WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

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◈ Sword Master of the Fallen Kingdom

Chapter 38

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Magic Tower City Kabiles (3)

Marsen Belkart, one of the elders of the Lenore Magic Tower, was a legendary figure who had risen to an elder's seat in his fifties.

He had the prestige of a noble bloodline and inborn magical talent. As the leading elder of the radical faction, he had secretly celebrated a few months ago when he heard Elder Gerard had collapsed. He thought that old man who nitpicked everything in the elder council was finally down, and that his own standing in the tower would rise.

That was exactly what happened. As Elder Gerard's condition worsened, Marsen's influence steadily grew. Gerard had been a war hero and a master of Spatial Magic, so once he became bedridden all day, the moderate elders rapidly lost power.

On top of that, Gerard showed no sign of recovery. They brought in all kinds of famed mages and renowned high priests, and nothing changed. At some point, people inside the tower started saying he would die. His only granddaughter, Lena Hartion, had left to save him and had not returned for over a month, so from Marsen's point of view, things could not have been better.

"Lena, that bitch came back."

That was why Marsen had no choice but to scowl when his one and only disciple suddenly rushed in.

"Came back? Who? Lena Hartion?"

"Yes. But she isn't alone. She brought some weird mercenary bastard."

"A mercenary? A Third-Rank Mage can't bring in an outsider."

"Exactly! She shoved me aside, then made that mercenary pull a sword on me. The way both of them are forcing their way in, it looks like they found some way around it..."

"I see..."

He stopped what he was doing and left his tower at once. He did not hesitate for even a moment.

He already knew Gerard's condition. He had personally visited with other elders several times. Gerard had been bedridden for months, and for the past week he had not even been conscious. It meant he would soon die from an unknown disease.

Not long ago, a priest who examined Gerard had cautiously suggested it might be Magicite Syndrome, but that opinion was ignored. If it was Magicite Syndrome, they had already missed the treatment window by far. Even if they identified the exact illness now, it was pointless. Maybe it would have mattered half a year ago.

So, using his authority, he barged into Elder Gerard's tower and climbed to the top floor.

"That guy! It's him! He's the one who put a sword to my neck and stepped into the tower!"

With a nasty smile, Veronica stepped forward, pointed at Kyle, and shouted. Inside stood Kyle with an expressionless face, and Lena, startled, turning toward the entrance.

"Hmm... definitely a face I've never seen. At first glance, he doesn't seem to be a mage either..."

Marsen's dim eyes leisurely swept across Gerard's bedroom. Soft afternoon sunlight filtered in beneath the curtains. The room reflected its owner's taste, practical and neatly ordered. There was not a trace of typical noble extravagance.

The old man on the bed looked even worse than last time. His gaunt arms and legs told the same story.

Good. He looks like he'll die within a week.

That suited Marsen just fine. He turned and looked at Lena. The blue-haired girl who flinched and met his gaze looked miserable. Her robe was filthy, and whatever she had been doing outside, she clearly had gone through serious hardship.

Then his gaze narrowed at the unwelcome guest beside her. Ever since Marsen came in, that mercenary Lena had brought had been calmly studying every face beyond the doorway, like he was sizing up prey.

Black hair, black eyes. The sword at his waist irritated him for some reason.

Looks like she hired a skilled mercenary and looted some dungeon.

"Lena, what is the meaning of this? How dare you bring in an outsider at will."

Cutting off his own brief thoughts, Marsen struck his staff against the floor and stepped forward. Lena bit her lip, as if she had never expected him to storm in like this.

"How did you even..."

"I heard from Veronica what happened at the main gate."

Marsen spoke. Unlike earlier, clear mockery now curled at Veronica's lips. Lena stiffened and argued back.

"I'm sorry, Elder Marsen. But it was such an urgent situation, I had no choice."

"No choice? You know the tower's rules yourself. By principle, a Third-Rank Mage cannot bring in outsiders. No exceptions, no matter how urgent."

"But Kyle-ssi isn't my guest, he's my grandfather's..."

"I heard that part too. You say Elder Gerard invited him."

"Yes. So..."

"But you have no proof, do you?"

Lena was struck speechless for a moment.

"The tower's rules are strict. You should know that better than anyone, Lena."

"That is..."

"Elder Gerard is unconscious, so he cannot testify. Then we need other proof. Did you exchange letters with him?"

No. There was no way she had any. Kyle being invited by Gerard had been a temporary lie from the start.

"Looks like you don't."

Elder Marsen let out a short laugh and turned toward Kyle.

Kyle did not avoid his gaze. He met it and rapidly organized the situation in his head.

People barging in out of nowhere. The one in a flashy red robe holding a large staff was most likely Marsen, representative of the radical elders who did not get along with Gerard. Beside him was that purple-haired girl from earlier, Veronica, Marsen's disciple. Several followers were with them too.

That woman he had briefly met on the first floor had likely failed to stop Marsen and now looked restless in a corner beyond the door. The other mages under Gerard were the same. They could not stop someone openly barging into another elder's tower, and that alone showed how far the balance had already tilted.

Looks like they came to declare war.

"Elder Marsen, I understand what you're saying. But it won't take long. Kyle-ssi knows how to treat my grandfather, so just a moment..."

"Treatment? That mercenary?"

Marsen cut off Lena's plea and let out a sigh.

"Lena. I understand how you feel. Your only grandfather is gravely ill, so of course you're desperate. Elder Gerard was a great man who devoted long years to this Magic Tower."

"Then...!"

"But principles have no exceptions. More than that, this man still has no verified identity. Forget the rule about outsiders for a moment, and you expect me to believe some unknown mercenary can treat Elder Gerard? Is that what you are asking?"

Marsen glared at Kyle beside Lena, eyes full of contempt.

On the surface, he looked worried for Lena and Gerard, but Kyle knew better. Marsen was afraid of even the slightest chance and was blocking them with a pathetic pretext.

"Come to think of it, I forgot to ask. What is your name?"

"Kyle."

Kyle answered shortly. Marsen's eyebrow twitched for a moment when Kyle, an outsider mercenary, spoke casually to him, a noble and elder of the Magic Tower.

"Right, Kyle... You look like a mercenary. Is that correct?"

The moment passed. Marsen quickly regained control of his expression and asked again.

"What if I am?"

"Then is it true that, as Lena says, you have a way to treat Elder Gerard?"

"It's true."

"Ha! High mages and priests gave up, but a mere mercenary can solve it? That's not even a funny joke. Even a passing dog would laugh. The Tower Master will be beside himself."

Marsen openly raised his voice and laughed in ridicule. The others were no different. His followers, Veronica included, snickered with contempt as they mocked Kyle.

"Leave."

When the laughter died down, he pointed toward the door and spoke.

"Only those who qualify may enter the Magic Tower. You are not one of them."

His face hardened.

"If you were a noble, or a mage from another tower, that would be different. We cannot admit a stranger with an unclear identity. So leave quietly while I am still willing to be merciful. Do not test my patience."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I will have no choice but to use force. As an elder, I have the duty to uphold the rules."

Marsen lightly raised his staff and struck the ground. At that sharp sound, the room that had been full of sneers turned tense.

"Duty... what a joke. You're just a power-hungry schemer wallowing in filthy politics."

"What did you say?"

"Say it straight. Weren't you the one who wanted Elder Gerard dead more than anyone? That would raise your voice in the council. Pretending to worry about Lena is laughable too. You're just wrapping your ugly insides in a mask of hypocrisy."

Kyle spat the words out coldly. Marsen's face, so controlled a moment ago, flushed red.

"You... some nobody mercenary dares...!"

He was clenching his staff when something suddenly flew through the air. It came straight at him. Marsen reflexively raised his left hand and caught it.

"This is...?"

"Check it."

Marsen opened his hand. A richly decorated insignia lay there.

"An insignia?"

"Looks like a token... from which house?"

"Wait, that crest..."

"Isn't it House Valerian? From the Kingdom of Kirian?"

"What?"

Veronica and the other mages behind Marsen crowded in to look at what Kyle had thrown. They saw the insignia and exchanged shocked glances.

"House Valerian...?"

Someone muttered under their breath. The mages looked at one another and murmured. Veronica's face twisted viciously when she saw the insignia. Marsen only opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak.

House Valerian of the Kingdom of Kirian.

There was no way they would not know it. Kirian was, like the Kingdom of Brendel, famous for magic, a nation born from the split of the Kingdom of Alenos. House Valerian was the greatest and oldest noble house in Kirian, one of its founding houses. At least on the southern continent, there was nowhere its prestige did not reach.

"Do you need anything else to prove my identity?"

Kyle spoke. Marsen reflexively poured mana into the insignia.

The finely crafted insignia responded to his mana and gave off a soft glow. Marsen's face darkened at once.

Damn it.

It was genuine. Absolutely not a fake. An insignia said to be granted by House Valerian only to a tiny number of people who had rendered great service to their family. It was practically an identity pass that meant the ducal house would stand behind that person with its honor.

Even if that person were a commoner, most high nobles could not treat them carelessly.

"How did you...?"

Marsen muttered in a trembling voice. Instead of answering, Kyle extended his left hand toward him. A thin stream of wind took the insignia from Marsen's grip. That precise mana control made Marsen's eyes widen as if they would split.

"Wind Magic...?"

Kyle gently caught the insignia as it flew back and tucked it inside his coat. Watching him, Marsen spoke in a shrinking voice.

"...I understand your identity. I apologize for my rudeness just now."

"But principles are still principles. Even with House Valerian vouching for your status, you cannot enter the Magic Tower at will."

"At will?"

"A Third-Rank Mage cannot bring in outsiders. That is a rule inside this Magic Tower."

"I am Elder Gerard's guest. His granddaughter, Lena Hartion, guarantees that. More importantly, are you even qualified to talk about rules? You stepped into another elder's tower without permission. Into a patient's bedroom, no less."

Kyle gestured with his chin toward the bed. The old man still only breathed in ragged bursts, unable to open his eyes.

"Looks like you interpret your precious rules however you want."

"..."

"Get out. I won't say it twice."

Kyle rested his left hand, ring still on it, over the sword hilt at his waist. It was a stance ready to draw in reverse grip at any moment. At that instant reversal, Marsen's followers swallowed hard. Teeth clenched, Marsen spoke in a low voice.

"...Everyone, we are leaving."

"Master!"

Veronica shouted while glaring at Kyle. Marsen silenced her with one look.

"That is an order, Veronica. We leave now. Or will you stay here alone?"

"Ugh...!"

"Excuse us. Sorry for the disturbance."

Marsen turned around. The other hesitant mages followed him out of the room.

"Ah, I almost forgot one thing."

Right before leaving, Marsen turned his head back from beyond the door.

"This matter will be formally reported to the Tower Master. So do not think this is over. Since you invoked House Valerian's name, you should be ready to handle the fallout if you fail."

"..."

"I do not know how this treatment will end, but I hope for a good result. Then."

Marsen left with Veronica and the other mages. Once they were gone, the room turned quiet again. The remaining mages of Gerard's tower and Lena looked at Kyle. The old man on the bed still had not woken.

***

After Marsen's group left, Kyle immediately began preparing Gerard's treatment. With the obstruction gone, there was no reason to drag things out.

Several water buckets were placed around the bed. Multiple clean cloths were draped above them. Lena volunteered to help the moment Elder Marsen left. The mages of Gerard's tower, who had failed to stop Marsen, did the same. They silently lent a hand while repeatedly glancing at Kyle with half worry, half doubt about whether this would work.

"Everyone except Lena, get out. Do not let anyone in until we come out first."

Kyle spoke. This was an order not from a mere mercenary, but from someone whose identity was guaranteed by House Valerian. The mages of Gerard's tower exchanged looks, then carefully closed the door.

"Will this be enough?"

"Yes."

Lena asked, nodding toward the water buckets on the floor. Kyle answered without turning his head.

"Um, Kyle-ssi..."

"What is it?"

"Are you really connected to House Valerian? I mean..."

"We crossed paths briefly in the past."

It had already been a long time. The first place Kyle worked after coming south was the Kingdom of Kirian. Kyle did not always make enemies of nobles. A few houses had built decent relations with him.

"But if Elder Marsen picks a fight again over this..."

"Then I'll deal with it."

If he crossed the line, he would end up like the nobles who had died at Kyle's hands before. Whether Marsen was foolish enough to go that far was another question.

"Get ready. If your grandfather doesn't wake up, everything falls apart."

"Ah, okay."

Kyle checked the items laid out around them one last time. Six buckets of clean water. Twelve white cloths without a speck of dirt.

Five Holy Power Potions, which Kyle had just taken out of his Inventory Pouch.

"Listen carefully. From now on, I have to control mana with extreme precision. Breaking blood vessels turned to magicite by Magicite Syndrome demands very high concentration. Your role is to use the potions for recovery. Understood?"

Kyle asked as he looked at Lena. She nodded with a firm expression.

"Yes. I'll remember."

"It's not complicated. I'll start slowly from the limbs. At first blood will leak out. Don't panic, wipe it, then pour the potion. These are top-grade potions with holy spells on them, so the effects will appear immediately. You won't need separate hemostasis."

He took one Holy Power Potion from the bedside table and placed it in her hand. She took a small breath and gripped the transparent potion like a treasure.

Kyle glanced at her, then lowered his gaze to the old man in front of him. The still-unconscious elder looked as though he were in a very deep sleep. Kyle had already pulled back the blanket and now slowly removed the elder's shirt. A gaunt, bony body appeared.

"Let's begin."

Sitting right beside the bed, Kyle brought his left hand near the old man's heart. He stirred his mana, and mana leaking from the ring answered his will and was drawn into the old man's heart.

"Ah...!"

Lena flinched and made a sound. He ignored it. Kyle sank deep into concentration. He felt the mana flowing into the old man's body more clearly.

What a mess.

As he went deeper than during the initial diagnosis earlier, he felt the old man's condition was even worse. Nearly all microvessels throughout the body, including around the heart, had turned into magicite. Only tiny fragments of the original remained.

Even so, there was almost no outward sign. Only a small amount of mana mixed with blood around the heart. Still, that alone obstructed blood flow and made oxygen and nutrient transport difficult.

You could not directly detect the sections turned to magicite, and the symptoms resembled many other illnesses. Unless someone was as extremely sensitive to mana as Kyle, they would never catch this.

Still, this was strange.

This was an elder of the Lenore Magic Tower. The mages and priests who visited must have been highly skilled. With symptoms this severe, someone should have suspected it at least once, yet the remaining holy power in his body was focused only on pain reduction and maintaining the status quo.

Was there outside pressure from the elder council? Or maybe by the time they noticed, it was already far too late, so they gave up.

Clearing those thoughts, Kyle forcefully pushed the mana spreading from the heart throughout the whole body. From fingers to toes. As countless microvessels turned to magicite shattered, blood burst out everywhere at once.

"Hngh...!"

He heard someone swallow a cry. Then came the sounds of splashing water and potion being poured. Kyle ignored all of it and focused only on breaking the vessels before him. Hands, feet, arms, legs, above the neck, below the collarbone, chest, and every organ in the lower abdomen.

He scanned everything one by one without missing anything. He adjusted mana strength by vessel thickness. At some point, he lost all sense of time. As dizziness rose, Kyle realized only one final part was left.

The heart.

He did not hesitate long. Kyle gathered his remaining mana into one point. He shattered the magicite-turned section in the same way as before.

And then.

"..."

He slowly opened his eyes. Before he knew it, a red sunset was spreading outside the window. Kyle gradually withdrew his mana, then raised his left hand.

Bright red. How much time passed since the treatment started?

He did not know. He had been too focused to track it.

Kyle looked around. The buckets and white cloths that had been clean were all dyed red now. The five potion bottles that had been full were nearly empty.

"Sob... sob..."

Lena was bent over, gripping the old man's hand tightly.

Amid her quiet crying, Kyle poured all the remaining potion into the old man's mouth. The reaction came quickly. The old man's eyelids trembled.

"Ah...!"

Lena, still bent over, snapped her head up at the reaction.

Kyle roughly wiped the blood from his hands and silently looked down at the old man's face. Not long later, the old man's eyelids slowly opened. Vivid turquoise eyes like Lena's took in the image of his granddaughter.

The old man's dry lips slowly parted.

"Lena...?"

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