SOTBW - 248

The young soldiers swung their shields diagonally, thrust their swords forward, and corrected their stances for what felt like the thousandth time. Their arms trembled as though they might fall off, but Jacob’s gaze, sweeping over them, was far sharper and more exacting than Belshua’s ever was.  

Jacob moved slowly among the young soldiers, holding a practice sword. If he caught anyone with poor form, that soldier would immediately be forced to run a lap around the training ground in full armor. Those who finished their sprint barely had time to catch their breath before rejoining the formation. The sight of the young soldiers gasping for air, inhaling the freezing cold air until their jaws ached, while hurriedly picking up their practice swords and shields, was pitiful.  

Jacob was stricter than Belshua. While Belshua only made disrespectful soldiers run laps all day, Jacob subjected them to physical conditioning until they corrected the specific stance he had pointed out.  

Some soldiers had already completed ten laps around the training ground. One staggered back to his position, only to vomit everything he had eaten for lunch. Still, Jacob showed no sign of relenting and continued the training without pause.  

If even one soldier failed to meet Jacob’s standards, the entire group would repeat the exercise all day. By now, beads of sweat clung to the chins of the young soldiers.  

Jacob scanned the boys gritting their teeth and swinging their shields, then turned his back on them.  

“Take a short break.”  

As soon as Jacob gave the order, the young soldiers collapsed onto the ground. A few of the younger ones, too inexperienced to handle practice swords yet, scurried around bringing water to those sprawled on the floor.  

Jacob watched the white puffs of breath the soldiers exhaled before standing properly in front of the platform.  

Training the young soldiers was Belshua’s responsibility, but Jacob had temporarily taken over. It was rare for Belshua to ask for help, yet this time, he had requested Jacob take over a few of his duties for a few days.  

Jacob wasn’t the only one Belshua had approached; several others had been asked as well. No one had refused. Even the Romsoa Knights had enough decency not to decline such a request.  

Belshua rarely took breaks, even on his days off, often offering his rest days to his comrades instead. Any knight living in the barracks had likely taken over Belshua’s shift at least once.  

Thinking about how Belshua had recently been almost nonexistent in the barracks, Jacob gazed up at the cloudless sky.  

When Jacob heard that Belshua hadn’t handed over his day off to anyone, he immediately sensed something had changed. He had considered taking the guy to a tavern for drinks since it was a rare day off, but Belshua had left shortly after returning to the barracks—and hadn’t come back at all last night.  

It wasn’t entirely honest to say Jacob wasn’t curious about what Belshua was doing or why he hadn’t returned to the barracks, but Belshua had always been someone who kept things to himself. Whenever the knights gathered in the lounge to talk about family or reminisce about their hometowns, Belshua would sit alone by the window, silent. He never wrote letters or sent money home.  

Jacob had vaguely known that Belshua had many secrets, but who didn’t have their own troubles? Assuming Belshua had unavoidable family issues, Jacob had let it go. Occasionally, however, Belshua would look into the distance as if he knew something no one else did.  

That wasn’t something easily described as “old beyond his years.” Watching Belshua confront events with an unnervingly objective demeanor, Jacob sometimes wondered if Belshua had anticipated these incidents all along.  

Scratching his forehead, Jacob recalled how calm Belshua had seemed when Maximón confined Najane to her quarters. Though they had fought together in the Romsoa Knights for years, Jacob still didn’t truly know Belshua. And especially, he couldn’t fathom why Belshua had joined the knights to fight the Seriths…  

Straightening his head, Jacob stared at the sprawled-out young soldiers.  

“Everyone, get up. We’re resuming training.”  

Perhaps Jacob would never fully understand Belshua. But sharing secrets wasn’t the sole measure of camaraderie. At least, Jacob believed that properly handling the young soldier training Belshua usually oversaw was itself a form of friendship.  

---  

Belshua meticulously searched Kieron’s hideout once again. Since discovering this place, Kieron had strangely remained inactive. Just in case, Belshua had reinforced the spell matrix designed to detect magical energy, but the results were unchanged.  

Opening every cabinet one by one, Belshua surveyed the bedroom, which was far too artificially arranged to suggest anyone had actually lived there. He was certain Kieron had never used this room. Still, just to be sure, he checked every piece of furniture and lifted the flooring—but found nothing.  

After thoroughly inspecting the fireplace where bodies had been burned and even peeling back the wallpaper, Belshua gripped the magic crystal in his pocket and descended into the hidden basement.  

The women’s corpses he had seen before were still abandoned there. The extreme cold had slowed decomposition.  

Belshua examined each stiffened body, now as rigid as wooden logs. What had Kieron intended to do with these women? Despite carefully inspecting their bodies, there were no signs of forced experimentation.  

Could Kieron have tried to possess their bodies to evade Belshua’s surveillance? If so, he could have simply obtained any female corpse and possessed it. The bodies in the basement all shared nearly identical physical characteristics.

Long platinum-blond hair without curls, snow-white skin, elongated limbs… It seemed Kieron had been deliberating which of these corpses to possess. To alter not just appearance but the entire body would require a significant amount of magical energy.

Belshua carefully lifted the eyelids of the frozen blue corpses. His eyes narrowed. More than seven out of over ten corpses had crimson-red eyes. Was this mere coincidence, or was there a reason behind it as well?

As he surveyed the icy basement, Belshua gazed at the unjustly deceased before focusing on their extinguished crimson eyes. The sight naturally reminded him of Najane. She too possessed something akin to those eyes.

Yes, Najane.

King Leon of Kalonosia, who contributed to Najane’s birth, had platinum-blond hair. Najane inherited Nellis’ hair color, while her younger sister, Luna, had platinum-blond hair…

Belshua paused abruptly as he mechanically scanned the corpses. Luna. Luna Powley had platinum-blond hair and crimson eyes. Her skin was much paler than Najane’s, and her long limbs gave her an elegant, dancer-like figure.

Belshua’s complexion slowly turned pale.

Where was Luna?

In his preoccupation with Najane, he had completely forgotten about her sister. Just as he was about to rush out of the basement, Belshua suddenly froze.

“They say she’s really her sister? Doesn’t look like it, but apparently they’re blood-related.”

“The Commander himself found her, didn’t he? Wow, he must really love her…”

Though he hadn’t visited the lounge often due to training and paperwork, there had once been a topic of conversation among the knights.

Someone moving into the maid’s quarters. Around this time, new maids were usually recruited and trained, so he hadn’t paid much attention. But piecing together bits of information he’d overheard while coming and going from the knights’ barracks, the conclusion was clear:

The Commander had personally found “her” younger sister. “Her” likely referred to Najane. Therefore, Najane’s younger sister was staying in the maid’s quarters. Thus, the “younger sister” Maximón had brought back was…

Belshua’s face hardened with cold realization.

Tracing the remnants of Kieron’s magic in the house led to Lucas Elgort’s mansion. What did Kieron’s search for slaves matching Luna’s physical traits have to do with Maximón’s brother?

Belshua’s left eye, previously brown, glowed a brilliant gold. Clutching the magic crystal, he hesitated briefly before finally using the sacred artifact.

When he activated the sacred relic hidden in his left eye, countless fates unfolded before him like constellations in the night sky. Quickly locating Luna Powley’s star, Belshua followed the spreading light to glimpse fragments of her fate.

A slave of Lucas Elgort.  

Suicide by jumping within a year.

The words that emerged from the light seared themselves into Belshua’s mind. Releasing the magic crystal, he covered his left eye with his palm. His mind flashed blindingly white, as if struck by lightning.

Exhaling sharply, Belshua staggered and clenched his teeth. The real Luna was still in Lucas’ mansion.

Which meant the “younger sister” Maximón had brought back was probably…

“This damn bastard…!”

Cursing under his breath, Belshua activated a teleportation magic circle. In an instant, his body moved above the Romsoa Knights’ fortress. The buildings below looked like tiny dots.

But Belshua’s expression darkened rapidly. When he dispersed the magic circle, the teleportation coordinates had been set to his room in the knights’ quarters—not the fortress grounds, but specifically his own chamber. Instead of soaring into the sky where the fortress appeared ant-sized, he had been redirected to his room.

Had the magic circle malfunctioned? Had he made a careless mistake in his agitation? Or was there an error in the coordinate settings?

No. None of that. Teleportation magic was based on fundamental spells. Someone of Belshua’s caliber wouldn’t make such a foolish error.

Someone had dared to interfere with Belshua’s magic. They had forcibly altered his teleportation coordinates mid-flight, redirecting him here.

With the same cold, disdainful gaze he had held during his days of deep hatred for humans, Belshua slowly tilted his head back. Someone was above him. He didn’t need to see who—it was obvious. In a world where magic had vanished, only one person would dare to meddle with Belshua’s magic circles, both now and in the past.

As Belshua angrily muttered the name of the culprit under his breath, a long sword suddenly pierced through his chest and emerged from the other side. Blood spurted from his mouth in an instant. Clutching the blade swiftly with both hands, Belshua tightened his jaw. The sword that had impaled him quickly crumbled into salt-like particles and scattered.

Mackanon, who had attacked from behind, grinned wickedly and yanked Belshua’s hair back.

“Peek-a-boo, Mahilen.”

Mackanon plunged his hand deep into the wound left by the sword.  

The sensation of flesh and organs being torn apart forced Belshua to swallow a scream as his body convulsed. Being sealed in a human body didn’t mean he was devoid of feeling. With a contorted face, Belshua grabbed Mackanon’s hand, which had pierced through his chest, with enough force to crush it.  

But Mackanon let out a cheerful laugh and turned his entire hand into salt. Sharp grains of salt embedded themselves into the gaping wound, causing Belshua to spew blood and cry out in agony.  

“Weren’t you on your way to Kieron? If not, I’ll let you go.”  

“…You… bastard!”  

Mackanon seized Belshua’s heart. Thorn-like spikes of salt erupted from his palm, piercing through the heart. The once crimson organ turned pale as it became encased in salt.  

Belshua felt as though his entire body was being skewered by iron pikes, the pain driving him to the brink of death. But a dragon sealed within a human body could not die, no matter what. Even as he tried to succumb, his body regenerated against his will.  

Mackanon watched with amusement as the rapidly healing wounds closed up again. He pulled the now breathless Belshua into an embrace from behind.  

“I warned you,” Mackanon said mockingly. “If you can’t just sit back and watch, then don’t hang around Emaydis.”