Chapter 120: The Hero Slayer

Pallarg had a habit of reviewing his memories whenever he ran into a mental block in his reasoning.

It was his way of catching any missed variables and reaching a more rational conclusion.

For the same reason, he began replaying events in his mind now.

Where to begin?

Right.

Since he had no idea where it went wrong, best to start from the top.

Step by step.

When we arrived at the meeting hall, there was already a hostile mood directed at Risir…

Then Drey treated him warmly, and that atmosphere flipped…

That woman Corsia got scared and confessed that the Third Arm, a criminal organization, had ordered her to harm Risir, and Drey and I told her we’d take care of it…

After that, the meeting proceeded smoothly…

We confirmed that Risir had made some initial connections with the other attendees and then brought him to a private room…

Once the three of us were alone, I was the first to bring it up—

What he wanted as a reward for winning the duel…

And what he asked for was to observe the principle of Ideation…

Pallarg had shown him no more and no less than a current of mana containing only the principle of Ideation.

To whet Risir’s thirst.

To make him desire further knowledge, and perhaps even the position once held by Moria.

But then, out of nowhere, his mana surged.

Risir, who had been at the late 6th tier level, suddenly shattered that wall and reached the 7th tier.

Pallarg couldn’t figure out where the doubt should even begin.

He had merely observed a raw “lump of Ideation,” without any magical structure, and then suddenly gained the ability to wield that technique skillfully?

A leap in mana that denied the very existence of the 7th tier wall, which many never surpassed despite a lifetime of effort?

Or—

“Please don’t be alarmed! I merely replicated the sudden mana surge that occurred in Moria during our duel!”

That sentence… it was so incomprehensible it defied reason?

“Khhmm…!!!”

This was bad.

Reflecting on the sequence of events only deepened the mystery.

He felt so bewildered that he might accidentally trigger a mana backlash at this rate.

Then what should he do?

As one who pursued the principles of magic, how was he supposed to accept a being who violated those very principles?

“…Right! That makes sense… because it’s you!”

The Archmage finally reached a conclusion.

To perceive the man before him not as a fellow mage, but as a separate entity altogether.

He is Risir.

Therefore, it is entirely plausible that he can harbor a powerful being within, wield both sword and spell, and jump freely between tiers at will.

—No. That’s ridiculous, even for…

Pallarg smacked down his own rationality as it dared raise its head.

All the various confusions about Risir that had muddled his thoughts lately were suddenly resolved.

The satisfaction he felt was comparable to the enlightenment of discovering a new magical truth.

Pallarg felt a brief wave of shame for being so elated by a revelation like, “Aha, so it’s because he’s Risir!”

“Lord Pallarg, what do you mean by that? Because he’s Risir? Please explain so I can understand too—”

“Explain? How am I supposed to explain that? Just accept it as is. It’s easier that way.”

“Ah…”

At last, even the high noble nodded in understanding.

Somewhere, in some tower, a long-braided elder mage would’ve smiled proudly at how his juniors were turning out.

Huff… huff…!

Then it happened again, Risir’s body changed.

The mana that had reached 7th tier subsided back to the 6th.

A temporary elevation in tier?

Normally, such a phenomenon would’ve driven a talent-collector and an Archmage mad with obsession.

“Heh heh.”

“Wow.”

But the two, having just attained a profound insight, simply appreciated the spectacle.

Well.

What could they do? Go mad?

Analyze that thing? Try to replicate it?

How, exactly?

Hoo… hoo…

Even now, they noticed that Risir was controlling his breathing, executing the Blue Breath.

In terms of refinement, he could’ve passed for a pure 6th tier swordsman.

And yet, he was performing that advanced breathing technique while simultaneously controlling Ideation.

That wasn’t something analysis or mimicry could achieve.

Eventually, Risir finished regulating his breath.

Cough!

And promptly spewed blood from every orifice of his face.

“Oh dear.”

“Risir, are you alright?”

“Yes, it happens sometimes. I thought I’d gotten better, but I guess I overdid it again just now.”

“It’s alright, it’s alright. If you don’t push yourself when you’re young, when will you? That’s how we all grow.”

“Oh, Lord Pallarg, so you too experienced overloads like this often?”

“Haha, what nonsense. Do you think overload is like a hangover? You’re the only one who treats it so casually. Still, considering how often you go through it, it’s a miracle your body’s fine.”

“Well, partly because I’ve been training my body with swordsmanship too. And sometimes, I have these spontaneous mana surges, they’ve helped a lot.”

“Haha, spontaneous mana surges, huh? Sounds like a blessing to me. Good for you.”

“Haha, I feel the same.”

“Haha, mana surges… they’re like when you take an elixir, right?”

“Pardon?”

“Haha! Look at Lord Pallarg’s face! That ‘Seriously?’ expression!”

“Haha! Right? That was a dumb question from you.”

“Then Risir probably wouldn’t even care for elixirs, huh?”

“Haha, no way. Elixirs are still great, if you can get your hands on them.”

“Elixirs are still great… hah, what a fun expression. Isn’t that right, Lord Pallarg?”

“Heheheh, indeed. Amusing, truly.”

“…”

In the corner of the room stood the bespectacled young lady.

Macey, Drey’s secretary and bodyguard, watched their beyond-this-world conversation in stunned disbelief.

“Well then—”

Having enjoyed a hearty laugh and banter, Pallarg and Drey gently shifted the mood.

Before meeting Risir today, they had been prepared to do whatever it took to bring him under their wing.

But now, their thoughts had changed.

They decided to give up on that plan.

Their interest in him hadn’t waned—in fact, it had only grown—

But…

Can we even handle “that?”

They couldn’t get that thought out of their heads.

Drey and Pallarg were men who stood at the top.

They only felt comfortable when those under them were completely under their control.

And so they asked themselves—

Risir.

Could he be kept fully under control?

The answer came even before the thought could finish.

Even during the conversation just now, they’d felt their IQ drop in real time.

So, they revised their approach.

Their goal was no longer to recruit that incomprehensible being.

But to leave a good impression and build a favorable relationship.

Two men—one an Archmage, the other a high noble—who usually made others sweat with anxiety…

Now found themselves on the opposite side.

They had no idea how to grow closer to this unfathomable man.

And yet, as they cautiously continued speaking, they discovered something unexpected: despite his baffling powers, Risir’s personality was extremely normal.

In a good way.

He didn’t shrink in the presence of high nobles or Archmages, yet he never overstepped decorum either.

His maturity was something rarely found in other young nobles of his age.

Soon, Drey and Pallarg found themselves genuinely liking him.

The smiles on their faces as they chatted with him were completely natural.

Macey, still standing nearby and watching, was deeply surprised.

Drey and Pallarg.

From an outsider’s perspective, they were near-disastrous individuals.

They evaluated people like appraisers examining goods.

Their standards were exacting beyond belief.

They held the perspectives and mindset befitting their high positions.

For such people to show genuine affection toward someone?

It was rare, even if that person had the skills to justify it.

And that man… Risir…

His presence had etched itself into them in more ways than one.

At that moment, Dan’Galeon cleared his throat and exclaimed:

—Like moths drawn to light, they are helplessly enraptured by Mastah’s divine radiance!!! I, Dan’Galeon, who longs to be a great flame like the Ever Radiance Risir, can only bow in reverence!!!

Risir, too, was feeling a sort of confused astonishment.

He had never imagined he’d make such an impression on both a high noble and a Archmage.

Perhaps the real reward wasn’t the meeting, but this room.

That warm, harmonious mood lingered until the gathering dispersed.

“Risir, I’ll be staying here at Sir Goose’s mansion for a while. Let’s meet often. If you need anything, just say the word.”

“And me as well. I wasn’t planning to stay long, but I’ve suddenly developed an interest in this city, Bondalles. If ever you feel the need for guidance again, come find me. But next time, be ready to officially join our school of magic.”

As he parted ways and returned to his room, a satisfied smile spread across Risir’s face.

Not only had he made progress on his “enhancement” ability, he’d also forged ties with two colossal figures whose titles could make people sweat.

What an incredible harvest.

True to the nature of a merchant guild’s mansion, it was filled with a variety of guests and constant stories…

News of his encounter with the two titans spread rapidly.

By now, it seemed like everyone knew.

“Sir Risir, Lady Philana is hosting a dinner this evening and would be honored by your presence. If you could attend—”

Sir?

When he was alone in his room, people constantly came to invite him somewhere—

“Ah, Sir Risir!”

“Would you care to join us? We were just talking about you.”

Sir?! Again?

Whenever he wandered the mansion, people recognized him and greeted him.

This is… surprising.

“Clana?”

—I can feel it. You’re in a good mood. I didn’t think you cared about this sort of thing.

As Clana said, he was a little giddy.

“Well, you know… I’m technically a bastard. I had some fantasies about being treated like a noble.”

—…You’re a bastard?

“Huh? You didn’t know?”

—The way you look, the way you act, I assumed you were born of a noble house.

“Oh, well, my family’s barely considered noble. Like, right on the edge.”

—No, that’s not what I mean— hah… whatever. Still unexpected.

—You inorganic wench!!! How dare you reduce our Mastah’s elegance and nobility to such a crude expression! Know your place!!

“Whoa, whoa. No fighting. Not on a lovely day like this.”

When Fienne had told him he’d be granted an official position in Bondalles, a certain worry had crossed Risir’s mind.

Can someone like me—a rootless bastard—truly carry the dignity required for a proper position in this great city?

His skill in magic and swordsmanship was rising rapidly, and his network was growing smoothly, but he was still just a bastard with no real power or wealth.

In that sense.

The fact that the honored guests of the Guild Master were now calling him “Sir Risir” carried profound meaning.

It felt like his power and influence finally had a tangible form.

Damn, Risir.

You really made it this far, huh.

There was a time when he’d been treated with contempt as a bastard child, dreaming only of escaping that mansion.

A time when he’d fretted over where he’d sleep next in Bondalles.

Those memories were still vivid, like they’d happened just yesterday.

The wave of nostalgia hit him hard.

As he strolled through the garden, basking in his good mood, someone waved and approached him.

“Hey, Sir Risir.”

“You are—”

It was a woman with a swaggering gait, clearly drawing attention to the sword at her hip.

Brienne.

According to Fienne, she was a famous 7th tier swordswoman from the central continent.

A 7th tier swordswoman…

He felt a spark of interest.

Now that he thought about it, he’d never really faced off against a 7th tier swordsman before.

Especially after having just observed the 7th tier magic of an 8th tier mage and gaining a major revelation from it—

He couldn’t shake the urge to witness her sword firsthand.

“Out for a walk?”

“Please, feel free to just call me Risir. I’ll call you Brienne, too.”

“Ahaha~ How could I? You’re close with the Frozen Breath and the Collector, after all.”

Despite her words, Brienne gave his arm a playful flick with her finger and laughed in her usual rough style.

Then her eyes drifted toward his waist.

“You usually walk around without your sword?”

“Huh? Ah, right. I mean, I am a mage, after all.”

“Aha~ A mage, huh? Yet, I’ve never seen such a vicious strike in my life.”

“Ha ha, to hear that from a master swordswoman like you, it’s an honor.”

“An honor? Do you really mean that?”

“Of course.”

“Oh~ Then how about this? Wait just a sec.”

Brienne disappeared for a moment, and when she returned, she was carrying two swords.

She held one out to him.

“An honor indeed. How about it?”

“…Huh?”

“Let’s have a quick duel.”

“Oh…”

Talk about a windfall out of nowhere.

He’d been itching for a chance to observe a 7th tier swordsman, and now she herself was suggesting a duel?

Without hesitation, Risir accepted the sword.

“Aha~ I like that decisiveness. No wonder those two fell for you.”

With a cocky laugh, Brienne drew her sword.

Just as this miraculous duel—born of coincidence and shared curiosity—was about to begin—

“Sir Risir, there you are.”

A familiar, professional voice stopped him in his tracks.

It was Macey, the bespectacled lady, Drey’s secretary and bodyguard.

“Ms. Macey? What brings you here?”

“You may just call me Macey.”

“I like calling you that, it has a nice rhythm to it when I say it.”

“…”

“Ah, sorry if that bothered you.”

“Not at all. Please feel free to call me whatever’s comfortable.”

She adjusted her glasses and continued.

“Sir Risir, Lord Drey has requested your presence.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Ahh…”

To give up a chance to witness 7th tier swordsmanship…

What a storm on a clear day.

But he couldn’t exactly decline a summons from a high noble.

Especially not one who wouldn’t have called him without reason.

There was bound to be something valuable in it.

Suppressing his disappointment, Risir turned to Brienne.

“Brienne, I’m sorry. We’ll have to postpone our duel.”

She shrugged with a playful gesture, but her eyes betrayed a hint of the same regret.

“Too bad. I really wanted to see that monstrous strike again with my own eyes.”

She even looked slightly annoyed as she turned away and walked off.

Following Macey, Risir arrived at a room in the mansion.

Seated and facing someone, Drey welcomed him in.

“Ah! There you are. Let me introduce you, this is Risir, a new friend of mine.”

The woman standing across from Drey remained on her feet, as though that were more comfortable for her.

Maybe because of the armor?

Her gaze followed Drey’s gesture toward Risir.

Compared to her, even Ms. Macey seems lively.

That was the impression she gave, a chilling, rigid presence.

Drey continued with his introduction.

“Risir, meet Tua Ye De Villan. Second daughter of House De Villan and captain of the De Villan Knight Order’s special forces.”

“…”

The name “Ye” signified the bearer’s noble lineage of the highest tier.

The second daughter of a high noble family.

And captain of their knight order.

No wonder she carried herself like a powerhouse.

“Tua of House De Villan.”

“Ah, I’m Risir. A pleasure to meet you.”

That was all the conversation they had.

Tua immediately turned her gaze back to Drey.

“So? What’s this about? Why are you suddenly introducing this guy to me?”

“I told you, I know someone with unusual talents. Who knows? He might be able to help you with your current situation.”

“Help me?”

She looked at Risir with a faint trace of skepticism.

Risir instinctively responded.

“Help? With what, exactly?”

Drey answered right away.

“Tua is currently looking for someone who’s hiding out in Bondalles. But the guy’s impossible to find using normal means.”

“What kind of person is he?”

“A Hero Slayer.”

“…Pardon?”

“He killed a Hero candidate, one who wielded the fifth of the Six Holy Swords of the First Hero.”

The scale of the conversation escalated so suddenly that Risir almost lost his footing, but he forced himself to keep up.

“If he did something that major, his face and name must be known everywhere. How has he managed to stay hidden?”

“That’s the problem.”

“Huh?”

“His face and name, he can change them freely. Ever heard oftThe Face Thief?”

“…No.”

Tua stepped in to explain.

“He’s a former guild master of an assassin’s guild. He possesses the ability to steal another’s face, voice, and even their techniques. According to reports, he once replicated the exact appearance, voice, and unique sword style of a 7th tier swordsman on the spot.”

“H-he copied a 7th tier swordsman’s unique style right there? Is that even possible?”

“It shouldn’t be. And it mustn’t be. But he can.”

“…Damn.”

Risir was stunned by her explanation.

Tua nodded slightly, then turned to Drey.

“Drey. As I said, this is a matter involving the Face Thief. We can’t drag a young mage like him into it.”

“…”

“What’s that look for? Am I wrong?”

“No, it’s not that—”

Drey turned to Risir, his expression unusually tense.

“Risir, why do you look so surprised?”

“…?”

“…?”

Tua and Risir looked at him, confused by his sudden question.