Chapter 195

“I suppose I should at least see the face of the man who spent an entire year hunting for my wife,” Rezette said.

As he strode forward in long, confident steps, Taham darted sideways.

The movement was light and sharp, feigning caution while securing an escape route toward the entrance. Rezette caught the sense of dissonance at once, and one eyebrow tilted upward.

The small flashes at Taham’s feet suddenly swelled. A bolt of lightning crashed down toward the back of his neck, and Taham barely avoided it by a hair’s breadth. It was sheer luck.

“So much for an old man,” Rezette said.

With the tip of his sword, he lifted the king’s veil. When Taham’s face was revealed, Rezette narrowed his eyes.

The king of Ugel, Taham, was supposed to be a decrepit old man. The portraits circulated in foreign lands dated back decades, and even then Taham had already been well into old age.

Nearly thirty years had passed since then. A man who should have been nearing his deathbed instead possessed the taut skin of a man in his prime. Even generously judged, he did not look older than thirty.

“The trouble of coming all this way was not for nothing,” Rezette said quietly, with faint admiration.

There was something about Taham that no ordinary human should possess.

Though invisible, it pressed against the senses as a dense, tangible presence. A strange concentration of magic writhed around Taham’s lower abdomen.

“What are you keeping inside your body?” Rezette asked.

“You can see it?” Taham asked, frowning as he covered his stomach with his arm.

“You would not understand even if I told you,” Taham said. “This is Ugel’s magic, something even the Argan imperial family failed to uncover.”

A glint of interest crossed Rezette’s eyes. There was no need to understand every detail.

If a human did not age, then naturally they would not die. Whatever Taham possessed was a power that pushed a man away from death itself.

“How effective is it?” Rezette asked.

“What did you say?” Taham asked.

“How long does it last?” Rezette asked. “Are there side effects?”

As Rezette pressed the question in earnest, Taham’s expression gradually filled with confidence.

This was his chance. A perfect opportunity to sway the man openly called a demigod.

“Is it not fascinating?” Taham said. “I found this power near Argan’s borders. That land holds countless secrets even they have yet to uncover.”

What Taham had embedded in his own body a century ago came from ancient ruins in the south. It was a nameless flower that grew among barren stones where neither water nor sunlight reached. After eating it, Taham’s dog neither aged nor died, living another ten years.

The moment he realized this, Taham devoured the dog alive and transferred its power to himself. The force that hardened like stone near his navel granted him unceasing vitality.

After that, Taham attacked Argan’s lands by any means necessary. If power found in mere ruins was this potent, then how much greater would the magic sleeping in the chapel of the imperial palace, where heroes were buried?

“The Argan imperial family has hidden the dragon’s secret arts for over seven hundred years,” Taham said. “While dragonborn like you were born incomplete and crawled in the dirt, they sat atop all people and ruled the world. Does that not tempt you…”

“Enough,” Rezette said.

Drawing his knee up, Rezette kicked Taham squarely in the chest. The sound of cracking ribs rang out as Taham flew backward and smashed into the wall.

“Kugh!” Taham cried.

“I asked about side effects,” Rezette said. “Stop wasting time and answer properly.”

Rezette had no patience to listen calmly to Taham’s rambling. He walked over, tore the sword from Taham’s hand, and snapped the king’s wrist with a simple twist. Taham screamed in agony.

“Stop, stop,” Taham pleaded. “E, every part of the body, huff, does not become immortal… but there were no other problems…”

“Does it work on others?” Rezette asked. “The power of what you shoved into your belly.”

“As long as the breath, huff, is not completely cut off, anyone…”

“Be precise,” Rezette said. “Explain it clearly.”

“Anyone, huff, can be brought back,” Taham said. “Just by my hand touching them.”

“Is that so?” Rezette said.

His gaze locked onto the king’s abdomen.

What Taham had swallowed was a tightly condensed mass of unfathomable, transcendent power. The energy was unfamiliar to Rezette. It felt less like the magic of a mad dragon and more like divine power. If it were the strength of ancient priests said to have existed thousands of years ago, before the gods created dragons as their proxies, then it made sense.

At last, a satisfied curve formed at Rezette’s lips.

“So this was the source of your tireless armies,” Rezette said.

Taham gathered what little strength he had left and tried to persuade him.

“There is something you want to save, is there not?” Taham asked.

“There is,” Rezette replied indifferently.

He pressed his foot down on Taham’s shoulder. The king, who had barely managed to prop himself up, was driven back into the floor. Taham thrashed desperately.

“Bring them to me,” Taham shouted. “We can end this with each of us getting what we want.”

“There is no need for that,” Rezette said.

He could simply confirm it here. Stepping on Taham’s stomach, Rezette rolled up the sleeve of his right arm.

“Then let us see for ourselves,” Rezette said. “The power that repels even death.”

“Slaves,” Taham cried. “Bring any slave here. I will prove it at once…”

“There is no need,” Rezette said.

A massive shadow fell over Taham’s face. His complexion drained of color as he watched Rezette’s right arm change shape.

Five fingers bent grotesquely into hooked claws, black scales spreading across them. A massive hand, large enough to envelop Taham’s entire body, closed around him. The beautiful man bared his teeth in a feral grin.

“I will see for myself,” Rezette said.

***

It did not take long to confirm the effectiveness of Taham’s secret art.

Exactly seven times. After testing Taham’s life in seven different ways, Rezette finally withdrew his hand. By then, the king was no longer in any condition to speak like a human.

“No matter what I do, you do not die,” Rezette said. “That much is certain.”

Ugel’s secret art did not heal mortal wounds, nor did it absorb pain. Despite his youthful face, Taham’s hands were those of a withered old man, so it did not grant true immortality. A body meant to die was being forcibly held together, and recoil was inevitable.

Even so, the power clung stubbornly to the king’s life.

That alone was a satisfactory conclusion.

Rezette straightened after stepping away from Taham, who lay curled like an insect. He picked up a crescent blade lying nearby and slashed it through the air a few times. A double edged weapon required no adjustment of grip, making it convenient.

“I should stop by a lake or river to wash,” Rezette thought.

His blood soaked appearance was far removed from that of a normal human. It was a beastly form Elise had never seen and must never see in her lifetime.

And yet, to be able to descend into madness with such clarity of mind. A pleased smile spread across Rezette’s face.

When he suffered bouts of frenzy, he had only struggled to hold onto reason. This, too, was a valuable realization.

The blade cut through the air with a chilling hiss. A fountain of blood burst upward.

A heavy head struck the sticky carpet with a dull thud. This time, the corpse whose breath was completely severed showed no sign of reviving.

Rezette moved his sword again, this time aiming for the abdomen. The motion of the blade was calm and precise.

Something small and hard, like a stone, caught deep inside the king’s belly. A smooth rock pocked with holes like hardened lava bounced into the air.

Rezette burned away the blood clinging to the mineral with heat, then shoved it into his coat. He did not forget to find a suitably sized jewel box and toss the severed head inside.

Where dozens of severed heads had stared with unblinking eyes, only a headless corpse now remained.

After roughly nudging the king’s head into the box with his foot, Rezette looked around once more. Elise had been curious about the king’s face, but there was no way he could bring her something this grotesque, its severed cross section exposed. He needed a different token.

Before the throne draped in animal pelts lay the sandstone emblem that symbolized Ugel’s ruler. Taking that as well marked the end of Rezette’s business in the land of barbarians.

Seven days left, perhaps, Rezette thought.

It would normally take ten days to return from northern Pahan to Regal, but he intended to cut that in half. By the time he arrived, the thick stench of blood clinging beneath his skin would have faded somewhat.

With the box tucked under his arm, Rezette threw open a sun drenched window and glanced down. Without hesitation, he leapt.

As if they had been waiting, the sharp tips of crescent blades gleamed with cold menace. The remaining three legion commanders of Ugel, who had arrived late with their troops, blocked his path.

“Stop right there,” one of them shouted.

The barbarians glared at him as if they meant to tear him apart. The intruder who had boldly leapt from the throne hall was drenched head to toe in blood. If the word slaughter incarnate could take human form, it would be the man standing before them.

“You will not leave this place alive, Grand Duke,” another commander said.

“Oh, really?” Rezette replied.

He let out a short sigh.

Now that he thought about it, there was still something he needed to do. Ruben and Isaac, who would continue to lead the allied forces in place of the supreme commander, had begged him with bloodshot eyes.

“If you are going to the palace anyway, please deal with the east, west, south, and north fortress commanders when you take the king’s head,” Ruben had said. “That way we can hurry back to Her Highness and the baby.”

“No,” Isaac had corrected hastily. “So we can launch our attack quickly and finish things cleanly.”

As it happened, the remaining leaders of the east, south, and west were all gathered here. Rezette released his grip on the sword. For Rezette Kirstan alone, laying down his weapon had nothing to do with surrender.

He smiled crookedly.

“Then go ahead and try,” Rezette said.

It seemed he truly would need to find water on the way back.

Once more, the scent of blood spread thickly through the air.