The Child and the Adult (1)
Sobaran is a territory located in the northwest of Seplam. However, due to its nature as a border region, security is handled not by a village guard, but by soldiers directly under the lord’s command. That an Exile could enter such a place with such audacity was truly lamentable, and for the residents of the territory, it could only become a symbol of terror.
And Kizzel, having earned the title of "Human Hunter," continued his murders as if he enjoyed that very fact. While little was known about his true identity, the villagers, whose negative sentiments toward Exiles had reached their peak, lined up to submit petitions. The butler’s office, tasked with reviewing documents for the lord, sighed at this phenomenon.
It was a daily event—not even a weekly one—to pass along the endless stream of documents and choose whose turn it would be to have their head smashed in by the objects the lord would throw in a fit of rage.
The butler’s office eventually decided on a strategy that could not have been more cruel: forcing the guards who submitted the petitions to present them to the lord in person.
However, fortunately for the guards who would have become the sacrificial lambs, the lord’s temper flared much faster than that.
"How on earth is such a heinous Exile still not captured!"
In the end, enraged by the ever-increasing petitions, the lord rounded up the other outcasts, excluding Kizzel, and interrogated them harshly, finally managing to obtain rough information about Kizzel.
"Gray hair. Brown eyes. A man who looks moderately sturdy but has a slightly thin build, you say?"
"That is correct, Priest Hisoral."
Having heard this information directly from the lord, Hisoral felt as if his insides were scorching as he tried to suppress his boiling anger.
"You are only releasing this information now... No, let me rephrase. Why did you not act like this from the beginning?"
Hisoral did not think he was growling, but Lord Badul of Sobaran, standing right in front of him, felt exactly that. Badul swallowed hard as he looked at Hisoral. Hisoral spoke as if he were shooting each word into the lord’s skin.
"Do you remember the child I brought with me?"
"Yes? Ah, that..."
"His name is Rosi."
Badul immediately shut his mouth.
'You idiot.'
Just the fact that the name didn't come out immediately made him feel as if his blood were running dry.
"I have investigated. Even before that poor child became a poor victim, Kizzel’s evil deeds were already reaching this territory. Yet, the lord’s direct guard, who handles security, and the border patrol could not properly track Kizzel’s whereabouts."
"That is... at the time, the outline of the culprit was not clear."
Badul offered an excuse that wasn't really an excuse. And no sooner had Badul finished speaking than Hisoral continued.
"Fine. Very well. Because it wasn't clear, I personally involved myself in the security. While it is the reason I, as a branch head and a Martial Priest, am needed for the temple's existence, I even volunteered as a martial arts instructor for the security force just in case. As if that weren't enough, fearing there might be more innocent victims, I roamed day and night. But the bastard committed his crime right when I had collapsed from exhaustion after staying up for three days and nights. What did I do then?"
"...You turned the guard upside down single-handedly."
"Yes. I turned them upside down. I asked if I had taught you all just to witness such laziness in this situation."
Badul acted with humility. Those called Martial Priests are people who have dedicated their entire lives to the method of combining martial arts with a handful of Essence. However, the Martial Priest who had come from outside to establish a temple and wished to settle down was very moderate, and because of that, the lord had committed the folly of taking him lightly.
Hisoral spoke in a tone without clear inflection.
"Even in that situation, you took my request lightly. Even as victims continued to emerge, you only questioned the responsibility of the guards. You did not deploy the troops. You should have made the bastard hesitate, even if just to show the will to root out the Exiles nearby."
Every sentence Hisoral spoke was like a sharply frozen icicle. Long, and with ends as pointed as blades, digging into the skin.
"Do you know how many victims there have been in total, my Lord?"
"It is twelve."
Hisoral looked at the lord without sighing.
"...My Lord. You should have at least listened to me then. One who sits in that position must never take the responsibility of protecting the territory's people lightly. You are a fatal enabler of this cruel serial murder."
The lord did not know the meaning behind those words. Even if he wanted to know, his thoughts could not keep up. The act of the Martial Priest drawing his personal weapon right in front of him was enough to freeze his mind white with sudden terror.
"I can no longer just stand by and watch the people of this territory suffer because of an incompetent person like you. So this is to comfort those who died along with Rosi."
"Gu-gu, gu, is anyone there! Guards!"
At the lord’s shout, the presence of people began to be felt outside. However, Hisoral did not care; he drew his personal weapon, a Cheomgeom, and aimed its tip precisely at the lord’s throat.
"And as of this moment, I will break my vows to the order."
The sword, which had no edge but was as sharp as broken ice at its tip, pierced the lord’s neck.
"My Lord!"
Beyond the door that had been flung open, guards, the head butler, and attendants entered. They looked at Hisoral with pale faces. Red blood was dripping from the Cheomgeom—a weapon that was like an angular awl, strange to be called a blade.
"What, what on earth is this, Priest Hisoral!"
"I am sorry, Head Butler."
"How could you do such a thing...!"
The guards drew their swords and blocked Hisoral’s path. But they all hesitated, and no one dared to step forward against Hisoral alone.
Hisoral asked.
"Are you going to stop me?"
"Are you joking? The regular guard against a Martial Priest?"
"If you intend to stop me, then stop me. Of course, if you do, I will kill you all."
It was a statement devoid of any emotion. The butler wondered if this was really the same man who had smiled and talked about how glad he was that the soldiers' discipline had improved. The soldiers were trembling in fear.
The head butler wanted to retort to Hisoral in a fit of frustration:
'It’s not a matter of will, you old fool...'
The head butler sighed and raised his hand. The guards sheathed their weapons, stepped back, and blocked the door. The butler knew that the soldiers couldn't defeat Hisoral anyway. So, this was a measure to ensure that people outside could no longer check the situation inside.
Confirming that the soldiers understood his intentions well, the head butler asked Hisoral as if pleading.
"Why on earth did you do this? Branch Head Hisoral. You weren't this kind of person, were you? Murdering a lord is a grave crime that falls under the law of insurrection. We cannot take your side."
At the head butler’s words, Hisoral showed a tired smile.
"I did not intend to trouble you all. I apologize if I startled you. And, I assure you, I have no intention of troubling you in the future."
The stunned head butler asked.
"What... what does that mean?"
"Keep your mouths shut. Say that the lord was not killed by a visitor in broad daylight, but that a Martial Priest who had broken his vows and gone mad with rage assassinated him under the cover of night."
The head butler’s jaw dropped, and he lost his words. Hisoral’s intention was simple yet easy to understand.
If the lord was killed in broad daylight and they let the killer go, they couldn't hope to avoid censure, even with the lightest of punishments. But if the lord died at night, the story would be different.
An assassin's infiltration. If the situation were presented that way, the responsibility for the lord's murder would fall solely on Hisoral.
"Priest Hisoral, you. Don't tell me you planned this from the start...?"
"If an investigator is dispatched from the capital, it will take at least a week. Most of them wouldn't even know how to distinguish how many days have passed since the body was truly dead. It will pass without much suspicion."
"...What about the temple? You are the branch head, aren't you?"
"There is someone dispatched from the Grand Temple."
"You mean Priest Hadonan."
"Yes. I have handed it over to him, so you handle it as you see fit. You can at least do that much."
A demand for competence, not a confirmation of incompetence.
The butler nodded heavily at those words.
"Understood. Leave it to me. I will explain it well to Priest Hadonan."
"I will trust you. Ah, tell him I am sorry as well."
The butler nodded.
A man who was strict in discernment and morality had decided to see blood with a cold purpose. There was no one there who didn't know that it was better to think about the distance the blade was moving away than to measure the lifespan of the distance the blade was approaching.
The Martial Priest, who had gripped the middle of his peculiar weapon—a sword without an edge—bowed politely to the butler and the guards. Then, through the butler’s gesture, he exited the castle using a passage that only the lord could use.
The sharp death that had been looming over them passed them by.
"Everyone, if this matter is revealed, you will never get away with it. So if you want to live, or at least if you don't want to end up in prison, listen to me carefully!"
The soldiers and the attendants who had witnessed the situation froze and etched the butler’s words into their ears. And the butler had to think until his head felt like it would burst about how to explain this situation to Hadonan.
At that moment. Hisoral, having escaped the lord’s castle, headed outside the border region. The headquarters of the Wind Temple. Although the amount of Essence he could handle was lacking, for him, who had lived in the forest of the Riso family where the Grand Temple was located, escaping the border through the soldiers' blind spots was nothing.
Northwest of Seplam.
Beyond that lay the embrace of Mother Nature, where lush forests and hills, nourished by the Laoras River, stretched endlessly. In the distance, the path toward the Luzen Gorge and the Hesno territory could be seen, but even that was a crude shape to call "groomed."
Hisoral had brought copies of the incident reports recorded every time a victim appeared. He had come here with his personal weapon and one child after being granted a branch, but when he left, he had only his weapon and papers that would be clues to his enemy.
"In the end, I came empty-handed and leave empty-handed. That life is so futile..."
He had thrown away all the values he was supposed to protect. Now, all that remained was the karmic fire consuming him. Once he had decided to break his vows, the only path left for him was punishment. A fallen practitioner could never enter the temple except in exceptional cases, and even if he lived a perfectly upright life, he could only be an employee of the city alliance. Above all, where could a grave sinner who killed a lord set foot?
So this was merely a spectacular act of burning to death, surrendering his body to the flames of revenge.
Of course, the person who would burn with him in those flames was already decided.
"Rosi. I will at least get your revenge."
The forest, as it does for any visitor, quietly accepted the flames that did not burn itself.