Chapter 559
The night in the northern region was colder than expected.
Though there was no snow or strong wind, the temperature dropped rapidly as the sun set, chilled by the rocky mountains. Groans of exhaustion echoed from all directions, especially from the soldiers who had been marching all day.
“Ah, I’m dying here! My back’s about to break.”
“I’ve got blisters on my feet. So we’re supposed to keep going on this kind of terrain for three days straight? Ugh.”
“They say we’ll cross the Burgos border by tomorrow morning, and on the third day, we’ll reach… where was it again? Anyway, that’s where the enemy is.”
“At least the meals are hearty. Without that, I don’t think I could’ve made it.”
“Can’t the mages do something? Just a quick zap to drop us down would be amazing! I saw them do it before—it looked doable!”
“Yeah, that was impressive. Really impressive.”
“He looks young, but he’s a minister, right? Guess if you want to get ahead, becoming a mage is the way to go.”
As the soldiers gathered in small groups to rest, Tweller watched them from atop a hill.
The battle hadn’t even started yet, but the toll from the march was already evident. The climate and environment here were completely different from Bariel’s, creating harsher variables than expected.
“Ah, Minister.”
“Good evening, Captain Hale.”
“Excuse me.”
Captain Hale, looking for a suitable spot to light his cigarette, ran into Tweller. They exchanged brief greetings before falling silent, exhaling smoke into the cold air. The traces of their presence seemed especially vivid in the deep night, scattered by the chilly breeze.
“Captain Hale, about Minister Ian.”
Breaking the silence lightly and seeking clarity, Tweller spoke softly.
“Did he ever train in swordsmanship?”
“No, not at all. I’ve never seen him do it. He probably didn’t have the time.”
“Then he’s truly remarkable. It’s like the Magic Department lost a prodigy.”
It was a half-joking compliment. The stance and flow of his swordplay couldn’t be learned through formal training. Even if conjured by magic, the natural ease with which he wielded the blade was like it was part of his own body.
“Even the Magic Department considers Ian exceptional.”
“Exceptional?”
“I’ve never seen anyone like him. Until he appeared, we regarded former Minister Wesley as a once-in-a-century talent, but Ian is in a league of his own—beyond comparison.”
“I’ve heard all the spells he uses are top-tier.”
“That’s an understatement. There’s no mage in the world who can perform all those spells consecutively and flawlessly like he does.”
Tweller chewed on his cigarette thoughtfully.
Since his birth mother was alive and well, there was no doubt about his origins. Yet it was puzzling how he had spent his childhood buried away in Bratz.
His swordsmanship, his magic—everything was extraordinary, yet the palace only learned of him very late. If his palace-born mentor had been competent, they wouldn’t have let Ian go unnoticed for so long.
“Sometimes—”
Hale followed Tweller’s gaze to the night sky. The Milky Way glittered brightly, as if ready to pour down.
“I wonder if he’s a god.”
“They say mages are favored by the gods.”
“That’s a bit much, don’t you think? Honestly.”
“Ha ha. Yeah, yeah.”
“There’s so much I just can’t understand…”
Trailing off with his smoke, Hale’s voice softened. Tweller caught the hesitation and pressed gently.
“What parts can’t you understand?”
“Well, it’s just that he seems to know everything. When Ian first arrived at the palace, he was already familiar with the work system, special spell activations, geography—everything. It was astonishing.”
It had been ten years, but how could he forget?
Especially when Acorella fell ill from the Dragon Kakrin plague, and Ian used the palace’s secret passage—that was still a mystery. From the looks of it, even Romandro didn’t know about it.
“Hmm.”
Tweller stroked his beard, trying to calm his tangled thoughts.
Ian Hiel was subtly detached from reality. Words like ‘great,’ ‘genius,’ or ‘extraordinary’ didn’t fully capture him. There had to be something else, something that explained it all.
“Captain Hale, is that you?”
“Ah, Zaira.”
“Minister Tweller, good evening.”
Just then, Zaira appeared suddenly, signaling to Hale. Something seemed urgent. Hale flicked his cigarette out and greeted them, while Tweller gestured for them to hurry.
“Well then, let’s go inside.”
“Take care.”
Left alone again, Tweller lit a new cigarette and stared into the empty air.
Zaira—the mage from Luswena, whose grandmother had fallen into the Abyss, just like Ian.
‘The Abyss.’
What exactly was it?
A massive force that made Ian’s ten days and our ten years flow simultaneously? A distortion of time? Time itself…
‘Could it be that Ian is living in a different timeline than us?’
The thought, half a fantasy, made Tweller chuckle softly. Old age brought all sorts of strange ideas.
In truth, they were on different timelines. Ian was still a teenage boy, while they were ten years ahead.
“Good grief.”
He shook his head lightly and laughed. Better to erase such thoughts—they were no help in wartime. Still, the feeling lingered like footprints: a deep suspicion about Ian.
“An intruder?!”
It wasn’t long before the fallen soldiers and coachmen at the entrance of the mage tower were discovered by passing attendants.
The soldiers immediately went on high alert, and a mage on duty rushed over at a run.
“Lord Romandro!”
The torches inside the dark mage tower were all extinguished. The mage lit a small orb of magic to illuminate the stairs and led the way, with soldiers gripping their weapons tightly behind him.
Just as they neared the top—
“Hey, I’m here.”
“Good heavens! Are you alright?”
Romandro staggered down. The mage was horrified at his appearance—blood soaked him from head to toe, and his face was pale and drawn, as if death was imminent.
The mage rushed to support Romandro, while the soldiers tried to assess the scene as they passed.
“Oh no.”
“What? What is it?”
“Sir Timothy is here.”
“Sir Timothy? Why is he here? The Magic Department’s annex construction was halted.”
“I’ll explain later. There was an assassination attempt on King Damon, but it’s been settled. We need to keep this quiet. Only the minimum personnel for cleanup will be deployed; the rest will return to their posts.”
“Oh dear, Lord Romandro, are you alright?”
Romandro sank to the ground, clutching his forehead. He’d been through many battles and thought himself resilient, but witnessing Timothy’s revenge firsthand had taken a heavy mental toll.
The brutal mutilation of the victims and the grief of a man who lost his family swirled violently, creating a tragedy.
“I keep bleeding. Lord Romandro, try to stop the bleeding. Hey! I’ll go in first. Everyone else, wait here!”
“Bleeding? Ah.”
Now that he looked, Romandro’s skin was scraped and bruised from falls. He stared blankly at his wounds, then dropped his head weakly.
Swish.
“Gah!”
The mage who entered hesitated at the horror. Was the entire place soaked in blood? The metallic stench was overwhelming, and the scattered corpses were gruesome.
In the center, Timothy stood silently before a body so mangled it was unrecognizable.
“Sir Timothy?”
“…I’m sorry.”
The mage didn’t know what the apology was for. Carefully, he took the sword from Timothy’s hand and then looked over Damon, who was also drenched in blood, staring blankly at the corpses.
“First, King Damon will be moved to a safer place.”
Thud!
Damon pushed the mage away with all his strength and moved closer to Timothy. It was a last desperate act. In the darkness, he locked eyes with Timothy and whispered,
‘Your family’s bodies—’
“You mustn’t do this, King Damon!”
‘…were thrown to the dogs.’
“Damon! Sir Timothy!”
Bang!
Timothy grabbed Damon’s neck and slammed him against the wall. The dull impact blurred Damon’s vision momentarily.
Timothy breathed heavily and fiercely, choking Damon, while the mage’s shout brought Romandro rushing over.
“Lord Romandro!”
“Sir Timothy! This must not happen! No!”
“…What have I done wrong? I have only been loyal to you! Why are you so displeased that you would harm my wife and children? Even now, to the very end!”
“Sir Timothy! Calm down! King Damon must not die! If he dies, you and your family will suffer again!”
Romandro’s plea made Timothy hesitate. His eyes said he couldn’t understand.
As his anger cooled, he noticed Damon smiling weakly despite being strangled.
“Damon claims he’s lived twice. He’s trying to reach the next life through death. In that life, you’ll be there, along with your wife and children. What if he harms you all again? Huh?”
Timothy’s grip gradually loosened in the face of the shocking revelation. Seizing the moment, the wizard hurriedly pulled Damon away and sent him outside, while Timothy collapsed to the ground.
“Why, why—”
“Sir Timothy,” Romandro said gently, covering the back of his trembling hand with his own. The man who had so brutally mutilated corpses, the fierce warrior, was now crying—lost and terrified like a frightened animal.
“I understand you well. I, too, have a wife and children I love so dearly that I wouldn’t hesitate to lay down my life for them. Anyone who harms my family would stir a deep rage in me, driving me to seek vengeance just as you do. Please know that there are those who truly understand your pain.”
As the wizard moved Damon away, two soldiers entered and began clearing the remains. The bodies, cut into pieces, had long since lost any trace of their human form.
“You did well. You did very well.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for! You did well! But remember, the way you seek revenge depends on your opponent. I’m sure you know this, but sometimes emotions cloud judgment and reason slips away.”
There was surely a perfect revenge waiting for Damon. And Ian would find it. Romandro patted Timothy’s hand repeatedly, nodding.
“You’ve been through a lot. For a moment, let yourself set down this burden.”
Timothy fell forward, screaming. But he was not broken. Not yet. His path to vengeance was still long.
Romandro glanced around the wrecked mage tower with a troubled expression, then gave an order to a soldier.
“Fetch me a swift messenger hawk. The fastest one you have.”
“A messenger hawk, sir? The one to send to the Minister of Magic?”
“Exactly. There’s something urgent that must be delivered.”
Though reporting the current situation was important, what mattered more was the fact that a swift attack had come through the tower’s windows. Whatever the mechanism, it was undoubtedly a hidden asset from Burgos. Sharing this with Ian to prepare for any danger was the priority.
Wiping blood from his hand, Romandro added, “And we must find out how they infiltrated the palace. From the main gates to the servants’ back entrances—investigate every detail thoroughly.”