Chapter 417

The man lying languidly on the bed opened his eyes.

Though the blackout curtains kept out the noon sunlight, the noise from the street outside had disturbed his deep sleep.

He propped himself up and naturally reached for his cigarette holder. Sensing a slight movement, one of his subordinates reported from outside.

“Mr. Rutherford, did you cough?”

“Yeah.”

Click.

His answer, almost like permission, prompted the door to open. Bright light flooded in. The subordinate carefully examined the clothes, empty liquor bottles, and white powder scattered beneath the bed as he approached.

Nothing had changed much overnight. Rutherford, still holding the cigarette holder, leaned back against the pillow. The subordinate lit his cigarette and said,

“‘That’ Idgal broke during the night.”

The light revealed Rutherford’s features more clearly: long, jet-black hair and a handsome face marred by rough scars here and there. He raised an eyebrow and asked,

“‘That’ Idgal?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

As if expecting the order, the subordinate pulled a small pendant from his inner pocket. Wrapped in a white handkerchief, it was shattered—more than just broken, almost completely destroyed. Rutherford smiled faintly and toyed with the fragments between his fingers.

“Looks like it finally met its true master.”

The boy with golden hair and emerald eyes, so beautiful yet foolishly unaware of the immense, fantastical power blossoming at his fingertips.

Rutherford took a deep drag of his cigarette, exhaled with a smile, and suddenly sat up, clad only in his robe. He drew back the curtains.

Swish!

The panoramic view of the Tolrun Kingdom spread out before him. Rows of circular domes adorned with colorful flags lined the landscape, and from the alleys between them came the ceaseless prayers of countless worshippers—those who believed in underground gods and myriad other spirits.

Leaning on the windowsill, Rutherford scanned the scene below.

“If you’re going to call on the underground gods, why do it out here? Why not just do it underground? Don’t you think?”

“Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah. But I feel good. Like I just got a gift the moment I woke up.”

Rutherford grinned and flicked the pendant shards away. They rolled off somewhere and disappeared, but no one paid them any mind. The broken Idgal had already fulfilled its purpose by existing.

“Get ready.”

“Yes, Mr. Rutherford.”

“Are the reports still coming in from those who went to Clipford and Luswena?”

“The last news was of a battle in Clipford. The northern minorities and Burgos, along with Luswena, Clipford, and Bariel, all took part.”

“Since the Idgal broke, it’s safe to say Ian reached Damon. That means Burgos just got checkmated.”

With a flick, Rutherford brushed the ash from his cigarette out the window. His eyes, visible from the side, seemed to deepen into a richer blue.

Whenever he drifted into thought, his eyes reminded one of a vast, deep ocean. Though his subordinate had never seen the sea, he imagined that if such a world existed, it would surely resemble Rutherford’s gaze.

“If Damon’s playing like this, the profit margin’s a bit disappointing. There’s still a lot we haven’t gotten.”

“Yes. Including gold and silver, about fifty thousand gold coins are missing. You might want to keep an eye on Burgos’s movements.”

“This is a trade secret, so don’t just blurt it out to anyone. Even if it’s frustrating, it’s better to keep using Damon. Find a discreet way to pass on that we’ve almost figured out the regression method. If he dies before that, well, there’s nothing we can do.”

Humming a tune, Rutherford slid the window open wider.

The moment Ian unleashed his magic had finally come. The boy who held the vast cosmos within him had shaken the world, and now the southern Bariel and Clipford regions would be ruled by fractures.

Then everyone would want the Idgal, and holding the lifeline, Rutherford would naturally slip into the empire. It had been a long-cherished dream. One he had waited for, patiently and endlessly.

Knock knock.

“Mr. Rutherford, what about your meal?”

“Bring it in. On a day this fine, skipping a meal would be a crime.”

With his approval, the door opened again. As servants from the upscale inn carried in the food, a man entered slowly. Rutherford popped the cork on a new bottle of wine and showed it to him.

“Clark. I have good news.”

Clark—the strange man who had drifted all the way here from Bariel’s borderlands, serving as the bodyguard to the heir of the Merelrop family.

Clark bowed his head to Rutherford’s toast. Whatever the good news was, if his ‘master’ said it was good, then so it was.

“We’re going back to Bariel.”

“…!”

“You wanted to go, didn’t you? That woman—you know, the one you loved so dearly—is in Bariel, with the Merelrops.”

“I never mentioned that.”

“Just because you didn’t say it doesn’t mean I don’t know.”

How could he not know when a slave had strangled the family heir with his own hands? The conclusion was obvious once you considered the stakes.

Dive Merelrop, who had believed in the underground gods, had somehow been pushed all the way to Tolrun for reasons unknown. But he must have wanted to return to his domain someday. Clark didn’t want that, so in the end, he had to kill his master himself—to free Lady Lien from the family and let her find her own happiness.

“When we get back, I’ll bill Lady Lien for your ransom. You know I’m a businessman, right? I’ll collect every last coin, so when you meet her, make sure you say the right things.”

Under Tolrun law, murder is punished by death. But since Clark and his master were foreigners, they were to be given corporal punishment instead—until Rutherford intervened. For reasons that didn’t suit a mere merchant, he saved them because they were from the same country.

Clark moved the dishes without a word, but he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding.

“Come back.”

Everything he’d seen of Lady Lien the last time was still vivid. He had prayed that if the gods allowed, he’d meet her again even in death. Rutherford’s words made the good news feel real.

Rutherford caught the faintest smile on Clark’s lips and took a sip of wine. Whether he was foolish or innocent, the author still didn’t know why he had chosen Clark out of all the prisoners locked away.

Rutherford hesitated, knife in hand.

“Oh, those kids who met the king—”

“Yes?”

“Let’s get rid of them right away. If there’s a safe haven when the fractures start, it ruins the fun, doesn’t it? Until I get there myself, let’s make things a little more… unstable. Okay?”

“Understood.”

He was referring to the subordinates he had sent to Damon and Eriphony with proposals. Simply bringing them back wasn’t a bad option, but if Rutherford’s top men in Burgos and Luswena suffered mysterious deaths, it would open cracks for them to slip through.

The justification for war isn’t limited to nations alone. This was a kind of insurance. No matter what happens later, it’s better to keep all possibilities open for now.

The subordinate nodded and turned, then signaled Clark to come along.

Click.

“Clark.”

“Yes?”

“What if you get back and the woman’s gone—or with someone else?”

Clark hesitated, hand on the doorknob. But he quickly realized that was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Just a few days ago, he had prayed to see Lien even once more. Now, he couldn’t ask to be with her.

Tolrun. This was the land of gods. Countless deities hid in the alleys, feeding on human hopes and greed. Clark knew this well.

“…My apologies.”

Squeak.

Without another word, Clark closed the door. Rutherford burst out laughing. That guy was more useful than he’d thought.

A person’s worth is determined by the strength of their inner drive, and such a fierce, unwavering will was welcome in Rutherford’s eyes. As long as he moved exactly as Rutherford wished.

Thud!

Rutherford stabbed the center of his steak with the knife. It looked like a human heart, and strangely, he seemed to like that.

“See you soon, Ian.”

He had originally planned to wait until autumn to make his move, but things were unfolding more interestingly than expected. Ever since the palace rebellion, everything seemed off-kilter, but now, the thrill of everything falling back into place was indescribable.

Rutherford smiled and cut into the meat. Blood, still raw, slowly dripped down the blade.

---

Kugugugung!

Kwaang!

“Evacuate! Evacuate!”

“Get outside immediately! There’s no time to gather belongings!”

“W-what’s going on? Suddenly—”

“Stop asking questions and run!”

“Mom! Mom!”

“Help! Someone help me! My foot’s stuck!”

The western outskirts of Clipford’s capital, Frodhona, had descended into chaos from an unexpected disaster.

Buildings shook violently from the earthquake before collapsing entirely. The earth cracked open, swallowing the once lush vineyards. From the fissures, scorching heat surged upward. Those who stumbled and fell inside melted away without a sound, their screams swallowed by the inferno.

There wasn’t a volcano anywhere nearby—so where on earth was that lava bubbling up from? The people who had lived their whole lives in Clipford were utterly stunned, unable to make sense of the sudden chaos. Was this really their hometown? Was this truly the place they thought they knew?

Rumble!

Whoosh!

“Ahhh!”

The ground cracked open as if it were taking root, splitting apart beneath their feet. One person staggered and fell into the chasm, and then, like a geyser bursting forth, molten lava surged upward.

The onlookers, frozen in shock, slowly lifted their gazes toward the sky. As the lava met the air, it turned to ash.

A shape began to form—no clear form, just a presence. The first monster to emerge from a rift: a Dust.

“Th-this, this is…”

The startled witness fell backward, eyes wide with fear. They didn’t know exactly what it was, but instinctively, they knew it was a monster.

The Dust swayed with the wind, celebrating its birth as it lunged toward the people.

Ziiing.

Pew!

A magic orb pierced straight through the creature’s body. Ash scattered along its trajectory. The crowd watched in confusion, then turned their heads.

There was someone in the sky—a mage.

Surely, one of the mages who had fought alongside them at the barrier.

“Don’t stand still! Keep moving!”

“We have to get out of here! What are you waiting for?”

“Y-yeah! L-let’s go! Thank you!”

“Thank you! Thank you!”

“Slowly! Keep order as you move! The path ahead is narrow!”

Taking advantage of the moment, palace soldiers continued evacuating. Some pulled those about to fall into the rift to safety, while others bravely swung their swords against the Dust.

This was a low-level monster, the lowest of the low, signaling the start of the rift. It was almost laughable to call it a monster—it was more like a symptom.

Whoosh!

The mages carefully observed the ongoing tremors and the rising heat, etching every detail into their minds to report back to Ian without fail.

“By the gods… it’s really a rift.”

They, too, had never seen a rift before—half curious, half terrified, their eyes glued to the splitting earth.

Then, from somewhere nearby, an unusual movement caught their attention.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Look, look! Is there a feast going on!?”

It was Efdiram. She was approaching the rift with her subordinates, and just as the mages tried to stop her—

Whoosh!

“Stay put until Ian tells you otherwise.”

Berrick stepped in front of them. Efdiram laughed dismissively, slinging her sword over her shoulder.

“Bullshit. Just wipe the spit off your mouth before you speak.”