Chapter 4
Chapter 4
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: The Opportunity Given Again (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dragon's Curse.
The word "curse" was attached to it, but in truth, it was the name of a disease.
The reason for such a name was simple.
Just as dragons generated infinite mana within their bodies, those afflicted with this illness had mana endlessly accumulating inside them. And this started from the moment of birth.
That wasn't all.
Like the dragonkin who boasted infinite power, the afflicted were gifted with innate talent in martial arts or magic.
In a way, it could be called a blessing.
Mana was essential for practicing martial arts, magic, or unique abilities. Naturally, the more mana one had, the better, and being innately granted exceptional talent was a tremendous advantage.
*The problem is that it stops right there.*
Dragonkin possessed bodies capable of handling infinite mana. In contrast, human bodies had clear limits.
As time passed, the amount of mana increased, eventually crushing the mana circuits that served as its pathways. This caused excruciating pain every time mana was circulated.
Moreover, as the mana circuits swelled, they strained the internal organs. This weakened bodily functions, made movement difficult, and ultimately led to death.
Twenty years.
That was the average lifespan of those with Dragon's Curse.
Even the one known to have lived the longest hadn't passed thirty.
That alone was already a tragedy.
The problem was that Dragon's Curse harbored another nightmare.
The overwhelming mana placed excessive strain on the mana circuits, preventing the formation of a mana core in the head.
In other words, unique abilities never manifested.
In a world where social status was determined by the manifestation of unique abilities, what could be more tragic?
*What a truly ridiculous disease.*
Having to live a terminally ill life was tragic enough.
Yet one had to endure horrific pain throughout their life and face discrimination based on status.
It wasn't called a curse for nothing.
"Hoo."
But his anger quickly subsided.
Before his regression, how many absurdities of reality had he faced?
His mental fortitude wasn't so fragile as to be shaken by this alone.
Martin focused on steadily regulating his breathing.
The pain soon ebbed, and his complexion improved once more.
"Sorry for worrying you, Sien."
"What are you apologizing for? It's not like you choose to have these episodes."
Sien replied in a calm tone. She then pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and gently wiped the sweat from Martin's forehead.
"Still, it's clear your swordsmanship reaching the third circle has paid off. In the past, the pain from an episode would linger much longer."
"It's all thanks to aura. Realizing aura dramatically improves physical abilities. To be honest, that was the first time I truly felt rewarded for learning the sword."
"Oh, come on. Even so, isn't that too much, Martin? Do you know how many kids from the branch families gave up on swordsmanship because of you—including me? Every one of us has despaired over our own talents at least once."
"I don't care about the complaints of those who didn't even train properly. Aside from you and Adel Bittenfeld, no one in the branch seriously pursued swordsmanship anyway."
"You're too harsh, Martin. Even searching the entire Alteria Empire, hardly anyone would meet your standards."
Contrary to her words, Sien smiled brightly.
She was simply pleased to have earned Martin's recognition, no matter what.
"Anyway, we should get moving now, Sien."
"Right. Monsters that smell blood will swarm soon. But you're really okay now, right? No more pain?"
"Yeah. It's completely gone, so don't worry."
"Okay. Let's go then."
"I'll take the lead."
"Hmm. So motivated?"
"Like it or not, it's my trial. Of course I should lead. Right?"
Sien nodded at Martin's question.
With Sien's agreement, Martin stepped forward. Toward the deeper parts of the dungeon.
Of course, his true thoughts were different.
*I couldn't care less about the trial.*
Descending to the tenth floor within a hundred days and defeating the monster lord. It was indeed a trial of considerable difficulty.
It simply didn't apply to him.
He had a different task in the dungeon.
Separate from manifesting his unique ability.
*Suppress the Dragon's Curse.*
Even in the future, no complete cure was known.
But there were ways to alleviate it.
He just needed to temper his body to endure the Dragon's Curse.
It was never an easy task.
Those with Dragon's Curse had absurdly weak physical constitutions. Martin was a knight skilled enough to handle aura, but compared to others at his level, he was pathetically inferior.
Objectively speaking, training itself was a nightmare for him.
*Still, I have to do it.*
He had done it once before.
That effort had borne fruit, allowing him to live decently past twenty and reach twenty-five.
Had it not been for Kallain's foolishness, he could have lived even longer.
Moreover, now he knew more efficient ways to temper his body.
*Since I've returned to the past, I'll use everything I can.*
Eighteen years old.
Exactly seven years into the past.
And he knew everything that would happen over the next seven years.
It was possible thanks to the exceptional memory granted by the Dragon's Curse.
Everything from now until seven years ahead was stored in his mind. Naturally, he knew the dungeon's opportunities in detail as well.
He planned to claim all those beneficial to him.
*In that sense, the first place to head is the third floor.*
A method to quickly alleviate the Dragon's Curse lay dormant there.
And it was also the legacy of a great ancestor.
Recalling his first goal in the dungeon, Martin headed underground.
His steps were lighter than ever.
* * *
The Adalbert family's grand mansion was quieter than ever.
It was only natural, given that the family head had passed away just days ago.
Not only that, but the sole direct descendant had been expelled from the family.
Even if it was under the pretext of a trial with a hundred-day limit, the fact remained that he had been outmaneuvered by the branch families and retainers.
Naturally, the prestige of the Adalbert direct line had plummeted to rock bottom.
But this was just the beginning.
What if Martin failed to manifest his unique ability in time?
No one could appoint an incompetent as heir, let alone family head—no matter how direct the bloodline.
With the direct line effectively severed, the Adalbert family would fade into history, creating an opportunity for the branch families to fill the void.
Thus, everyone inside the mansion was on edge, watching to see where power would tilt.
"There is one vacant seat. Yet four candidates. Fierce competition is inevitable. However, I hope we can settle on a few certainties."
A middle-aged man with a cunning yet sharp countenance stroked his orange beard and spoke.
Baldemar von Rustal.
Patriarch of the Rustal family—one of the Adalbert's five branch families—and a viscount of the Alteria Empire.
He appeared gaunt and frail, but his presence was entirely different. The aura emanating from him was razor-sharp.
Yet the three middle-aged men seated before Baldemar were utterly unfazed by his presence.
Mateus von Gustin.
Wilhelm von Fezeks.
Oliver von Bittenfeld.
All patriarchs leading Adalbert branch families.
Each, as renowned powerhouses in the empire, remained unaffected by Baldemar's aura.
"The moment the family to replace the main house is decided, the remaining branches must be permitted independence. To live as proud nobles of the Alteria Empire, not as branches or retainers of any specific house."
"Independence...? Is that even feasible from the start? Once the true victor is decided, will the other houses even remain?"
"Wilhelm's right. Who would relinquish the Adalbert territory? An endless stream of resources, a dungeon entrance that elevates a single territory to rival a kingdom."
"Wilhelm, Oliver—I share your thoughts. No one could easily abandon the dungeon entrance. Every noble with any power is eyeing this place, aren't they?"
No one contradicted Baldemar's words.
Seizing the Adalbert territory would elevate a family's status endlessly, granting infinite wealth.
Thus, many harbored desires, held back only because the five branches stood firm.
"But I, and surely you all, aspire to independence as well. Wouldn't it be far more constructive for each to go our own way rather than overreaching and mutual destruction? Or do you think differently?"
"No. On that point, I agree with you. Better than giving other houses cause to intervene."
"I concur."
Wilhelm Fezeks and Oliver Bittenfeld readily agreed. Mateus von Gustin, who had been listening silently, nodded as well.
Thus, the first agenda was settled.
Baldemar raised the second topic—the most crucial of this meeting.
"For smooth independence, there is one process we must handle. The complete erasure of the Adalbert bloodline from history. That must be our top priority, no?"
"Prince Martin has no chance of manifesting a unique ability anyway. Even if we do nothing, he'll naturally fade into obscurity."
"Tsk tsk. Aren't you too optimistic, Mateus? Miracles do exist in this world."
"Postnatal manifestations of unique abilities are exceedingly rare. The last case to become nobility was thirty years ago, wasn't it? The merchant from the free cities. And before that, fifty years back."
"It's undoubtedly rare. Even so, it's a scenario we must guard against. If Martin manifests one, things will get messy."
"A valid point. We must prevent him from rising in history."
"We can't overlook even the slimmest possibility now. Best to crush the Adalbert bloodline thoroughly while we can."
Wilhelm and Oliver agreed with Baldemar.
In contrast, Mateus furrowed his brow.
"What scheme are you plotting, Baldemar von Rustal?"
Heh.
A cold smile crept across Baldemar's lips. His snake-like eyes fixed precisely on Mateus.
"Scheme? I have no idea what you mean. Accidents happen all the time in dungeons, don't they? We can't rule out the young prince falling victim to an unfortunate mishap and losing his life."
Since dungeons appeared, how many had perished there?
A place where anything could happen without surprise.
That was a dungeon.
"...What about Sien Igrit? If something happens to that girl, Vincent will step in. You know full well what that means."
At Mateus's warning, Baldemar flinched for the first time.
Martin's death was fine. No, it was ideal.
It would eliminate any variables forever.
But if Sien died, problems would arise.
Vincent von Igrit—the strongest among the branch patriarchs. If things went wrong, they'd face his wrath.
Among those present, only Mateus could handle it, but the issue was his lukewarm response.
Baldemar quickly regained his composure.
"Of course I know. Death in a dungeon is nothing unusual. Even Vincent couldn't act on that alone."
"I hope you take responsibility for that statement."
"No idea why I should."
Flashing a sly smile, Baldemar shrugged. Then he continued.
"By the way, when will you drop the hypocrite's mask, Mateus?"
"...Are you insulting me?"
"Just stating the truth, Mateus. Attending this meeting admits your own ambitions. If you truly had none, you wouldn't have come—like Vincent von Igrit."
Of the five branch patriarchs, he alone insisted Martin should become family head.
But his opinion was rejected by the elders and other patriarchs, so he left the main house in fury.
"I don't care what attitude you show. My sole concern is one: the complete severance of the Adalbert bloodline. Can't say I'm thrilled thinking of the competition to follow, though."
At Baldemar's words, the other patriarchs' eyes changed.
They all wished for the Adalbert bloodline to end. That much was the same.
But that was all.
Essentially, they were rivals.
There was only one vacant seat.
Thus, the night of betrayal deepened.