Chapter 86
Chapter 86
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: The Fake Star Sword
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The mansion Byran guided them to was so quiet it bordered on downright eerie.
Only the bare minimum of furniture had been arranged inside.
There were just a few cleaners here and there; the place wasn't swarming with caretakers.
"That kid's Baldoran's descendant?"
At that moment, Fyod stroked his chin and asked.
He was the one who'd forged a passionate friendship with Baldoran on the previous floor.
Perhaps because of that, Fyod eyed Byran with keen interest.
It was the look of someone gazing at a friend's nephew.
"Shh, Mr. Fyod, keep it down."
"Mage girl, you're the loud one."
Elasia tried to hush him, and the two naturally started bickering.
"Pretty barren, huh?"
As Havel smacked the backs of their heads,
Byran turned to him with a slow smile.
"Ever since I lost my daughter to the Strike Tribe, I haven't been able to get attached to home."
A tale of woe slipped from his lips.
Havel had heard about the city's situation from Owen beforehand.
Byran was deeply embroiled in the war with the Strike Tribe.
It was a matter of avenging his son and the city's very survival.
Byran had no choice but to head to the battlefield every day.
And in doing so, he'd made one massive blunder.
A valuable item from the mansion had been stolen.
"This way, please."
Byran led Havel and the others to a certain room.
The walls of that room were adorned with various weapons.
From expensive-looking ones to worn-out relics, they varied widely.
"These are weapons used by the city lords of generations past. We believe the spirits of our ancestors dwell within them, so we preserve them like this."
As proof of becoming a citizen of the city.
It was tradition for a father to pass a weapon to his child.
Among those weapons, one in particular stood out.
Havel recognized it too.
A black blade and ornate hilt.
Once it had gleamed like the Milky Way, but now only darkness remained—a single sword.
It was the Star Sword.
On the previous floor, Havel had destroyed the Night God's other weapon, the Star Spear.
So now, this was likely the only weapon left to the Night God.
Byran followed Havel's gaze and lifted the Star Sword.
Then he held it out toward Havel.
"If you're truly the Night God's emissary, Havel, then you should be able to make the Star Sword shine."
Havel now understood why Byran had so readily brought him inside.
This was how he weeded out the Night God's emissary.
'The Star Sword needs a hefty dose of Calamity to make the Milky Way glow.'
Even among those who wielded Calamity, not many could make the Star Sword shine.
It was a pretty solid way to identify the Night's emissary.
Havel took hold of the Star Sword.
And immediately began pouring Calamity into it.
But soon, his eyebrows twitched.
He shot Byran a subtle glance.
Byran's expression remained fixed straight on Havel, unchanging.
Did he not know?
Or was the test still ongoing?
Whatever it meant,
Havel stood there silently, gripping the Star Sword.
Then Elasia, standing behind him, reacted with puzzlement.
"Lord Havel?"
She was asking why he wasn't making the Star Sword shine.
But Havel just kept holding the sword in silence.
A moment later, Byran let out a short, wry chuckle.
"As expected."
The instant he opened his mouth to speak, Havel poured Calamity into the Star Sword.
Byran's eyes widened as he sensed the Calamity.
Until now, his presence had been faint.
But as Havel began wielding Calamity, his own presence exploded outward.
Startled, he paused mid-sentence.
He belatedly realized what Havel was up to.
"W-Wait a..."
By the time he tried to stop him, it was too late.
Crack!
A sound rang out, and cracks began spiderwebbing across the Star Sword.
Everyone stared in shock at the sight.
Shatter!
The sword's fragments exploded outward.
Shards embedded in the walls or scattered across the floor.
As everyone gaped at the scene,
Havel casually dropped the hilt onto the ground.
"Where's the real Star Sword?"
This one was a fake.
Havel had known it from the moment he gripped it.
"A fake?"
Fyod turned to Byran with a baffled look.
Byran bowed his head in silence for a moment.
Then,
Thud!
He dropped to his knees and prostrated himself before Havel.
"I behold the Night's emissary!"
That Calamity just now.
Its power was beyond reproach for the Night's emissary.
And seeing through the fake Star Sword right away was further proof he was the one.
Havel pulled over a nearby chair.
He sat down leisurely, crossing his legs.
"Something happened, didn't it."
From Byran's reaction, Havel had a rough idea of the situation.
And that Byran hadn't prepared the fake on purpose.
"Yes, my apologies. Due to my negligence, the Star Sword was stolen."
Stolen.
Havel furrowed his brow at the word.
"Who would steal the Star Sword?"
"It was that Memento Mori gang."
Byran began explaining without holding back.
The day the Strike Tribe invaded and he marched out to fight.
Intruders broke into his mansion.
Two members killed the guards and stole the Star Sword before fleeing.
Search parties were dispatched afterward, but the trail vanished in Strike Tribe territory.
To pursue further would require infiltrating their lands.
In the end, the search teams gave up the chase.
But Byran couldn't announce that the Star Sword had been taken by thugs.
The city was already on edge because of the Strike Tribe.
News of the Star Sword's disappearance would cause pandemonium.
So he'd silenced the search teams and displayed a makeshift fake instead.
And then, the Night's emissary from legend appeared in person.
From Byran's position, he had no defense—even if punished.
But Havel had no intention of punishing Byran.
After all, he didn't place much importance on the Star Sword.
Just a decent blade.
That was it.
But something else had caught his attention.
"Byran, when exactly was the Star Sword stolen?"
"Noon, a week ago."
A week ago.
Havel's eyes narrowed at that.
A week ago lined up perfectly with when the Tower floor changed.
"And the thieves?"
"Both were human. One was a man with long black hair and dark skin; the other, a short woman with pale skin."
Humans—and with that detail, Havel's suspicions solidified into certainty.
The moment the floor's history shifted, someone had sprung into action.
'Even if they heard legends of the Night's emissary from the crows.'
Stealing the Star Sword that same day was too quick.
This smacked of prior knowledge.
"Owen, did you share info about the Star Sword from floor 73 with the Graiza family?"
Owen had been steadily sharing intel with the Graiza family.
It was his job, after all.
And to gather even a little more information.
Since lower-floor info reflected upward,
Sharing yielded even greater gains.
Havel had approved this too.
"Ah, yes, I did."
Owen answered promptly.
Havel finished sorting his thoughts.
"Byran, did they use Calamity?"
Havel asked for final confirmation.
Byran's face hardened.
"Yes."
With that answer, Havel lightly pressed the nape of his neck.
"Then by now, Memento Mori knows someone from the Graiza family has been caught."
Owen's pupils dilated hugely.
He grasped what Havel meant.
"No way, Lord Baria..."
"Can't rule it out."
Owen's face drained of color.
"...No, it's not a possibility—it's definitely Lord Baria. Our scouts have a rule."
Owen held up his hand.
His fingers bore strange tattoos.
"If we're captured, the tattoos rip off instantly to prevent leaking info."
You couldn't turn the pages of a Graiza book without those tattoos.
Forcing it would just shred the book.
Besides, Graiza books were fully encrypted.
With resolve, one could easily deceive with false info.
"But direct descendants are different."
Graiza direct bloodlines didn't need tattoos.
They could open the books freely.
Because their lives were worth more than any intel.
It was a bargaining chip for when a direct descendant was caught.
Hand over info, spare the direct line.
So Owen was certain.
"Lord Baria is safe for now."
That alone let him breathe a sigh of relief.
"On top of that, he's deliberately luring them in."
Baria would have learned through the book that Havel was climbing the Tower.
The Star Sword was a fine weapon, but not worth stealing outright.
Yet they took it that very day.
Memento Mori had overvalued it due to Baria's info ploy.
Baria had fed them disinformation in his own way.
"Then!"
Owen's face lit up.
A path to rescue Baria had opened.
"Yeah, we'll track those two."
Havel said as he turned to Elasia.
She nodded immediately and prepared her magic.
For light-based tracking.
But soon, dismay crossed her face.
"Uh, um."
She let out a flustered sound.
"Lord Havel, someone over there has countermeasures against tracking magic. A pretty high-level mage."
Elasia was a skilled mage herself.
But if the opponent outclassed her, her spells were useless.
Elasia bit her lip, pride wounded.
Havel rubbed his chin.
"Elasia, come here a sec."
She approached, puzzled.
As she reached him, Havel raised his hand smoothly.
In that instant, before she could react, his hand moved.
"Eek!?"
She yelped belatedly.
Intense heat surged through her body.
At the same time, her vision warped.
It felt like a new sense had awakened.
"L-Lord Havel, wh-what is this."
Then Havel unleashed Calamity.
"Kyaaah!"
She screamed and rolled on the floor.
She'd sensed the Calamity.
"Good."
Havel had learned how to infuse Calamity from the Star Sword incident.
Just as the Whisperer had created the Venom Snake,
he figured he could do it too—and sure enough.
"Try the light magic now."
"Y-Yes."
He told the barely recovered Elasia.
She staggered but recast the tracking spell.
"L-Lord Havel, got 'em!"
Elasia shouted excitedly.
The Calamity had enabled her tracking magic.
Elasia was adept at tracking spells.
Even if the foe was a superior mage,
Sharing the same Calamity gave her the edge.
"Wh-What? What'd you do? Do me too!"
Fyod blurted out in panic.
He'd maintained a subtle rivalry with Elasia.
Seeing her gain something, he wanted in.
Havel shrugged and infused Fyod with Calamity.
"Gaaah!"
Fyod screamed and writhed on the floor.
The sudden Calamity twisted his world.
"Th-This, heh, heheheh!"
Soon, he lay there cackling madly.
"Want it too?"
Havel turned to Owen, who frantically shook his head.
"N-No, I'm good."
Owen's motto was to live ordinarily.