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Chapter 285

Ashuria approached me, slumped over, and squatted down, staring at me blankly.

“Why?”

“Professor, are you getting married?”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Nope.”

At her calm reply, I sat up.

Closing my eyes in brief contemplation, I finally spoke.

“Yeah. I’m getting married. Soon.”

“Will you still be able to teach me after you get married?”

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll stop it.”

I was so taken aback by her brazen response that I lost my words—and instead gave her a flick to the forehead with all my might.

“Ack!”

Ignoring her short scream as she rolled across the floor, I made a decision.

“This won’t do. I need to ask someone with experience.”

“Experience? Do you have any connections in the Bata Kingdom?”

Melissa narrowed her eyes and asked.

Although I had exchanged with various kingdoms, I hadn’t actually formed a connection with anyone in the Bata Kingdom.

“There’s one. Farell’s father.”

Duke Berli.

The only official Swordmaster of the Bata Kingdom.

Aside from myself, in my role as a Guardian, he’s the only Swordmaster currently recognized.

He’s the only one I can rely on now.

With a resolute expression, I stood up and reached out into the air.

Riiip!!!

The air tore open, revealing the space beyond.

“Ooh… Whoa…”

Ashuria’s eyes sparkled at the sight, and she grabbed my sleeve tightly.

“Teach me!”

“You’re not ready.”

Even a genius can’t run before they learn to walk.

Though she clung to my waist as if determined not to back down until I agreed to teach her, she eventually gave up and stepped back.

* * *

Duke Berli, Farell Berli’s father and the Swordmaster of the kingdom, was personally inspecting his territory as the weather grew colder—checking to ensure the people of his domain weren’t suffering from the cold.

Some might say a duke doesn’t need to go this far, but Duke Berli’s virtue was so well-known that even people outside his own lands respected him.

“The wind’s getting chilly, my lord.”

“Haha, would a Swordmaster be fazed by something like this? If you truly can’t bear it, head back first.”

“I could never, my lord.”

Letting out a short sigh, he readjusted the mask on his face and entered a nearby bustling pub.

Inside, the place was packed with townsfolk.

As expected of a pub, many were drinking and eating.

Their faces reflected all the joys and sorrows of life.

Not everyone was laughing, but they didn’t appear to be burdened by any great worries either.

Duke Berli found the sight comforting.

“Welcome! What can I get you?”

A freckled girl, likely the owner’s daughter, came up and asked.

“Hmm. I heard you slaughtered a pig today. Could you bring me two plates and a beer?”

“Of course! I’ll bring it right out!”

He smiled faintly as he watched her trot away with a cheerful grin.

“Seeing no worry on their faces… That must mean I’m doing well.”

Soon, the girl returned, quickly setting down two large plates and a beer mug.

As the lively chatter around him served as background music, the duke began eating slowly.

Objectively, the food wasn’t extraordinary.

But it was tasty.

That alone was enough.

Then it happened.

“Hey! Did you hear? There was an attack on Carlton Village!”

“What?! Carlton? That’s right next to the duchy!”

The pub-goers, who had been laughing and chatting noisily, looked stunned at the mercenary’s shout.

“Someone from Carlton showed up at the guild just now—said it’s absolute chaos over there. If they don’t get reinforcements soon, the whole place might be wiped out…”

Without hesitation, Duke Berli stood up.

“Tell me more. In detail.”

“Huh? Who are you to—G-Gasp!!”

The mercenary, eyeing the masked old man suspiciously, gasped when he saw the face revealed beneath the mask.

“D-Duke!”

“You better explain everything, clearly.”

His face beneath the mask was chillingly cold.

* * *

Carlton Village.

A small village located a short distance outside of Duke Berli’s domain, it was founded by wanderers who had settled down.

Though technically outside the duchy’s jurisdiction, the villagers survived by paying taxes to the Berli house in exchange for protection.

In fact, the duke had even dispatched personnel to maintain order in the village.

“That foolish boy, Farell!”

Duke Berli gritted his teeth as he rode his horse hard.

His son—a swordsman’s son, yet infatuated with magic.

A mage born into a swordmaster’s lineage.

That alone was unusual enough, but Farell had always fearlessly walked uncharted paths.

Talented he may be, but two years ago, Berli had nearly lost him once.

So why was he now so furious at his son?

The reason was simple.

Farell, on his way back from a trip, had stopped by Carlton Village—and fought against the ones who had attacked it.

If they were mere bandits, it wouldn’t be an issue.

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Despite his quirks, Farell was more than capable.

However, the Duke of Berli was certain of one thing.

Those bastards were no ordinary bandits.

He had recently received reports of individuals suspected to be cultists appearing near the Berli Duchy’s territory.

The past two years had been quiet, but cultists were dangerous.

Weren’t they the ones who once tried to assassinate the king?

The realization that his son, whom he had nearly lost once before, had walked into danger again made the Duke feel a sharp pang at the back of his neck.

“…Damn. I’m too late.”

The village of Carlton had been reduced to ruins.

They’re saying bandits did this?

Nonsense.

At a glance, it looked like everything had been violently destroyed, but a closer inspection said otherwise.

These marks were all made deliberately.

Any clues that might have been useful were thoroughly erased.

This was the work of professionals.

There were traces of a rough battle, yes—but only partially.

This was after everything had already been taken care of.

“Lord Duke! There are no survivors!”

Were they all taken?

Whatever reason the cultists had for targeting this small village, they clearly had a purpose. Which meant there was still a chance to rescue the villagers if they acted quickly.

The problem was—where had they gone?

These weren’t sloppy people.

They left no proper trail.

If he had a mage, they might be able to trace magical residue.

But he was a swordsman, not a mage.

His means were too limited.

That’s when it happened.

Thud... thump...

A deep rumbling echoed in the distance.

The Duke of Berli launched himself like a flash in the direction of the sound.

“L-Lord Duke!!”

“Request reinforcements! If they’re cultists, we don’t know how many forces might be hidden!”

With those words, he quickly cut through the dense forest.

And then—just as a silhouette appeared far in the distance, he instantly killed his presence and approached stealthily.

It was then—

“Duke Berli?”

The figure he spotted wasn’t a cultist.

The Duke stared in confusion.

“Lord Leon? What are you doing here…?”

Never mind the fact that he had perfectly erased his presence—how had this young man found him so easily?

And why was he here?

“I was on my way to see you, Duke. But I noticed a strange, unpleasant scent around here. And you, sir? Why are you here?”

Something about the young man’s calm question suddenly made the Duke’s tension vanish.

“Cultists attacked a small village nearby. And it seems… my foolish son ran off on his own after seeing it.”

“Hm. The cult bastards kept quiet for a few years—now they’re acting up again?”

“I apologize, but… they hid their tracks so thoroughly. As someone who isn’t a mage, I…”

“I found it. This way.”

If they had hidden their tracks this well, then surely they would’ve concealed magical traces too.

And yet—he found them in seconds.

Do all skilled mages work like this?

As the Duke stood dumbfounded, Leon quietly spoke.

“Let’s rescue your son first. I’ll go on ahead.”

The moment he said that, Leon vanished from the Duke’s sight.

‘That wasn’t teleportation… it was…’

He had simply moved that fast.

The so-called strongest in the kingdom, the “Sword Master” himself, couldn’t even follow that movement.

And this boy was barely twenty.

Still with a trace of youthful innocence on his face, Leon displayed an absurd level of skill. And the Duke felt a sudden, hollow emotion rise within him.

It all started with a simple accident.

Due to interference during coordinate locking, I had crash-landed in a forest near the Berli Duchy.

Normally, that kind of disruption shouldn’t happen.

Was I distracted?

Or was I interfered with?

Either way, the warp spell failed to fix the coordinates.

Fortunately, the distance wasn’t significant, so I simply kept moving forward and eventually found myself near the Duchy.

And it was there that I encountered the Duke of Berli, alone with his sword in hand.

Those cult bastards.

They’d been quiet for a while—now they were stirring up trouble again.

I’d love nothing more than to wipe them out, but they’re so wary of me that it's hard to get any information out of them.

Still… maybe this is a good opportunity to shake things up.

But first, I need to rescue Farrell.

The cultists tried to hide their tracks, but it wasn’t hard for me to pick them out.

I also made sure to leave a few subtle clues behind so the Duke could follow me.

Eventually, I arrived at what appeared to be an artificial cave.

It didn’t belong there naturally.

It looked like a gap had been carved into the rock deliberately.

I didn’t know what they were doing inside, but the ominous aura leaking from the cave entrance told me it wasn’t anything good.

I scanned the faintly hidden magic at the entrance—then hacked into and took control of it.

And then I stepped inside.

* * *

“Wh-Who’s there?!”

Thud!

A fist shot forward in an instant, piercing through the body of a necromancer who had been wandering the cave interior.

He let out a gurgling sound as he stared in pain at his assailant, eyes wide with shock.

“W-Warning… cugh… Why is the mad dog here…”

Unable to finish his sentence, he died on the spot.

The attacker casually shook the blood off his hand and walked away.

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