Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Bold of you, but what are you going to do being that scared?"

"……."

"I know you're fine, so open your eyes. I cut your hair, not your neck."

Only then did Ron Winterbell slowly open his eyes and touch the back of his neck with a confused expression.

I never intended to kill him in the first place.

The memories in this body were unclear. That’s why I still needed a lot of information—like why I ended up in this body, and what happened to my mother.

So, I planned to squeeze out everything I could from Ron Winterbell.

Whether I would kill him afterward was something I’d think about later, but at least for now, I had no intention of ending his life.

Killing someone with this much value would only be a loss for me, wouldn’t it?

"Why did you spare me?"

"Because I never planned to kill you."

"Why…?"

"You don’t need to know that. Just know that I’ll tell you later what I want in return for our deal."

"……."

If I let my guard down even for a moment, I felt like I’d collapse. But I couldn’t let that happen yet. I gripped my trembling legs and continued.

"Second Brother."

"Ah… Right."

Surprised by the sudden call, he hurried up onto the training platform.

Even someone like him, who rarely showed his true emotions, couldn’t keep a straight face at this moment.

That meant the match had truly been shocking. Maybe even this reaction was a mask, but at least to me, it didn’t seem like one.

"…Please announce the result."

It only meant something if the overseer made an official declaration.

Lux Winterbell nodded seriously.

The training ground was so quiet, it felt like a funeral. Most of those present here were on Ron Winterbell’s side.

From their perspective, whatever Lux Winterbell was about to say would be no different from a death sentence.

They weren’t speaking, but their emotions were being transmitted to me.

Sorrow. Rage. Disbelief. Shock.

Something that shouldn’t have happened… had happened.

Even seeing it with their own eyes, they couldn’t believe it.

I silently accepted their emotions. Then, looking at each one of them, I answered with my gaze.

The half-crippled youngest son, considered the shame of the family, no longer existed.

Watch closely.

I would become the new king of the North.

"Ran Winterbell, who just faced Ron Winterbell—ranked 102nd—in his first ranking match."

Everyone in the arena held their breath, waiting for him to finish.

"I now announce the result of their ranking match. The winner is Ran Winterbell. From this moment on, Ran Winterbell’s rank rises to 102nd, and Ron Winterbell is demoted to 103rd."

Lux Winterbell walked over to me, placed a hand on my shoulder, and spoke.

"Truly impressive. Little brother, congratulations."

"…Thank you, Brother."

When Lux Winterbell stepped down from the training platform, I collapsed onto the ground like a deflated puppet, all strength drained from my body.

The pain came rushing in late.

It was the backlash from pushing my body beyond its limits.

A wave of agony surged through me, as though every part of my body had been torn apart, but I clenched my teeth and endured it.

‘I won’t be able to move for the next few days.’

Lying on the training ground floor, I looked up at the sky.

My entire body was screaming in pain, but my mind had never been clearer.

"With this much… I’d say that was a pretty impressive comeback match."

【Tough bastard. You still won’t let go of that pride, huh? Fine. If you’re this body’s contractor, then this much is expected. Hmph.】

The way it boasted, acting like it had done something while just watching from inside the sword, made my blood boil—but I didn’t even have the strength left to argue.

"Young master."

Just then, Cecil’s voice came from behind me. She gently lifted me with one arm and placed me into the wheelchair.

"Cecil."

"You truly went through a lot. Please rest now."

"Thanks."

As I felt the warmth of Cecil's arms wrapping softly around me, I blacked out as if I had fainted.

---

The Winterbell Ducal Family, called the Kings of the North.

The highest room in that estate had been built for only one person.

It was the lord’s office, where the great ruler of the family resided.

There, a man with snow-white hair—like the eternal snows of the North—stood silently, staring out the window with a blank expression.

"……."

Though the breathtaking scenery of the North spread out beneath his feet, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

His face, devoid of any emotion, at times gave the illusion that he wasn’t human.

If he were a ruler who knew compassion, perhaps he would’ve been thinking about the people of his land suffering under the harsh conditions. If he were an ambitious leader, maybe he would’ve been dreaming of advancing beyond the North to the Central lands.

And then—

Knock knock.

Someone gently knocked on the office door, and the head of the Winterbell household, Arkan, spoke.

"Come in."

The one who carefully opened the door and stepped inside was Turk, the head butler of the Winterbell family and the first outsider ever granted the Winterbell name.

"I came to deliver a report."

"Sit."

Turk looked at the man who gave off an unearthly air, as though he didn’t belong to this world, and admired him silently.

‘Even now, he’s considered unmatched in the world… and he’s had yet another breakthrough! The Lord’s accomplishments truly know no end. He may even surpass the founder, who was said to be the greatest head in history.’

Of course, this wasn’t the first time Turk had come to the lord’s office. But each time, Arkan had accurately identified him with an uncanny sense.

It wasn’t simply about sensing someone's presence—Arkan could perceive the unique magical traits specific to Turk.

That was a technique bordering on divine skill, and as the butler serving such a master, Turk couldn’t help but feel a hint of frustration.

There was no reason—and it must never happen—but should the worst come to pass, Turk considered it his duty to give his life for his master. And for that, even if he could never stand as an equal, he believed he had to hone his strength enough to support him from below.

There was a time when he had once fought alongside him on the battlefield, but as the years passed, the gap between them had grown so vast it was impossible to catch up.

Of course, as the head butler of the family, Turk Winterbell wasn’t just skilled in his duties—he was also an exceptional martial artist.

It was only that he himself was never satisfied.

That was why, even now as an old man with white hair, he continued training with dedication. He had finally reached a state where he felt he could fully control and contain his energy to a level he could be content with…

"Turk."

…Only to have it seen through this easily.

"Yes, Lord."

"You've achieved it. With this level, even Izumi would have a hard time against you."

"…I’m honored."

"Continue your efforts. I’m sure it will lead to even greater results."

"I shall strive to meet your expectations."

At those words, all the frustration that had been plaguing Turk washed away like a receding tide.

Hearing praise from Arkan—who was known for being stingy with compliments—was a joy that no amount of wealth could replace.

Still, as a servant, it was improper to display emotions openly before his master.

Suppressing the smile tugging at his lips, Turk got to the main point.

"The fourth young master and the youngest young master’s ranking match ended with the youngest’s victory. The second young master officiated the match personally."

Arkan simply nodded without a word.

As if he had known the outcome in advance.

"Also, according to a report from the Shadow Moon, the youngest young master moved both his legs entirely by his own power, without the use of magic."

This time, there was a slight change in Arkan’s expression.

"The youngest… he took Basilisk Blood, two vials of Elixir, and an old sword from Zone 1, didn’t he?"

"That is correct."

When Arkan fell silent after those words, Turk glanced at his expression from the side.

‘Does the Lord already know what the youngest young master is planning?’

Even someone like Turk, who had been through all manner of trials, couldn’t comprehend Ran Winterbell’s intentions. From his perspective, the decision to pick an old sword from Zone 1—when the vault was filled with priceless treasures—was infuriating.

Of all things, why choose a worn-out blade with chipped teeth over all those rare artifacts?

‘And what he chose after that was even more absurd.’

Basilisk Blood and Elixir.

The former was a deadly poison. The latter, a powerful healing potion.

They certainly had their uses depending on the situation, but compared to the other items in the vault, the choice felt lacking.

Of course, this was simply because Turk didn’t know what kind of elixir those two could create when combined.

But Arkan was different.

As Turk had suspected, Arkan had already seen straight through Ran Winterbell’s intent.

‘Among the Elixirs of the Poison King Basilie, there was said to be one capable of completely altering the nature of the human body. The ingredients required for it were Basilisk Blood and Elixir. If such a concoction truly exists, then even the youngest’s crippled legs could be healed. But that recipe was only passed down to direct disciples.’

How could that child possibly know the method to create Basilie’s Elixir?

That wasn’t the only mystery.

The old sword stored in Zone 1.

Outwardly, it looked like nothing more than a dull and worthless blade, but in truth, it was a cursed sword that sealed a mythical beast from the age of legends—once wielded by the founding head of the house.

Even Arkan, the current duke, couldn’t undo the seal on it.

No matter how much power he poured into it—even activating his Makina—the seal wouldn’t budge an inch.

‘Did that child truly choose that sword knowing what it was?’

Could he have seen through a seal that not even I could break?

No, that’s impossible.

No matter how talented he is…

That would be absurd.

A blade even he, who had surpassed the 10-Star realm and reached the domain of transcendence, couldn’t fathom.

He himself had only come to understand the sword’s true nature after attaining full enlightenment. The idea that the youngest, who had just fought his first ranking match, had seen through it—was unthinkable.

‘I’ll have to ask him about the elixir first.’

His heart stirred.

The child he had buried in his heart—buried in guilt and anger—was beginning to rise.

The child who he had hoped would live quietly, as though dead, was now taking his first steps forward.

Was it the bloodline's innate ferocity?

Why now, of all times?

…Why now?

Noticing the silence, Turk cautiously asked,

"May I continue with the report?"

A nod.

"Overall, the fourth young master seemed to be dominating the match. However, the youngest gradually began using unorthodox sword techniques. The fourth, caught off guard, attempted to restrain him by sacrificing his own abdomen, but—"

"Summarize."

"…Yes. Near the end of the duel, the youngest young master used a very unusual form of martial art."

"Unusual?"

"Yes. At the time, the youngest had lost his sword, so he had to rely on hand-to-hand combat. The technique he used then was said to be…"

After a brief pause, Turk spoke in a solemn tone.

"The martial art of the Martial King, Ivaki."

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