watching items returned to the wagons one by one, Ian added at the end.
"Helena. Empty out the booze you've got stashed too."
"...Eeeek..."
All rewards from the palace were spoils—where did she get off pocketing them?
As Ian ruthlessly claimed everything, the Latent Dragon Squad finally crossed Titan Territory's walls.
Glance, glance!
Once past the clan walls, the Latent Dragon Squad met countless sidelong stares.
"Latent Dragon Squad's back, huh."
"Look at all that treasure. They really saved the princess who got in trouble in Shurton this time."
No, they didn't stop at glances—people whispered nonstop while staring.
News from Shurton had already spread widely through the Lichtenauer Martial Clan.
And that meant a lot.
Previous missions had felt like the squad punching above their weight successfully—but this was different entirely.
"Shurton missions have been a pain lately. Looks like the kids pulled off something huge?"
Right. Shurton, home of the Aslan royals, inevitably tangled with countless clan strike teams directly or indirectly.
Mending ties with the royals meant smoother ops there from now on.
They could feel the Latent Dragon Squad's achievements in their bones.
"I saw some promise back at Fire Mountain... Guess these wild brats have finally shaped up."
Recalling their skeptical looks back then, it was night and day—genuinely favorable now.
Were their changing gazes the reason?
They tried to stay composed, but their twitching lips gave them away.
The Latent Dragon Squad hadn't started out wanting to go astray.
If anything, few burned with as much desire to rise.
But repeated setbacks, dreams crushed not by choice but by force, had worn them down until they quit.
Now, with wings sprouted, they clustered tighter around Ian than ever.
Heads held a bit higher, necks stiffening as they headed for the patriarch's quarters.
"Kahahahaha! Looking pretty pleased with yourself, Ralph!"
An unwelcome intruder called out to the Latent Dragon Squad.
More precisely, to Ralph.
"...!"
At the familiar yet loathed voice, Ralph's face hardened like stone.
Seeing Ralph—who was usually chatty and smirking— like this for the first time, the squad's eyes naturally followed to him.
'Ah.'
Everyone there instantly understood why Ralph wore that expression.
The Latent Dragon members were all ones whose own dreams had been shattered.
Not by their will, but others'.
The man calling Ralph, arms crossed, had red hair fluttering like roaring flames.
On his back hung a massive halberd and mace exuding presence.
No one in the clan wouldn't know him.
Manus Kalia.
Eldest son of the Kalia Weapon Clan, one of the three vassal houses—and one of the clan's little stars.
And the man who'd clipped Ralph's wings.
"...Manus."
"Nah, wrong. Kahahat! Ralph, forgotten who I am after so long?"
As Manus approached slowly and clapped a hand on Ralph's shoulder, squeezing, Ralph's knees buckled reflexively.
"...Urk!"
"Forgot to call me 'bro,' huh? Man, what was Uncle Vito thinking with your upbringing? No respect for elders."
His words were playful, but Manus's eyes weren't smiling at all.
Manus pressed down to force Ralph to kneel.
"...Oh?"
"Don't... treat me like trash."
Even sweating buckets, Ralph gritted his teeth and held firm; a faint killing intent flickered in Manus's eyes.
"Kahahat, our little Ralph... grew a lot while I blinked, huh?"
Crunch!
Manus's fingers dug into Ralph's shoulder flesh.
"...!"
"Let's see just how much."
The moment Manus channeled aura into it.
Grab!
A hand seized Manus's arm.
"...Huh?"
Who dared lay hands on the Kalia Weapon Clan's heir?
Manus glared, and into his vision entered a youth with black and white swords at his waist.
"That's enough."
Ian Lichtenauer.
The Hegemon of his past life, direct clan lineage, stepped in to intervene.