Chapter 393

An uneasy, tense atmosphere filled the conference room. The mages leaned against the walls, casting furtive glances at one another, occasionally locking eyes with members of the Imperial Defense Department or the magic swordsmen. Their expressions were no different—everyone was on edge.

At the center of the room, Ian, Jarrett, and Tweller sat waiting for Prince Noah.

Tap, tap.

Ian sat slouched on the sofa, rhythmically tapping the armrest. His gaze was unfocused, staring into empty space, and neither Tweller nor Jarrett, seated nearby, could tell where his thoughts wandered. They silently hoped he wasn’t too far gone.

“Sir Ian.”

Tweller called out to him, and Ian turned his eyes in his direction. His response was barely respectful—more like the weary defiance of a seasoned veteran who had seen it all. Yet Tweller said nothing.

It was as if Ian had drawn an invisible line, and they were now crossing it. Naturally, everyone else lowered themselves in deference.

“Before Prince Noah arrives, shall we discuss the recent changes? It might be better for all of us.”

“…”

Ian barely acknowledged the suggestion, his gaze returning to the void. Some of the Imperial Defense officers bristled but quickly fell silent.

Ian’s presence was overwhelming—so much so that even the ministers shrugged and let it pass. Who here could dare speak up against him?

‘He’s like a watercolor painting whose colors have all faded.’

Jarrett toyed with an unlit cigarette, watching Ian closely. There was no visible injury, but something profound had shifted within him. They called it a side effect of magic, but was that really all?

Perhaps the side effect was just the shell breaking, revealing a deeper, silent transformation. Otherwise, how could one explain Ian’s calm yet strange aura?

Beric kept standing and sitting restlessly, the first to notice Prince Noah’s arrival.

“He’s here.”

At Beric’s whisper, the Bariel soldiers tensed, all eyes turning toward Ian.

Creak.

“Sir Ian, are you up?”

Noah entered and immediately checked Ian’s condition. Aside from some minor scratches, he was miraculously unharmed—thanks to Beric’s quick intervention.

As Noah pulled up a chair, he sensed the unusual atmosphere. Everyone’s attention was fixed on Ian and himself. It was expected, but somehow different. Noah sat slowly and casually asked,

“What’s with everyone? Is there a problem?”

“A problem?”

Ian smirked and echoed Noah’s words. Tweller pretended not to hear, lighting his cigarette, while Jarrett maintained a composed expression.

“Sir Ian.”

“Look at my condition. Does this look like no problem to you?”

Ian’s brief nod pointed to the injured mages. They awkwardly smiled, as if silently asking the prince to overlook Ian’s odd behavior.

“I regret the injuries sustained by the mages.”

“Regret alone is not enough.”

“Sir Ian, what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I—”

Ian started to speak but swallowed his words with a sigh, rubbing his brow and frowning deeply.

If this weren’t the body of a mere illegitimate son, if he had trained more while at the palace, or if he had made better choices and decisions earlier—wouldn’t the five mages who came here for him still be with him now?

Ian closed his eyes tightly, struggling to control his emotions. Part of him wanted to destroy everything, tear it all down, and turn back time. Ah, so this is why Damon went back in time?

“The five mages have not returned. I consider this a grave regret, and I believe Bariel has paid too high a price to treat the support for Cliford as a mere transaction.”

Prince Noah swallowed dryly. It was an undeniable truth.

Even if Cliford fell to Burgos, it would mean Bariel’s first line of defense had been breached. The monsters’ overflow would directly affect Cliford, but Bariel could still devise its own countermeasures.

“All of Cliford is grateful for the sacrifice of Bariel’s mages and has engraved that debt upon its heart. We will express this fully in our official alliance with Bariel.”

“With what? Wine?”

Ian tilted his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Even if Cliford expressed gratitude, what real meaning did it hold for Bariel? And what honor was there for him?

Noah’s face stiffened, and one of his subordinates snapped,

“Sir Ian! Your words are excessive!”

“Excessive? Your words are the real problem. Where did you learn to interrupt your superiors like this? Look around—you’re the loudest voice here.”

Even Jarrett and Tweller, seated quietly, were taken aback. How dare a mere general raise his voice like that?

Noah raised his hand, signaling his subordinate to step back, and calmly asked,

“Sir Ian, tell me what you want. As you know, dawn is coming, and we don’t have much time.”

“Do not expect Bariel to be responsible for locating and returning the mages from Cliford.”

It was true that the magic swordsmen and mages were better suited to find their missing comrades. Naturally, Cliford was focusing on battle readiness rather than securing the mages.

Noah’s expression flickered, struck to the core, but he quickly masked it and shook his head.

“What are you saying? We’re also focused on finding the mages. We’re closely monitoring contact between Burgos and King Luswena. A special unit has been formed for reconnaissance, and we will act immediately if we receive any information.”

“That’s not enough. Only mages can confront mages. Even if we concede a lot, Cliford’s soldiers are far too few. Especially considering Luswena’s involvement and their ongoing support.”

“I heard reinforcements are coming from Bariel as well.”

“Those are Bariel’s troops.”

Ian responded firmly, demanding reason. He sighed, pressing his left temple, then warned in a grave tone,

“I’m giving you one day.”

“One day?”

“If Burgos or Luswena are holding any mages prisoner, Cliford must accept that and return my men immediately.”

Bariel is Bariel, Cliford is Cliford. Ian had no intention of sacrificing his people out of consideration for another nation’s affairs. No, he would not lose them.

“Prioritize the safety of the mages in battle. If Luswena’s involvement makes that difficult, then issue a conscription order. Isn’t Cliford a country with a large population?”

Conscription—ordering even civilians to fight. Many near the barrier already fought alongside, but most were still holding their breath, waiting for the war to end.

Noah stood abruptly, protesting.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why? The palace surely knows how many are eligible for conscription.”

“That is—”

“Why? Did Cliford’s people think they’d bleed less because Bariel’s army is coming?”

“Sir Ian!”

“If you can’t hold the line, then Cliford must squeeze out every last drop of blood to plug the gap. Until the mages’ whereabouts are confirmed, and until they all return to us, Bariel will not be fighting alongside Cliford—we will be fighting for ourselves.”

Ian glanced at Tweller and Jarrett, nodding to confirm their agreement. In truth, both the Imperial Defense Department and the palace guard had come under orders to bring the mages back, so there was no room to argue with Ian’s decision.

“One day. That’s all I’m giving.”

Tap, tap. Ian lightly drummed the table, issuing his warning.

“If after that, the mages’ whereabouts remain unknown, I will personally take matters into my own hands and let everything go.”

He meant stirring the dormant rift beneath Cliford’s land. From now on, at least until his men returned, Cliford would no longer be a bulwark against Burgos—it would be just another warring foreign land.

Rift? Monsters? Even if disaster engulfed everything, Bariel would endure. Ian swore this with everything he had.

To the gods watching from the heavens, to his past and future selves in Bariel, to Naum, and to all that stirred his heart—he swore it.

Prince Noah wiped his face dry and sighed deeply.

“Sir Ian, it seems you’re making this decision under the influence of the magic’s side effects. Why not rest a little longer and discuss this again?”

“You say there’s no time because dawn is coming, yet your words don’t add up.”

Ian refused firmly, crossing his legs.

Deep inside, an unknown turmoil stirred—grief, overwhelming responsibility—but Ian didn’t notice.

His mind was filled only with the faces of the five mages. Those who had his back when facing the old man. Those who told him to hold on if he could, or to retreat if he must.

They had fulfilled their duty. What was he doing now? How had he lost those who followed him?

“I can’t do this twice.”

Ian muttered, covering his face with his hands. Watching those you call your own die just because they are yours—he truly couldn’t bear to do it again.

“Sir Ian?”

Jarrett called out to him, a cigarette clenched between his fingers. Was the magic’s side effect worsening? Ian hurriedly looked for Akorella, but she was holed up in the makeshift lab, nowhere to be found.

Instead, Hale approached Ian and asked,
“Sir Ian, are you alright? Should I get you more sleeping pills?”

“No.”
Ian pushed Hale’s hand away and shook his head firmly. Don’t come any closer. He shot the same warning glance at Beric, who was trailing behind. You too—stay back.

“Beric, you’re with the Royal Palace Guard. In battle, follow Captain Jarrett’s orders.”

“What? No way!”

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to. That’s the chain of command.”

“Old man—no, Captain Jarrett! I’m staying right by Ian’s side. Look at his condition! He’s a little… a bit off—damn it. What I mean is, I’ll do my best to support him, Captain Jarrett.”

Beric raised his hand eagerly, pleading with Jarrett. Judging by the way he bared his teeth, bringing him along would be a problem. Jarrett crushed out his cigarette and nodded.

“Very well. Sir Ian, keep Beric close. He’s still untrained and won’t be much help during the operation.”

“Oh? That stings a bit. Couldn’t you put it more nicely?”

Only a handful could handle Ian’s volatility—and Beric was one of them, unfortunately. If only Romandro were here, things might be a little easier.

Ian remained silent, and everyone in the meeting room watched his subtle shifts in mood with sharp attention.

But it was only for a moment. Ian stood up, smoothing his jacket.

“Prince Noah, I hope the morning brings clarity. There may come a time when the sun no longer rises over Clifford.”

If they sacrificed everything to save the mages, and in doing so tore open a rift that let monsters flood the land, Clifford would become a land without sunrise.

Prince Noah sprang to his feet, meeting Ian’s gaze.

“So, I understand. If we bring the mages, you’ll cooperate as before. I’ll ask for your help. Sword mages, please follow me for a moment.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll send a messenger first.”

He intended to find out if any prisoners were held, their condition, and how they might be handed over. With that resolve, Prince Noah left the room.

Jarrett stubbed out his cigarette completely, signaled the sword mages, and followed the prince. Tweller sat quietly, looking up at Ian.

“Sir Ian,” the boy said softly.

The weight Ian carried was heavy indeed. A young man fresh from the borderlands—how had he managed? Tweller met Ian’s calm, unreadable gaze and smiled faintly.

“May I have a moment to speak with you? King Damon and others have been evasive, and I can’t find a lead. I seek your insight for answers.”

Ian nodded, willing to listen, and the others exchanged glances. Tweller was no different.

Their subordinates left the room with steady footsteps, and soon the space fell silent, leaving only the two of them.