A Mother's Necklace
Raon stared at Marta, her eyes bloodshot, and his jaw went slack.
"Your mother was on that battlefield?"
Marta had never once spoken of her own past. From the atmosphere alone, they had only been able to guess that the 10th Apostle had attacked her village.
They had pitied the people who had been taken, knowing they would become feed for the blood demons. Never in his wildest thoughts had he imagined she would say she had seen her mother there.
"Yeah."
Marta nodded. Her pitch-black eyes trembled violently.
"My mom was there."
"Who was she?"
"......"
Marta did not answer. She looked up at the magic lamp hanging from the ceiling.
"She looked younger. Prettier. But it was definitely my mom. There's no way I wouldn't know her..."
She bit down hard on her lip, insisting she could not have been mistaken.
"Marta?"
When he called her name, her gaze dropped. Her eyes had gone vacant, as if filled with despair and emptiness.
"The White Blood Cult Leader."
"...What?"
Raon let out a groan. The name was so far beyond anything he had expected that his mind went blank, and not a single thought would form.
"Huh?"
Runaan startled and stumbled backward. The water bottle sitting on the floor toppled over with a dull thud.
"The White Blood Cult Leader was wearing my mother's face."
Marta spoke with conviction. Her dying eyes seemed to scream.
"You mean they looked alike?"
"Not alike. The White Blood Cult Leader is my mom."
"What are you talking about..."
Raon started to shake his head, then his eyes fell on the old teardrop necklace in Marta's hand.
That necklace...
It was the same necklace that had slipped from her collar during the brutal summer training of their trainee days. She treasured it so much that he had seen her tuck it back inside her clothes the instant it came loose.
I've seen that before. Ah!
Raon's trembling legs gave out, and he sank to the floor.
The White Blood Cult Leader. She had it...
When the White Blood Cult Leader had summoned the Blood God and clashed with Glenn at full power, a necklace had slipped from her dress and swung in the air.
The color was different, but it was the exact same shape as the one clutched in Marta's hand.
Come to think of it...
Their appearances were similar, too. The White Blood Cult Leader, like Marta, had black hair and black eyes. It came back to him now. He had thought the Cult Leader resembled someone, and that someone was Marta, standing right in front of him.
Marta's features, unlike her personality, carried an elegant quality. If she aged a little more and let a sultry allure show through, she would look strikingly like the White Blood Cult Leader.
Then the White Blood Cult Leader really is Marta's mother?
No words would come. The thought that Marta's conviction was the truth hammered through his mind.
Raon swallowed dryly.
What in the world...
He had offered to hear her troubles, but he had no idea what to say to her. The fact that he had never lived a normal life in his previous existence was catching his ankle at a time like this.
Wrath. What am I supposed to do? Don't you have anything I can tell her?
Sh-should This King feed her a meal?
......
Wrath had not lived a normal life either, so of course he was no help at all.
"Marta. The White Blood Cult Leader..."
"She is not my mom."
Marta suddenly muttered something that made no sense and hung her head again.
"That face and that body are definitely my mother's. But what's inside her is some other bitch."
She scraped her nails across the floor as her hands curled into fists.
"My mom doesn't smile like that. She couldn't even curse at someone, let alone kill them. There's no way my mom became the head of those blood demon bastards!"
"......"
Runaan stepped closer and wrapped her hands firmly around Marta's trembling ones. The usual Marta would have shaken her off, but she quietly accepted Runaan's warmth.
Raon rubbed his neck, his eyes narrowing.
Then the White Blood Cult Leader's soul entered Marta's mother's body?
Having experienced Eden's helmets firsthand, he could not dismiss the idea as impossible. Whether it was necromancy, blood arts, or sorcery, a monster of that caliber would have found a way to transfer a soul no matter what it took.
That's right. Such a thing is hardly difficult.
Wrath clicked his tongue, as if the whole business displeased him.
The Demon Realm has no shortage of such parasites. They are hungry ghosts who covet healthy bodies with their filthy souls.
...You tried to steal my body the same way.
Raon smacked his lips. When it came down to it, Wrath was not so different.
Th-This King came because of YOUR wish! You wanted this!
I did not.
You DID! You damned fiend of a brat!
Fine. Whatever you say.
GRAAAAAAAAH!
Wrath clutched his head and screamed.
Move aside a bit.
Raon shoved the thrashing Wrath out of the way and rubbed his fingers together in thought.
Then was that why the White Blood Cult takes people away?
After raiding a village or a city, the White Blood Cult killed half the inhabitants and dragged the other half back to their headquarters.
Until now he had assumed it was some matter of doctrine, but after hearing Marta's words, it occurred to him that they might have been searching for a body the Cult Leader's soul could inhabit.
Is there a way to reverse it?
Nngh. Ordinarily, no. But it depends upon the circumstances.
Circumstances? What circumstances?
The fact that the possibility was not zero made him seize on Wrath at once.
It depends on whether they swallowed the original owner's soul whole, or whether they locked it away.
Wrath squirmed, telling him to let go, but kept talking.
You experienced it yourself this time. You absorbed a half-dragon's soul, so that cannot be reversed. But if the owner's soul is imprisoned within the mental world, there is a chance they might yet live.
So that means there's no chance Marta's mother is still alive...
Raon frowned. A woman who regarded people as less than insects would never have left a soul alive.
That is not necessarily so.
Hm?
This King spoke to you of the law of causality before.
Right. Cause and effect.
Great power carries a rebound equal to itself. Just because she is wicked does not guarantee she killed the body's original soul. There is no telling what contract or conditions may have been imposed.
Wrath looked at Marta, who was trembling at the nape of her neck, and muttered that the outcome could not be known.
"Hnn."
Raon bit his lip lightly. He could not pass Wrath's words on to Marta and give her false hope.
If I only had something that could give her some kind of certainty...
He was sighing inwardly when his eyes fell on the necklace in Marta's hand.
Wait...
Something was off. If Marta's mother had been stripped of everything by the White Blood Cult Leader, there was no reason for that necklace to still be worn. It was neither pretty nor expensive, and it possessed no special power — just an old necklace.
The fact that she was wearing a worn necklace that had nothing to do with her suggested that, just as Wrath had said, Marta's mother might have been pushed aside and imprisoned in the mental world.
A low hum rolled through the air. The Requiem Sword at his waist suddenly began to vibrate, as if to confirm those very words.
"Marta."
Raon clenched his fist and rose to his feet.
"It's not as if there's no way to save her at all."
"What kind of nonsense is that..."
"That necklace."
He pointed to the teardrop necklace in Marta's grip.
"The White Blood Cult Leader was wearing that necklace too."
At those words, Marta slowly lifted her head. A faint drop of light kindled in her dying eyes.
"If the Cult Leader had truly eaten your mother's soul, there'd be no reason for her to wear that necklace, would there? It's close to impossible — but that doesn't mean there's no hope."
He relayed his conversation with Wrath as it was, and Marta's eyes brightened a little more.
Ah, wait.
Raon averted his gaze from Marta's eyes and grimaced.
We don't even know if the White Blood Cult Leader is still alive...
She lives.
Wrath answered lightly, as if it were nothing of note.
That one is alive, and so is that half-baked Pride.
The outskirts of the commercial city of Camelun.
A great many people had gathered before a mansion that was at once antique and lavish.
A merchant passing along the road tilted his head at the crowd standing around the estate. Unable to contain his curiosity, he approached the old man beside him.
"Wasn't this place empty? What's everyone gathered here for?"
"The Northern Annihilation King is staying here."
The old man looked up at the mansion's highest floor and let out a short breath.
"Th-the Northern Annihilation King — you mean Glenn Zieghart?"
Following the old man's gaze, the merchant recoiled in shock.
"Tsk! Calling his name so carelessly — watch yourself!"
"Ah, I-I'm sorry."
"His presence here is why all these peddlers have flocked in, desperate to get in line with him somehow."
The old man gave a dry chuckle, as if it were a futile effort.
"But why did the Northern Annihilation King come to Camelun?"
"You don't even know that? Where have you been, and what have you been doing?"
"I just came up from House Robert today."
The merchant showed him the spices he had brought from the south.
"Ah. Then I suppose you wouldn't know."
The old man nodded and pointed west.
"Those Eden bastards had set up a branch west of Camelun. And there..."
He proceeded to recount every rumor that had spread through Camelun.
"H-he faced the White Blood Cult Leader and Tatcheon all by himself? The Northern Annihilation King? Heavens..."
The merchant's mouth fell open. There had once been many who ranked Glenn Zieghart as the greatest on the continent, but as House Zieghart's activities had gone quiet, more and more people had begun to place other Absolutes above him.
Recently, plenty had even dismissed the Northern Annihilation King as an old man put out to pasture. No one had imagined he still possessed the martial might to face two heads of the Five Demons alone.
"That isn't all."
The old man twirled a finger.
"His grandson, Raon Zieghart, accomplished a feat no less than the Northern Annihilation King's. While he was being held captive, he killed the 5th Apostle to save the hostages, and they say he even cut down an Upper Master swordsman called the Gold Masked Snake. And he did it right in front of the White Blood Cult Leader and Tatcheon."
He grinned, saying the young swordsman's spirit was remarkable.
"Honestly, I think that young man is even more impressive. That isn't something a warrior who isn't even twenty yet should be able to do."
"Th-that's true."
The merchant nodded, looking dazed.
House Zieghart, huh...
House Zieghart had not been making much of a name for itself of late. Because they did not involve themselves in great affairs at the center of the continent, they were often ranked as merely mid-tier even among the Six Kings.
But after this incident, rumors would spread that the sword of the north had grown colder and stronger still. The name of Zieghart was not something to be taken lightly after all.
The merchant turned around, went to stand at the back of the crowd, and set down his pack.
"Didn't you have somewhere to be?"
The old man narrowed his eyes, pointing at the merchant's pack.
"After listening to you, sir, this doesn't seem like the time to be worrying about business."
The merchant gave a small laugh and sat down.
"If the greatest under heaven of the present, and perhaps the greatest under heaven of the future, are both here — I ought to at least see their faces."
On the mansion's top floor, an old woman who had been looking down at the people gathered below turned around with a bright smile.
"They're all itching to see the Patriarch."
She smiled with her eyes at Glenn, who sat in the center of the room.
"Won't you at least greet them? They would be so pleased."
"They are the sort who will turn their wings with the wind, like migratory birds. There is no meaning in it."
Glenn shook his head without rising from his chair. Anyone who wished to open trade with House Zieghart could have come at any time. There was no reason to meet people who only now sought to pave a road to him.
Even without them, there was no shortage of those who wanted to do business.
"I suppose so."
The old woman nodded with a faint smile.
"So why have you come, Dark Market Master?"
Glenn narrowed his eyes at the old woman. This kindly looking crone was the master of the Dark Market, one of the foremost information organizations on the entire continent.
She was the one who had built the Dark Market from a central-region operation into the scale it possessed today, and that was not a person one could afford to be careless around.
"Our transaction should have been concluded."
"The transaction is concluded, yes. But a debt of gratitude remains."
The Dark Market Master approached Glenn and bent at the waist. Though her neck trembled slightly as if the motion strained her, she still lowered her head with full courtesy.
"Gratitude?"
"Yes. Gransavil was a region we had put considerable effort into operating. We had intended to make it the Gransavil of entertainment, just as Camelun is the Camelun of commerce."
"And?"
"To that end, we dispatched a great many of the Dark Market's talents to Gransavil. I even sent one of my successor candidates."
"You mean the girl with the eyepatch?"
Glenn's eyes narrowed. He recalled the Dark Market's branch leader who had thrown herself into this affair more actively than anyone.
"That is correct."
The Dark Market Master nodded smoothly.
"The child who survived the 7th Apostle thanks to the Light Wind Squad Leader. She clung to me, insisting that we had to save Lord Raon no matter what."
She offered Glenn a gentle-looking smile and bowed her head.
"I thank you once more for saving my child. Northern Annihilation King."
"That child was sincere enough to be grateful for. However..."
Glenn regarded the Dark Market Master steadily, tapping the armrest with a finger.
"Gratitude from the Dark Market Master is a difficult thing to accept. There is no telling what you are thinking."
"You are far too wary of me. This time, I offer nothing but gratitude. Please do not overthink a girl's heart."
"A girl, is it."
Glenn gave a short laugh and nodded.
"Very well. But the one you and that child ought to thank is not me."
"I am aware. That child is on her way here as well, so we shall pay our respects to the Light Wind Squad Leader together."
The Dark Market Master looked up at Glenn with a faint smile.
He treasures the Light Wind Squad Leader more than I expected.
A man of Glenn's standing would ordinarily simply accept others' greetings. The way he so naturally passed the credit along made it clear he held the boy named Raon dear.
Well. If that weren't the case, he would never have come to rescue him.
He had used the slight against House Zieghart as a pretext, but the fact that the Patriarch had moved in person made it obvious he regarded the boy named Raon as successor-class.
And he has every right to.
Raon Zieghart was a monster who had reached Mid-rank Master at nineteen and taken down three Apostles and five Master-level specters.
Young as he was, he had more than enough ability to climb to the lower ranks of the succession.
"I have something to say to the Patriarch."
The Dark Market Master straightened her back and looked at Glenn.
"What is it?"
"I believe that through this incident, the Dark Market will also come under the watch of Eden and the White Blood Cult."
"I would imagine so."
"In dealing with Eden and the White Blood Cult, I would like to request a temporary alliance."
"You will provide information, and in return you wish to borrow our martial strength?"
"That is correct. We will handle what we can ourselves, but against Apostles of the higher ranks, the sacrifices would be extreme..."
"Very well."
Glenn closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and nodded.
"Thank you."
The Dark Market Master bowed her head.
Is this because of Raon as well?
Glenn's nature had always been solitary. He would never have accepted a proposal of alliance so readily.
It seemed his fury toward the White Blood Cult and Eden for kidnapping Raon had yet to subside.
I should prepare a gift for Raon.
There was no harm in laying the groundwork in advance. It seemed wise to set aside a gift that would improve the condition of his body.
"I shall take my leave, then, and call upon you again with the Fourth once I have prepared the documents."
The Dark Market Master bowed and left the room.
"Not a bad arrangement."
Sheryl, who had been standing at the edge of the room, stepped forward with a faint smile.
"Our information is limited to the north and the center. If we borrow the Dark Market's strength, we stand to gain a great deal."
"I think much the same. The war has already begun, and if it cannot be avoided, then we must annihilate them."
Roen stroked the thin sword at his waist. A chilling killing intent rose in the eyes of a man who had always seemed nothing but kind.
"Please calm down a little."
Sheryl gave a short laugh and raised a hand.
"Ah. Forgive me."
Roen scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed. The murderous light in his eyes, however, did not fade.
"Even so, I cannot simply leave those who harmed Young Master Raon be. It seems I shall have to loosen this stiffened body a little."
He gripped the hilt, muttering that he ought to restore the power of his prime.
"I understand. If anything had happened to Raon, I would have torn across the continent myself."
Sheryl clenched her fist, her eyes equally chilling.
"Indeed."
Glenn nodded.
"There is no reason to let those insects live. The moment a report comes in, erase them without fail."
"Yes!"
"Understood."
The three of them looked at one another, a fearsome light gleaming in their eyes.
"Hah..."
Rimer let out a hollow breath as he looked at Roen, Sheryl, and Glenn.
They're always calling me a hopeless softie, but look at them. They're even worse.
The same people who used to ask why he fussed over the kids so much were now ready to turn the continent upside down over Raon. He had no idea how things had come to this.
It really is strange.
Sheryl was not particularly fond of children, and Roen looked kind but was colder than anyone. That those two had fallen for Raon was genuinely astonishing.
Well. He does have a certain charm.
Raon, unlike a child, never clung to anyone and never asked for help first. He was not some mere genius — he was a hard worker who ran with his eyes fixed upward. Perhaps that was what had drawn their hearts.
"Um..."
Just as Rimer was about to speak to Glenn, a knock sounded at the door.
"Light Wind Squad Leader. This is Raon Zieghart. I have come because I wish to see the Patriarch."
After the knock, Raon's voice came through, sounding a little tense.
"Hm?"
"Huh?"
The killing intent that Roen and Sheryl had been raising snuffed out like a candle.
"I shall open the door."
"Wait!"
Just as Roen started toward the door as usual, Rimer threw up an energy barrier and cut off the sound.
"Patriarch."
He narrowed his eyes at Glenn.
"You're going to pretend to be cold again, aren't you?"
"Mm..."
"You should know well enough after what just happened. As long as you live as a warrior, danger will come calling at any time. You might not get the chance to tell him how you really feel."
Rimer fixed Glenn with a rare, serious look.
"It's time you showed a little of what's in your heart. Nobody's going to give you grief for doting on your grandson!"
"Ugh..."
For the first time, Glenn flinched, his shoulders twitching as he looked at Rimer.
"Well, I'd love to contradict that drunkard on principle, but this time he's right."
Sheryl nodded with great emphasis.
"I am of the same mind."
Roen, standing before the door, offered a bright smile.
"I know what kind of man the Patriarch is, so I won't ask for much."
Rimer sighed and raised his index finger.
"Worry! You have to at least tell him you were worried!"
He clenched his fist as if to plead with him, then started toward the door.
"Wait!"
Glenn raised a hand. Rimer, Sheryl, and Roen all turned around at once.
"Ahem."
He cleared his throat in a voice stretched taut with nerves.
"D-does my voice sound all right right now? It doesn't sound strange, does it?"
"......"
The three of them, who had been frowning and wondering what he was on about now, went blank-faced all at once.