A Trace Left Behind

A thunderous blast ripped through the cavern. The 10th Apostle unleashed a terrifying flash of blood aura, shredding hundreds of spells in a single stroke.

Wounds covered him from head to toe, yet his eyes burned with a madness even darker than before.

"Merlin!"

"You're too late. The date's already over."

Merlin smiled sweetly, still holding the Soul Sealing Jade that had locked Raon inside.

"You crazy bitch—to the very end!"

The 10th Apostle ground his teeth and thrust his white spear downward. A spear-strike condensed with enormous blood aura crashed toward Merlin's head.

"That's enough for today."

Merlin flicked her fingers. Her entire body sparkled like a constellation, then faded into nothing.

"You won't escape!"

"Clingy men aren't popular."

"Shut up!"

The 10th Apostle kicked off empty air and charged straight into the cavern. Terrifying explosions erupted in a chain from underground.

"Ugh…!"

Dorian pushed himself up on trembling hands. He hammered a fist into his barely working legs and ran across the collapsing earth.

Damn it!

I prayed this wouldn't happen…

He had lived closer to Raon than anyone since their trainee days, and he knew the man better than anyone. Raon always looked like he was navigating crises with cool, calculated wisdom—but he was always pushing himself past the limit.

He was a fool who thought of other people before his own life. Dorian had swallowed his terror and hidden, and now the worst possible outcome had come to pass.

Vice-leader…

Even as he was being sealed inside Merlin's box, Raon had been worrying about Dorian, his eyes telling him to run. That was the kind of man he was. Dorian would have thrown his life away to help him—but there had been nothing he could do.

Th-this is the best I can manage.

If he dumped out everything in his Belly Pouch, there might have been some device that could stop that box—but it was meaningless now. Even if Raon got out, there would be no escaping those two.

The only thing left was to think of a way to find Raon again, and to move.

"Merlin!"

"Hhk—!"

Dorian swallowed dryly at the 10th Apostle's howl echoing from the cavern. If the situation hadn't been this desperate, the sound would have dropped him to his knees in tears.

I-I have to run.

If that monster caught him now, dying wouldn't even be the problem. The very possibility of finding Raon again would vanish. He wouldn't be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠able to pass that on.

As fast as I can—

Ah!

Dorian had been trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the 10th Apostle when he stopped cold.

He told me not to move at times like this…

The words Raon had given him during training on Bukmang Mountain not long ago rose unbidden in his mind.

Dorian recalled the Focus Enhancement Training he had endured with Raon and clamped down on his breath. Like a dead man. No—like a dying one. He breathed in the slowest, thinnest thread of air he could manage and hid himself at the base of a wall.

He was right.

They said the 10th Apostle was a Grandmaster. Even if Dorian made it out of the city, the man might still catch him. Playing dead and hiding was far better.

Had Raon known something like this would happen? Training Dorian had thought useless was saving his life. Gratitude toward the man welled up in him all over again.

Lord Raon always thought ahead.

Just in case…

He pulled a small glass vial of red liquid from his Belly Pouch, tucked it inside his sleeve, clapped a hand over his mouth, and crouched even lower.

BOOM. BOOOOM!

The sound of the enraged 10th Apostle smashing everything in sight thundered through the streets. The roar went on for a long time before it finally died away, and the mad aura the Apostle had been pouring out scattered like dust.

"Hah…"

Dorian only stood up a full thirty minutes after that. His flesh was still trembling. A coward like him had pushed too hard; his heart hammered so violently it refused ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to settle.

"I'm gonna die."

He clutched his swimming head—he hadn't been able to breathe properly—and started toward wherever the Light Wind Squad would be.

Just in case, he killed his presence, took a roundabout route, and headed out of the city.

He was just about to leave when a group of a little over thirty people came in. There were a few faces he didn't recognize, but most of them were the Light Wind Squad.

"Squad leaders!"

Dorian ran toward Burren, fighting back the tears that tried to burst out of him.

"You little—!"

"You fatass! Where the hell have you been!"

Burren and Marta came running with their faces twisted. They were angry—but their eyes were full of worry.

"Kh…!"

Dorian looked into the eyes of the Light Wind Squad and bit down hard on his lip.

"L-Lord Raon…"

He pounded his chest and forced out the breath that felt jammed in his lungs.

"Lord Raon has been kidnapped."

"……"

"Fuck…"

Burren and Marta dropped their gazes to the ground, fists clenched tight.

"Goddamn it!"

"So it really was…"

"The one fighting the 10th Apostle. He was wearing an old woman's mask. That was Merlin, the one after the Vice-leader."

The Light Wind Squad had seen the 10th Apostle and Merlin fighting. They seemed to have already guessed how it would end.

"You stupid bastard! What the hell did you think you were going to do between two Grandmasters!"

Marta smashed her fist into the ground. It was a blow loaded with feeling instead of aura, and it struck every heart present.

"He sacrificed himself again to keep us alive."

Burren ground his teeth. He clenched his fist until it bled and bowed his head.

"Ah… ah…"

Runaan simply sank to the ground, her clasped hands trembling. She looked like she had fallen into a full panic.

"Which side took him?"

"Eden's Merlin. He was dragged into a strange box, and…"

Dorian told them everything he had seen with his own eyes.

"Hah—spatial teleportation, of all things…"

"Then finding him is impossible, isn't it?"

"No! If we just move fast enough…"

"The 10th Apostle lost him. A mage of Merlin's caliber doesn't leave traces even when she teleports…"

"Raon…"

"Damn it!"

The Light Wind Squad's faces went deathly pale. They stammered with vacant, unfocused eyes, as if their souls had left them.

"Kh…"

"Shit!"

"Raon. That damn bastard…"

Here and there, the sound of people choking back sobs could be heard.

"Th-there is a way to find him."

At Dorian's cracked voice, the Light Wind Squad's eyes flared bright.

"A way? What way!"

Runaan, who had been sitting on the ground, popped up like a weighted doll and seized Dorian's head.

"Dorian!"

"Spit it out! Hurry!"

"Open your mouth already!"

The entire Light Wind Squad swarmed him, grabbing his collar, his shoulders, his arms.

"A-ah, let go!"

Dorian stepped back and pulled the small glass vial of red liquid from his pocket.

"A glass bottle?"

"What is that?"

"It's liquid made from crushed Snake-Tail Red Peony."

He opened the vial. A faint, delicate fragrance tickled the tip of the nose.

"Continental Tracking Scent!"

A young woman wearing a rose eyepatch, who had been standing among the Light Wind Squad, cried out.

"You sprayed him with Continental Tracking Scent!"

"Huh? This person is…"

Dorian tilted his head. He had never seen her before.

"This is Denning Rose, the Zieghart branch manager of the Black Market. Explain first."

"Ah—like she said, this is called Continental Tracking Scent. Once you spray it, they say you can pick it up all the way from House Zieghart in the north to House Robert Territory in the south. It's a tracking liquid."

"Th-then you…"

"No way!"

"Yes. I sprayed Lord Raon with this liquid before he went into the box."

Dorian nodded with a faint smile.

"Dorian."

"You little—!"

"Since when does a coward like you—!"

Runaan, Burren, and Marta threw their arms around him, and the Light Wind Squad smiled as hope took shape in their eyes.

"But that barely smells like anything. Can you even track it?"

"A strong scent fades fast. You need a special artifact to pick this fragrance up."

Dorian nodded and pulled a ring from his Belly Pouch—an artifact with a red gem set in the center.

"If you wear this ring, you can smell the Snake-Tail Red Peony. Meaning no matter where Young Master Raon is, we can go find him…"

"I see."

A chill voice from behind them sent a shiver down every spine.

In the Light Wind Squad's horrified pupils, the figure of the 10th Apostle was reflected.

"Hhk—!"

Dorian shoved the tracking scent and the ring into his Belly Pouch in a flash. He tried to run, but his body began to freeze from the neck down. Before his hands locked up, he gave his sleeve a quick shake.

"You're coming with me."

The 10th Apostle seized the nape of Dorian's neck—Dorian, who had gone still as a statue—and lifted him up.

"No!"

"Die!"

Runaan and Marta reacted first. They drew their swords in a single motion and charged the 10th Apostle.

A dull impact cracked the air. The 10th Apostle flicked his hand. Blood aura blooming from a casually dropped knife-hand streaked for both of their hearts.

"You bastard!"

"Hup—!"

Runaan threw up a wall of frost in front of Marta, whose eyes had gone wild.

A savage crash. The ferocious blood aura smashed the frost wall to pieces without mercy, and Runaan was hurled backward, coughing blood.

"Kh…!"

Marta saw the look in Runaan's eyes telling her to keep going, and she erupted into a berserk state. She detonated every last drop of her aura and brought her sword down.

A sharp crack. The 10th Apostle flicked a finger. A thread of blood aura shot from his index finger, shattered Marta's sword, and punched through her shoulder.

"Open the formation! Stop him even if it kills you!"

Burren and the Light Wind Squad bit down on their tongues and charged. Every one of them poured their ultimate techniques to the extreme, ready to die.

"How troublesome."

The 10th Apostle extended his hand. A wave of blood aura rose from his grip and smashed the Light Wind Formation apart in an instant. The swordsmen all coughed blood and slammed into the ground.

"Hhgh…"

Marta didn't even seem to register her wounds. She bit her lip and raised her sword. Through her torn uniform, a worn old water-drop necklace swayed.

"I-I'll kill you myself! I'm not giving you Raon, and I'm not giving you Dorian!"

She screamed and thrust her sword.

A soft catch. The 10th Apostle caught Marta's weakly falling blade and narrowed his eyes at her necklace.

"So that's it. From back then."

"Kh…"

He clicked his tongue briefly and flicked a finger. Marta rolled across the ground like a doll with its strings cut.

"Forget Raon. Forget this one too."

The 10th Apostle dusted off his hands, and a crimson pool welled up at his feet.

"That's the only way you'll live."

Before the words had even finished, he and Dorian sank into the pool.

"AAAAAH!"

Runaan screamed and crawled forward, pounding the earth where the 10th Apostle had vanished with her bare hands. Blood ran from her palms. Flesh tore away. She did not stop.

"Khgh…"

Burren wiped the blood running from his mouth and dropped down beside her. He too began to claw at the ground, as if he had lost his mind.

"Dorian…"

"Dorian!"

"Those sons of bitches!"

Except for the unconscious Marta, the rest of the Light Wind Squad's swordsmen crowded in beside them, striking and pounding the earth.

Denning Rose watched them hammer the ground—then her eyes flew wide at a glass vial rolling in from the right.

"Wait!"

She snatched up the vial and called out to all of them.

"With this, we can find him!"

"B-but the ring…"

"We use Continental Tracking Scent as well. As long as we have this fragrance, we can make a tracking artifact!"

She had no idea why the Continental Tracking Scent that had been in the 10th Apostle's hands was here—but with this, they could track him well enough.

Denning Rose's uncovered eye flashed with a vivid light.

Dorian rolled his eyes and swallowed hard.

This place is…

A spotless white room, pillars painted as if in blood, and a noble-looking dais raised above them. Even someone as slow as he was could tell who owned this chamber.

The 10th Apostle took his place at the center of the room and dropped to one knee.

"This disciple greets his master."

Kh—!

His ominous hunch had been right. There was only one person an Apostle would call master. The owner of this grotesque room was the one being Dorian had never, in his entire life, wanted to meet: the White Blood Cult Leader.

A soft stir of air.

Behind the red beaded curtain veiling the dais, a shadow bloomed—the pronounced curves of a woman.

There had been no exertion of power at all, and yet her presence settled over the room as if she had risen from the earth itself.

This is…

His paralyzed jaw seemed to tremble. A mystique of a completely different grain from Glenn's dominating pressure spread through the entire chamber.

That she could project an atmosphere like this while still hidden behind a red curtain was staggering.

"The seventh has returned to the Blood God's embrace."

A voice that felt warm flowed gently from behind the curtain. Joy and sorrow, tenderness and contempt, all seemed to dwell in it at once.

"I am sorry."

The 10th Apostle lowered his eyes and bowed his head.

"Is there anything to be sorry for? That child was simply lacking. The Blood God will embrace even a child like that, so think no more of it."

Laughter lived in the White Blood Cult Leader's voice. She was smiling even though her disciple had died. Dorian could not understand it. It only made her more terrifying.

"And Raon Zieghart?"

"Hah… when I found him…"

The 10th Apostle opened his eyes and recounted everything that had happened in Gransavil.

"Merlin. Merlin, is it. Interfering again."

The White Blood Cult Leader's voice was still affectionate, but a thin irritation and anger had seeped into it.

"So then, who is that child?"

"He sprayed Raon with Continental Tracking Scent, and he claimed to have an artifact that can track it, so I brought him."

"An artifact?"

"Yes. It's in that Belly Pouch, but I cannot get it out."

The 10th Apostle frowned at Dorian's Belly Pouch.

"It appears to be a special artifact."

"How interesting."

The White Blood Cult Leader made a gentle gesture from behind the curtain, and Dorian's body floated up. He was drawn toward the dais as if on a string.

Hiiiek!

Dorian screamed inside his own head. His heart clenched so tight he thought it would stop then and there.

I-I'll die for sure. But still…

I can't hand over the ring.

For the sake of every kindness Raon had ever shown him, he could not give up that ring. He had left the tracking scent in his sleeve behind. They would be able to make another tracking artifact.

Everyone would come to save Raon. All he had to do was endure here.

A soft landing. Dorian settled in front of the dais as gently as he had risen. The mana circuits the 10th Apostle had locked seemed to open; his arms and legs began to move again.

"I-if you kill me, the pouch won't open! The ring will never—"

"You've had a hard time, haven't you."

"Huh…?"

He had expected the torture to start at once, but only a velvety voice flowed from the White Blood Cult Leader.

"To hide yourself on a battlefield like that, all to help your master. How admirable."

A hand reached out from behind the red curtain. A hand so white and beautiful it raised goosebumps stroked his dust-caked hair. Warmth and softness made his jaw tremble.

"I know how much you've suffered."

"Nngh, even so, it's no— ah!"

He lifted his head to say it was useless—and met the obsidian-black eyes visible through a small gap in the curtain. The moment he looked into those pupils, which seemed to hold darkness itself, his mind went blank.

"That's…"

The White Blood Cult Leader extended the hand that had been stroking Dorian's hair.

"Uh…"

Dorian nodded with vacant eyes, pulled the ring set with the red gem from his Belly Pouch, and held it out to the White Blood Cult Leader.

"Thank you."

At her gesture, Dorian toppled over sideways.

"The path of finding a new disciple seems like it will be quite entertaining."

She looked at the ring glowing red and smiled faintly.

"I'll get to see some faces I've missed for a long time."

Chad, Head of the Flying Swallow Pavilion, strode toward the Audience Chamber faster than he ever had in his life. Ordinarily he would have knocked and waited, but he opened the door and went straight in.

"Head of the Flying Swallow Pavilion?"

"Lord Chad?"

Sheryl, who had been holding Rimer by the collar, and Roen, smiling behind her, both tilted their heads.

"Oh! You here to save me?"

Rimer waved with a bruised eye.

"Forgive me! This cannot wait!"

Chad didn't answer the three of them. He dropped to one knee in the center of the chamber, where Glenn could see him.

"An urgent report from the Gransavil Black Market. Th-the Vice-leader of the Light Wind Squad has been kidnapped by Eden's Merlin!"

Chad's lips trembled as he spoke. He lifted his head, tense, with no idea what reaction would come.

A crushing pressure filled the hall.

Rimer's eyes, which had been swimming with mischief, flashed like a ghost's in an instant. Murderous intent thickened in Sheryl's gaze. The air around Roen sank as cold as a sheet of ice.

"In detail."

Glenn's expression did not change. It was the same cold face as the first time one saw him—and that made it more frightening.

"Tell me everything."

"Y-yes. The Vice-leader of the Light Wind Squad learned that an array had been installed across all of Gransavil, and…"

Chad summarized the letter Denning Rose had sent as briefly as he could and delivered his report.

"Eden. These pieces of trash…"

"We left them alone, so they think heaven and earth are their own house?"

"It seems we've let them live too long."

The aura rolling off Rimer, Sheryl, and Roen grew stronger. The three of them's rage was shaking the Audience Chamber.

"Chad."

"Y-yes…"

Goosebumps rose over Chad's entire body at Glenn's even voice. In that sunken tone, he felt a fury greater than the other three combined.

"The Hwiseok Necklace I gave Raon. Its response?"

"I looked. It's reacting from empty air and from the sea. It seems to be in a place where space and time have been warped."

The Hwiseok Necklace Glenn had given Raon was a detector that could track a location anywhere on the continent, but the signal wasn't coming through properly. He appeared to be inside an extremely high-level barrier.

"…Then he cannot be found?"

"No, my lord."

Chad shook his head quickly.

"What we need right now is a physical location, and a boy named Dorian is said to have solved that with Continental Tracking Scent. If we use both the necklace and the tracking scent, we can find him. The Black Market will take an active role as well, so it should not take long."

One of the Black Market Master's successors had said they would begin the search the moment the tracking-scent artifact was finished. They were specialists at finding people and things. They would surely locate him.

"Sheryl. Assemble every executive in the house. Roen. Summon the heads of the vassal families."

"Yes!"

"Yes."

Both of them left the Audience Chamber with chilling light in their eyes.

"Chad. Mobilize the full strength of the divisions and the squads if you have to, and grasp the movements of Eden and the White Blood Cult. As fast as you can."

"The White Blood Cult as well, my lord?"

"The White Blood Cult has sorcery that twists the laws of the world. If they have a ring that follows the tracking scent, the odds of them discovering Raon's location are high."

"Ah…"

"And the child kidnapped on that side is a Zieghart as well."

"Y-yes, sir!"

Chad clenched his fist and stood. Pride in the name of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠House Zieghart surged through him, and his heart pounded hard.

"Rimer, you will assist Chad."

"……"

Rimer took his place behind Chad without a word. The sly air he always wore had sunk as cold as a north wind.

"And…"

"I will not inform the Annex."

Rimer bowed to Glenn, then left the Audience Chamber with Chad in tow.

"Hah…"

Glenn bit his lip and gripped the armrest of the throne. He squeezed so hard the red iron crumbled to powder and drifted away.

"Eden. White Blood Cult."

His eyes gleamed the color of blood.

"Nnh…"

Raon narrowed his eyes at a ceiling that looked as if it had been built from logs.

This is…

A faint headache pulsed, and he remembered being caught by the thing Merlin had used—the Soul Sealing Jade.

To think she'd even burn a legendary-grade consumable.

A legendary artifact, rare beyond rare—and among those, a consumable that vanished after a single use. She had spent it on him. He had clearly underestimated that madwoman far too much.

"Mm…"

He sat up. When he pushed aside a blanket as soft as down, spotless white clothes came into view. Merlin must have changed him.

The necklace is here. Wait? The swords too…?

Not only the Hwiseok Necklace, but his neatly folded uniform, the Requiem Sword, and the Heavenly Sky Sword were all sitting by his pillow, exactly as they should be.

What is this?

Did she actually kidnap me?

The uniform and the necklace were one thing. Why she had left even the Requiem Sword and the Heavenly Sky Sword, he could not understand.

So you've finally woken up?

Wrath shoved his face in, posed as if ready to take notes.

Now then. What will you do next? Teach This King your plan.

The little creature wore an intrigued smile, as if he now believed Raon planned and executed every last thing that happened.

A plan, huh…

Raon clicked his tongue, taking hold of the Heavenly Sky Sword.

If you think about it, this isn't bad.

Listening to Merlin and the 10th Apostle ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talk, he had already decided that if he was going to be kidnapped, Eden was far better than the White Blood Cult.

They said the helmets have the souls of powerful monsters in them.

He had been fighting a self-proclaimed Demon King since he was a child. Whoever was inside those helmets, he was confident he wouldn't lose.

The odds of escaping are more than good enough.

He might not just get out of this place. He might go back stronger than before.

As expected of Wrath, who gives so generously… wait?

Raon was smiling as he took the Requiem Sword—when a sharp gaze pricked the back of his neck.

A low hum. At the Requiem Sword's warning, he spun and drew in the same motion.

A ringing clash. Above the pitch-black longsword that had caught the Requiem Sword floated a helmet of stark white bone. Golden flames flashed in its hollow eye sockets, exhaling the stench of death.

"The Death Knight's helmet…"