Episode 463
Tick.

It felt like an eternity compressed into a single second.

Suddenly, Rutherford noticed something—Ian’s golden eyes resembled those of a lion. Those fragile amber irises, when had they transformed into the gaze of a predator?

Tick.

This second passed even more slowly than the first. Light leaked through the narrow gap between Ian’s fingers, clenched so tightly it seemed the fabric might tear. This wasn’t just any magic power conjured by a group of mages—it was something entirely different, something with a presence all its own.

Yes. This was exactly why I chose Ian.

Boom!

“Ruther—!”

An explosion erupted in response to the mages’ shouts.

There was no way to dodge it. The flow of magic was as natural here as their very presence. Had it not been for the light seeping through Ian’s grip, Rutherford wouldn’t have even noticed the attack until it was too late.

Rutherford’s quick-witted subordinates instinctively raised protective shields, while some didn’t even have time to do that—they shoved their hands between Ian and Rutherford, willing to sacrifice their own arms to separate the two and protect their master.

Whoosh!

Ian’s strike severed several arms before grazing Rutherford’s cheek and hair. Suspended in midair, their eyes locked. Time stretched out slowly, blood spurting like a fountain.

Ian, intent on killing them all, and the mages defending their master. And Rutherford, captivated by those unfamiliar golden eyes. The three were bound together by blood.

“Graaah!”

“Ugh!”

The slow passage of time shattered with the mages’ screams. Limbs unknown to anyone lay scattered, and the mages collapsed, clutching their exposed shoulders.

Meanwhile, Rutherford calmly wiped the blood from his cheek. Ian did the same, breathing steadily, indifferent to the groaning mages around them.

Though standing seemed difficult, what drew everyone’s attention more was Ian’s fierce, unyielding gaze.

“Go ahead, say it. Does your so-called divine plan include this?”

From the moment the bastard Ian was given the flowerpot, from the moment the mysterious magical contract was forged, Rutherford wondered if the other had anticipated this—his expression seemed to say he wanted to hear it.

“…Ian.”

Rutherford wiped the dripping blood from his face and smiled—a bitter, incredulous smile.

“Who are you?”

Something felt off. The Ian he met after so long seemed like someone who didn’t know how to kneel.

But isn’t that just human nature? To forget even yesterday’s mistakes and repeat them foolishly. Underestimating that was his fatal error.

“Where did our Ian go? Some strange man’s taken his place.”

Ian smiled too. Though covered in blood and sweat, one thing was clear—the meaning behind his smile was very different from Rutherford’s.

“You’re just saying you didn’t expect this. Seems the god you follow is only half a god.”

Rutherford put the end of his cigarette in his mouth. For some reason, the contract magic was still valid, confirming that this truly was ‘Ian.’

So the plan to capture him remained unchanged. This time, Rutherford resolved, he would not just make Ian kneel—he would force him flat on the ground. Just as he was about to speak,

Swish.

Ian pressed a dagger to his own throat.

Rutherford wasn’t the only one taken aback. The watching mages gasped in shock.

“My lord Ian!”

“What are you doing? Stop!”

Despite everyone’s protests, Ian’s blade slowly pierced the side of his throat. The palace mages covered their eyes, unable to bear the sight, but Rutherford simply watched. Neither stopping him nor turning away, his expression was unreadable.

“Rutherford. Try making me kneel again.”

“……”

“The fact that the contract magic remained valid even with me inside bastard Ian’s body means the contract is tied to the flesh. I don’t know if this rotting flesh, this dying body, will be of any use to you.”

As Ian spoke, the blade soaked in blood sank deeper beside his moving throat. This was no mere threat—it was a statement of intent.

‘Bastard Ian?’
‘Inside the body?’
‘A contract tied to the flesh?’

The palace mages scrambled to process this impossible information, while Rutherford slowly stepped toward Ian, never taking his eyes off the dagger.

Indeed, as Ian said, what use was this decaying flesh to him? After investing nearly ten years to reach this point, he wouldn’t let some petty provocation ruin everything.

“…You admit it, then. So, who are you?”

“There’s something more important than admission. It’s that you understand.”

Rutherford stopped in his tracks.

“Linking a change in personality to a change in self is difficult. Up north, there are those who practice necromancy, but they only perform miracles with the dead. My case is different.”

But Rutherford, how did you immediately sense that someone else was inside bastard Ian’s body? Not even Philia, Ian’s mother, nor Melania, who knew him as a child, noticed.

“Is it understanding born of experience?”

Ian grinned.

“-Van Lord.”

“Shut up!”

For the first time, Rutherford showed raw emotion and snapped. His subordinates inside the exhibition hall flung open the doors, worried something had happened to him. Akorella crawled forward, trying to see what was going on outside.

“Van Lord, once a mage of the Great Empire Bariel. After descending to investigate the rift, he vanished from history, but records occasionally mention him. Claiming to be the mage Van Lord, eventually dismissed as insane and isolated.”

“Didn’t you hear me? Shut up!”

Thwack!

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on Lord Ian!”

“Stand back, you fool!”

Rutherford stepped forward in anger, and the palace mages rushed to intercept him.

But that was as far as it went. Ian cut through the tension with a cold statement.

“There’s nothing to fear. Rutherford has already died several times. Because of that, he’s lost his magical power.”

“Huh?”

“I’m saying the only world he rules is Ian’s world.”

Bastard Ian’s world. The contract magic was likely forged under Ian’s control as a magic user.

Though it was strange to hear the man refer to himself in the third person, the mages understood enough and eyed Rutherford with clear displeasure. Their expressions hardened, showing no sign of softening.

“I heard this when Damon’s tongue was cut out.”

“…You mean King Damon?”

“Yes. As an answer to whether Rutherford was truly a mage.”

“Hah, then why do they follow him?”

“Magic and alchemy are separate. There must be other interests at play. Since they keep mentioning the will of the gods, there’s probably something undisclosed there too. Right, Van Lord?”

Purpose. Nothing is more crucial to uncovering the essence of a thing. Understanding your opponent means you can use them, and using them means control.

Rutherford stepped back, laughing.

“You talk big, but in the end, you know nothing.”

It didn’t matter that Ian was revealed to be Van Lord. Some of his subordinates already knew, and it only strengthened their unity.

What bothered Rutherford now was that this bastard Ian was arrogantly resisting in his own skin. Whatever was inside, he vowed to burn that soul to ashes.

“Yes. But from now on, you will learn something very important…”

Ziiing. Ziiing.

“…From your answer.”

Ian opened and closed his eyes, and his green eyes turned golden once more.

The one who threw himself into the rift. The one who returned in some form. The one who claimed there was an abyss beneath the rift.

“Rutherford! Step back!”

The uninjured mages formed a protective barrier around Rutherford. The subordinates deeper inside the exhibition hall joined in, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Akorella quickly gestured to the palace mages.

“Here! The exit is just inside here!”

“Commander Akorella, your leg!”

“Shut up and get over here, now! Bastards. You’re all dead, seriously. Aoooh!”

Bang! Boom!

Every time Ian swung his arm, balls of light exploded in all directions. Glittering dust settled, and Ian moved through it with ease.

When Rutherford tried to activate the contract magic to stop Ian, his own dagger severed his left arm.

It’s just an arm now, but if he tried any tricks again, next time it would be his neck. I fear no death. If I can squeeze the truth from you, I will.

Whoosh!

Will they escape the palace with the treasures from the exhibition hall, Damon, the Burgos delegation, and Ian? Or…

“Lord Ian! I’ll cover your left side! Just focus ahead!”

“Yes. I’m with you too!”

“I don’t fully understand what’s going on yet, but let’s push through these guys and talk slowly! It doesn’t matter if Ian isn’t Ian anymore! What matters is that he’s one of us!”

“Long live Mama Yeon!”

…Or will they subdue Rutherford and his group, capture them alive, and get closer to the truth?

Ziiing! Ziiing!

As Ian clenched his teeth and charged forward, the wizards flanked him. Where they passed, golden afterimages lingered—brighter and more dazzling than Idgal’s amber light, traces of golden eyes shimmering beautifully.

As all the wizards leapt forward, Rutherford reflexively activated his contract magic.

“What can you possibly do with that body!”

Kwoong!

A pain squeezed his heart, twisting the world once again. It felt as if all gravity was pulling Ian downwards.

But—

“That’s something you’ll have to tell me.”

Puh-uhng!

This time, it was different from the unexpected strikes before. Ian grimaced, focusing every ounce of his spirit.

“Just a little more… just a little more…”

Puh-uhng! Bang!

Swoosh!

“Just a little…”

Though he became emperor at a boy’s age, erased before reaching adulthood, history would surely dismiss his existence as insignificant. Bariel wouldn’t even remember Ian. After all, Ian himself couldn’t fully utter that name—it was only natural.

Yet, despite everything, an unchanging truth remained.

The one truth that governed Ian’s world.

Everything he was, everything he had, was for Bariel.

The only being he served as master, willingly knelt before, and could give everything to without a shred of shame was Bariel alone.

Crackle!

Rutherford’s wizards’ magic collided with Ian’s attacks in midair. It was an unknown force, radiating intense heat and chilling cold simultaneously.

“Lord Rutherford!”

“Damn it! Where’s the picture yet?”

The wizards responsible for the images kept glancing back and forth, stamping their feet anxiously. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

“Look at it a thousand times, ten thousand times, you bastards. Does that bring the picture back?”

“Shut up!”

With a kick to Akorella’s abdomen, a wizard shouted.

“Clark! Get the situation under control, up front!”

Clark was always calm and deep like still water, never shaken. Yet now, as if entranced, he was watching Ian and Rutherford intently. Even when a wizard nudged him, he remained unmoved.

“Clark!”

“Why is Sir Ian—”

It was Ian, who had helped Lady Rien and himself back in Merellof. He recognized him immediately. Though circumstances forced Ian to leave Bariel, wasn’t it thanks to Ian’s arrangements that Lady Rien could establish herself as Merellof’s ruler?

“Clark!”

Kwah-ang!

Melania was the same. Ian, always composed, charging in so desperately was unfamiliar, impossible to look away from. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, immersed in the swirling magic.

“…Kuh!”

The strange calm and peace didn’t last long. Ian, who had resisted Rutherford’s domination to the very end, finally coughed up a handful of blood.