DMHS 109

“Fa… ther…?”

“Go around to the opposite side of the village and cross the mountain. If you walk north for three days, you’ll reach a village. Find ‘Lorcan’ there.”

“What are you talking about right now…?”

“Go.”

While Yan stood dumbly repeating the question, people began to gather amid the commotion caused by the soldiers.

Among them were villagers and armed troops alike.

By then, his father had already picked up the sword Yan had dropped.

Everyone’s eyes turned to the fallen soldier visit our site lying on the ground in a pool of blood. His father looked at them and spoke calmly.

“I killed this man.”

“Father?”

“He blocked my path, so I cut his throat. If anyone else wants the same fate, come forward. I’ll take you all on.”

Blue energy rippled along the sword his father held. The crowd gasped in disbelief.

“Aura!”

“A Sword Master! He’s really the former Knight Captain!”

“Fetch Count Belgrade at once! Only the Count can face him!”

‘He came here?’

Jareth Dreville. The man who had risen to the rank of Count Belgrade had been the one who envied and slandered his father without end.

He had spread false rumors that his father was plotting to usurp the throne and had rallied the nobles opposed to the king’s reform policies.

For the man who governed the great western city of Chronos to be here now could mean only one thing.

‘The tournament really was bait to draw Father out.’

Before the thought even finished, a noble in fine clothes appeared through the crowd.

“Bow your heads! It is Count Belgrade, ruler of the West!”

With red hair and green eyes, Jareth waved a hand to dismiss the bowing people. A sly smile twisted his lips.

“No need for greetings. What does ceremony matter when we’re capturing a criminal?”

“Your Excellency’s mercy moves us to tears!”

“Yes. It’s been a while, Captain. You were exiled by royal order, and yet here you are, causing chaos in a small village.”

The man responsible for all this spoke with shameless composure.

His father lifted his eyes.

“For you to appear as well, Count, means there’s no longer any escape. I’ll speak honestly. I grew tired of staying in the forest and came to look around the outer village. My identity was discovered. While I fled, I killed the one who blocked my way, and now here we are.”

“Ah, honesty is a fine virtue for anyone. I appreciate your candor. But wasn’t that sword in your son’s hand?”

“It was originally a gift from His Majesty the King. I reclaimed it after leaving the arena.”

“So you also guided him through the village’s narrow streets yourself?”

“Of course. When one spreads his aura, he can read paths with ease. Surely, Count, that’s a small trick even you could manage.”

Jareth’s mouth twitched faintly.

He had been born into a renowned family of swordsmen and trained for years, yet he had never awakened aura.

“I acknowledge my crime and will accept punishment. I will not object or try to overturn it. But please, spare my family’s lives.”

“How could I? Your son also left the exile grounds. Those who err must all face justice.”

“That is why I beg you like this.”

His father put his sword on the ground. Then he knelt and bowed low until his forehead touched the earth.

“Please grant me mercy as boundless as the sea, Count.”

Jareth’s thin lips stretched wide. His green eyes glimmered with vulgar satisfaction, the pleasure of crushing another beneath him.

Yan watched his father’s back and clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms until blood dripped down.

It added to the wound on his shoulder, but he felt no pain.

The ache in his chest was far worse.

“Since there’s old friendship between us, perhaps I’ll overlook things for a moment…”

“Your Excellency’s kindness, I’ll cherish for a lifetime.”

His father turned slightly and mouthed the words.

“Leave.”

“……”

“Before that man changes his mind, now!”

His father’s face twisted, fierce as a demon’s. Startled, Yan turned and ran in the opposite direction of the cabin.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

The wind cut past his ears.

Yan ran and ran again. He didn’t stop, like a man who believed that leaving the village would solve everything.

It took him a full day to reach the village his father had said would take three.

There, Yan searched for a man named Lorcan.

Lorcan was a bearded man living in a shabby tent in a back alley.

“Who are you?”

That was the first thing Lorcan said when he saw him. Yan’s disoriented face made it clear why.

Yan pulled a letter from his inner pocket with trembling hands. When Lorcan read it, his expression immediately turned rigid.

“I knew I shouldn’t have stayed in one village for too long… Come along.”

“What do you mean? Shouldn’t we go save my father right now?”

“You showed your skill in the tournament, so that bastard Count must already know that you’re dangerous. The road to rescue your father will be the road to your death.”

“But then what about Father? Who can possibly save him?”

A trace of sorrow passed through Lorcan’s eyes.

“Foolish boy, who else but you could save your father? That’s why running away now and growing stronger is the right choice. You must become strong, far stronger than your father. So strong that no one can ever threaten you. Do you understand what I mean?”

Only then did Kian bow his head to him.

“May I ask what you do, Lord Lorcan?”

“From now on, I’ll be your sword master. Call me Master. Take my will as your father’s will, and take my words as your father’s words.”

“…I understand.”

Yan left with his master. It was a path of hardship meant to reach the limits of swordsmanship.

That was why Yan didn’t know.

His father, who had been captured that day, was executed before a full moon had passed.

The charge was the murder of a soldier who had been enforcing the king’s decree.

And still not satisfied, Jareth grew jealous even of Yan, who had inherited his father’s talent.

Yan learned the truth only years later.

The illusion ended there. When Yan and his master departed, Kian returned to reality.

Kian looked down at the sword in front of Lucien.

It was the treasured sword that had vanished when his father was taken away that day.

Kian had retrieved it years later from the armory of the Lord of Chronos. He had used it until he inherited Arondight from the first Hero, Lancelot.

Kian thought about that day for a long time.

If only he hadn’t entered the tournament.

If only he hadn’t urged his father to come watch him.

If only he hadn’t killed the soldier who blocked the road.

After learning of his father’s death, his self-loathing deepened even more. Kian couldn’t forgive himself for what he had done.

‘I was the one who caused Father’s death.’

It was a dark thought he had never shown anyone.

Even though the illusion had ended, Lucien still looked confused. After a short pause, he spoke.

“This must be someone’s memory, right? Then it must be what the swordsman Yan experienced.”

Kian replied smoothly.

“Since the name was Yan, I suppose so. Even great heroes must have had difficult times.”

“Or maybe it’s not that heroes have hard times, but that going through them is what makes them heroes.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the Fourth Magic Tower, I saw the past of the hero Betias. She didn’t burn the Eternal Forest because she hated the elves. She set the fire so that everyone could escape from the forest as it was being consumed by the Demon Realm.”

Lucien’s calm words were something Kian had never heard before.

“That really happened?”

“After seeing that, Yan’s past makes more sense. I can roughly understand what kind of person the goddess chose to be a hero.”

“You mean people who have blood on their hands? Or those who killed their own kind by mistake?”

Lucien raised one eyebrow.

“Of course not.”

“Then what else do they have in common?”

After a moment of silence, Lucien said something unexpected.

“The more I think about it, the stranger your words sound. Why do you talk that way?”

“Did I say something wrong? I only spoke the truth.”

“The truth?”

Lucien looked even more confused.

“Did something upset you? Do you just want to argue with everything I say or act contrary for no reason?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Then that makes it even stranger. What I meant was that they were forced to walk unwanted paths because of love.”

“Love…?”

“You told me before that not all deaths are the same.”

After thinking for a moment, Kian recalled the scene.

“Was that in the bandit village? When you said that because the kingdom was in trouble, someone had to suffer, and I said something similar?”

“That’s right. Until then, I didn’t care how anyone died. I thought that since death is the same end for everyone, the process didn’t matter. I even thought ending life might be better than enduring pain.”

“You did say that.”

“But after hearing you, I realized something. Death doesn’t hold the same value everywhere, or at all times.”

Lucien’s voice didn’t waver.

It was clear that he had been thinking about this for a long time while going through many things with Kian.