Luen’s voice was calm.
So calm, in fact, that it was almost eerie—especially for someone standing at the edge of death.
“So.”
Spit.
One of the mercenaries spat on the ground and swaggered forward, glaring at Luen.
With his sword resting crookedly on his shoulder, he tilted his head and sneered.
“So what? You’re gonna die anyway. What’s the point?”
“That’s right. Whether you capture me or not, you’re all going to die either way.”
Luen’s matter-of-fact agreement made the mercenary smirk again.
“Then wouldn’t it be better to just kill you? At least that way, we might have a chance to live.”
“No. There is one way for you to survive.”
Luen lowered his voice and tossed them a lifeline.
“Help me. If you do, I can at least guarantee your lives.”
It wasn’t an appealing offer.
There was no great wealth, no honor, no power to be gained.
And yet, none of the mercenaries or soldiers could dismiss it outright.
No matter how tempting the vast sum of money offered by Calcento was, it meant nothing if they were dead.
For humans, life was more important than money.
And none of them were loyal enough to Calcento to willingly throw away their lives for him.
“Pfft…! Hahaha!”
—At least, that was what Luen had assumed.
The moment he finished speaking, laughter erupted among the mercenaries and soldiers.
As he watched them, Luen couldn’t help but frown.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, noble sir, you seem to be mistaken about something. Following that guy means certain death. But here you are, acting like following you is the way to survive. Isn’t that hilarious?”
From their perspective, Luen wasn’t a lifeline.
He was nothing more than a rotten rope—one that would drag them down the moment they grabbed hold of it.
His offer wasn’t even worth considering.
“And what exactly do we gain by following a magic family’s heir who doesn’t even have magic affinity? What, are you planning to hand out Kalbrandt’s maids as compensation?”
At their mocking words, Luen clenched his teeth.
It wasn’t their laughter that bothered him.
It was the fact that their words were true.
‘Is there no other way?’
In the short time he had, this was the only plan he could come up with.
And there wasn’t enough time to think of another.
Luen took a deep breath.
There was no way out.
He had no moves left to make.
His eyes dimmed as the realization sank in.
‘So this is how I die… just like that.’
He had sworn revenge.
Luen had sworn it.
He had vowed revenge against Calcento—the one who had done that to his parents, the one who had slaughtered the retainers of Kalbrandt.
But revenge was a treacherous path for the powerless.
Luen was once again reminded of this cruel reality, and as the weight of it settled upon him, he slowly parted his lips.
“I’m listening.”
It was not directed at Ophelia.
Nor was it meant for the mercenaries and soldiers who had come to capture him.
His gaze turned cold.
‘Even if I die.’
He had accepted death.
But if he was to die because he lacked power—
If it was all because he had no talent—
If this was how it was always meant to end—
[ …Are you talking to us? ]
[ He spoke to us! ]
The once-silent voices began to chatter again.
The spirits had sensed his fear of them.
They had been unable to approach due to Ophelia’s magic—
But not anymore.
A Spirit Master.
Luen was one.
And not just any Spirit Master, but one with a talent so immense that history itself would one day call it the greatest.
Now, the spirits were answering him again.
As their laughter rang through the air, Luen responded in a low, steady voice.
“Yes, I’m talking to you.”
If talent was all that mattered—
If it was the reason everything had turned out this way—
If it was the reason he had no power for revenge—
Then he would use it.
Luen’s eyes gleamed like a ghostly moonlight.
[ Shall we help? Shall we help? Shall we help? ]
Even if it was a cursed power—
He would wield it.
“Kill them all.”
As the mercenaries and soldiers stared at him in stunned confusion—
CRACK—!
[ We will help! ]
A catastrophe began.
“This… this isn’t what we agreed on…!!”
A mercenary, his voice shrill with terror, screamed as he was torn apart.
Luen watched with detached indifference.
The forest, peaceful and quiet just moments ago, had transformed into a sea of blood.
Yet he felt nothing.
It was the first time he had taken lives, but there was no guilt, no hesitation.
It was only natural.
They had come to kill him for money—
Or worse, to sell him.
He was not the kind to show mercy to those who sought his life.
And as for Calcento?
Just thinking about him made Luen want to tear him apart limb from limb.
Suppressing the icy rage within him, Luen looked down at a mercenary who was crawling along the ground, both legs torn away.
“Just in case,” Luen said, his voice calm, “do you know which noble house has been conspiring with Calcento?”
Dozens of mercenaries lay dead around him.
Luen could have easily gathered this information from within Kalbrandt.
But doing so in Kalbrandt’s own territory carried far too great a risk.
That’s why he had assumed most of these mercenaries came from other domains.
Yet, when he asked, the mercenary only coughed up a mouthful of blood. No answer.
It wasn’t loyalty to his employer.
It was simply that he didn’t believe speaking would save him.
“…Was it Medlock, Zenon, or Horcrux?”
Even as Luen named the surrounding noble houses, the mercenary simply pressed his lips together and glared at him.
But Luen knew—this wasn’t defiance.
It was nothing more than an attempt to buy time, to force Luen into giving him the answer he wanted.
A soft chuckle escaped Luen’s lips.
“To think you’re still hoping to survive.”
If you were prepared to take another’s life, should you not also be prepared to lose your own?
If you dared to raise a blade against someone, you should expect a blade to be raised against you.
This was beyond shameless.
As that thought crossed his mind, Luen raised a hand.
CRACK—!
The roots of the trees, already stained with the blood of dozens, shot up from the ground and coiled around the mercenary’s limbs, binding him tightly.
Luen didn’t need to dirty his own hands.
The spirits moved as he willed.
“Kh…!”
A strangled groan left the mercenary’s lips as his limbs were pulled in opposite directions.
“You have only two choices.”
There were many ways to execute a criminal.
Among them, hanging was one of the simplest.
Beheading was considered the fastest and most merciful.
Luen wasn’t sure what it was called—
But he chose to ensure this man suffered until the very end.
The roots tightened, pulling his arms and legs with merciless force.
It was only then that the mercenary seemed to grasp his situation.
Face flushed red, he gritted his teeth and screamed, his voice desperate.
“It doesn’t matter who you ask!! They’re all in on it!!”
“…All of them?”
Even after receiving the answer he sought, Luen did not smile.
Because it meant that all three noble houses surrounding Kalbrandt had a hand in its downfall.
“Yes!! So please…!!”
CRACK!
The mercenary’s plea was cut off by the sickening sound of something breaking.
Luen let out a hollow chuckle, running a hand through his hair.
They were just soldiers.
Just mercenaries.
And yet, it had taken mere minutes to wipe out nearly a hundred of them.
A sight so devastating that it wouldn’t be strange if a Grand Mage had caused it.
Tearing his gaze away from the carnage, Luen exhaled deeply.
None of it mattered.
The mere hope that a noble house might aid him—
That assumption had been flawed from the start.
And now, the dream of revenge drifted further out of reach—
Like clouds floating across the sky.
“Hah.”
A quiet scoff left his lips.
His eyes, sunken deep with weariness, stared ahead.
[It’s all over!]
[We did well, right? Right?]
“…Yeah. You did well.”
He could see them now, faintly.
No—perhaps he had always known they were there.
Perhaps he had merely chosen to ignore them.
He nodded at the spirits, offering them the praise they craved.
And then, beyond them, he looked toward Kalbrandt.
Toward the place where Calcento was.
He stared at it for only a moment before turning away and beginning to walk.
Where was he going?
Why was he going there?
He no longer knew.
There was no destination in his steps.
No conviction in his stride.
But deep within him, something remained.
A single, all-consuming purpose—
Revenge.
Revenge against those who had made things this way.