Chapter 106
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 106
It is a fundamental truth of life that some shocks are impossible to bear, even when one is prepared for them.
It is much like the moment a blow connects with your face, or the exact second a lover declares an end to a relationship. The shock Turan felt the moment Talis mentioned his name was exactly like that.
As he took a deep breath to steady his racing heart, voices drifted from behind him.
“What do you mean, ‘probably’ his grandson? Either he is or he isn't. Just how much were you sleeping around back then that you don't even know for sure?”
“I get it. What else is there to enjoy in this world? It’s not like we went through all that trouble trying to manufacture condoms for nothing.”
“Are we really bringing up stuff from that long ago...?”
The one who raised a hand to silence the rowdy Carmine nobles was their leader, the Family Head—the Lawyer.
“So, why did this brat you mentioned slip out of control? I heard the Zahars prepare tracking mediums for talented children the moment they’re born.”
“Oh, right. I heard that too.”
“Then he’d be caught no matter where he ran, wouldn't he?”
“Wow, your family is run like a prison. I’m glad I didn't join your faction.”
“Still, it’d be handy for finding them if they got kidnapped. Or for corpse looting.”
Ignoring the grumbling voices, Talis continued his explanation.
“To answer that, it’s because the boy wasn't born within the family in the first place.”
“A bastard?”
“Something like that. During the war twenty years ago, one of my sons laid hands on an Arabion prisoner. Later, when that son caused trouble and was being purged, it seems the prisoner escaped and gave birth to the boy.”
“Ah, I know this trope. Wasn't the ‘pregnant female lead on the run’ genre really popular for a while?”
“Sounds more like a heroic epic to me. Seeking revenge against his own father—that’s a classic setup.”
“A child born from a rival family? That’s literally Romeo and Juliet!”
“Does that make Zahar the Montagues?”
The gods who had fallen to the level of humans snickered, treating the story of his parents as if it were nothing more than a play to be enjoyed over drinks.
Suppressing his disgust at their frivolous attitude, Turan listened as Talis explained to the other gods how he had discovered Turan’s identity.
“I was busy back then, and since the father wasn't particularly strong, I didn't think the son would be born with noble traits, so I didn't bother looking. But recently, a vassal mentioned he thought he saw my illegitimate grandson. I wondered what he was talking about, and when I investigated, it turned out to be him.”
Komad, the port city in the Enril Desert where he had bought Bije.
The lord who ruled that place, Cal Dirmin, was the first person to ever comment that Turan resembled Talis. This meant that Cal Dirmin, though perhaps not often, had seen Talis’s face in person. When they met later, Cal had mentioned, ‘I saw a young man who looks like you,’ and Talis, rather than laughing it off, had investigated.
Should I have killed Cal back then?
Turan briefly entertained the thought before shaking his head. Setting aside the fact that the noble hadn't particularly wronged him, if the head of a vassal family had been murdered, Turan’s existence would likely have been discovered during the ensuing investigation anyway.
In truth, the mistake was entering the Enril Desert to investigate his own origins in the first place. At the time, he hadn't imagined his appearance would so closely resemble his kinsmen, so it couldn't be helped.
“But why is a Zahar noble wandering around instead of returning to the family? He hasn't joined hands with another house, has he?”
“It seems he’s hiding his bloodline. For now, he’s been posing as a lord in the Gray Zone while investigating his parents’ traces, but we’ve lost track of him. He might suspect that we killed his father.”
“So, why are you telling us this?” The Carmine Family Head asked, staring at Talis with calm eyes. “Do you want us to eliminate him if we find him?”
“I’m just letting you know that if he causes trouble somewhere, it wasn't on our orders. You can kill him if a conflict arises... though it would be better if you notified us. He seems quite capable, so I’d like to take him in and put him to use.”
“Skilled mages are rare, after all. No matter how much we breed, useful ones are rarely born.”
“You’re not planning something weird using him as an excuse, are you?”
“I’m not.”
Despite the threatening tone, they didn't seem entirely serious and soon broke into idle laughter. Fortunately—or unfortunately—the talk about Turan ended there, and the conversation shifted into nostalgic reminiscence.
This gave Turan the breathing room to sit quietly and analyze the dialogue.
So, for now, all they know is that I bought Bije in Komad and investigated the past while staying in Kalamaf. They probably also know I subjugated the Dark Elves alongside the Arabion nobles...
Of course, he couldn't be certain that what Talis revealed was the extent of his knowledge. Judging by the atmosphere, these families had been in a long-standing hostile relationship and had only just begun to offer tentative gestures of reconciliation. It was unlikely they would reveal everything in such a situation.
However, if that truly was how Talis had learned of him, there was a high probability he was still ignorant of other crucial facts.
For instance, that Turan was also born with the Arabion bloodline; that he possessed a high-ranking Holy Relic capable of mimicking bloodline abilities and appearances; that he possessed mana rivaling a deputy family head; and that he had two companions even stronger than himself.
And most crucially, that he already knew the secrets of the gods and had even managed to kill one of them.
In many ways, knowing a little is more dangerous than knowing nothing at all. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Turan kept one ear open and crammed their conversation into his mind as the gods continued to chatter. The more he knew about what they understood and how they thought, the easier it would be to deal with them.
“Remember when Caesar kicked me from the party because of that YouTube link you sent? You remember that?”
“Oh, I remember. You got roasted so hard on the message boards for that.”
“The guy who kept spamming posts about buffing production classes back then turned out to be a catfish... well, he’s dead now, anyway.”
“If he were still around, our civilization wouldn't be in this state. All the guys with STEM knowledge among us are dead, which is why we’re stuck like this.”
“Most of the stuff we need for development is treated as ‘items’ anyway, so they don't even work right when we try to make them properly.”
Naturally, Turan understood almost nothing of what they were saying. It was likely the culture of the forgotten Old Empire or something similar. Perhaps if he asked the Librarian, he might get some meaningful answers.
Several hours passed.
Though he was in a somewhat shaded spot, the lounge itself was so bright that his mana consumption was significant. Turan began to wonder when he should cut his losses and leave. Fortunately, he didn't have to make that decision, as the gods stood up and exchanged their farewells.
“We used to tear at each other’s throats, but seeing your faces after all this time isn't so bad. Let’s meet up more often.”
“Sure. As long as you don't try to kill me.”
Zemel chuckled at Talis’s words and shook his outstretched hand. In the meantime, Turan attempted to use tracking magic to snag even a single strand of hair Talis might have dropped, only to realize something startling.
He didn't leave... a single trace.
Not a single naturally shed hair or eyebrow, nor even a flake of skin—which has a shorter tracking duration—or even a trace of saliva on his teacup. He must have been constantly using psychokinesis or fluid manipulation magic to prevent any traces of himself from remaining.
It meant that while he spoke casually like a friend, in reality, he hadn't shown a single opening. Turan marveled at that almost paranoid mindset for a moment before slipping out of the room along with the Carmine nobles as they opened the lounge door.
I want to follow Talis, but... I don't have much mana left.
If things went wrong, he would be stranded and isolated inside the Family Head’s residence with his mana depleted. While it would be difficult to catch Talis again without a tracking medium, it wasn't worth the risk of being caught.
Moving with them into the hallway and exiting the residence, Turan ducked into a deserted alley and deactivated his stealth. Finally, the infiltration—which had made his heart feel like it would burst from tension—was over.
*
Late that night, Turan returned to Onil’s mansion with an incredibly bold stride.
He wanted nothing more than to flee this place immediately, but he couldn't let Onil simply go missing. If someone who had attended the meeting suddenly vanished, they would naturally search for him. If the existence of a mimic who had taken Meisa from Arabion became known, they would realize the same person had been active here.
If that identity were ever linked to Turan, it wouldn't end with a simple conversation like the one he’d just overheard. For now, he needed to play the role of Onil for a few more days. It would be even better if he could make a natural exit.
In front of the mansion, where lights were still burning late into the night, the butler and servants lined up to greet him with bowed heads.
“You have returned, Master.”
“The carriage has been maintained as you ordered.”
The coachman spoke apologetically, perhaps fearing he would be lashed out at, as Turan had sent back the carriage he’d taken earlier on the pretext of having business to attend to. Exhausted, Turan dismissed them with a casual wave of his hand.
“Fine. I want to sleep, so get lost.”
Even to himself, it was surprising how naturally Onil’s coarse manner of speaking—which he had practiced for the past few days—came out. Thinking that he might actually be good at acting if he ever got the chance, Turan washed with the help of the maids and lay down on the bed.
“Um, Master. Tonight...”
“I’m tired.”
Turan roughly dismissed the concubine who had approached to attend to him and immediately pulled out the hand mirror to activate it. Since it was close to midnight, Meisa’s face appeared before long.
[Hello.]
“Good evening. Have you eaten?”
[Yeah. I had fried frog today. Solif is still freaking out over it. He doesn't look it, but he’s such a pampered young master.]
Since they had already spoken several times over the past few days while he wore Onil’s face, Meisa wasn't surprised by his transformed appearance. After chatting briefly about happenings at the reclamation site, Turan got straight to the point.
“I don't have much mana left today, so I’ll keep it brief. I eavesdropped on a meeting of the gods.”
[...A meeting of the gods?]
“Yeah.”
[You’re starting off with something huge.]
Turan quickly relayed the stories he had heard in the meeting hall and those he had overheard while hiding in the Family Head’s lounge. Her face turned pale at the news that his identity had been partially exposed to the Zahar family.
[Come back right now! No, it’s better if we go there. It’ll only take a few days if we ride Bije...]
“There’s no need for that. As I said, they still think of me as just an ordinary high-ranking noble. Besides, they have no idea I’m even here.”
He even thought it might not be a bad idea to join the Zahar family and gather information from the inside. After all, the most dangerous enemy is the one within.
[Isn't that too dangerous? If they investigate further, they’ll find out you were close to me in Arabion or that you traveled with Solif near Lavitas.]
“If they try to use me to track you two, I can just provide false information to cover it up. Well, let’s think about that more slowly. It’s not a decision that needs to be made right now.”
The immediate problem was that war between Arabion and Carmine was imminent, and Zahar was planning to subtly assist Carmine. Of course, there was no guarantee that Zahar wasn't just pretending to help while actually planning to stab Carmine in the back.
What Turan had to do now was use this opportunity to somehow drive a wedge between Arabion and Zahar, preventing the two families from communicating. Additionally, he had to figure out a way to discard Onil’s identity as naturally as possible.
[Just hearing about it makes my head hurt...]
“It can't be helped. Life isn't easy for anyone.”
Just as he spoke those words of complaint, Turan’s eyes widened at a presence he felt in the distance. This mana signature was definitely the one he had felt earlier...
“Sorry, I have to go.”
[Huh? Why—]
Turan hurriedly cut the mana to the hand mirror, shoved it into his high-capacity pouch, and lay back on the bed. Closing his eyes and focusing his consciousness on the senses provided by the Holy Relic, he felt someone nonchalantly walking down the hallway and opening the door.
Normally, a noble’s sensitive perception could easily detect footsteps from far down the hall, yet he hadn't even heard the sound of the door opening. It was the result of high-level stealth magic.
Talis...
His grandfather, Talis, was looking down at Turan from beside the bed while cloaked in stealth. It was almost the exact same position Turan had been in when he cut Onil’s throat just two days ago.
Turan pretended to be asleep while struggling to calm his chaotic mind. Why had he come? Could it be that he felt something suspicious because of the emotions Turan had shown when they first met? For such a trivial reason?
If he attacks, should I counter?
Even if he killed him, the information would be passed on as long as he didn't have the ability to capture his soul. If that happened, the fact that he could detect Zahar’s stealth would be revealed. One of his greatest weapons would be exposed for such a pathetic reason.
“Ugh...”
After a brief moment of deliberation, Turan deliberately furrowed his brow and tossed and turned, letting out a groan. Like someone having a nightmare.
No doubt Talis had already smelled the anxiety coming from his body. Turan calculated that if he appeared to be sleeping peacefully, Talis would realize he was actually awake. For someone in the middle of a nightmare, feeling fear or anxiety was normal, so it would look more natural.
He continued this desperate acting for several minutes. Talis, who had been silently looking down at Turan, even placed a finger above Turan’s nose to check his breathing before finally leaving the bedroom.
Once he confirmed that Talis’s presence had completely vanished from his detection range, Turan opened his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Just in case, he tried using a tracking spell again, but as expected, Talis had left no traces to serve as a medium.
“This really isn't easy...”
His impression of meeting his grandfather for the first time was that he was an incredibly sensitive and tenacious man—someone he never wanted to face again.
*
A few days passed after the meeting.
Turan continued his daily life as Onil, acting as if he were completely unaware of the previous night’s surveillance. He grumbled and threw tantrums around the house, called over his subordinates—who were more like lackeys—to gamble, and indulged in expensive liquor and food...
Ridiculously, in the process, the reputation of the Onil that Turan was portraying had become much better than before. Because he was reluctant to cause the kind of massive damage—like breaking bones or leaving permanent disabilities—that the original Onil had, he had moderated his behavior. To the servants, this version of Onil felt significantly ‘milder’ than the previous one.
Hearing them chuckle and say, ‘Our master has gotten better than before,’ even while being cursed at, Turan clicked his tongue. He had also learned that acting as a complete scoundrel wasn't easy either.
Perhaps because those rumors had spread, about a week after the meeting, Onil’s father, Zemel, came to see him.
“I heard you’ve been staying quiet lately.”
“Yes, Father...”
“What are you thinking? You’re not keeping your head down because you caused some trouble I don't know about, are you?”
Turan recited the excuse he had prepared for the sharp-eyed Zemel. He claimed that through the last meeting, he had realized the family was in more danger than he’d thought and had decided to change his mindset.
When he added that he was even practicing magic at home for an hour or two every day, Zemel placed a hand on Turan’s shoulder with a touched expression.
“I hope that heart of yours doesn't change. If you continue like this, your father will always be on your side.”
His voice felt deeply sincere, and his eyes were soft. To anyone watching, he was the very image of a strict but caring father. It was almost impossible to imagine that he was one of the possessed vessels of the gods who ruled Carmine.
Perhaps, like Ymir who had dwelled within Renod Nagin’s body, he too possessed a separate surface personality. In that state, was the host’s personality a sort of shell they wore? One that couldn't be maintained without the god’s soul.
Zemel, who had been comforting his son—or rather, the one pretending to be his son—with an incredibly generous expression, brought up his business.
“A mission has been assigned to you.”
“A mission, you say...?”
“There’s a magical beast that’s been rampaging on the northern coast for a few days now, and it’s at a level that the local nobles are having trouble dealing with. I specifically recommended you as the leader of the subjugation squad after hearing that your behavior has been good lately. If you handle this well, the people of the family will see you in a different light.”
Since protecting the territory was the reason they reigned over commoners as nobles, repelling invaders was their most important duty. Much like how Meisa had previously led the Dark Elf subjugation squad. And such tasks were usually given to someone like Onil—young and powerful, with mana capacity to spare, and a close relative of a powerful figure.
Turan combined Onil’s speech patterns as he remembered them and shouted in the voice of a greenhorn trying to act mature.
“Yes! I will make sure not to bring shame to my father’s name!”
His joyful voice wasn't entirely an act. A battle with a magical beast—this was the perfect excuse to finally discard the identity of Onil Carmine, now that he had gained everything he could from it.