Chapter 10
Havel had never cared much for influence or reputation.
He would rather hunt or swing his sword one more time than worry about such things.
But brute force was not what he needed to bring back his brother, who had been falsely accused and exiled.
After realizing that, Havel spent the next three years focused on firmly establishing his standing within the tribe.
Those years had not been wasted.
The youngster who had merely been lucky enough to have a great father had, before he knew it, become a leading candidate to be the next great chieftain.
‘The nerve of that sniveling little brat.’
The priest cursed inwardly as he looked at Havel standing before him.
“What brings the next great chieftain here?”
“How shameless. You know there’s only one reason I would come looking for you.”
Havel glared fiercely at the priest.
“Now give me an answer. My brother has waited long enough.”
The priest’s expression twisted.
“Why keep bringing up something that ended three years ago? At this point, it’s time to give up···.”
“Nonsense. Did you take me for a man so lacking in loyalty that I’d abandon my brother?”
“···That wasn’t what I meant.”
A heavy killing intent seeped out. The priest quickly corrected his statement.
Havel said sharply.
“This is the last time I’m willing to settle this through dialogue. If you let this opportunity pass too···there won’t be another.”
The great chieftain had only one criterion for judging others: whether they were needed by the tribe.
When the two men were weighed against each other, the scales still tipped slightly toward the priest.
But it would not be long before that balance was broken.
While the priest was gradually growing old, Havel was a man who would lead the tribe into the future.
As Havel had said, this was the last chance to negotiate.
In that brief moment, he felt as though he had aged several more years. The priest spoke weakly.
“···I’ll do as you say. I’ll personally step forward and clear your brother’s name. But can you promise me one thing?”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Persuade Ivan, that friend of yours, not to kill me. You could do that, couldn’t you?”
“I can’t promise that. Whether he chooses revenge is Ivan’s right alone.”
The priest shouted in desperation.
“···Then what am I supposed to do?!!”
“What else could you do? You should pray that my brother is more merciful than you think.”
Mercy? Anyone who had spent three years holed up in the forest after being falsely accused was bound to develop hatred where none had existed before.
The priest felt the fear of death more vividly than ever before.
There were only two choices: sit here and wait for death, or···.
“You’re right. Since I caused this, I suppose I should bear the responsibility too.”
“You’ve suddenly started saying sensible things. I suppose it must be time for you to die?”
Damn brat. The priest clenched his teeth hard to hide his emotions.
“···Come to think of it, you’re going hunting today, aren’t you? I happen to have something nice. I’d be grateful if you accepted it as a peace offering.”
The priest pulled a bottle filled with red liquid from his robes.
“What is that?”
“A potion infused with Mystery. Now, come closer.”
As Havel bent down, eyeing it somewhat suspiciously, the priest tilted the bottle and poured its contents over his head.
Strength filled his body, and his senses sharpened. Havel marveled at the effect.
“This is···astonishing. To be honest, I suspected you were up to something.”
“Why would I do such a thing to the next great chieftain? I wish you good fortune.”
After confirming that Havel had left, the priest twisted his lips into a sneer.
The potion was unquestionably the masterpiece of his lifetime···apart from one very minor side effect.
There had been crises before, but he had overcome them all. Today would be no different.
The priest turned around and said:
“Come to think of it, I’ve asked you several times where you went without permission. But you simply refuse to open your mouth.”
“······.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. In the end, you have no choice but to obey me anyway.”
The priest openly sneered at Elena.
It had been the greatest stroke of luck that he had encountered this girl before her talent could blossom.
Otherwise, rather than place a restriction on her and wield her as he pleased, he would have lost his position long ago.
Elena deliberately did not point out that the damn leash had already been undone.
Moreover, she sincerely hoped the priest would continue laboring under his delusion.
That way, wouldn’t the revenge to come be all the sweeter?
***
Even after Elena left, Ivan’s daily life remained largely unchanged.
At most, his side ached a little, and a smelly old man had moved into the house···come to think of it, that was quite a big change.
“You’ve got a pretty nasty look in your eyes. Were you cursing me in your head?”
“···As if I would do that to my exalted master.”
“I was only guessing, but your reaction confirms it. What an ill-mannered bastard. Today, you’re getting a lesson in manners.”
The old man’s instincts were annoyingly sharp. Ivan clicked his tongue and gripped his sword.
Soon, their swords clashed and sparks flew.
The old man swung his sword in various ways.
Sometimes it was heavy as a mountain. At other times, fast as lightning. Then it was soft and fluid as a feather.
Ivan not only parried those ever-changing attacks with ease but made them his own in an instant.
That’s why geniuses were so annoying. The old man smiled crookedly.
“That’s enough for today.”
“Already?”
“Sometimes you have days like this. I’ve got a little errand to run, so go on ahead.”
What was with that vicious old man? Ivan found it odd, but thought nothing of it.
Ivan went home first and was resting when the old man suddenly kicked the door open and came in.
“You have perfectly good hands, so why···Is that alcohol?”
Ivan flinched when, mid-sentence, he saw the wooden barrel the old man had slung over his shoulder. A familiar yet nostalgic scent wafted from it.
“You know your stuff. Bring a cup and follow me. Let’s have a drink today.”
A penniless old man who mooched off others and had nowhere to go had gotten his hands on something like this? Suspicion showed plainly in Ivan’s eyes.
“You didn’t steal it, did you?”
“Steal it, my ass. I go to the trouble of bringing you something, and you still bitch. Fine, forget it.”
“When did I say I didn’t want any?”
Ivan set aside his conscience, just a little. It didn’t seem more important than the drink before him.
The old man set the barrel down beside a suitable tree stump and plopped down on the ground.
“But why drink out here when we have a perfectly good house?”
“Would it taste as good in there? Quit your nonsense and sit down. Pour me a drink.”
Without complaint, Ivan filled a cup to the brim and handed it over. His master drained it in one gulp and grinned.
Ivan accepted the challenge, emptied his cup in one gulp, and widened his eyes.
It burned as if fire had poured down his throat. It was the first time he had ever had liquor this strong.
The old man chuckled as he watched Ivan desperately suppress a cough.
“Well? Wake you right up, doesn’t it?”
“···It’s pretty drinkable.”
Ivan pretended nothing was wrong and put on a show of bravado. It was the pointless pride unique to men.
Neither willing to let the other go first, the two continued tipping back their cups.
“Not bad. For a youngster, you can certainly hold your liquor.”
“You’re not bad yourself, Master, for an old man.”
The alcohol had gone straight to his head. Ivan swayed and giggled.
When the barrel was nearly empty, the old man asked with his face flushed red.
“Come to think of it, you’re young. What happened to make you crawl all the way out here?”
As his guard dropped, his tongue loosened.
Ivan told him without much hesitation everything he had gone through, except for the possession.
“···That’s how it happened. It seemed hopeless then, but looking back, it was no big deal.”
“Nothing much, my ass. Living alone in a place like this must be terribly lonely. ···You’ve had a hard time.”
A sudden surge of emotion rose within him. He had pretended he was fine, but perhaps it had been harder than he thought.
Ivan laughed it off as though nothing were wrong. Crying now would be too embarrassing.
“Are you comforting me? That doesn’t suit you at all.”
“No need to get embarrassed. So, if you went back, what would you do?”
Ivan thought briefly, then spoke.
“Well, first I’d have to beat the shit out of the bastard who drove me out. I haven’t thought past that···but I’m sure I’ll figure something out?”
“Right. No need to make a plan. There’s no single right answer in life, so living however you want is enough.”
The old man patted Ivan’s shoulder.
Suddenly, Ivan felt an intense premonition that this would be the last time he would be with his master.
“···Let me ask one thing too. As your disciple, shouldn’t I at least know your name?”
The old man smiled meaningfully.
“That shouldn’t be difficult. I am···”
Suddenly, his vision swayed wildly.
‘His name···I have to hear it···.’
Ivan collapsed face-first and fell into a deep sleep.
***
How much time had passed? Clutching his throbbing head, Ivan replayed his last memory.
“···Valdor.”
The war god worshipped by the warriors of the North.
Damn old man. No wonder he had kept hiding his name.
Ivan firmly swore that if they met again someday, he would start by throwing a punch.
A sword with a reddish glow was stuck in the stump where they had been drinking.
“Is this your way of telling me to take it and get lost? Good grief···.”
Ivan gripped the sword and pulled it free with ease. It was certainly a fine sword.
Once he gripped the sword and calmed his mind, he sensed things he had failed to notice before.
The confused mingling of footsteps, the rank odor of a beast, the sound of a blade cutting through flesh and fat, and···the metallic scent of blood.
It wasn’t very far away.
Without hesitation, Ivan set off.