Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Hunting the Earth Dragon, Karaktus
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‘Earth Dragon, Karaktus... the hunt begins.’
Ian finally understood why Paon, despite knowing the two empires' insidious schemes and possessing the power to rival them, was forced into such a passive stance.
Ian was well aware of the legends surrounding the Earth Dragon, Karaktus.
Its infamous reputation had spread even to the North Continent.
Karaktus was the colossal monster that had once pushed the Lichtenauer Martial Clan to the brink and threatened the very survival of the Aslan Kingdom.
With a plan this monumental to hunt such a beast, even Paon had no spare attention for anything else.
“Is there any predicted timeline for when Karaktus might awaken?”
“Hard to say... No one can know for sure. But the Great Demon faction was formed from monsters who follow Karaktus from the start. If those lunatics are starting to stir recently, estimates range from as soon as three years to as long as... ten years before it moves.”
Three to ten years.
A long time if it was the upper end, short if the lower.
Yet in the grand chess game of continental intrigue, Karaktus's revival was an incredibly dangerous reef.
If the Aslan Kingdom rashly provoked another continent and it coincided with Karaktus's awakening, the consequences would be dire.
No matter how formidable Paon was, simultaneously facing that monster and the two empires' relentless assaults would overwhelm anyone.
It could even lead to the collapse of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan and the Aslan Kingdom.
For now, they had to hunker down and silently endure the empires' machinations.
Before venturing into the sea of intrigue, it was wise to first eliminate the reef right in front of them.
“Earlier, you had two questions, right? Now, I'll answer the second one.”
Paon's words snapped Ian out of his wandering thoughts.
He had unintentionally learned of Karaktus's impending revival and Paon's grand preparations to slay it.
But all this stemmed from Ian's original question about how Paon knew of the North Continent's schemes.
His second question from the start had been why Paon hadn't revealed the hidden truths of his mission.
“You probably suspected as much already. But fine, I'll be direct. Just as you guessed, I was testing you.”
Paon began his calm explanation.
“Whether you could handle sudden crises with quick thinking, and how deeply you could read the board from a single situation. I wanted to gauge all of it, piece by piece. If your skills fell short... both Isabel and you might have died right there.”
“……!”
Paon's words were brutally cold.
“A lion never raises its cubs softly. If you died on a mere mission like this... you wouldn't deserve to succeed me.”
Paon stared straight into Ian's eyes.
“Ian. You've hidden your claws, humbled yourself, and endured for all those years with remarkable patience. Not just anyone possesses that. And through multiple missions, you've proven your capabilities aren't lacking. If you were from another family, you'd still need work... but as my son who practices the Hegemon's martial arts, I'll give you extra credit. You're more than qualified. I'll make it official next year, but I'll tell you now.”
Paon declared, gazing at Ian.
“Ian. I intend to grant you the qualification to become the patriarch of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan.”
Words too monumental to brush off lightly.
I have no idea what to make of this.
Just half a year ago, I was the family laughingstock, treated like a half-wit.
Ian had assumed he'd eventually become the heir since he planned to claim the clan anyway.
But this was far too soon.
It might even provoke backlash from the family members.
Reading Ian's confused expression, Paon added,
“Ah, don't misunderstand—I haven't told only you. Alex knows, of course, and so do the others called the Little Stars. Don't read too much into it. I'm not handing you the clan right now. If you can't surpass them all, forget it. Don't get ahead of yourself.”
Even so, it was too fast—just being elevated to candidate status.
Ian had heard even the eldest young lord, Alex, who was first in line, had to demonstrate achievements over two years before becoming a candidate.
Ian still stared at Paon's mouth.
With that silent plea in his eyes, Paon clicked his tongue softly.
“Tch... Remember what I said earlier? About hunting the Earth Dragon, Karaktus.”
As if he could forget something so recent.
“Hunting a monster that single-handedly wiped out seventy percent of the clan under our ancestors. Even for me, slaying it alone is impossible. To hunt it, we'll mobilize the clan's full might—including you and the other Little Stars.”
Paon met Ian's gaze.
“We'll prepare to minimize casualties... but no one, not even me, is safe from death in the Karaktus subjugation. There's no guarantee you'll be spared either. In other words, we can't afford to lose our central figures if any of you fall.”
‘Candidates who die in the Karaktus subjugation anyway wouldn't even be considered, no matter how many... so it doesn't matter much.’
Ian finally understood why Paon had delayed naming a successor for so long.
If the heir died in the subjugation, it would spark another wasteful power struggle.
Better to let them prove themselves openly and claim it through merit.
Of course, failure meant death.
Ruthlessly cold and harsh.
But that's precisely why Ian admired Paon's approach.
‘Three to ten years...’
Too short to fully regain his past power, but enough to recover a good portion.
‘Things are about to get busy.’
As Ian pondered his grand future plans, Paon flicked his hand dismissively, as if done speaking.
“Anyway, that's all I have to say. If you have nothing else, Ian, head back.”
“Yes. Then.”
As Ian slowly exited at Paon's dismissal,
“Oh, right.”
“……?”
“That doesn't mean I'll hand the heir candidate spot to just anyone. From now on, you'll be constantly tested—not just on external achievements for the Lichtenauer name, but on handling internal incidents too. Always think and ponder the optimal solutions. Like with the royal family's matter this time.”
Paon's words seemed somewhat vague, but Ian didn't take them lightly.
He knew Paon never spoke without meaning.
“I'll keep that in mind.”
After Ian left, silence enveloped the empty patriarch's chambers.
Alone, Paon chuckled lowly, clearly amused.
“Heh heh heh! I can't keep the successor position ambiguous forever. Ian, grow quickly. I believe you'll be the spark to purify this stagnant, rotten atmosphere. It won't be easy, but if your achievements so far aren't lies... you'll manage what's ahead.”
Of course, if he crumbled, that was just as far as he went.
But Paon trusted what he'd seen.
Don't disappoint me.
Muttering what might have been a prayer or a wish, Paon had told Ian one lie today.
The Earth Dragon Karaktus's revival and subjugation was a plan known only to Nedyr so far.
And the ambitions of the two empires' heroes hadn't been shared with anyone in the clan yet.
In other words,
the clan's Little Stars knew nothing of the secrets Paon had revealed to Ian.
The Titan Territory, where the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's estate stood imposingly, held a status far beyond that of a mere noble house.
True to its name, a heavy, profound aura permeated the land.
Perhaps because of it, the vast domain—excessive for a single noble house—felt cramped under the overwhelming presence of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan.
Worthy of being one of Aslan Kingdom's three great territories alongside the capital Shurton and the mage tower-ruled Megalovria, countless minor noble lands bordered Titan.
Among them, three major territories stood out prominently.
Without the Lichtenauer Martial Clan, they might have received the title of border marquis and become the new bulwark against the Great Flood's threats.
The Pallkion Sword House.
The Clonen Shadow House.
And the Kalia Weapon House.
The world called them the Three Great Vassal Houses—the Lichtenauers' three mighty spears and shields.
Heading northeast from Titan Territory led to Asnal, the domain ruled by the Kalia Weapon House.
At the very moment Ian and the Latent Dragon Squad were heading to the patriarch's chambers—
Flash!
A spatial magic circle flared beneath Asnal's walls, revealing a red-haired man.
Step, step!
“Sir! Young Lord Manus!”
Manus Kalia roughly returned the soldier's crisp salute and slowly made his way toward his family home.
Ding, dong!
Iron-forging sounds echoed faintly from workshops throughout the territory.
The Kalia weren't called the Weapon House for nothing.
Their martial techniques with all manner of armaments, and their obsessive pursuit of new weapons, bordered on madness.
Even the Clonen Shadow House, famed for hidden weapons and poisons, collaborated with the Kalia on projectiles—testament to their unparalleled expertise.
Before the lord's castle, two stern soldiers meticulously verified the identities of those seeking audience with Asnal's master.
Thud, thud!
Pushing past the queue with arrogant disregard, Manus drew frowns from the patiently waiting crowd.
“Ow! What the— who do you think...?”
“Shh, shh! Idiot, that's Young Lord Manus!”
Recognizing him, no one dared protest.
It was only natural.
In Asnal, Manus wielded power second only to the lord himself.
Manus loved this power.
The force that compelled everyone to swallow their complaints, no matter his actions.
He destroyed what pleased him and smashed what bored him.
Object or person—it didn't matter.
He was in a position to do so.
His endless craving for power drove the talented Manus ever upward.
In that sense, the man he'd just bumped into was truly unlucky.
“You there.”
Especially now, with Manus's pride in his authority bruised.
“What did you just say?”
“Y-Yes?”
“What did you say to me just now?”
“N-No, nothing! I'm sorry, Young Lord! I didn't mean to be rude—argh!”
The man couldn't finish his apology.
Ordinary folk lacked the endurance to bear a crushed shoulder.
Crunch!
A grotesque sound erupted from the man's shoulder under Manus's brutal grip.
“A-Aaaagh! My shoulder...!”
“Bark like that again, and I'll rip out your tongue next. Go on, keep yapping.”
“……!”
Under Manus's savage threat, the man choked back screams amid tears and cold sweat.
He staggered up, bowing frantically to Manus in apology.
His only crime was voicing mild discontent at Manus's line-cutting... but reasons didn't matter.
Only after witnessing that groveling misery did Manus seem satisfied.
He patted the man's injured shoulder.
“……!!”
“Watch your tongue from now on. Bark out of turn without knowing your place... and I'll have to use the stick, right?”
The man, already half-fainting from pain, couldn't respond.
But Manus magnanimously overlooked the rudeness.
He was generous, after all.
“Hmph.”
After his brief vent, Manus headed to the estate entrance.
Behind him, the man foamed and twitched on the ground, but Manus had already erased him from his mind.
An elephant doesn't concern itself with ants underfoot.