Chapter 292: Side Story – The Destroyed Nest

Collapsed buildings.

Air saturated with the smell of blood.

The head of an old man rolling at his feet.

And, in the distance, the roar of the Deathworm.

‘What do I do? What am I supposed to do?’

Emil’s sharp hearing picked up the footsteps beginning to surround the building.

At least several dozen.

The moment he realized they were already surrounded, Emil’s eyes darted everywhere, but he could not find a single escape route.

“It must have been hard getting here. Honestly, I thought I was going to die.”

As if he were completely satisfied with the situation, Ishtvan scratched his chin and began joking around.

Emil, who was watching even the slightest movement he made, unconsciously followed the direction of his fingers.

‘……!’

And at the end of that gaze, he found a horrifying scar.

A deep, dark scar carved into Ishtvan’s neck.

It looked as though someone had tried to tear his throat out.

Faced with that brutal mark, Emil swallowed unconsciously.

“Or maybe I already died once.”

A strange madness shone in Ishtvan’s eyes as he looked at Emil.

Yes.

That’s how you should look at me.

Don’t ignore me like before while you looked at Godin behind me.

Perhaps it was because those eyes looked so much like Vlad’s.

Because at that moment, Ishtvan was trapped inside a scene from the past.

The impeccably maintained training yard of Daermar.

The assembled knights.

And that blue-eyed boy staring directly at him.

But this time that boy was not ignoring him.

“As it turns out, the prison those dwarves built was too sturdy. So sturdy that I couldn’t escape with my own body…”

The madman lost in the past no longer distinguished between Vlad and Emil.

Unable to separate reality from memories, Ishtvan swayed like a drunkard.

And then two shadows lunged at him.

“Haaah!”

“You bastard!”

Taking advantage of the slightest opening Ishtvan had shown.

Perhaps the first and last opportunity.

Ramund and Telsa swung their swords at the same time.

“Ah…”

With a vacant gaze, Ishtvan watched the two auras approaching.

One was a sharp thrust designed to create an opening.

The other was the familiar aura of Body Reinforcement.

“Vlad!!!”

The same strategy Vlad had used against him in the past.

Completely immersed in his memories, a crazed aura began pouring from Ishtvan’s left eye.

“You damned bastard! A back-alley brat who doesn’t even know who his mother is!”

Booom!

“Guh!”

Ramund’s knees buckled as he blocked Ishtvan’s sword.

‘What the hell is this strength?!’

The blow was so brutal that the ground trembled.

Even after taking the impact head-on, Ramund desperately tried to keep Ishtvan’s sword pinned down.

‘Now!’

And right behind him was Telsa.

With precise movements, she launched her sword.

The combat style of a duelist from the Southern Archipelago.

A technique perfected over a lifetime of short engagements.

The rapier shot out from behind Ramund and curved like a serpent, piercing through the back of Ishtvan’s neck.

‘I got him!’

The sensation transmitted through the tip was unmistakable.

Cutting flesh.

Breaking bone.

Yet even amid that familiar sensation, Telsa sensed something strange.

Because Ishtvan’s madness-filled eyes were still staring at her.

“Move!”

Ramund shoved Telsa aside and raised his sword once more.

Booom!

“Aaaah!”

“Guh!”

This time it was a merciless horizontal slash.

The enormous mass of the sword swept both of them away in a single strike.

“Guh… Cough!”

Not even Body Reinforcement could withstand such destructive power.

Buried beneath the rubble, blood began pouring from Ramund’s mouth.

“Once again you’re trying to trick me with those damned tricks!”

That cowardly sword that wore down my endurance.

That cursed forehead that shattered my fists.

“You think I’ll fall for the same thing again, Vlad?!”

If not for that.

My sword would never have been taken from me.

My father would not have died.

My family’s banner would not have fallen.

“But that’s not going to happen anymore! I’ve come back! I’ll never be defeated by you again!”

To Ishtvan, imprisoned within his memories, it no longer mattered who stood before him.

He only needed someone upon whom he could vent his rage.

Someone to bear twenty years of sorrow, anger, and despair.

“Die, Vlad!!”

The gigantic sword rose.

As it reached its highest point, the very air seemed to hang from its edge.

And just as it was about to fall upon the two knights—

Crack!

“……!”

Ishtvan’s eyes shook violently.

A kick had slammed into the side of his head.

Someone had been waiting for that moment.

The instant Ishtvan focused all his strength into a single point.

“Haaah!”

A child shining intensely with yellow light.

Moving at terrifying speed, Emil struck Ishtvan’s head and continued his momentum until he smashed into the ceiling.

Like a sharpened arrow.

Like a yellow line cutting through the air.

“The one who’s going to die is you!”

Emil carried no sword.

Because a squire had no right to bear a sharpened blade.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!!

So what he was using was Ramund’s body technique.

The same one that had crushed assassins only moments before.

‘Emil…!’

The yellow line moved so quickly it was difficult to follow with the eye.

But Ramund recognized it.

Those movements were the fundamentals of Body Reinforcement that he had spent his entire life perfecting.

‘Don’t lose the flow!’

Triangles appeared endlessly around Ishtvan.

With elbows.

With knees.

Sometimes with his forehead.

The points of those force-filled triangles struck Ishtvan again and again.

“…Damned brat!”

Without a sword, Emil could get even closer.

Just as Vlad had neutralized Ishtvan’s greatsword in the past.

Emil constantly stuck close to him, destroying his ideal range.

The cruelty of a dragon exploiting the weaknesses of its prey.

The boy’s pupils had already become vertical, like a dragon’s.

“Graaaah!!”

Realizing that he would never catch Emil through speed alone, Ishtvan raised his sword once more.

Reason no longer existed within him.

But that was precisely why certain instincts remained.

Booom!

The sword came down with enough force to bring down a building.

And the resulting shockwave was not directed at Emil.

It was directed at Ishtvan himself.

“Aaaagh!”

An explosion of debris and energy in a completely unexpected direction.

Emil took the full impact head-on and was sent flying.

“I finally caught you.”

“……!”

Ishtvan’s entire body was covered in wounds.

Half of one of his thighs had been torn away.

But he smiled as though he felt no pain at all.

Grabbing Emil by the ankle, he raised his hand.

Crack!

Emil’s head slammed brutally into the ground.

A sound that should never be heard near a child.

Ramund’s eyes trembled.

Crack! Crack!

As if he were shaking a toy.

Again and again.

At first Emil struggled to break free.

But after three, four, five impacts…

The boy’s consciousness began to fade.

“No! No!”

Trembling, Ramund managed to get to his feet and grabbed Ishtvan’s wrist.

But the violence continued.

Crushing.

Relentless.

Faced with that absolute madness, both Ramund’s aura and the blessing protecting Emil began to weaken.

Booom!!

“Don’t let her get away this time!”

“It’s the red-haired girl! Kill her!”

Hampton watched the scene unable to breathe.

And when another explosion echoed behind him, he shut his eyes.

The doors of the trading company that had filled him with so much pride.

The doors bearing the emblem of the Kannor family.

Had just been destroyed.

And men dressed in black began pouring inside like a flood.

“F-Father!”

The remnants of the past continued advancing toward the children.

The mercenaries tried to hold them back.

But the enemy already outnumbered them several times over.

And when that wave of despair reached a child’s throat.

Only a few words remained to be spoken.

“Father! Dad! Dad!”

The broken nest.

The voice of the child calling for his father was heartbreaking.

But his father had no time to turn around and look at him.

‘Father! Where did you put it?! Father!’

Portly was searching Olson Kannor’s corpse.

Not the head that had been thrown in front of Emil.

The decapitated body.

‘Father, please!’

Like a madman, Portly emptied pockets, tore open the collar of the shirt, and desperately searched through the corpse’s belongings.

A son rummaging through his own father’s body.

It was a disrespectful sight to anyone watching.

But Portly’s hands did not hesitate for even a moment.

“…I found it!”

Because behind him, his little son was still crying.

Because his father would have done exactly the same thing.

“Everyone get back!”

In Portly’s bloodied hand was a small brooch.

The symbol that only the head of the Kannor family was allowed to carry.

When he opened the lid, a complex magical formula engraved with tiny characters appeared.

“You damned bastards.”

Portly bit his index finger and let blood drip onto the brooch.

It was an artifact that responded only to the blood of the Kannor family.

A bluish light began running across his fingers.

Without hesitation, he pointed toward the assassins.

Booom!

His index finger exploded.

And at the same time, an icy flash tore through the air.

“Guaaah!”

“Guh…”

Snowflakes began to fall upon the mercenaries’ corpses.

And among that snowfall appeared the assassins.

Turned into statues of ice.

At the sight of the sudden silence, Portly let out a groan of pain.

“Guhhh…”

It was an artifact of extreme freezing.

A relic that only the head of the Kannor family could use.

A type of magic indispensable for a family involved in the meat trade.

He had never imagined he would end up using it like this.

Normally it required a proper activation phrase and an exact amount of blood.

But it didn’t matter.

“Sir Ramund…”

This time he bit his middle finger.

Then he looked toward Ishtvan and Ramund.

Ishtvan was still striking Emil like a madman.

Ramund remained clinging to his arm.

“Do it… hurry…”

The old man’s broken voice showed that he had almost no strength left.

Even so, he gathered what little remained and began prying Ishtvan’s fingers open.

“Guhhh…”

Every muscle in his body felt as though it were tearing apart.

His old body could no longer withstand any more aura.

But if it was only for an instant.

“GRAAAAH!”

All of Ramund’s remaining aura concentrated into his hands.

Slowly, Ishtvan’s fingers began to open.

“You worthless old bastard!”

The madman’s roar struck his ears.

But Ramund managed to free the boy.

Then he quickly crawled over and covered Emil’s body with his own.

Booom!

A monstrous burst of freezing energy exploded behind him.

“Guhhh…”

His back was left completely exposed.

Body Reinforcement had been unable to protect it.

He felt the ice beginning to spread through his flesh.

But the more he froze.

The tighter he held Emil.

Just like that time.

So many years ago.

When he blocked the breath of the fastest dragon to protect Vlad in the middle of a snowstorm.

“…Sir Ramund.”

At last, the Kannor Trading Company building fell silent.

Snowflakes drifted down on a day that did not belong to winter.

Holding his ruined fingers, Portly approached the old man.

“……”

But Sir Ramund’s blue lips could no longer move.

The only thing he did was continue protecting the boy in his arms.

“I understand.”

Portly took Emil.

“I’ll make sure to get him to Soara.”

Protect the potential of the young.

Do what you must when your time comes.

They were vows every knight was expected to fulfill.

But Ramund did not act as a knight that day.

He had lived his entire life as one.

Yet in the final moment of his existence, he was a grandfather crawling across the ground to protect his grandson.

Until the very end.

He never stopped loving him.

“Let’s go!”

Gathering the survivors, Portly hurried out of the building.

No matter how much pain he felt, an adult still had things to do.

As he examined the street.

A metallic noise echoed behind them.

GRRRRRR—

It was the building’s armored gate.

Slowly descending.

Normally it protected the company’s valuable merchandise.

But it should not have been lowering now.

“…I suppose that artifact didn’t have enough power.”

Telsa smiled sadly from beneath the gate that continued descending.

“He’s still alive. Or maybe he’s dead and still moving.”

The interior was filled with ice statues created by Portly.

And among them stood Ishtvan.

Watching them with eyes completely consumed by madness.

“Telsa!”

“I’m already too badly injured. I won’t get very far.”

Little by little, the gate concealed her figure.

Seeing her disappear, Tarenian tried to run toward her.

But Renvar grabbed her firmly.

“Milady, remember this! Your mother loved you!”

“Telsa! Telsa!”

Tarenian screamed desperately.

But the gate ultimately hid the knight completely.

Booom!

“TELSAAA!”

Tarenian’s scream echoed through the ruined alleys.

She struck the gate again and again.

The despair of believing there was no one left in the world who loved her made her cry with all her strength.

“We have to go!”

With Emil slung across his back, Portly signaled to Renvar.

Under other circumstances, he would have let her cry as much as she wanted.

But there was no time now.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“That’s enough! We have to move!”

Renvar, the tallest of all the children, hoisted Tarenian onto his shoulders.

The dark-skinned child continued crying and struggling.

But there are times when even grief must be left for later.

“To the horse market!”

Now Portly was the only adult left.

Without even bandaging his bleeding fingers, he led the children toward the market.

“There’ll be carriages there! It’s a horse market, there have to be some!”

He remembered the place near the city gate perfectly.

The same one from which Emil had been thrown out.

A place full of horses.

Surely they would find a carriage.

“There!”

Just as Portly had said, several abandoned carriages stood there.

And dead merchants lay scattered on the ground.

‘They reached here too.’

It seemed the invaders had not relied solely on the tunnel opened by the Deathworm.

They had probably infiltrated the city through multiple routes to spread chaos.

“Move!”

If they had already passed through here, perhaps they would be safe for a while.

After all, a storm does not usually devastate the same place twice.

— There they are!

— Don’t let them escape!

But the storm pursuing them was made of pure malice.

“Sir…”

Renvar called out to Portly, his face pale.

Because hundreds of assassins were descending the hill.

They looked like a black waterfall made of human beings.

An avalanche of hatred that could not be stopped.

“What is your name?”

“Me? Why?”

“What kind of answer is that? An adult is talking to you.”

Despite the desperate situation, Portly seemed calm.

Anxiety comes when you don’t know what to do.

But when the path is clear.

Even death can seem simple.

“R-Renvar.”

“Good. Renvar. Do you know how to drive a carriage?”

Portly had already harnessed the horses.

And handed him the reins.

“From now on, you’re the adult here. Get the children to Soara.”

Renvar had never driven a carriage.

He had been born and raised as a noble.

But faced with that strange presence Portly radiated.

He could not say no.

“All right, children! You’re going to Soara! Don’t look back!”

Then he opened the corrals.

“Dad!”

Hampton’s eyes widened.

He understood what his father was about to do.

“Dad, no! Come with us!”

Hampton waited for his father on the carriage.

But the one who climbed into the driver’s seat was Renvar.

Portly simply smiled.

And waved his hand.

“Son! Catch!”

Hampton caught the object thrown to him.

It was the Kannor family brooch.

The insignia of the family head.

The same one that had stopped Ishtvan and the assassins.

“Son! I wanted to tell you before, but I never had the chance!”

The carriage was already beginning to move away.

Despite Renvar’s awkwardness with the whip, the horses chosen by Portly knew exactly what to do.

“Congratulations on becoming a squire of the Bayezid family! I’m proud of you! Your father got in by paying money, but you got in through your talent!”

Wheeeet!

A sharp whistle echoed throughout the area.

It was a sound no man of the Kannor family could fail to recognize.

Portly raised the whistle to his lips.

And then the horses began charging out of the corrals.

“Dad!”

Hundreds of horses burst forward in a stampede.

And crashed into the tide of assassins descending the hill.

Portly stopped the wave of hatred pursuing the children.

And kept waving his hand.

Until the carriage disappeared from his sight.

“Dad!”

Above them, the Deathworm roared across the sky.

Upon the earth advanced a tide of hatred.

And from the ruined buildings came the screams of a madman.

That day, the children lost their nest.

The time had come for even the youngest chicks to learn how to fly on their own.

As they left behind the blackened walls of Sturma engulfed in flames…

The beating wings of those little birds departing for distant lands seemed unbearably sad.