SYMDF 40

Chapter 40

 

Whooshing sound…

Unluckily, rain began falling. Ion felt a chill run through his body.

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

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

“Just a little more walking.”

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

“Choosing this day of all days to depart for the North, what rotten luck.”

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

“You mean the Emperor?”

“…Why would he suddenly visit the Marcher Lord?”

“They say people change near death; no one can really know what’s in his heart.”

Ernst’s sharp tone made him somewhat cautious, while Ion’s next voice carried a faint sneer.

“There’s no way he’ll pass the throne to a bastard. Nothing will change. Ha, soon Vernian, that wild youth, will rule.”

His breath was harsh but it was difficult to tell if it was laughter or just breathlessness. Ernst asked cautiously.

“Do you have another mission, young master?”

Ion did not answer right away.

Another mission.

Though Vernian annoyed him and he thought Vernian would ruin the country if crowned, Ion had never entertained grand thoughts.

He simply vowed…

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

To stand on his own feet and no longer live as a parasite.

“…”

“Young master?”

“No, there’s none. Until this curse is lifted, I only hope to live until tomorrow. Anything else is a luxury.”

Ion finally opened his long-sealed lips. Seeing his mistake, Sir Ernst lowered his head and stiffened his expression. Catching this sideways glance, Ion lightly asked,

“Did you want to hear such words from my own mouth?”

“My apologies, young master.”

“No need for apologies. How much farther?”

“Just turn here and walk a few blocks more.”

Ion followed the indicated path. As the rain worsened and his cough intensified, they arrived before a noisy building.

Using a pre-obtained ticket, Ion entered. Seats stood in varied tiers and a central stage was lit by magic light.

A mage entertained the willingly paying crowd with a strange, somewhat grotesque performance, which oddly drew more excitement.

At the climax, the mage shouted,

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

“Waaaa!”

Frowning, Ion saw a man bleeding beside the mage. He asked Sir Ernst,

“Isn’t body modification magic forbidden?”

“Outside the Mage Tower, yes. And it’s advanced magic, far beyond what a street performer should possess.”

Healing magic required far deeper mastery than attack or defense spells, especially for irreparably damaged limbs that needed full mana restoration, not just surface repair.

Before casting, the mage raised a bottle filled with a red potion.

The crowd cheered, and Ion smiled faintly.

“That’s it.”

“Yes, it distorts nearby mana flows.”

“I must confirm it.”

“Don’t worry, it will soon be in your hands.”

Simultaneously, Ernst’s confident statement was interrupted by an assistant seizing the potion from the mage’s hand unexpectedly.

Nervous, the assistant fled the stage. The crowd panicked, rushing to escape as chaos erupted inside.

Having witnessed the commotion, Ion turned away, uninterested further. Ernst led him to a rear exit.

The rain hit their hoods as they stepped outside. Ion waited patiently for the potion bottle to arrive.

Suddenly, more noise flared. Ernst sensed danger and pulled Ion behind a building, hiding him. A stern shout rang out.

“We are the Noah Knight Order, sent by the Imperial House! All present will be arrested!”

“…!”

Ion pressed against a wall, peering cautiously toward the entrance. The man leading the shout was familiar: a imposing, disciplined giant with a fierce bearing.

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

And that mocking composure…

A man Ion would never forget.

A low murmur escaped his lips.

“Astatine…”

Ernst, recognizing the man, pulled Ion closer protectively.

“After receiving the medicine, you must quickly move away, young master.”

“I understand. This is troublesome.”

Soon, someone leapt from the roof—a different person from the assistant who took the potion on stage, likely planted in the audience—and handed the bottle directly to Ion.

“Here it is.”

Ion nodded, receiving the red liquid. Just as Ernst prepared to lift him, a voice startled them both from above.

“Trying to run?”

“…!”

Their eyes simultaneously went to the rooftop: Astatine Dylan had arrived.

Already?

He had pursued them rapidly, leaving little doubt of a trap. Just then, Astatine jumped to the ground and struck down a following man in a swift blow. Approaching Ion, Ernst unsheathed his sword immediately.

Ion quietly watched Astatine from behind Ernst, clutching the bottle firmly.

[Status Effect: Hostility]

Rain was a blessing. Without it, even with the hood, Ion’s green eyes and pale hair would have been all too visible in daylight. Exposure risked discovery.

Astatine stared past Ernst’s raised blade, locking eyes on Ion with a deep voice.

“You belong to the Latchik Guild, don’t you?”

Though framed as a question, it was not one.

“Finally caught your trail.”

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

Though unsure why the hostility was ‘faint,’ Ion’s death risk neared a dangerous threshold with Astatine’s arrival.

Still, Ion trusted his knight Ernst and stood firm.

Clang!

Steel clashed fiercely. A chilling creak rang out. Ernst’s sword faltered first.

Astatine cast a covetous glance to seize Ion, unarmed and vulnerable, but Ernst blocked repeated moves, intercepting every advance.

Clang!

Ernst blocked a thrust with a steel gauntlet, twisting to grasp Astatine’s wrist. But the cunning opponent countered with his other arm and swept a leg outward.

Thump!

Their legs collided shoulder height, and Astatine staggered. Ernst seized the moment to slash at his neck.