Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Neville felt a considerable sense of unease about the current situation.

Midway up the infamous and treacherous Bakal Mountain Range.

It was such a dangerous place that even he, a seasoned merchant, had prepared for this trade journey with his life on the line.

And yet, the reason he had pressed ahead with this trade journey despite the risks was because he hoped to gain profits so immense that they couldn’t even be compared to anything he had earned before — even if it meant weighing his life on the scale.

The terrain was rugged, and the surrounding area teemed with monsters, making the danger level quite high. However, if he could just succeed with the trade, he would come away with a profit several times greater, even after accounting for all expenses.

No matter how much he ran the numbers in his head, the profit was large enough that he could risk his life several times over. What kind of merchant would hesitate in the face of such a return?

Of course, contrary to his expectations, the trade journey had been not just peaceful, but so uneventful that it was almost boring.

Which only heightened the sense of strangeness.

In such a dangerous place, there was a young-faced woman all alone. And not only that — she didn’t have a single companion. Her face was a bit pale, but there were no visible wounds. He looked around, but found no signs of a battle, nor any corpses. It was surprisingly quiet and peaceful.

As if everything in the area were deliberately avoiding her.

…Wasn’t that strange?

That such a delicate-looking woman was standing there, completely unscathed, in the middle of a mountain range even veteran mercenaries were reluctant to enter.

‘Am I seeing a ghost or something?’

Still, he couldn’t just pretend he hadn’t seen her — the discomfort in his heart wouldn’t go away. What if this was all just his paranoia, and she really was a young woman in trouble?

It could just be that she had gotten lucky and barely survived.

But once they left, she would almost certainly lose her life.

—Son, never forget this. People are more important than money.

It was something his father had emphasized countless times ever since he was a child.

‘Yeah. There's no such thing as ghosts. A good deed always comes back around eventually.’

Neville approached the woman and extended his hand.

“Can you stand?”

The woman nodded and took his hand, rising to her feet.

“You said your name was Bestia?”

Nod.

“That’s the same name as the hero who saved the world.”

“……”

“I’m Neville, head of the KOSDAQ Merchant Guild. Bestia, can you tell me why you were alone in the mountains like this?”

After a brief hesitation, Bestia slowly opened her mouth.

“I don’t remember. I opened my eyes and I was here.”

“That’s troubling. You don’t remember…”

“I… have to meet Ran Winterbell.”

“…Ran Winterbell? You mean the youngest son of the Winterbell Ducal Family?”

“I don’t know. But I have to meet him.”

Beyond the Bakal Mountain Range lay the territory of Winterbell, and as it happened, that was also the direction Neville was heading.

‘At this point, I could call it divine providence.’

“Well, there’s no helping it. At least until we get down this mountain and reach the village — how about we travel together?”

“Okay.”

Bestia gave a small nod. The coachman standing beside them cautiously spoke up.

“Master Neville… Are you sure this is alright?”

He was questioning whether it was truly wise to take in someone whose identity hadn’t even been confirmed. Maybe it would be different if they were somewhere else. But this was the treacherous middle of the infamous Bakal Mountain Range. Traveling with an unknown individual in such a place was an act far too reckless — even if that individual happened to be a woman.

Neville nodded.

“It’s fine. I’ll speak to the mercenaries myself.”

“…Understood.”

After all, Neville held the final say in any decision.

The coachman knew well that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t matter if Neville had already made up his mind.

Returning to the carriage, Neville informed the mercenaries of the situation. Some voiced their dissatisfaction, but thanks to Neville’s earnest persuasion, Bestia was able to safely join their trade expedition.

---

“Then let me ask you one more thing. How is it that you know the Poison King Basilie’s elixir formula and the martial arts of Martial King Ivaki?”

“……”

Right.

This was coming.

…It was only a matter of time.

He had been quiet about it, so I thought maybe he’d let it slide, but of course that wasn’t going to happen.

‘I thought it might be a stretch, but to think he even figured out that the elixir I made followed Poison King Basilie’s formula…’

It made sense that he recognized Ivaki’s martial arts. The technique was as famous as his name, and Ivaki wasn’t the only person on the continent who used it.

But Basilie’s formula was a different story.

The Poison King was a figure from a hundred years ago. And aside from a very small number of disciples, his elixir recipes were never passed down...

‘No, wait. That eccentric old man might’ve just grabbed someone off the street and taught them on a whim because he felt like it...’

Even so, being able to recognize this specific formula among over a hundred of Basilie’s recipes — just from the combinations of elixirs I had taken from the vault — was beyond common sense. It meant he had access to solid, precise information.

I already knew how remarkable Arkan Winterbell was. His strength was beyond question, and the power of the Winterbell family itself was vast enough to command all of the North.

On top of that, they operated their own intelligence network and merchant guilds, so calling them the foremost family on the continent wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

‘Still… I never imagined they’d know Basilie’s 101st formula. Maybe I’ve been underestimating the Winterbells all this time.’

Arkan, who had been looking at me with an expressionless face, finally spoke.

“From the look on your face, you seem to be wondering how the Winterbell family could possibly know Poison King Basilie’s elixir recipe.”

No, hold on.

Was it that obvious on my face?

“It’s simple. He taught it to me himself.”

Wait—what? Himself?

“Poison King Basilie’s 101st formula. Rebirth.”

Izumi Winterbell, who had been listening from the side, also looked surprised and asked,

“That old geezer taught you himself? I mean—Lord Patriarch? Why on earth would he do that?”

“He said it was the price for saving his life.”

Izumi’s eyes sparkled like she’d found an amusing new toy.

“What? You two fought or something? Come on, tell me the whole story.”

“I happened to run into him when I went to subjugate the Three-Headed Dragon Arctus during the second trial. Once he found out who I was, he attacked me without warning, so I just gave him a light smack.”

“The second trial… That was before your coming-of-age ceremony, wasn’t it?”

“Our compatibility was good. As you know, Winterbells are—”

“Immune to all poisons.”

Direct descendants of the Winterbell line undergo training from a young age to build resistance to poisons. They uphold the absurd philosophy that dying from poison is a disgrace for a swordsman. In truth, though, it’s suspected that the practice exists to prevent the rampant poisonings carried out among heirs competing for succession.

Of course, I didn’t go through that training in the past, which is why I was poisoned by something unknown and ended up half-crippled. That’s the main reason my siblings despise me.

They believe that I failed to fulfill the duty expected of a direct descendant of the Winterbells — and as a result, couldn’t even protect my own body.

“Still, that old man’s poison was quite potent.”

Izumi muttered in disbelief.

“Seriously… You’re the same monster you’ve always been. I’d wager you’re the only person in the world who would describe the Poison King’s poison as just ‘quite potent.’”

What… what the hell did I just hear?

If it was before the coming-of-age ceremony, that means he was younger than eighteen. A kid who wasn’t even an adult yet managed to defeat the Poison King — who, at the time, was ranked among the ten strongest on the continent. Compatibility or not, as one of Basilie’s disciples, I know full well how dangerous his poisons were.

Normally, Basilie looked every bit the eccentric he was rumored to be — outwardly just a cheerful old man. But once a fight began and he revealed his killer intent, he was no different from a demon.

Controlling over a thousand types of poison freely, he was, in a word, a walking catastrophe.

‘To think the Patriarch actually encountered Basilie… If that’s the case, it makes sense how he knows the formula.’

They said he was a once-in-a-generation genius who surpassed even the first Patriarch… and from the looks of it, he really might have surpassed him.

“So, your answer?”

The Patriarch’s gaze turned to me.

A suffocating silence.

His stare, dominating the entire room, weighed on me like a crushing pressure.

I knew all too well that how I answered here would greatly influence what path lay ahead — so I couldn’t afford to speak carelessly.

“The reason I was able to use Poison King Basilie’s formula and Martial King Ivaki’s techniques is…”

I had prepared countless excuses for this moment, but honestly, none of them seemed sufficient to convince the Patriarch. And I couldn’t exactly reveal that I was Van Descartes, a member of the Hero’s Party from a hundred years ago.

‘Whether he believes it or not is one thing, but given that I’ve been branded a public enemy of humanity, that might just lead to the worst possible outcome.’

So, in the end, I wracked my brain to its limit and came up with the only option I had left.

“Because of this.”

It wasn’t the Patriarch who responded after seeing what I presented — it was Izumi.

“What’s that worn-out old sword?”

I shook my head.

“What I want to show you isn’t the sword itself.”

Right then, a white whale appeared over the blade. Of course, since most of its power had been lost, it was even smaller than a pebble.

【Ah, so you are the descendants of Aslan. That snowy-white fellow over there must be the current Patriarch. Spitting image of Aslan, he is.】

“This is… a spirit?”

“Wrong.”

Izumi muttered with a frown, but the Patriarch beside her shook his head.

“It’s a magical beast.”

“A magical beast? That tiny thing is a magical beast, Brother?”

Arkan nodded.

“Ran Winterbell. Do you know what that is?”

“It’s a magical beast from the Age of Myth.”

【My name is Behemoth. King of all magical beasts, the great white whale born to devour everything in existence. Bow your heads before me.】

The moment I spoke those words, everyone except Arkan showed signs of shock.

“Behemoth? That adorable little whale is the Gluttonous Behemoth from the legends?”

“…So cute.”

“You… what the hell were you thinking bringing that thing back…”

“How did Ran Winterbell get hold of a magical beast from the Mythical Age…”

From Izumi’s intrigued expression to Marian Winterbell murmuring in disbelief, to Lux Winterbell smiling in exasperation and Lin Winterbell grinding her teeth next to him — their reactions were all over the place.

“Did you know what that sword was from the beginning?”

“No.”

“Then why did you choose that sword out of all the treasures?”

“I heard a voice.”

“A voice?”

“Yes. The moment I entered the vault, I heard a voice calling out to me.”

Upon hearing that, Arkan fell silent as if lost in thought. And right on cue, the supporting fire came in.

【I called out to him. This brat smelled just like that damn Aslan. I believed, truly believed, that Aslan had come to finally release me from my bonds… and instead, I find some snot-nosed rookie…】

Naturally, I’d never heard a voice.

We’d just gone over the lines beforehand and now he was delivering them.

To fool Arkan, I figured something on the level of Behemoth was my best bet.

“Ran Winterbell.”

“Yes.”

“Explain everything in a way I can accept.”

And before I could even reply, his chilling follow-up landed.

“From this moment forward, not a single word that leaves your mouth may be a lie.”

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