Ch.81Lost Blood (2)

“It had been a little over ten days since the imperial decree was issued.

Dried blood spatters scattered about.

Scavengers circling unexpectedly.

A desolate landscape of wild grass.

Beyond my rolled-back eyes, such sights decorated my vision.

I had collapsed with countless stab wounds at what used to be Feita’s territory. It was one hundred percent my karma and aligned perfectly with my objective.

Our operation had an unexpectedly powerful effect. Though we faced public criticism in the process, the results were so evident that everyone kept their mouths shut.

A shadow fell across my pupils, which were as lifeless as a dead fish’s eyes. A simple dress with light, thin fabric blocked the sunlight. The woman wearing the mobility-focused dress was Irefi.

“Good work, Nepy.”

“Well then, time to get up.”

She bent down and extended her small hand. I accepted it without hesitation, regenerating the stab wounds as I grasped her hand.

The process of punctured and torn wounds instantly returning to smooth skin was grotesque. I admired Irefi, who didn’t even blink at the mysteries of the human body.

“I’ve been lying here quite a while. They shouldn’t suspect the corpse has disappeared, right?”

“We can just claim we buried it separately.”

“Well, it’s not like anyone would care much anyway.”

Three days had passed since I collapsed after being stabbed by Feita’s private soldiers. And I was even in disguise, wearing a wig!

Zikharun must be over there sharing information about my immortality. Since I needed to be presumed dead, the disguise was an unavoidable choice.

“Oh Nepy, coming up with such an outlandish plan and going through all this trouble…”

“It may look ridiculous, but we use what works.”

The reason I lay stabbed for three days.

It was connected to the crazy stunt I pulled at this place—Lorian Feita’s family tomb.

In front of her tombstone, I had shouted:

[Ladies and gentlemen! I now present the dismantling show of traitor ancestor Lorian Feita’s tomb! Applause, please!!!]

Clap clap clap clap clap!

My cheerful shout rang clearly under the bright sky.

I looked magnificent as I thrust a giant shovel toward the heavens.

It was madness, showing not just insanity but even pleasure at a place where respect should have been shown to the deceased.

Moreover, I spread rumors throughout the territory claiming it was an imperial decree. The shocking threat to desecrate Lorian Feita’s family tomb was a provocative issue.

Although her family committed treason, Lorian Feita was undeniably a founding noble. Regardless of her descendants’ disgrace, public sympathy toward her was considerable.

As they say, rumors travel fast, and with adrenaline injected into this one, imagine how quickly it spread. Countless people gathered that day, and it was inevitable that Feita’s associates would get involved.

[Heave-ho! … Oh, who are you people…! Ugh!?]

The moment I swung my hammer at Lorian’s tombstone!

People in black robes appeared from nowhere, minced me into pieces, and disappeared.

Not knowing that was exactly my plan.

“Irefi, are the civilians unharmed?”

“Yes. We captured some of Feita’s soldiers, and let a few go.”

Irefi couldn’t directly engage in combat. But if it was extremely indirect, that was different. She took on the role of containing some of the puppets with her protective ability, Holy Memory.

Though it contained Malice, it seems she could at least seal all four sides with a cube.

“Good. Prevent the captured ones from committing suicide and send them to the imperial palace. I’m going to repay those who stabbed me now.”

“I’ll wait for you at the institute, Nepy.”

“I’ll bring back the whole pumpkin vine, so look forward to it.”

I confidently promised as I threw off my wig.

Only one task remained.

‘I’ll track the items stained with my blood.’

It’s the same method I used to track Zikharun during Charle’s kidnapping incident. Since it’s a secret even Zikharun doesn’t know, he won’t have time to prepare.

The true nature of Feita’s plot remains a mystery, but I just need to resolve it before then.

With my consciousness merged with the old man’s past life, I can handle even the complete Zikharun. This isn’t a vague possibility, but a solid conviction.

‘Let’s erase this ill-fated connection between vessels once and for all. You must feel the same, right?’

Above all, he annoyingly has the same hair and eye color as me. Though his delicate impression for a man sets him apart, it feels like our characters overlap, which irritates me.

I’ll pluck him like a chicken and make him bald to eliminate his individuality.

◇

“…That’s how it is, and the guild is being thoroughly exposed. Damn it, at this rate, it wouldn’t be strange if people discovered that the guild itself is Feita.”

“That’s troublesome.”

Zikharun only offered an indifferent comment. Unlike the anxious Troph, his nonchalant attitude was almost irritating.

“What’s with you? Do you have a solution, friend? You seem so unconcerned, but this is actually a serious problem.”

“I suppose it is.”

“Looking at your lofty expression, it seems like you might have a secret plan, but we don’t have time, so spit it out quickly.”

“I have nothing like that.”

“What?”

“You can’t squeeze water from a dry towel. An unexpected checkmate.”

“You bastard…!”

The enraged Troph grabbed Zikharun’s collar with a contorted face. Zikharun remained impassive. Without any plausible resistance, he silently observed the situation.

Troph was infuriated by his doll-like response. The passive remarks from Zikharun, the only possibility and hidden card for Feita’s operation to succeed, provoked his anger.

“Hey, you son of a… What are you trying to do? You said you need to destroy the empire too. That’s how you survive, right? So why are you acting like this! You… you… dog-like…”

“It’s all futile now.”

“Huh?”

“If I’m told to fight, I’ll fight with all my might. I’ll even risk my life. That’s the minimum responsibility I must fulfill.”

Zikharun’s tone was detached. His empty gaze and monotone voice were those of a young man who had lost his spirit.

“If you understand, don’t demand more from me.”

Sensing the ominous atmosphere, Troph released his collar and stepped back.

“You?”

He had noticed the change in demeanor since their last private meeting. At that time, he had dismissed it as a temporary phenomenon. He was angry at his own lack of foresight in not predicting that it wasn’t.

Troph resigned himself based on his life experience.

“Ah. I understand. Perfectly…”

“What will you do?”

“Since the guild is being exposed without defense, thorough preparation is impossible. Then we’ll have to gather what we have and conduct the ritual in a simplified form.”

“Sordid and rational.”

At Zikharun’s assessment, Troph couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

Sordid and rational!

Even Troph himself couldn’t find a more fitting expression, which made him curse.

“Yeah, damn it… it’s sordid. Fucking sordid. So you fulfill your agreement too. Be prepared to die, I mean.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Kill the one who’s raiding our guild immediately. Whether it’s Bartlant Chester or Irefi Justitia, they’re at the institute, so you should be able to handle this properly.”

“I’ll give it my all.”

“Tsk.”

He clicked his tongue sharply, tired of Zikharun’s cynical attitude. Talking with him felt like speaking to empty space that happened to answer back.

It was hard to describe, but intuitively, a sense of displeasure surged. He seemed so transparent that he might float away and disappear if not bound by shackles.

In the end, those who dislike something leave. Troph stormed out of the room that was nominally the family head’s chamber.

Left alone, Zikharun stared at the table with dry eyes.

It was the table where Lorian Feita’s memoir had been placed. Currently, it was nowhere to be seen, perhaps put away by Troph.

“Lorian Feita… ha, haha. Kuk.”

Zikharun was also aware that his mindset had clearly changed from before. The turning point was the day of his private meeting with Troph—the evening when he glimpsed Lorian’s memoir.

From the memoir, he witnessed Lorian’s life story. The past of someone who raged against injustice and was broken by the pain of loss was engraved in his mind.

Judging by Troph’s indifferent reaction, he wondered if he had seen a hallucination. However, each time he recalled Lorian’s memoir, the images became clearer, converging into a single truth.

“What destruction of the empire… that’s a generous interpretation.”

Everyone is upholding a false reality. Lorian Feita’s aspiration is an unattainable, vain hope. Similarly, Zikharun’s aspiration is an insubstantial concept like a phantom.

If there is someone who could achieve it, it would only be…

‘…That’s impossible. Both Lorian and Zikharun harbored futile delusions. And I should accept reality too.’

Perhaps he could divert Feita’s path with trivial advice. If only he could break through that near-zero possibility.

It’s too late to reveal the truth without convincing evidence.

The resentment accumulated over 400 years is too deep and intense to handle the overflowing grudge.

Rather than accepting that their aspiration ends in futility,

it might be better for them to help vent their vast energy of resentment.

As the party at the center of fate, Zikharun made his judgment.

“If it’s an aspiration that no one can achieve… then we should at least clash.”

His course of action was decided.

Nepy Alteon. The mysterious hidden boss who single-handedly devours Feita’s supply network in a radical manner.

I don’t know what role you’ve been assigned as an actor. But as long as you’re the boss and I’m the protagonist, there must be a strategy to defeat you.

“Let’s end this ill-fated connection, Marquess.”

Zikharun’s retreating figure as he left the family head’s chamber seemed somewhat precarious.

His gait suggested he might be disappointed if he didn’t die even after falling while walking.

In the darkness, only his red pupils emitted a fierce glow.”