Chapter 6
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Following the King's Path (2)
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"Our first rally point after regression will be Norinton, the territory of the Cardmus Family."
Three shadowy figures sat around a small round table.
A one-eyed elf. A white-haired old man.
"That's what we have to do. I was only thirteen back then, so I wouldn't have been able to move freely."
And then there was Blanc, a man in his forties covered in scars from head to toe.
"This is a mission where we can't guarantee our lives. Our souls might even cease to exist. No regrets?"
The elderly mage, with white hair cascading down to his waist, asked Blanc once more.
"We're fated to be swallowed by the Void anyway. Might as well give it a shot, whether we die here or there."
Even now, out on the front lines, his comrades were shedding blood for humanity's survival.
Blanc had felt it was fate the moment he first heard about the humanity salvation plan through regression—the last hope for mankind, perhaps.
Norinton, the site of the first Void Tree discovery.
If the ruling Cardmus Family remained intact there, and if their heir knew about the Void through regression...
Then they could mount a perfect initial response to the endlessly spreading Void.
In a situation where only despair was guaranteed, he'd bet on even the slimmest chance.
And so, three regressors were selected.
Five years ago, they discovered the regression spell in an ancient ruin.
Two years ago, they fully deciphered it. And for the two years since, up to this very moment, they'd been preparing.
To correct the past. To save humanity.
"Current year is 384 of the Goddess Calendar. We'll regress to 354. More precisely, to the seventh month of 354."
"If all goes well."
The one-eyed elf replied in a cold voice.
Silence fell over the three for a moment.
"Three people is the limit. Thirty years to return is the limit. Time, numbers, materials for the spell—this is it. It's on us."
Hidden beneath wrinkled skin, the white-haired old man's eyes gleamed fiercely.
"So wait for us. We'll come find you."
"The smooth-skinned Blanc."
It was a lame joke, but the one-eyed elf chuckled to himself, finding it amusing.
"I'll be waiting."
Regressing to the seventh month would give them plenty of time.
A whole month to prevent the Cardmus Family's annihilation.
"By the way..."
"Hm?"
The one-eyed elf asked the white-haired old man, sensing something off.
"Didn't you say 'first rally point' earlier? Does that mean there's a second one?"
The white-haired old man let out a hearty laugh in response.
"Of course. Listen well and remember this. If we regress without a single deviation from plan, the first rally point is Norinton."
"And if not?"
"If something goes wrong and we can't gather at the first point..."
"You're planning to head straight to the capital like this?"
Emilia asked Blanc as they walked along the King's Path.
"I have to. The only people I can rely on right now are my mother's family, the Tolome household."
Blanc plucked some herb leaves growing by the roadside and chewed on them as he walked.
Emilia thought he looked less like a thirteen-year-old boy and more like a seasoned mercenary who'd seen it all, but she kept it to herself.
"I think so too. I heard Bartolomeo Tolome doted on Lady Nedrian greatly. I'm sure he'll welcome you warmly, Master Blanc."
"If he recognizes me, that is."
Bartolomeo Tolome, patriarch of the Tolome Family—Blanc's maternal grandfather.
Blanc had never met the man.
Or rather, he was supposed to meet him two years from now, at fifteen, during his coming-of-age ceremony.
In his previous life, Blanc had gone to the Tolome Family as well.
A twenty-three-year-old youth who'd barely escaped after ten years as a slave.
But a decade of hardship had stripped away any trace of nobility from him, and he had no proof of his identity.
He'd spent a month wailing at their gates that he was their grandson, only to be beaten nearly to death and thrown out.
In that moment, clutching his chest in despair...
'If only I had Mother's ancestral tablet!'
This time, grabbing his mother's tablet amid the chaos wasn't just sentiment.
It was to prove he was Nedrian Cardmus's son, with Tolome blood in his veins.
'It has to work this time...'
Blanc fiddled with the ancestral tablet tucked safely in his chest.
In the worst case, if the Tolome Family didn't recognize him, it didn't matter.
He could settle somewhere out of the way, train in Aura Cultivation Methods to build his strength.
A safe place and a few years' living expenses would suffice to master the Assansio Family's Aura Cultivation Method.
'I'll have to search the rally points first. I can go straight to those two.'
He'd already confirmed a month's discrepancy from the regression point. He'd been shocked himself, so the other two regressors must have been too.
With the first rally point—Norinton of the Cardmus Family—burned to the ground, they'd naturally head to the second.
Blanc was doing the same, for the same reason.
Toward the Tolome Family's home—and the regressors' second rally point.
The capital of the Felix Kingdom.
Baltimer.
In the first city they reached, he sold two of his mother's keepsakes.
Emilia wailed as if the city itself were crumbling until the very end, but there was no choice.
It was understandable; she'd be heartbroken.
Just as Rakshar had been saved by Blanc's father, Emilia had been saved by his mother, Nedrian.
It was during a brutal drought. On her way to marry into the Cardmus Family, Nedrian found poor farm families abandoning and selling their children by the roadside.
If she hadn't bought young Emilia there as "part of her dowry," the girl likely wouldn't have survived that winter.
To Emilia, Nedrian was savior and mistress. She might even cherish her more than Blanc, who'd lived thirty years backward.
Fortunately, the clothes Blanc wore fetched a good price too. Otherwise, he might've had to sell a third item, and Emilia's tears would never have stopped.
With the money, they bought new clothes, food, arrows for Rakshar, and finally a small donkey.
Even sticking to the King's Path, walking would take two months, with risks of monsters or bandits. Blanc wanted maximum safety.
So the group stayed a week in that city, seeking a merchant caravan heading to Baltimer.
Luckily, a reputable caravan was going straight there, and they joined up.
"We'll load our luggage onto that donkey you bought, then."
"Go ahead."
The merchants transferred their gear onto Blanc's donkey.
That was the reason for buying it.
Tailing a caravan was fine for a bit of coin, but in emergencies...
When monsters or bandits struck, merchants and their hired guards protected only their own cargo and employers—not stragglers.
By lending the donkey and positioning inside the caravan, Blanc secured a naturally safe spot.
"How did you even think of that?"
"You know how my father would ramble old war stories whenever he got drunk? Heard it from him."
Pure lie, of course.
A thirteen-year-old noble boy handling things with such savvy left Emilia and Rakshar dumbfounded.
He always brushed it off with "Father's drunken tales."
"B-But, young master, wouldn't it have been better to hire our own mercenaries...?"
"Maybe, but if I were a mercenary, I'd kill Rakshar, rape Emilia, and sell us both as slaves."
"Eek!"
Mercenaries were thieves under a thin veneer.
Even familiars got backstabbed; finding honest ones for strangers was like finding a virgin in Baywood.
Blanc knew he was still weak and wanted to eliminate every risk.
"No, that won't do. Absolutely not."
"Y-Young master's judgment seems right."
Rakshar was spot on.
For the two months to Baltimer, staying inside the caravan kept them safe.
But the peddlers and common folk trailing behind didn't fare as well.
"So pitiful..."
"We almost ended up like that. Emilia, if it's for safety, don't skimp on coin."
They'd left looking fine, but now at journey's end, they resembled beggars.
Two monster attacks, three bandit raids.
Monsters targeted the vulnerable rear over the well-defended caravan.
Bandits took tolls from merchants but plundered the unprotected tail.
'Sure enough, you can't survive without a blade in this world.'
That was why he'd turned mercenary in his past life.
A savage world where the unarmed and weak didn't survive.
The only way: endless struggle.
And that truth held in this life too.
"Y-Young master."
"Hm?"
Rakshar snapped Blanc from his thoughts.
"Th-They're checking identities at the gates ahead."
"Hmm..."
Free cities like Baywood let anyone pass, but decent towns and territories always verified.
This was Baltimer, Felix Kingdom's capital.
Checks were brutally strict; no proof meant rejection.
Proof like guild IDs, priest certificates from the Goddess Church, pilgrim passes, or noble-issued resident papers...
'Now what?'
Blanc had fled too hastily for any documents.
And with a half-werewolf like Rakshar behind him, it could mean prison.
"Rakshar, sorry. Fall back a bit. Better yet, hide in the woods. I'll call you later."
"Yes, young master."
The loyal Rakshar vanished into the nearby forest without complaint.
His keen eyes would watch Blanc and Emilia from there.
"Alright, then we..."
"What about us?"
Blanc had led them here with uncanny maturity.
Emilia trusted he had a gate plan.
"No way around it. Explain the situation, call someone from the Tolome Family for verification."
"..."
"What? Got another idea?"
"No..."
Emilia had none either, so she followed.
But even with thirty years' experience, Blanc had blind spots.
This was one.
"So you're Blanc Cardmus, and your grandpa's Count Tolome?"
"Mind your manners, soldier. I may look ragged now, but I'm the heir to a baronial house."
"Ooh, scary. Fine. Should I write 'Blanc Cardmus #32' on this pass?"
The jeering guard made the other soldiers and waiting folk burst into laughter.
"What's the '32' mean?"
Blanc sensed things going south.
He'd expected gate trouble, but not public ridicule.
"What else? You're the thirty-second Blanc Cardmus! Every damn beggar claims to be Blanc Cardmus!"
"What?"
Stunned, Blanc turned as a black-haired boy in rags shot up his hand behind him.
"Blanc Cardmus is here! The count's grandson Blanc has arrived!"
The guard smirked at Blanc.
"That's Cardmus Blanc #33 now. Why don't you two Blancs say hi?"