Chapter 590

“I know!”

No sooner had Ian finished his question than one of the magic swordsmen shouted at the top of his lungs. His body trembled uncontrollably as he kept muttering that he knew the answer.

The man was well aware that if Rutherford chose silence again, the screams of those being cut down by the sword would fill the room instead. Soon enough, their heads would roll. Yet, he wondered why anyone would fear losing a few limbs so much.

Watching from a distance, Tweller clicked his tongue in disappointment, lamenting the lack of soldierly spirit.

“I knew you’d ask something like that.”

If he had rushed in recklessly, it would only bring more pain to himself. Ian’s eyes urged caution, and the man carefully stammered his reply.

“You want to know where the half-blood children of King Damon went, and why, right? I was in charge of transporting them all.”

“Transporting?”

“King Damon’s bloodline was dealt with at a temple in a region called Masantar in Toorun. I didn’t witness it firsthand, but the temple’s pure white floors were soaked in blood—it was no ordinary sight. And, well, the bodies were likely cremated inside the temple.”

“Wait.”

Ian frowned and raised his hand. The raw testimony had come too abruptly.

“So they were sacrificed.”

“They were killed in the temple, yes. That would be the case.”

If the temple in Toorun was dedicated to the underground god, it made sense.

Now that the location was known, it was necessary to understand what the sacrifice meant and what it was meant to bring about—beyond Damon’s return, some hidden truth.

“No outsiders were allowed inside.”

Damon had said his return was thanks to Rutherford. More precisely, it was the power of the underground god behind Rutherford, though Damon probably didn’t know that.

In any case, something related to Damon’s return had likely been performed at the Masantar temple.

“What could it be?”

Ian’s eyes narrowed, and Rutherford lifted his head, a look of sudden realization crossing his face. A smile crept to his lips as he addressed Ian.

“Tell me this—”

“…?”

“Were you deposed from the throne a hundred years from now?”

His words stirred unrest. Even among the soldiers who had no idea what was going on, a ripple of reaction spread.

Rutherford, watching Ian’s expression, beamed with delight, unable to contain his joy.

“So it’s not the name Verosion that’s useless, but you! Otherwise, how else could you have brought the emperor here? If Bariel from a hundred years ago is precious, then Bariel from a hundred years later must be just as valuable!”

“Shut up, you fool!”

Tweller roared thunderously, unable to tolerate Rutherford’s taunts, but he couldn’t stop him. Ian crossed his legs and remained silent, as if inviting Rutherford to continue.

“I’ll tell you myself. Bariel will only walk a path of endless decline from now on. You’ve come back in time to stop its beginning, but the clock has already started ticking. Who can possibly turn back time now?”

Ian Verosion? The emperor abandoned even by Bariel a hundred years later?

Rutherford laughed madly, while Tweller, Jarrett, and others who knew Ian’s situation exchanged uneasy glances. He was the emperor—no one else, a noble figure beyond reproach. And yet, such insults.

“Sir Ian—”

“The clock has started ticking means something beyond my control is already driving this incident.”

Ian interrupted Tweller again, muttering as if to buy time, carefully sorting through his tangled thoughts.

While mentioning the Masantar temple, Rutherford had recalled something and blurted it out. That meant the matter beyond Ian’s control was the death of Damon’s siblings.

Damon had traded his brothers and sisters to the underground god in exchange for a third life. But whether that was true remained unknown. Damon had tried repeatedly to die but remained in his second life.

Ian tried to follow Rutherford’s train of thought. The deaths of Damon’s siblings would bring about Bariel’s decline and eventually predict Ian Verosion’s deposition…

“Wait.”

Ian roughly rifled through documents brought from Bariel and checked Timothy’s records.

Damon first found the half-blood siblings and reported them to Rutherford when he was thirteen—twenty years ago.

“Twenty years ago…”

That coincided with Jin’s birth.

The black seed. The sacrificed descendants of the Burgos royal family had been transformed into black seeds at the temple and implanted into the Bariel royal line. One of them was Arsen.

Ian suddenly recalled the royal family’s decline over the hundred years before his ascension.

“Those who brought bloodshed to Bariel with cruel hearts, eventually purged by the empress; those born frail and who died three months after ascending; those who squandered the treasury with lavish waste; those who executed all loyal subjects out of ignorance…”

There were too many. So many had dragged the once-great Bariel to ruin that they were beyond counting.

Whether they were all monsters like Arsen was uncertain, but one thing was clear: they brought darkness to the royal family.

“The royal family is blessed by the gods.”

So to plant a black seed inside, a special bloodline was needed—the sacred, precious blood of the royal family.

Coincidentally, near Bariel’s border was a man named Damon Runkvis, killed by his own brother and desperate for special power to seize the throne.

Everything fit together.

There was no reason for the underground god not to choose Burgos.

“Then… was I also part of that process?”

To Ian, the black seed was Cronida. The seed grew into a massive ancient tree that strangled his breath, and in the end, he was killed without being able to cut it down.

Everything was starting to take shape.

“Sir Ian.”

At that moment, a mage approached Ian and whispered.

“There’s a problem. I just checked the map, and there’s no region called Masantar in Toorun.”

Ian turned to the magic swordsman. The man, caught off guard by Ian’s cold gaze, bowed his head deeply and trembled.

“You said Masantar in Toorun.”

“Yes, yes, that’s right.”

“But there’s no Masantar in Toorun.”

“What do you mean? Look again! It’s definitely there. About three days by carriage west of the capital. And from Burgos, it takes ten to fifteen days to get there.”

“You don’t seem like someone who’d joke with his life on the line.”

“I’m telling the truth! Really! Give me the map!”

The man protested, jumping up and down in frustration. He had traveled between Burgos and Masantar several times—how could he be wrong?

The mage handed him the map, and the man nervously read the place names.

“Uh… it should be around here.”

He pointed to a blank space—no markings, no indication if it was desert or mountains.

When the mage glared sharply, the swordsman pleaded with Ian.

“This is definitely it! It’s a dry forest with a gatekeeper village at the entrance. They protect the temple. If you get their guidance, it’s about an hour’s walk through the forest to the temple!”

“Sir Ian, just in case, should we dip the map in water and check?”

“Dip what? Me?”

“No, the map.”

Since Bariel and Toorun had little contact, even a royal map might be incomplete. Besides, no country would hand over all its terrain information to another.

It would be nice to find a Toorun map at Agiar Castle, but so far, no luck.

“Enough.”

Judging by the consistency and specificity of the testimony, Ian decided the man was telling the truth. He beckoned Akorella closer, then covered his mouth and whispered.

“Akorella, how long to make the truth serum?”

“Hmm. Within two days, easily.”

“Imprison the author separately in the underground dungeon. After the truth is revealed through the serum, execute him separately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Following Akorella’s orders, the mages grabbed the man’s arm. He must have thought his head was about to roll, but was surprised to be spared. Unaware that his reprieve was only two days, he bowed gratefully to Ian.

“I won’t mention your name at today’s execution.”

“Thank you! Thank you!”

The other magic swordsmen watched thoughtfully. This wasn’t some great secret—he’d just told what he knew and was spared death. Should they also add something, beg for their lives? If it meant survival, what wouldn’t they do?

“Rutherford. On the day we made the magic contract, you gave Silask to the bastard Ian. Where did you get it, and why did you give it?”

“Ask your precious god yourself.”

He looked puzzled why they kept asking him when everything would be clear if they asked the god directly. Was their god not answering? When Rutherford said that, another magic swordsman spoke up.

“I don’t know what happened then, but the undying red flower can sometimes be found in Toorun. Maybe it grows nearby, and the item spread by word of mouth.”

“I’ll answer too! Ask me anything!”

“Yes, as long as you spare my life, what does it matter? I’ll tell you everything—without a single lie.”

Rutherford glanced sharply at his suddenly wavering subordinates. This was a disaster. These were the same men who had sworn they’d give their lives for him, yet now, under Ian’s presence, the influence of the divine seemed to be fading. If only he had known, he would have ordered them all to jump off the cliff a few nights ago.

“That’s right! Whatever I know, I’ll tell you!”

“I want to hear about our ally, Luswena.”

“Idgal, sir. Bariel manages Idgal entirely with the Rift Suppressors, so there’s a lot of resentment in Luswena about that. Unlike before, the palace now has many more mages, but since Idgal and the Mana Sealing Stones are strictly restricted, the royal family is taking a big risk.”

“I know why Luswena allied with Rutherford. There are reports that the black armor they provided is different from before. Does anyone know anything about that?”

“Black armor? I—I don’t know that far—”

“They were preparing for war with Clifford. While Burgos and Bariel were up north, naturally, they were gearing up for a power struggle in the south. For the sake of gaining the upper hand, I believe all the high-quality black armor was left behind in Luswena.”

“The last message said they were also in contact with Hwan Kingdom! King Eldert was supposed to hold talks with their king, but I don’t know what happened after that.”

He wanted to ask about the internal affairs of Hwan Kingdom, but it was too risky to bring up here. With Prime Minister Shatima’s rebellion looming—one that could decide the fate of the nation—there were simply too many ears listening.

Swish.

Just as Ian flipped through the documents to continue the interrogation, Rutherford suddenly started coughing up blood. The sheer amount was alarming, and everyone’s faces tightened in concern.

“What’s happening to him?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to be from any external cause.”

“Could it be a side effect of Laromedia? The hallucinations might have stopped, but the side effects could still be lingering.”

Cough—

“This is ridiculous. Bring a healing mage at once.”

Ian’s order sent the attendants scrambling, while Rutherford exhaled raggedly and bowed his head. He instinctively felt his life slipping away.

But he was willing—no, even glad—to endure it, because—

“Let it pour endlessly. Your blood will stain Bariel in crimson.”

That was the final voice from the divine.

Soon after, the healing mage arrived, and not long after, Barsabe entered the room as well.