Chapter 120
Chapter 120
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: The Phantom's True Identity
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Quite some time had passed since the news of clearing the Tower's 6th floor had rocked the world.
To the public, the 7th floor had now become nothing more than a stage for power struggles among the Five Great Families.
Those in the know about the underworld merely differed in their awareness that Memento Mori occupied one axis of that struggle.
And then, out of nowhere, word spread that someone had cleared the 7th floor.
The one who cleared the Tower was neither the Five Great Families dominating the world...
nor Memento Mori, rulers of the underworld.
It was Havel from Banpellyon.
The once-declining house, now treated as a rising new powerhouse—Banpellyon.
A mercenary affiliated with them, the very one who had cleared the 6th floor.
He had now cleared the 7th floor as well.
"Havel! That Havel from Banpellyon—he's overtaken the Five Great Families and cleared the 7th floor!"
The news spread like wildfire into people's ears.
Those who heard it began to realize, one by one.
"Clearing the 6th floor wasn't a fluke."
"It's all real skill. He didn't just luck into opening a new era—it's all his ability!"
Up to the 6th floor, one could chalk it up to coincidence.
But the 7th floor changed everything.
Even the Five Great Families had thrown their full might into trying to clear it.
And it wasn't just Havel whose name rose.
Banpellyon, who had claimed him.
Lately, Banpellyon had been surging forward at an astonishing pace.
The young patriarch Arthur proved that he'd only been biding his time until now.
He expanded Banpellyon's influence with terrifying speed.
That growth owed much to a certain merchant group that had invested funds even before the family name gained fame.
"I heard the Beltella Merchant Group is funding Banpellyon."
"Beltella Merchant Group? Aren't they the most renowned merchant group lately?"
The Beltella Merchant Group, whose growth was downright frightening these days.
They leveraged their innate business acumen.
The connections passed down from the era when Beltella dominated long ago.
And Havel's full backing of funds, which they actively utilized.
In the blink of an eye, Beltella Merchant Group rose as a sacred merchant powerhouse.
Not yet on par with the great merchant groups.
But grown enough to have them within sight.
All achieved in mere months since gaining capital.
And Beltella Merchant Group poured those earnings back into Banpellyon without reserve.
As Banpellyon's status rose, Beltella earned praise for their sharp eye.
"What's Banpellyon got going for them? From Havel to Beltella Merchant Group."
"You're behind on the news. Beltella's always had ties to Banpellyon."
"Heh, damn... feels like the era's tilting straight toward Banpellyon."
Everyone rushed to invoke Banpellyon's name.
Naturally, even more people flocked to Banpellyon.
Crowds swarmed the Dawn Knights at every new recruitment drive.
In the patriarch's office of Banpellyon, at the center of all the rumors.
Arthur stepped out of his now-familiar new office, dressed impeccably.
"Young master, your nose is bleeding."
"Ah."
Worried it might stain his clothes, Arthur hurriedly covered his nose with his hand.
The butler, seeing this, wiped it with a handkerchief as if it were routine.
"Wouldn't it be better to rest at home? Havel will be visiting the estate anyway."
Even now, Arthur had worked through nearly three straight days and nights.
The butler fretted over his health.
"How could I? At the very least, I have to handle what I can to ease my mind."
Arthur adjusted his attire as he spoke.
He grinned at his reflection in the mirror.
He looked every bit the patriarch of a great house now.
"I have to tell him. Thanks to him, how far Banpellyon has grown."
Smiling, he saw it as his duty, at least this much.
"And Dante's news too."
He lightly shook the letter containing word of Dante, who had always protected Banpellyon.
"Who am I to stop you? You're the patriarch of Banpellyon, after all."
The butler sighed, yet smiled.
Though weary, Arthur was far brighter than in the past, propped up only by despair and malice.
This change was surely thanks to Havel.
"Let's go. To welcome our hero."
As Arthur moved, the butler glanced back.
A knight waiting respectfully bowed and departed.
Dorison, the passionate knight who joined the Dawn Knights through Havel and Dante.
Banpellyon now commanded prestige nearly equal to the Five Great Families.
Some even ranked it above those once-mighty houses.
Security fitting that status was, of course, essential.
'The young master should start realizing it soon.'
Arthur still didn't grasp the full ripple effect of being Banpellyon's patriarch.
He knew their status had risen.
He'd seen visitors treat him with newfound deference.
But buried in estate work day after day...
He tended to underestimate the impact.
Dismissing deference as mere respect for Banpellyon's home turf.
'It won't hurt for him to feel it this time.'
Straightening, the butler thought.
The patriarch of Banpellyon was heading out personally.
Time to make the world truly recognize Arthur.
At last, Banpellyon stepped forth once more toward the world.
7th floor safe zone.
There, Havel gazed at the blood-red foliage.
The sky, dyed by sunset, made the vegetation appear even redder.
A fresh breeze brushed his face.
The surroundings were utterly serene.
Having ascended alone ahead of the others.
No one else was around.
Thanks to that, Havel felt the rare sensation of true solitude.
'First time since the Demonic Palace.'
Havel glanced up at the path to the 8th floor.
He considered going alone but held off.
The others would catch up soon from below.
They'd become quite useful now.
They'd help in climbing the Tower ahead.
So he decided to wait.
'Plus, things to handle.'
The Whisperer and the God's poison.
Havel planned to speak with both.
Also, the demon contract from becoming transcendent.
Plenty of questions there.
Starting with the Calamity's owner who slipped through the fog into the continent, as Pendragon of August had said.
And a talk with Agnil of Ignor.
'Mountains of work.'
He'd spent so long clearing the 7th floor.
Time for a descent.
Havel resolved to move once Baria and the rest arrived.
That instant.
Chzzzt!
Noise erupted from where he'd entered moments ago.
Havel turned, noticing belatedly.
He thought it might be Elashia or the others following.
But his body tensed faintly.
He narrowed his eyes.
It had been ages since he'd felt this sensation.
'This is.'
Caution.
His body was on guard against the figure emerging with the noise.
Havel exhaled shortly.
The noise ended, revealing one person.
An old man stood there.
His long white hair draped down, obscuring his face.
His frame was gaunt as a withered branch.
Oddly, he gripped a wooden sword.
But it wasn't ordinary.
'Calamity armament.'
Pure black Calamity leaked from the wooden sword.
Undoubtedly one of the Calamity armaments wielded by Memento Mori members.
Havel's eyes chilled.
Seeing him recalled Ridark's words.
Phantom Foldron.
Memento Mori's secret weapon, their trump card.
As Barutuga called him "old man," he appeared elderly.
The old man's presence was faint.
Faint enough to vanish with a passing breeze.
Havel stifled a hollow laugh at the sight.
'No wonder the bold claims.'
Concealing his aura as naturally as Havel himself.
This glimpse hinted at his level.
Havel dropped his already-drawn sword to his side.
His gaze sharpened coldly.
"The lower floor cleared just moments ago. How'd you follow so fast?"
Havel questioned.
Elashia or even the Five Great Families, maybe.
But Foldron arriving first baffled him.
"......"
Yet Foldron didn't answer.
Instead, he slowly raised his wooden sword.
That moment.
Havel jerked his head aside. His body moved before thought.
Shrick! Shrick! Shrick!
Behind him.
Dozens of trees sliced clean and toppled in unison.
Havel felt the slash graze his neck moments ago.
Clearly lifted slowly.
Yet it had unleashed a slash unbeknownst.
He looked like a senile swordsman.
But that proved it.
He too transcended human limits.
"No intent to talk, huh? Fine by me."
Dawn light gathered on Havel's sword.
Time to gauge Memento Mori's secret weapon.
Then the Phantom's shoulder twitched.
A faint glint pierced through his hair.
"......Dawn."
He muttered to himself.
An oddly peculiar reaction.
As Havel puzzled over it.
Whoosh!
Once more, Foldron's sword swept diagonally.
Another strike too swift for the eye.
But he wouldn't take it passively this time.
Light speed cloaked Havel's sword.
His thrust met Foldron's blade head-on.
Boom!
A fierce shockwave rippled out, bending the grass in unison.
Foldron's sword weighed more than expected.
Thud!
Then.
Foldron's sword still in its downward stance.
Yet impacts hammered Havel's blade successively.
As if one strike birthed the next in eerie chain.
Not beyond handling.
But Havel's brow furrowed.
He knew this swordsmanship already.
"Phantom, you bastard."
Chill settled in Havel's eyes.
Calamity poured from him, warping the space around.
Clang!
Foldron repelled the clashing sword and retreated two steps.
He gripped the wooden sword two-handed, lowering it.
"Indeed."
Foldron muttered, as if confirming something.
"Havel Banpellyon."
A full name Havel hadn't heard since leaving the Demonic Palace.
As it left Foldron's lips.
He blew his hair aside with a puff.
Revealing green eyes that met Havel's.
Havel scowled deeply.
The hair and wrinkles had obscured at first glance.
But the face was familiar.
"When a disciple meets his master, you greet first—what're you doing?"
Master.
Hearing that, Havel extended his sword sideways.
"I'm shocked you're still kicking when you should've died ages ago.
Changing names—what's this senile nonsense?"
Before the Unification War.
The one who taught Havel the sword, his swordmaster.
Ron Arnold.
Memento Mori's Phantom was none other than Havel's former master.