Chapter 7
My impression of House Nebla was just one thing.
How much money had they thrown at this?
From the moment I entered the ducal estate by car, I was surrounded by a dazzling display of gold.
That impression became even more pronounced as I followed the butler who introduced himself as Sebastian.
A sword once designated a kingdom's national treasure. What was it called again? The Fall of Secunda?
Even when he explained that magnificent sword, I didn't feel particularly impressed.
Perhaps it was because Mist, who was following behind me, had told me about the circumstances of this ducal house.
'I think I smell blood.'
Even I couldn't help being dazzled by such blatant wealth.
But these were the possessions of a family where blood relatives had slaughtered one another, so they felt somewhat unsettling.
I merely looked around as I followed Sebastian's guidance, listening to him explain various treasures and works of art for reasons I couldn't fathom, until we reached the top floor of the mansion.
"This is where the head of the family resides. I pray you have a peaceful time."
Sebastian politely bowed his head, as if he had no intention of entering the room himself.
I turned my eyes toward Mist as well. Having followed one step behind me, Mist too remained completely still, as if there were no intention of entering the head's room.
"Thank you for showing me the way."
After saying that, I entered the room where the head of the family was waiting.
My impression upon entering the head's room was very simple.
Heavy.
It felt like diving into the deep sea naked, with pressure pounding against my body from every direction.
It wasn't mana.
No matter how skilled my ability to conceal mana was, I couldn't possibly miss the force pressing down on the entire room.
Then was it an ability?
That wasn't it either. I had fought countless battles in the back alleys of the capital, but every ability had a distinct sensation when its unique power was used.
If it wasn't mana or an ability, there was only one possible source for this pressure.
"Welcome."
A sickly middle-aged man who looked as though he could die at any moment.
His muscles had wasted away, leaving him with a pitiful appearance, as though even eating was difficult. Yet the man's eyes alone shone so vividly that they seemed capable of boring straight into my brain.
The head of House Nebla.
The king of the back alleys, and the de facto ruler of the South.
The name Mist had told me before I came here.
Serban de Nebla.
'Ha...'
As I looked at Serban before me, everything began to make sense.
The source of the pressure in this room was simply that bedridden man himself, radiating it.
'Is he a monster?'
His body was thoroughly ravaged by illness.
He must have trouble even lifting a cup of water, yet he was giving off this kind of presence?
"Thank you for the hospitality."
But admiration was one thing, and I still bowed my head to the duke.
"But why did you summon me here?"
He looked ill enough that I could understand if he died right then and there.
The duke raised one corner of his mouth and answered in a voice bubbling with phlegm.
"To see the heir who will carry on my family line."
"..."
"Come closer. My eyesight is failing, so I can't see you from that far away."
"Yes, I understand."
At the duke's request, I slowly approached him.
A vast room. In its center, the duke lay alone on an enormous bed.
Why?
Why was there a room laid out like this?
Step.
It was like...
Step.
A room where he could rampage as much as he pleased.
Step.
As that thought occurred to me, I unconsciously twitched my hand and confirmed once more that the cigar was tucked inside my clothes.
I had been told he was sick, so I had put it away rather than smoke while facing him.
Step.
And that consideration was my undoing.
"Kgh!"
An attack came suddenly—truly without the slightest warning.
I felt something intangible seize my heart straight through my back.
'What?!'
Crack.
Then, as my bewilderment over the sudden attack reached its peak, I heard the sound of my heart rupturing.
Everything began to recede into the distance.
With my violently pounding heart gone, my body began to die rapidly.
The sensation of air against my skin vanished, and the taste of blood bursting from my mouth gradually faded as well.
I felt the aura of death I had experienced in my previous life overwhelm my body.
Thus, my vision slowly began to darken.
.
.
.
So? How is it?"
"Gasp!"
The darkness in my vision began to regain its color once more.
My senses returned, beginning with the distinctive sickroom smell I had noticed from the moment I entered this room.
"Gasp. Gasp."
I reflexively groped at my chest and checked my heart.
My heart had definitely burst, and I had died.
Thump. Thump.
Yet, as if betraying my thoughts, my heart was pounding violently.
'What is this?'
The smoke was still active.
The defense constantly maintained, coating every vital point on my body in a thin film.
My ultimate bulwark, active around the clock even while I slept.
It was durable enough to stop an ordinary sniper rifle and withstand even a high-level spell once.
But it had been breached?
Yes, if it had been breached, I could understand. Dealing with an attack beyond my common sense couldn't possibly be as easy as it sounded.
‘No, no. It wasn't breached.’
My defense had not been breached even once since I met the head of the family.
Had he killed me by bursting my heart without breaking through my defense?
Then why had I come back to life?
I didn't know. My head was in a state of utter confusion, as though it had been kneaded into dough and useless thoughts had been mixed together.
"You're calmer than I expected. The previous one screamed at the top of his lungs the moment his heart burst. His voice hurt my ears."
The duke's voice slammed into my confused mind.
Without even trying to steady my ragged breathing, I looked at the duke before me.
"So? How does it feel to taste death?"
The duke smiled as if he were watching a minor incident.
What? How was it?
"It fucking sucks, obviously."
I dropped the honorifics.
Could polite words possibly come out when speaking to someone who had attacked me—someone who had made me experience having my heart burst?
"Why the hell are you asking me something like that?"
"Heh heh heh. True enough. If someone did that to me, I wouldn't be speaking politely either."
I ran a hand through my disheveled hair and glared at the man before me, my voice low.
"Hey, what the fuck is this?"
I had to buy time.
Because I hadn't been smoking a cigar out of consideration for the sick man, the amount of smoke available for use inside my body was far too limited.
The duke answered my question in a calm voice.
"Of course, I have to test you too. People reveal their true selves when they die. So I killed you once to start with."
What? People revealed their true selves?
"There are all kinds of reactions. Some scream at the death that comes upon them despite thinking they might not die, while others are overcome by fear and unable to do anything."
Don't make me laugh. That was supposed to be someone's true self?
Not wanting to die was a natural human instinct.
Was the manifestation of that instinct supposed to be one's true self?
It was nothing more than textbook sophistry from a psychopath.
"But you were different. Even after being killed, you immediately grasped the situation. How impressive."
That was because I had experienced reincarnation.
What was reincarnation? It meant I'd already died once, didn't it? For me, death was something I had already experienced.
So naturally, my reaction had to be different.
"Ah, is that so!"
The instant the duke finished speaking, I gathered all the smoke stored inside my body, along with all the smoke defending my vital points, and formed it into a massive sword before attacking the duke.
The greatsword formed from that enormous mass of smoke was truly gigantic, roughly the size of an ordinary car.
Boom!
A cloud of dust erupted with a noise befitting its immense size.
My vision was obscured. And somehow, a cigar was already in my hand.
Just as I was about to light the cigar to replenish the smoke I had used in the attack,
Slash!
I felt my wrist being severed, dropped the cigar, and watched it fall to the floor.
'What is this?'
My vision had definitely been obscured.
No, even if he had been able to see me, how could he have blocked my attack and severed my wrist?
"Kgh!"
It seemed as though I could see my severed wrist falling to the floor, a fountain of blood spraying from the cut surface.
Yet, as if mocking that sensation, my hand remained attached.
I had felt my skin split and my muscles and bones being cut, yet my hand was still intact?
"Ahaha. You even counterattacked? Looks like I caught an even bigger fish than I expected."
The duke's voice reached my ears as I stood bewildered by a situation beyond anything I had imagined.
A massive shield that seemed not to belong in reality was blocking my attack around the duke.
Kriiiik.
"Oh, what a powerful ability. Your ability is smoke, isn't it? My apologies. I'm not generous enough to hand a weapon to someone who attacked me."
A bizarre scene unfolded before my eyes.
I could feel my brain, flooded with adrenaline, spinning at full speed.
The situation just now—and that impossible shield.
Reality manipulation? No, that couldn't be it. There was no way such a cheat-like ability could exist.
Besides, if it were reality manipulation, he could have simply killed me, or immediately restored my wrist when I felt it being severed.
Yet even though my heart had burst and I had felt my wrist being cut off, neither had actually happened in reality.
The information came together. Unlike my wildly pounding heart, my calm brain eventually arrived at a single answer.
"An illusion?"
Yes, that would be possible if this was an illusion.
The fact that he had pierced the smoke defending my vital points,
the fact that I was still alive despite feeling my heart burst,
and, finally, the fact that my wrist was perfectly fine despite feeling it being severed—all of it.
The only problem was that I didn't know what that shield blocking my attack was.
"Correct."
Perhaps he had heard me muttering. The duke gave a simple affirmation with a chilling smile.
Before long, I experienced death through the illusion exactly forty-four times.
Since I was only dying in an illusion, it was surprisingly bearable.