Chapter 161
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 161
The Zahar army arrived at the rendezvous point just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Osel, who had been sharing an early dinner with Turan, frowned as he watched the massive cloud of dust approaching from the distance.
“They’re only just arriving? They’re quite late. Do they take us for fools?”
“Actually, considering the distance they had to travel, this isn't particularly late,” Turan replied calmly.
The Parsha army, led by Turan, had arrived in just four days thanks to well-paved roads and the mobilization of numerous magical beasts. In contrast, it would have taken the Lavitas army nearly two to three weeks to cross the Southern Sea.
The Zahar army, coming from the far eastern reaches of the Enril Desert, likely had to march for at least a month and a half. Furthermore, thanks to intermittent scouting via Bije, Turan knew they had intentionally adjusted their pace to arrive at this specific hour.
After all, for the Zahar—the Nobles of the Night—there was no better time to meet a formidable opponent than under the cover of dusk.
“Then, it’s about time we…”
“Yes, let’s have them pull back.”
Turan and Osel ordered their respective forces to retreat about a hundred meters, leaving only ten personal guards each near the dining table. As if understanding the gesture, the Zahar army also halted at a similar distance. Only ten individuals approached.
“Masks? How arrogant,” Osel muttered, his expression souring.
Just as he said, every single one of the approaching Zahar nobles wore a featureless mask. They were identical to the one Turan had worn in the past when he posed as a minion of the Night Hunter to hunt Ymir.
One of the Zahar family’s signature combat styles involved everyone wearing masks and repeatedly entering and exiting stealth to confuse the enemy about their identities. In that sense, approaching while masked could hardly be interpreted as a gesture of goodwill.
Perhaps conscious of the unpleasant atmosphere, the man leading the group removed his mask and bowed politely.
“My apologies, Lords of the two great houses. This is a Zahar tradition, so I ask for your understanding.”
The man who removed his mask was none other than Talis, the younger brother of the Zahar family head and Turan’s great-uncle. Upon seeing his face, Osel looked back and forth between him and Turan with a bewildered expression.
“I heard you two looked alike, but this is… truly something.”
“You don’t need to pay it much mind. We’re strangers who never saw each other’s faces until I was fully grown,” Turan whispered softly.
Instead of replying to Talis, Turan gave an arrogant tilt of his head. No one failed to understand the meaning: Talis was not of a high enough status to speak with him. He wanted the master of the house.
For a top-tier noble of a Great Family, and one of the most powerful men in the world, it was a situation that could be seen as humiliating. However, unlike Zemel Carmine, who would have flared up openly, Talis merely smiled politely and bowed slightly as if attending to someone beside him.
A tall man, at least half a head taller than the other Zahar nobles, removed his mask. He had a wrinkled face that looked to be in his late fifties—an age where one might start being called an old man.
Harun Zahar, the head of the Zahar family, spoke with a jovial laugh.
“We’ve exchanged letters a few times, but this is our first time meeting in person! It is a pleasure. I am Harun Zahar.”
*
His first meeting with the head of Zahar.
The first impression was significantly different from what Turan had expected. The Zahar were known as a cold and heartless group of assassins, and their head was supposed to be the greatest killer among them. In contrast, Harun Zahar looked like an ordinary, pleasant old man with an unassuming appearance and a cheerful smile.
He didn't look much like Turan, and to be precise, he looked nothing like his younger brother, Talis, either.
“Well now, may I join you?”
“Of course. Great-uncle.”
Regardless of how he perceived the title Turan used, Harun chuckled and sat down across from the two family heads. As the seating had been intentionally arranged, Turan and Osel sat on one side, facing Harun in a confrontational posture.
“Oh, you’ve set quite a spread in a place like this. If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
After sitting down, Harun threw out that single comment and immediately began eating the food and drinking the water set before him without hesitation. No matter how resistant a noble might be to common poisons, his attitude was excessively bold.
Seeing this, Turan and Osel were able to relax slightly. Once hospitality had been accepted, if any of them tried to harm the other, they would suffer a significant moral blow. In the past, when Solion, the head of the Baraha family, violated such a custom at Lavitas, he faced considerable backlash even within his own family. Such customs, while seemingly trivial, carried immense weight.
While Harun quenched his thirst, Turan used the Mimic Relic to peer into his opponent’s inner self. The first things he saw were the two symbols of the Hunter and the Pursuer—the same ones Turan possessed.
And…
As I thought, he has three as well.
Just as he had guessed from the fact that Harun could fight on equal terms with Badal, the head of the Arabion family, the Zahar family head also possessed three bloodline abilities.
The third was something like a swamp, bubbling with a violet hue. It was a symbol of a form he had never seen before, making its identity difficult to guess.
Could it be one of the other two bloodlines of the Night Hunter? The Alchemist and the Shadow… those two were supposed to have gone extinct long ago.
It should be impossible to awaken a bloodline that wasn't inherited, even through the granting of aptitudes via soul magic. Unless, perhaps, it took the form of awakening a latent bloodline. Originally, the blood of the Night Hunter contained all four powers, and the ancestor of the Zahar family would have inherited all four as well. They simply hadn't been able to awaken the powers of two of those bloodlines.
While Turan was lost in thought, Harun struck up a conversation with a smile, seemingly unaware of Turan’s scrutiny.
“Now I feel like I can live again. I thought I was going to die, making such a long journey at my age. The sun beating down, sand getting stuck in my throat every time I took a breath…”
“Hmph.”
Osel responded to the talkative old man’s words with a light snort. However, Turan could sense that while Osel was acting dismissive on the surface, he was inwardly flustered.
Well, it’s understandable.
The Zahar family was feared everywhere as a house of assassination, and its head reigned as a figure of nocturnal terror. Who would have imagined such a person would be a chatterbox with an unassuming appearance, pouring out trivial talk?
But Turan was not fooled. Even while pouring out meaningless words, Harun’s eyes were moving subtly, scanning Turan. Considering that the being inside was a fallen god who had lived for thousands of years, it would be foolish to think of him as truly empty-headed.
With a slight gesture to have the nearby attendants move further back, Turan spoke to him politely.
“The journey must have been grueling. Please, eat slowly while we talk.”
“Thank you. I’m living in luxury thanks to having such a fine grand-nephew.”
Though the food was hardly what one would call luxury, Harun devoured it like a man who was truly starving. Given his tall stature and sturdy build, he looked like a big eater. Furthermore, unlike Turan, who had a relatively slender frame, Harun had the thick-set build of a powerhouse. If they were to engage in physical combat with the same amount of mana and bloodline power, Turan would likely be pushed back.
After quietly observing his opponent, Turan turned his gaze to Harun’s equipment. On the surface, he looked like he was wearing decent desert nomad attire, but thanks to the Mimic Relic, Turan could see that his entire body was draped in relic-grade treasures.
The most eye-catching among them were the clothes covering his upper body and a long rod strapped to his back. It was straight for most of its length before bending slightly to the side at the end; Turan had no idea how such an object was used.
“Hmm, are you curious about this?”
Noticing his gaze, Harun grinned and pointed to the rod on his back. Turan nodded without hesitation.
“To be honest, I am. Can you tell me what it is?”
“Of course. But it won’t be for free.”
Harun brushed the breadcrumbs from his hands and looked at him with a smiling face. In that moment, Turan felt a strange sense of intimidation as he looked into the man’s gray eyes—one of the few features they shared.
This is…!
At that instant, the three symbols within the Zahar family head began to mingle. The eye, which had been separate, seeped into a black mist, transforming into thousands of tiny eyes surrounding the mist—like the seeds embedded in the skin of a strawberry.
Along with that, a fourth symbol emerged, resembling a triangular glass bottle. The bubbling violet liquid entered the glass bottle, sloshed around, and then poured out, hardening into the shape of thousands of arrows. As the arrows seeped into the mist sprouted with eyes and pointed outward, it looked as if a giant with thousands of eyes and arms was hidden within.
The Night Hunter!
Seeing this, Turan knew instinctively: Harun Zahar had manipulated his soul to draw out the true power of the Night Hunter.
Was he planning to launch an attack right here? Sensing Turan’s body stiffen with tension, Harun grinned.
“Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“As I thought, you have the ability to peer into the souls of others.”
Turan had already guessed that Harun would know this. He had shown Turan more than once that he could copy the way Turan combined symbols using soul magic. In the first place, symbol combination was almost impossible to master on one’s own without knowing the answer. Even if one could imagine eyes seeping into shadows, it was difficult to replicate exactly unless someone showed an example.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but originally, the Mimic didn't have such an ability. It must have developed when it became a relic.”
“Is that so?”
“There’s probably no one who knows better than I do! I’m the only one who traveled with that fellow for a while after coming here.”
It wasn't his first time talking to the fallen gods, but this was the first time he had met one who acted so friendly with the Mimic God. Harun, laughing heartily, turned to Osel.
“You probably know as much as you need to know, don’t you?”
“That you are the fallen gods of old?” Osel asked.
“He’s already told you everything! Well, I expected as much.”
Harun chuckled, devoured another piece of bread, and pointed behind him. There stood about ten Zahar nobles, including Talis, who had put his mask back on.
“If you knew how many times they’ve made proposals to me, you’d both be thanking me. They’ve been persistently demanding that we strike Parsha immediately, or else wipe out the Lavitas line.”
Unlike Osel, who was shaken by this information, Turan nodded calmly. He already knew from the information Berit had sent that there were factions within the Zahar leadership wanting to strike Parsha-Lavitas, and that it was the family head who had stopped them. Unfortunately, even Berit didn't know the reason why.
“Now then, we should get to the main point… Lord Lavitas, if you don’t mind, could I speak with him alone for a moment? It concerns the most intimate secrets of our family. You don’t need to go far. About ten meters should suffice.”
Turan read a strange nuance in the man’s relaxed voice. It was as if he were boasting that the connection between Turan and Zahar was stronger than the alliance with Lavitas—a subtle attempt to drive a wedge between them.
He spoke up immediately before Osel could answer.
“It’s fine. Lord Osel and I have helped each other many times.”
“Hmm. Well, if you say so.”
Osel frowned and nodded as if displeased by Turan’s words, but Turan could tell that the old lord was inwardly pleased. Harun, who had also noticed this, burst into laughter.
“You look like a sheltered young master on the outside, but you’re already a master of politics! Then again, that’s how the leader of a house should be. If only my grandson were even half as good as you.”
It sounded like a concession, but Turan assumed there might be an intention to make him lower his guard. To a young man, praise from the head of a Great Family—and the master of Zahar, no less—would be sweet enough to paralyze the mind.
In the midst of their back-and-forth, Osel stood up abruptly.
“I’ll step away for a moment. If it’s something I need to know, I’m sure the Lord of Parsha will tell me.”
“Oho.”
It was a statement asserting that the alliance with Lavitas was stronger than Turan’s blood ties to Zahar. As Harun pulled a magic tool from his robe after Osel had moved away, the flow of air around them changed. Turan realized this was a magic tool version of the technique he usually used with wind magic to block sound.
“You’re quite mischievous.”
“What, can’t I play a little prank on a grand-nephew I’m meeting for the first time?”
The Harun who was bantering seemed truly like an old man who had aged as much as he appeared to. He was completely different from Ymir, who was as frivolous as a man in his twenties.
Through his conversations with the half-elves, Turan could now roughly understand why their mental ages were so varied. Regardless of having lived for thousands of years, their personalities were heavily influenced by the bodies they were trapped in. They also tailored their personalities to some extent, like actors in a play.
“Then, let’s get to the reason we met… Turan Parsha, do you know that you are the reincarnation of the Night Hunter?”
It wasn't a question asking if he was the reincarnation, but a question that assumed it as fact. Turan pondered for a moment.
Should I confirm it, or deny it?
The half-elves had forgotten much over the thousands of years, but they remembered who the old man before him had been. According to them, the head of the Zahar family was originally one of the subordinate gods who served under the Night Hunter, Otas.
Viewed positively, he might welcome the reincarnation of his master. Viewed negatively, he might try to eliminate a potential obstacle to his own hegemony.
“To be honest, I don’t know,” Turan answered.
“You don’t know?”
“Yes. I know I was born with power far beyond my station, but I have no memories of being one of those beings like you.”
No particular expression could be seen on Harun’s face. It was difficult to perceive any emotion even from his scent. Was he controlling himself, or did he truly feel nothing?
Harun nodded. “As I expected. I thought that might be the case. Thank you for your honest answer.”
“Then may I ask you one thing as well? Why exactly do you think I am the reincarnation of the Night Hunter? Because I have Zahar blood?”
At Turan’s question, Harun shook his head.
“Because I am the one who tried to resurrect the Night Hunter.”