Episode 82

I frowned and circulated my internal energy, wondering whether he would notice.

Assad’s expression was unreadable as he said, “Let me make one thing clear—I am not a member of the church.”

“I know,” I replied.

“Just so you know, I meant that in a dual sense. I’m also an atheist,” he added.

It was typical of an old man to crack such a dry joke. While I prided myself on humoring even the most unfunny remarks, now was not the time for that.

“Didn’t you receive multiple blessings, Assad?” I asked.

“I did,” he confirmed.

“And yet you still don’t believe in gods?” I pressed.

Assad’s lips twisted into a crooked smile. “The beings I consider gods are far more advanced. The so-called gods are powerful, but they have too many limitations. By my standards, they fall short.”

As I listened to his blasphemous words, I couldn’t help but recall something the Martial God had once mentioned—a story about the forgotten gods. What else had he said at the time?

“An Absolute God,” I blurted out.

“Hmm?” Assad’s eyes flickered with surprise for the first time. “Where did you hear that term?”

“Absolute God, you mean?” I echoed.

I couldn’t mention the Martial God, whose existence I had hidden even from the Iron-Blooded Lord, so I dodged the question. “I think I read it in a book—”

“That’s a lie,” Assad said flatly. “No such records exist in the empire.”

His tone suggested he had read every book in the land. Given his 300 years of life, he likely had.

“You don’t seem willing to talk about it,” he observed. “Well, that’s intriguing for now.”

Surprisingly, Assad didn’t press further. Instead, he chuckled to himself, as if he’d found a new toy to play with after a long time.

This feels oddly unsettling, I thought.

I wasn’t one to back down easily, but Assad’s demeanor and way of speaking were uniquely disarming. If I didn’t stay sharp, he’d steer the conversation wherever he pleased.

“We were discussing the demon king’s summoning, weren’t we?” Assad said, steering the conversation back. “The reason I know the plan is simple—the Badnikers had already uncovered the rats’ scheme.”

I blinked and asked, “So, you’re saying there’s a traitor within the family, and you knew they’d act during the training camp?”

“Precisely,” he confirmed.

I stared at him in disbelief. “If you knew, why did you stand by and let it happen? Didn’t you realize how serious this would become?”

“I never interfere in internal family conflicts,” Assad explained. “It’s an ancient covenant that cannot be broken.”

“What does that mean?”

Assad gave me a languid look. “You look sharp, but you’re stupid.”

It had been a while since someone called me stupid.

“It’s simple. There were two opposing opinions within the family on this matter,” Assad said. “How can there be any disagreement about eliminating a traitor? That’s what your expression says.”

“Yes.”

“That might be true for ordinary families, but the Badnikers aren’t like them. They think differently from common folk,” Assad remarked.

He then raised one finger on each hand, positioning them as if in a finger war. “One side, like you, proposed the common-sense solution: once the traitor’s existence and their plan were discovered, they should be eliminated immediately. At first, most agreed. But then someone raised a counterargument.”

He wriggled his right finger like a worm. “Isn’t this actually an opportunity?”

“An opportunity?” I repeated.

“They know there’s a traitor at the training camp and what that traitor is up to, but they still can’t identify who it is. We only discovered the plan while beating the crap out of their subordinates,” he explained.

I remained silent.

“Stopping the training camp would have resolved the situation peacefully, but it would also mean missing a significant opportunity.” Assad fixed me with a steady gaze. “Do you know the three elements necessary to summon a demon king?”

“No,” I admitted.

“I thought not,” he said with a faint smirk.

This was why I hated mages. The ironic part was that, by their standards, Assad was still one of the more tolerable ones.

Assad stretched out his fingers one by one as he explained, “First, a sacrifice. Second, a land rich in mana. These two conditions aren’t too difficult to fulfill. The truly crucial element is the third.”

His expression changed, the lazy demeanor he had displayed until now vanishing, replaced by cold cynicism. “A being who has mastered the ancient demonic language—they can communicate directly with a demon king and oversee rituals.”

I thought I knew who Assad was referring to.

“A priest.”

Assad looked at me in amazement and smiled. “Oh, I take back what I said earlier. You’re not as stupid as I thought.”

I ignored his jab.

“Yes, a priest,” he continued. “They are the core of the Dark Church and the greatest enemy of the Great Families.”

Now I understood the opposing faction’s perspective.

“You mean… the high-ranking members of the family are standing by just to catch the priest?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“That’s about right,” he replied.

“Did you hide this from the hero disciples who will get caught up in it and die?” I pressed.

“The last time we killed a priest was six years ago. Of course, that’s only according to official records.”

What was he getting at now?

“Do you know how many heroes died at the time?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Ninety-six. If you include the severely wounded, the number more than doubles. Of course, the priest didn’t kill them all single-handedly. As I said, a priest is an irreplaceable asset to the Dark Church. They’ll go to any lengths to protect them. That’s why priests usually hide in the most secretive places, never revealing themselves.”

Assad rested his chin on his hand. “If we can kill the priest, sacrificing a few dozen people is worth it.”

I was rendered speechless.

“That’s what the opposing faction thought,” he added.

Understanding the truth made me laugh involuntarily.

“There’s someone named Pam at the training camp,” I said abruptly.

“That’s an interesting name,” Assad remarked.

“I think so too.” I continued with a smile, “She was a bit loose-lipped, but she had a cheerful personality. I doubt anyone genuinely disliked her.”

“What are you getting at?”

“She’s dead,” I said flatly.

Assad fell silent.

“I found her body in the cabin,” I went on. “I don’t know what was done to her before her death, but the only thing left on her face was fear.”

Assad stared at me, his voice steady but devoid of emotion. “I regret the hero disciples’ deaths, but they must have been prepared to die during the training camp.”

His words made my head burn with rage.

“Prepared?” I shot back. “Of course we are. But it’s a determination to overcome trials, not to be slaughtered like sacrificial lambs.”

Assad didn’t refute.

“It takes a hundred heroes to kill a priest,” I said, my voice rising. “So what are you implying? That sacrificing a few dozen hero disciples to kill a priest is a fair trade? Is that how mages actually think?”

“Hmm.” Assad scratched his cheek and said, “It’s been decades since I last encountered someone so rude. Did you receive a blessing of immortality or something?”

“Whether I have one life or a dozen, the words I speak will remain the same,” I replied firmly.

“So, you’ve lost your fear,” Assad observed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “But… I like it.”

As I faced this man, whose views were so different from mine, I asked what was perhaps the most important question, “Did the family head propose this insane plan?”

I had to know.

The Iron-Blooded Lord stood for two things: demon slaying and bloodline supremacy. That was why I couldn’t comprehend how he could agree to turn a training camp—where two of his own sons were participating—into a stage for summoning a demon king? Would he have supported it or opposed it?

“No.” Assad shook his head. “Delac was against this.”

“Yet it was still implemented?”

“The Iron-Blooded Lord stands above the laws of the Badniker family,” Assad parroted. “Outsiders who don’t understand the inner workings often say that.”

It sounded like a denial.

“To give an extreme example, if I openly opposed Delac’s opinion, even he would have to reconsider.”

That was hard to deny. As the family’s protector, Assad was, in a way, a person who commanded more respect than the family head.

“You are special, Assad,” I commented.

Assad burst out laughing. “Boy, you don’t know anything about the Badnikers. The true power and secrets this family holds.”

That was true.

“There is nothing I can tell you now,” Assad said. “However, we’ve prepared measures to minimize the damage.”

“What measures?”

“One of the instructors is Luke Badniker,” Assad revealed.

Luke Badniker was the younger brother of the Iron-Blooded Lord and the leader of the Iron-Blooded Knights.

“I don’t think I saw him.”

“I cast the illusion magic myself,” Assad said with a hint of pride. “There’s no way a hero disciple could see through it.”

“Hmm…” I murmured, considering his words.

“There’s another safety measure, but it’s pointless to mention it now.”

I disliked this kind of vague conversation, so I pressed, “Just tell me.”

Assad furrowed his brow. “Now that I think about it, it’s not entirely unrelated to you.”

“Me?” I echoed, surprised.

“The Swordmaster is waiting outside the barrier,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Carzakh?” I exclaimed. “Is he safe? When did he return to the family?”

This was unexpectedly good news.

“He’s perfectly fine,” Assad replied calmly. “He returned about a week ago. But there’s a problem.”

“A problem?”

“I ordered him to head to the camp immediately after his return, but strangely, there’s been no word from him.”

I was at a loss for words.

Assad continued, “He’s probably not dead, but something must have happened. Therefore, we can’t expect his help right now.”

That made sense.

That made sense. Of course, if he could join us, it would be a great help, but given the situation, I didn’t have the luxury of searching for him.

“Do you have any other questions?”

As my head cleared, I realized something unexpected. Assad was surprisingly earnest in answering my questions. Given his position and power, he could have easily ignored me. Was this his way of dealing with guilt?

“So, when do you plan to deal with that priest?” I inquired, my voice cautious.

“Who knows?” Assad replied with a shrug. “It depends on the priest’s actions. Do you know about the stages of the Demon King Summoning Ritual?”

I nodded, having heard about it from Hector.

“The timing is uncertain, but it will likely be just before or after the fourth stage. By then, the priest will have no choice but to show up in person,” Assad explained.

“You still don’t know who the priest is, do you?” I asked.

“It’s most likely someone among the instructors, but we can’t rule out the possibility of them being a hero disciple. That’s why Luke won’t make a move until the priest fully reveals themselves.”

Assad looked annoyed. “Do you know why it’s so hard to catch the priests? They have multiple lives, and even when you think you’ve caught them, they’re often just puppets. But the decisive reason is their evasion technique.”

“Evasion technique?” I repeated, my curiosity piqued.

“It is called the Ghost Road technique.”

“Return home?” [1]

“No. Ghost Road.” Assad corrected me. “It’s a technique unique to priests, allowing them to escape almost instantly without delay. It’s far superior to ordinary teleportation. Once activated, we can’t track them.”

He added, his voice dropping slightly, “To be precise, we can track them, but if we do, we’ll probably die as well. The place they flee to isn’t part of this continent—it’s the world of demons.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, that’s enough questions,” Assad said, his tone final. “It’s time for me to get to the main point.”

The main point?

“Luan Badniker,” Assad began, his voice carrying a note of authority, “I had no intention of intervening in whatever happened at the training camp. But you’re an interesting one, so I’ll make an exception.”

Assad rose from his seat. With a wave of his hand, a door appeared in the previously doorless room.

It creaked open, revealing the main house of the Badniker family, basking in the warm morning sun, its elegant architecture on full display.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he declared.

“Really?” I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief.

“A mage doesn’t lie,” Assad replied, his tone dry.

This sounded like a lie. Still, I inwardly sighed with relief.

“Thank you for the favor,” I said, my voice sincere. “Then I’ll go back and gather as many other hero disciples as I can before using the ring—”

“No, that won’t do,” Assad interrupted.

“Why not?”

“The priest might notice if so many hero disciples disappear,” he answered.

“So you’re saying…” I trailed off, my mind racing.

“I can only get you out.” Assad held his chin and asked, “What are you going to do?”

1. Ghost Road and Return Home sound the same in Korean.The only way to distinguish the difference is with the hanja (Chinese characters) ☜

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep