SYMDF 39

Chapter 39

 

Swishhh…

Unluckily, the rain began to fall. Ion felt his body start to shiver.

[Due to rain, the ambient temperature in the player’s region drops. The player’s death probability increases by 1% due to inclement weather.]
[Current death probability: 25%.]

Seeing the color fade from Ion’s face, Sir Ernst spoke with concern.

“Just a little further to walk.”

Ion silently nodded. The tapping of their footsteps echoed quietly in the now still back alley.

“Picking such a day to depart for the North, really bad luck.”

Sir Ernst glanced up at the darkening sky and sighed softly. Ion replied with a subdued voice.

“You mean the Emperor?”

“…Why suddenly visit the Marcher Lord?”

“They say people change near death, so who knows what’s in his heart.”

Ion chuckled bitterly at Sir Ernst’s sharp tone, noticing the knight’s slight unease.

“The throne won’t go to a bastard. Nothing will really change. Soon, that wild Vernian will rule.”

His breathy voice was difficult to distinguish from a strained sigh, but Ernst carefully asked:

“Do you hold another purpose, young master?”

Ion did not answer for a long moment.

Another purpose.

While Vernian’s presence annoyed him and he believed the bastard would ruin the country if crowned, Ion had never entertained any noble cause.

He only wanted…

〈I will give you a chance to protect yourself, Ion.〉

A vow to stand on his own. To live no longer as a parasite.

“…”

“Young master?”

“There is none. Until this curse lifts, I only hope to be alive tomorrow. Any other thought is a luxury.”

At last Ion opened his long-sealed lips. Sir Ernst realized his mistake and lowered his head, tightening his expression. Ion glanced sidelong and lightly remarked:

“Did you really want to hear that from me?”

“My apologies, young master.”

“No need to apologize. How much further?”

“You turn here and go a few blocks more.”

Ion followed the route Ernst indicated. As the rain intensified and his cough worsened, they arrived before a building noisy with clamor.

He entered with a pre-obtained ticket. Stepped seating rose with varied levels surrounding a central stage lit by magical light.

A mage performed to entertain those who willingly paid for a brief amusement.

The performance was somewhat grotesque, and that oddity made it even more popular.

The mage shouted loud:

“Now, watch as this man’s severed arm regrows anew!”

“Waaaa!”

Ion frowned as he noticed the person bleeding beside the mage. Ernst looked at him and said:

“Isn’t body modification magic forbidden?”

“Outside the Mage Tower, yes. Moreover, this is advanced magic—not something a street performer usually can do.”

It was because healing magic demanded far deeper knowledge than attack or defense spells.

Especially for irreparably damaged limbs, the mana flow within must be restored perfectly, not just cosmetic repair.

Then the mage, before casting a spell, raised a bottle filled with red liquid.

Amid cheers, Ion smiled faintly.

“That must be it.”

“Yes, I have heard it distorts the mana flow nearby.”

“I want to verify immediately.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll have the bottle soon.”

The confusion arose just as Ernst confidently stated so—and suddenly an assistant beside the mage snatched the bottle from his hand.

Startled, while the mage looked on, the assistant fled the stage. The crowd erupted in chaos, surging to escape as the hall turned chaotic.

Having seen enough, Ion turned his back without further interest. Ernst led him to a rear exit.

Pitter-patter.

Outside, the rain beat against Ion’s hood again. But he did not return home; instead, he waited for the medicine bottle to come into his possession.

Suddenly another commotion broke out. Ernst sensed danger and pulled Ion behind a building into hiding as a strict voice rang out.

“We are the Noah Knight Order sent by the Imperial House! All here shall be arrested!”

“…!”

Pressing near the wall, Ion cautiously peered at the entrance. The leader of the shouting was a familiar figure.

A man of refined but fierce appearance and imposing build.

Upon seeing him, a clear voice echoed in Ion’s mind:
〈Young Lord of House Craiger, I am Astatine Dylan, Vice-Commander of the Noah Knight Order.〉

And that slight mocking confidence…

A man Ion would never forget.

A low murmur escaped his lips.

“Astatine…”

Ernst recognized the man too and swiftly pulled Ion closer, clearly intending to protect.

“You will have to dodge quickly after receiving the medicine bottle, young master.”

“I understand. What a bother…”

Shortly after, someone leaped down onto the roof—different from the assistant who stole the bottle on stage, likely planted in the audience. The man handed the bottle directly to Ion.

“Here it is.”

Ion nodded and took the bottle filled with red liquid. Just as Ernst attempted to lift Ion, a voice from the rooftop startled both.

“Are you running away?”

“…!”

Both turned their gaze upward to see Astatine Dylan.

Already?

He had pursued them much faster than expected. Was this a trap? Just then, Astatine jumped to the ground.

He struck the opponent following him in the solar plexus, toppling the man swiftly, then approached Ion.

Ernst immediately drew his sword at his hip.

Ion silently watched Astatine from behind Ernst, gripping the bottle tightly.

[Status Effect: Hostility]

The rain was a blessing. Without it, despite his hood, Ion’s green eyes and pale hair would surely have been visible in the bright daylight—risking exposure.

Astatine looked past Ernst’s drawn blade directly at Ion, his deep voice calm and firm.

“You belong to the Latchik Guild, yes?”

The question was not a question at all.

“I finally caught your tail.”

[Astatine Dylan feels faint hostility toward the player.]
[Current survival probability: 29%.]

Though unsure why the hostility was ‘faint,’ Ion’s death risk crept close to peril with Astatine’s arrival.

But Ion trusted his knight, Ernst, and stood firm.

Clang!

Steel struck steel fiercely. A chilling creak echoed as their blades locked in struggle. Ernst was forced to parry first.

Astatine’s eyes sought to seize Ion, unarmed as he was. Ernst blocked multiple advances, intercepting blade and step.

Clang!

Ernst parried with a steel gauntlet, twisting to grasp Astatine’s wrist. But the skilled man countered with his other arm and swept a leg wide.

Thump!

Their legs crossed shoulder-height, and Astatine staggered. Ernst took the opening to slash toward his neck.