Chapter 116

Chapter 116
## Chapter: 116

### Chapter Title: The Star That Pierces the Truth (1)

—

The sweltering peak of summer had mellowed into something far more tolerable. At long last, the party had put the desolate barrens behind them.

Transitions in the environment manifested gradually—subtle at first, but soon undeniable.

The dusty path, once choked with resilient scrub, began to welcome the intrusion of wild grasses. Solitary trees huddled together, quietly thickening into groves. These vibrant emerald hues intensified with every league until, upon crossing the territorial line of Agon, the landscape erupted into a sea of succulent greenery.

The days of grit scratching the back of their throats were over. The era of the baked, shimmering earth was behind them. In their stead came the revitalizing breath of mountain winds, the cool sanctuary of leafy canops, and the rhythmic babble of crystalline brooks.

Having concluded their business in Agon, they had traded the endless gray waste for a verdant paradise. Regardless of what the future held, the shift in scenery provided a well-deserved lift to their spirits.

Despite the idyllic setting, Duncan was gnawing on his fingernails in a fit of nerves.

Kadim noticed and threw out a casual inquiry.

“What’s eating you, Duncan? Is there a problem?”

“Ah… No, milord! Not a single one! Just look at this glorious day! The b-breeze is refreshing, the light is brilliant, and our p-purses are heavy with gold… It’s practically heaven on earth, sir!”

“……”

The merchant’s performance was so wretchedly transparent that even a fool would have smelled a rat.

Kadim was certain: the man was hiding something. Narrowing his eyes, he began a slow, calculating inspection of the merchant’s person.

He identified the discrepancy almost instantly.

“Where is the blade?”

“……I beg your pardon?”

“The hellfire dagger I entrusted to you. Why is the Galentana steel blade the only one hanging from your belt?”

The color vanished from Duncan’s cheeks instantly.

It was true. He had failed to retrieve the hellfire dagger after dropping it amidst the chaos of the ruins. By the time he had realized his blunder and attempted a recovery, the witch was slain and the ancient site had been hermetically sealed.

That dagger was no mere trinket. It was a holy instrument, consecrated by Elga to turn demon legions to ash, forged with the unmatched expertise of Old Man Ironhammer—a masterpiece meant to last an eternity. To Duncan, its value was deeply sentimental; it was the first token of Kadim’s trust, a badge of his proven utility.

But it had been expended as little more than a one-off spark for a fire. There was no changing it now. Shaking like a leaf, Duncan dropped to his knees and confessed the entire sequence of events. He braced himself for a physical reprimand, fully expecting to have his hair and beard torn out.

To his shock, Kadim showed no sign of anger.

“So, you were the reason the stone golems crumbled and the witch was forced into the open.”

“……Sir?”

“Stand up. Though it wasn’t your intention, you have once again played a part in saving my life.”

Instead of a beating, he received warm praise and was handed a replacement hellfire dagger.

The legendary warrior’s breadth of spirit filled Duncan with a joy he couldn’t name. However, the result was so contrary to his fears that he simply stood there, resembling a dazed pack animal, blinking in confusion.

Eventually, he found his voice again.

“Y-You aren’t going to pull my beard out then?”

“……Why on earth would I do that?”

“B-But… that weapon—wasn’t it of immense value to you, milord?”

“It has value, certainly, but it does not outweigh my life. Had you not halted those stone golems, I likely would have perished. Furthermore, it isn’t as if it was the only one in existence.”

Old Man Ironhammer had produced a set of four hellfire daggers. Even with this second gift, Kadim still possessed two more.

Regardless of the logic, Duncan was moved to tears by such profound leniency. He collapsed back to his knees, eyes brimming. He had spent so much time worrying about the regrowth of his facial hair… Kadim watched this pathetic display with a look of pure revulsion before issuing a final caveat.

“However, if you manage to lose this one as well, be warned. I won’t stop at your beard—I will pluck every single hair from your entire body.”

“That won’t happen, sir! I’ll jump into boiling water myself to make the job easier for you if I do!”

“……”

Gazing at Duncan’s beaming, earnest face, Kadim began to wonder if the merchant’s mind was finally starting to fray.

—

The path eventually opened into a small clearing near a stream, where they decided to make camp. Duncan, ever the attentive servant, laid out wine and cups before gathering fresh ingredients and a cooking pot. He headed toward the water with a wide grin, eager to start the meal.

Kadim didn’t reach for the wine immediately. Instead, he took the opportunity to take stock of his growing inventory.

My pack has become so bloated I can barely track what I’m carrying… I’ve picked up quite a bit from Agon as well. I should organize this before something vital goes missing.

In a virtual world, this would be a simple matter of clicking a menu. In this reality, ‘inventory management’ meant dumping everything onto the grass. He heaved the massive pack over and unfastened his various satchels until a small mountain of equipment sat before him.

“……”

It was a chaotic mess. He began to categorize the items: weaponry, attire, rations, gold, spirits, ancient relics, demonic blood, and miscellaneous supplies. He grouped similar items together, inspecting each one.

His supplies of clothing, food, and drink were more than sufficient. They hadn’t even finished the stores from Galentana, and he had supplemented those with luxuries scavenged from Yubik’s estate.

His wealth was staggering. Between his starting capital and the gold bullion and precious stones taken from the mansion, he estimated a total of at least 20 million luden. It was a fortune capable of purchasing 6,000 horses and the land to graze them.

The relics seemed like they might hold future utility: a stele for locating ruins and two silver coins from a forgotten dynasty. He tucked these away securely.

The demon blood, however, had turned. Aside from the preserved blood of Pevillatus used for his markings, the rest had curdled in the wasteland’s heat. He decided to incinerate the remains and seek out fresh samples later.

His arsenal was a sight to behold. Two hellfire daggers; the Blood Ghost, imbued with ‘Vampiric’ and ‘Blood Accumulation’; and Thunderstrike, possessing ‘Return’ and ‘Lightning’ attributes. These weapons far surpassed the fragile enchanted blades of the common world.

But his newest acquisition was in a league of its own—a weapon of such power it felt like a violation of the world’s rules.

It was a heavy, midnight-black battle axe that pulsed with a terrifying pressure.

Kadim’s eyes fixed upon the Judgment of Atala.

In the context of the game, it was a ‘Legendary’ item—the pinnacle of gear. Yet, considering its historical weight and sheer destructive potential, it felt as though it deserved a rank all its own. Its divine blessing was merely its foundation; in the hands of a master, its lethality was boundless.

Its importance went beyond its statistics.

The Judgment of Atala had been his constant partner throughout his first life—it had tasted demon blood across the abyss and had eventually claimed the head of the archdemon itself. Its dark steel had preserved his life more times than he could count. Looking at it now, he felt a rush of genuine warmth, as if he had been reunited with an old friend.

Though I suppose I was a bit heartless, discarding it so readily after the final battle…

He wouldn’t do that again. He had fully integrated his identity as the great warrior and accepted his path. Kadim reached out and awkwardly patted the handle of the axe as a gesture of reconciliation.

*Bzzz.* The head of the axe vibrated softly in response. A single cleaning wasn’t enough to wipe away three centuries of abandonment. It would take time to truly earn its forgiveness.

The remaining sundries were largely uninteresting: Duncan’s personal effects, basic shop items, oils, and sharpening stones.

However, two items specifically grabbed his attention.

An iron rod wrapped in tattered cloth, and shards of a pitch-black stone.

These…

Memory surged back. The staff had belonged to the possessed elder sorcerer in Soltana. The stone shards were the remains of the magic core taken from the heart of the high mage advisor in Lemtana.

Both items were omens of their next destination—the true goal of this trek.

The Magic Tower.

The place where the final footprints of the brilliant mage Melissa could be found.

It was also the place where the remains of demons were being gathered for some perverse purpose, a far cry from the intentions of its creator.

*’So, Kadim, once the archdemon is dead, what’s the plan? Hmm… I think I’ll build a tower. I’ll teach other mages what I know.’*

Her voice—usually cocky and playful, but profoundly serious when she spoke of her dreams—rang in his mind. His memories remained crisp and unaffected by time, but the world around him had layered three centuries of dust over her legacy.

300 years. What had transpired while he was gone? The moment to uncover the truth was nearly at hand. He hoped to simply review her archives without conflict, but he knew the chances of a peaceful visit were slim.

“Soup’s up! It’s a thick meat broth, I think you’ll— Ack! Milord, what is all this?”

Duncan stared in shock at the spread of equipment. Kadim cut his reflections short and re-wrapped the staff and shards.

“Just taking stock. Put the pot down. I’ll finish this once we’ve eaten.”

The meal was satisfying—the broth was savory and packed with chunks of preserved meat. They ate in companionable silence, the only sound being the clinking of their cups.

As the bowls were scraped clean, conversation returned. Duncan gave Kadim a sideways, calculating look.

“Milord… just a few more days and we’ll be at the Magic Tower, won’t we?”

“That’s the plan.”

“So, if you don’t mind me asking… what exactly is the goal there? This Melissa? Or Meliza? It’s something to do with the original Tower Lord, isn’t it? You never really gave me the full story…”

“……”

He had indeed kept the merchant in the dark regarding the specific purpose of the trip. Kadim allowed himself a small smirk before giving a blunt answer.

“I need to look at the first Tower Lord’s personal records. There are things I need to confirm.”

“Ah… I see! Oh! Of course! That makes perfect sense! So scholarly of you, milord! A master of the blade and a man of high learning…”

“Save the flattery. Do you have any other questions?”

“……”

Duncan hesitated, his mouth working but no sound coming out.

He had pieced some of it together by now.

The man he followed wasn’t merely a legendary fighter from a distant land. He was a being of ancient, incomprehensible depth. He was a guardian of a secret that likely shook the very foundations of the world.

But the prospect of asking for the truth was still petrifying.

He had gained a great deal of trust during their travels. However, he knew that if he pushed too far and angered the warrior, he would be erased in an instant. More importantly, he still hadn’t collected his final payment: his freedom.

And yet…

Even with those fears, the end was in sight.

Once they reached Vesta’s Magic Tower, his obligation was over. He would be a free man. He could return to his wife and his boy. With the wealth he’d amassed, he could retire from the road and start a respectable guild in a major city.

But that meant…

…he would never see his master again.

“I asked if you had more to say.”

“Eep!”

Duncan jumped, his shoulders jerking violently. Caught under Kadim’s piercing gaze, he forced a strained, nervous grin.

“N-No! Nothing at all!”

“……Then why the theatrics?”

“Oh, it’s nothing! Just thinking… Do you think that consul back in Lemtana is doing alright? With all those Atalans appearing out of nowhere, he must be having a heart attack…”

“……”

That comment jogged Kadim’s memory of something he had pushed aside.

The consul had been pulling every string to gain access to the Magic Tower’s restricted files and had sent a formal inquiry… what had come of it?

—

Enrico Turis, the consul of Lemtana, remained the primary subject of gossip in Delutana.

In fact, his notoriety had only grown. He had been the one to report the deaths of the Arch Paladin and the high mage—and now, the whispers suggested he was the primary contact for the ‘Demon Slayer.’

“Consul Enrico, is it true you were the one who granted the Golden Highway credentials to this ‘Demon Slayer’?”

“……”

The legend of the ‘Demon Slayer’—the man who left hills of demon carcasses in his wake—had reached the capital.

The stories weren’t limited to his deeds on the Highway. Those with sharp ears knew of his actions in Galentana, and the fastest runners had even brought news of his involvement in Agon.

The public was obsessed with the man who had supposedly negotiated with such a terrifying figure. People crowded Enrico like a swarm of insects.

“Consul, is it true he rips demons apart with his bare hands?”

“Does he really feast on demon meat and use their ribs as toothpicks?”

“I heard he went on a rampage in Lemtana before leaving. Didn’t he slaughter half of Galentana too?”

“Consul, could you give me an introduction? I’m looking to put together a mercenary squad…”

“……”

Enrico could handle the general curiosity. It was irritating, but it didn’t threaten his life.

The real danger lay in the more perceptive individuals who sensed something deeper was afoot.

“How did you come to meet him, Consul? And why would he pass through Lemtana of all places? There are no lucrative monsters or demons in that region…”

“Is it possible the Demon Slayer is connected to the deaths of the Arch Paladin and Ymir Deban?”

“……”

Connected? He was the one who had executed them both.

Enrico took no pleasure in this spotlight. If the truth were ever revealed, it would mean the end of his family, his career, and potentially the destruction of Delutana. There were moments when he deeply regretted his pact with Kadim.

But the die was cast.

Enrico had played his part. He worked tirelessly to suppress the truth, bribed informants, leaked false rumors to muddy the waters, and pushed relentlessly for access to the Magic Tower’s archives. He was so overworked that a night with two hours of sleep was considered a luxury.

His efforts were not in vain. He had secured a prize.

The ‘Kadim’ card.

A secret weapon that could potentially break the Church’s elite force, the Decagram, should the Empire ever find itself at war with them.

Then, the unexpected occurred.

“…Yes, make sure the message is delivered correctly, Feldric.”

“You have my word, Consul!”

He had just concluded a clandestine negotiation with the Tower and sent a messenger to find Kadim. Dark shadows hung beneath his eyes, but a rare smile of success crossed his face.

“At last…”

Now, he had to meet his brother, Pellico. The long-awaited visit from the Archbishop of the Elga Church was imminent. He needed to go home and finalize their strategy…

As he turned to leave—

Enrico’s form vanished into thin air.

*Whoooo…*

A sudden, heavy silence fell over the area.

In the spot where a man had been standing moments before, there was nothing but a slight, innocent ripple in the afternoon sunlight.