Chapter 852
Crackle—!
Jin rested his chin on his hand, watching the flames blaze fiercely. Beside him lay a mountain of papers—official palace documents chronicling Ian’s every move.
Normally, a clerk would have handled this, but Jin had insisted on burning them himself, ordering everyone else to step back. As the fire died down, he fed in one sheet, then after a while, another. Slowly, he erased the history etched with Ian’s name.
“Ian Hielo, former Minister of Magic, who stood against Wesley to protect the royal family and officials… Yes, that happened too.”
Memories he’d long forgotten stirred anew. Was this really a record erasure, or something else?
Jin smiled faintly, tracing the letters with his fingertips. Ian would never know. As long as he and his close friends remembered, Ian would never truly be erased.
Though Ian wished for this, and it seemed only right to burn the papers, Jin knew deep down it meant little.
“There are even people crying out. They say he saved their lives. What kind of absurdity is this, branding a traitor?”
“There are piles of flowers, Your Majesty.”
“If we don’t stop it, it will spread like wildfire across the fields.”
Despite his ministers’ worried counsel, Jin reluctantly nodded but gave no further orders.
Suddenly, he realized the paper in his hand was a record from Burgos.
“Ian Hielo is Ian Berosion. He carries the royal bloodline and is a gift sent by the gods to save Bariel. We will follow him.”
With a flick, Jin raised the paper to the sky and whispered,
“We will follow him…”
Jin clenched his jaw. At the time this was written, following Ian was right—but not anymore.
Now it was Ian’s turn to follow him, walking the path Jin had carefully paved for Bariel.
“Sir Ian, where are you going? Is it too dark or cold?”
He hoped Ian’s final moments would be happy and peaceful. Jin touched a spark to the edge of the paper and stared quietly. Was Ian somewhere in the drifting smoke?
Lost in thought, a presence stirred beside him. Xiaosi’s anxious voice broke the silence.
“Your Majesty.”
As expected, Xiaosi’s face looked troubled. Jin’s gaze hardened.
“The son of the Minister of Justice, Shane, was hiding mercenaries. He killed the soldiers sent to arrest him and is fleeing beyond the capital.”
“Ah…”
Jin stood slowly, feigning surprise. He had feared bad news about Sir Ian.
He shoved the remaining papers into the flames.
“Any pursuit?”
“The palace guard is on his tail.”
“To kill soldiers sent by the emperor himself? This is an insult to me. I will personally cut off his head. I’ll tear him to shreds and send his remains to his family as a warning.”
For his Bariel, and for Ian’s Bariel, was there anyone else who needed to be dealt with? Jin counted the names flooding his mind and drew his sword.
“Go.”
To behead.
Xiaosi cleared the way as Jin strode forward. His long robe billowed behind him, followed by attendants. Those they passed in the palace prostrated themselves a hundred paces away, paying respect to the emperor.
Jin fixed his gaze straight ahead, as if the faint dawn breaking in the distance was his destination.
Slash!
“Stop making trouble for no reason.”
“Yes, yes, Your Highness!”
“Want your tongue cut out?”
Meanwhile, Beric was passing through the central square, escorting the fugitive back to the palace.
In the middle of the square hung a lone blonde corpse. Beneath it lay a mound of vibrant flowers. Some citizens, perhaps having prayed through the night or come early to pay respects, stood nearby.
Beric stared silently, then turned around.
“Beric?”
“Ah, Varsabe.”
He met Varsabe, returning from a search.
“Found him?”
Beric asked, unable to look away from the corpse shining brightly in the morning sun. Without seeing the face, it truly seemed like Ian.
“No. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Despite many searching the forest thoroughly, they hadn’t found him. Given Ian’s will, that was only natural. Still, they wouldn’t stop looking.
“Let’s go.”
Varsabe gestured toward the palace. A gentle breeze stirred, scattering flower petals. Varsabe thought it seemed as if the petals were following him as he turned.
Three days passed.
Ding—ding—ding—
The morning bell rang in the central square.
The body had been taken down, but the flower mound remained. Latecomers’ belated tributes, offerings from those who didn’t know the meaning but simply laid flowers.
By then, people had come to expect a pile of flowers in that spot.
And—
That belief continued for a year and five months, becoming part of everyday life on an ordinary day.
“Hey! You idiot! You blockhead!”
The Ministry of Magic was lively from the morning. Akorella stormed out of the minister’s office, shaking a report violently.
Here we go again. Passing mages quietly moved away, while the report’s author jumped up in shock.
“Who wrote this report like this, and where?!”
“P-please, Akorella, calm down.”
“Calm? Do I look calm? This is for the Grand Assembly! Do you want to see someone lose their head? Ah, I get it. You’re a spy. Sent from another department to assassinate me. Who? Who sent you?”
“Minister, please. We’ve worked together for ten years.”
No matter how much Akorella scolded the mage, Romandro calmly sorted through the letters arriving at the Ministry. Dozens piled up daily, mostly from nobles—but—
“Hm?”
Sometimes, like today, there were unfamiliar ones.
Romandro flipped through postcards with no sender’s name, only a stylish waterfall scene painted on them.
“Akorrella, please stop her. She’s going to die like this. Actually, she’s been worse lately.”
“Look at this. A postcard with no sender. Since it came to the palace, it can’t be a mistake. Someone paid for it.”
“There are plenty of weird people. Where was it? The administration was in chaos recently too, with direct reports of corruption.”
“Terrifying, really.”
Romandro shrugged in disgust. How did so many strange things keep happening at the palace? It felt like his lifespan was halved. He wondered how the former prime minister managed palace affairs until his old age.
“Maybe it’s from illiterate villagers sending support. But seriously, someone stop the minister first.”
“Could be. Let’s keep it for now.”
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
Romandro checked the time and struck the bell on his desk three times.
Akorrella, who had been shaking the mage by the collar, froze and looked at him. She seemed like a beast responding automatically to the bell.
“Minister Akorella, it’s time to leave.”
“Already?”
“Yes. If you’re late, you’ll get scolded even worse.”
“Ah…”
Akorrella’s eyes returned to normal. Reluctantly, she let go of the mage and tucked the report under her arm.
“Everyone, assemble.”
“Just say we’re leaving normally.”
“Advance.”
“Y-yes, we’re going.”
The mages slowly got up and moved toward the meeting.
The sky was unusually blue and high. Akorella entered the conference room, lightly saluting with the edge of her hand.
“Hey there, good morning.”
“Good morning, Minister Akorella. You seem in good spirits.”
“Me? No way. Maybe you just think so because you’re in a good mood, Minister Xiaosi?”
Xiaosi smiled faintly, unsure.
One by one, ministers from various departments arrived. Compared to a year ago, most were new. When Prime Minister Quintana entered last, the ministers stood as if waiting for him.
“His Majesty the Emperor.”
Creaaak.
Jin entered with regal bearing, dressed impeccably in his uniform.
His eyes grew sharper with time. Always cold from relentless work, his presence was chilling. With a slight nod, the ministers sat simultaneously.
“Good morning. Let’s begin.”
Following Jin’s command, ministers presented their agenda one by one. He listened quietly, asking questions when doubtful, then approving or rejecting items, steering the meeting.
When it was Akorella’s turn, she raised her hand lightly.
“This concerns the East.”
“You sent a message there some time ago, right?”
“Yes. But we don’t even know if it arrived properly. This time, the Ministry of Magic plans to send people directly. We can’t keep Eunrang and Hohun at the ministry forever—it’s a waste of resources.”
“Hmm.”
“The wizards plan to form a formal delegation of two to three members to accompany them. Since this will be a long-term mission, we’ll need to confirm the budget with the administration—”
That was when it happened. Akorella suddenly stopped speaking, her expression freezing.
She wasn’t the only one. Every wizard except Romandro halted in their tracks, mirroring her hesitation. Then, all at once, their heads turned sharply to the right.
“Minister Akorella?”
“Uh…”
Akorella’s eyes widened, and the wizards around her parted their lips as if sensing something approaching.
Just as Quintana was about to ask what was going on—
BOOOOM!
“…!”
“…!”
A deafening roar shook the palace violently.
Xiaosi sprang to her feet, shielding Jin behind her, while Beric, who had been hiding in the shadows, drew his sword.
“Ugh, aaaaah!”
“What… what’s happening?”
“Everyone, stay where you are! Don’t move!”
“Minister Akorella!”
“All wizards, follow me!”
At Akorella’s command, the wizards stormed out of the meeting hall.
They all lifted their heads to look up at the palace sky. The usually invisible, semi-circular protective barrier shimmered with iridescent colors, trembling under some immense force.
Ziiing, ziiing—
“Minister, this…”
A massive surge of magical power instinctively washed over them. The wizards hesitated. Such depth of energy had only been witnessed before by Lord Ian.
Doo-woong. Doo-woong.
Palace officials crouched low, frozen by the sudden thunderous blast. The tension was so thick it seemed they could barely breathe.
The wizards swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the trembling barrier. They needed to pinpoint where the impact had struck.
“There,”
Hail spotted a faint crack near the western side. At his signal, Nakina and Tomi sliced through the air toward it.
“Damn.”
The closer they got, the heavier the oppressive force pressed down on them like gravity. Nakina’s tension spiked—this was no ordinary threat. But the Underworld God had already returned. So what was this overwhelming pressure threatening the palace?
“Oh ho. Quite an intriguingly composed barrier.”
Snap!
From nowhere, a man appeared, his long hair whipping around as he tapped the shield with a casual hand. His unfamiliar attire was oddly familiar now, thanks to Yinlang and Hohen.
“Sorry if I startled you. I just finished my wall-meditation training, so my senses are still dull. Didn’t mean to cause a fuss.”
Doo-woong. Doo-woong.
The great mage of the East, Jaan.
His golden eyes gleamed as he smiled.
“I’ve come to fetch my foolish disciples.”