Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Turk Winterbell’s serene eyes looked at the boy before him.

‘He doesn’t waver much.’

The reason he had deliberately prolonged the story about Ryan Winterbell was to observe his reaction. No matter how exceptional the Winterbell bloodline might be, only two had ever shown such rapid transformation in such a short time.

He could understand, to some extent, how Ryan Winterbell had become so strong based on his previous path. But Ran Winterbell was a different case.

No matter how gifted someone might be, mental strength was not something that could grow overnight. It required countless efforts and experiences. Only when those were in harmony could true growth occur. And yet, he was displaying behavior as if he had become someone else entirely.

These were not things achievable by talent alone. An indomitable spirit to support physical strength—only with that could such feats be accomplished. And this boy was achieving them with a calm that was almost unnatural.

Which only stirred his curiosity further.

But the biggest reason he had grown curious about Ran Winterbell was none other than Arkan Winterbell.

A man who drew the line between public and private matters colder than anyone else. Even if they shared blood, if he saw no potential, he would discard them without hesitation.

That was how Turk perceived Arkan.

And yet, that very man had begun to take an interest once more in someone he had once turned his back on.

‘Lately, he’s even been personally instructing him in swordsmanship.’

What could he be seeing in this boy?

Someone like him would never be able to fully grasp the intentions of that lofty being. It was fine to feel curiosity. But questioning it—that was something he could never allow himself to do.

No matter what decision Arkan made, Turk would simply follow. That alone was the reason for his existence—his role.

‘I only need to assist the path he chooses to walk. That is all.’

Turk spoke calmly.

“You mean the young master’s mother?”

Why was this boy asking such a question?

And just how far ahead had the Patriarch seen?

“Yes. I want to know about my mother.”

“Why is that?”

“Is there a problem with a son wanting to know about his own mother?”

“There’s no problem… however… all information related to that woman has been destroyed. And it’s forbidden to speak of her. Of course, this was by the order of the Patriarch.”

“…”

“But the young master is an exception.”

“An exception?”

“You have the right.”

Everything he had said up to that point was true. However, Arkan had made one exception. If Ran Winterbell personally came to Turk and asked about his mother, he was to tell him everything, just as it was.

And when Ran Winterbell actually came to him not long after those words had been spoken, Turk could not help but be surprised once again.

“What do you wish to know?”

“I want to know about the madness that runs in my mother’s bloodline.”

“So you wish to know about the madness of the Halla Clan.”

Turk stood from his seat, walked to the bookshelf, and pulled out one book from the top shelf, along with another next to it, and handed them to him.

“It will be more helpful for you to read these books than for me to explain with my own words.”

“Thanks.”

Ran Winterbell, having accepted the books, seemed to hesitate for a moment before he opened his mouth again.

“Were you also present when the Patriarch stopped my mother’s rampage?”

Turk responded with a silent nod.

“I heard it was the Patriarch himself who struck her down. What kind of expression was he wearing at the time?”

He knew what this question meant. He pondered for a moment on how to answer, then made his decision.

“He was expressionless, just as always.”

“I figured as much…”

“But the sword in the Patriarch’s hand trembled—ever so slightly.”

Ran Winterbell quietly mulled over what those words could mean. Then, after offering a brief word of thanks, he left the office.

Turk already knew.

That it was none other than Arkan who had suffered the most when he cut her down with his own hands.

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Back at the annex, I began reading the two volumes I had received from Head Butler Turk Winterbell: “On the Warrior Tribe Halla – Part One” and “On the Warrior Tribe Halla – Part Two.”

The books had been written by an adventurer who enjoyed exploring and had documented his experiences firsthand. A sociable man, the adventurer had once visited the village of the Halla Clan—known for being reclusive and famously belligerent.

Fortunately, he seemed to have been quite a skilled martial artist. He defeated the Halla clan’s gatekeeper and was allowed entry into the village.

[Contrary to the rumors that had spread throughout the world, they were actually quite kind. Haha! Was it thanks to my handsome looks? That’s what I thought at first, but it didn’t take long for me to realize the real reason they were so kind to me was because I had defeated their gatekeeper. As a warrior tribe, they admired the strong. A clan that revered and worshiped martial strength. I liked them. Their appearances, too, were beautiful—comparable to mine.]

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[A few days later, I discovered something even more shocking. The gatekeeper I had defeated turned out to be the weakest warrior in the Halla Clan. In other words, he was just a kid who had only recently started learning martial arts. Life here had become completely comfortable by then. I sparred with them, went on hunts, shared meals. Even those who had been extremely wary of outsiders at first had fully opened their hearts to me. One surprising thing was that the Halla Clan was much more affectionate than I had expected.]

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[I ended up marrying one of the women from the village. Uh… well, it just kind of happened. You know how it goes—eyes meet, sparks fly. Haha! It was fate, ordained by the heavens. I couldn’t help it. After I became an official member of the Halla Clan, I heard something shocking. Their combat abilities were unparalleled. Even a three-year-old child could beat a goblin to death, and by the age of eight, they were out hunting orcs. The strength of this insane warrior tribe was simply beyond common understanding. But their power came at a cost. Every single member of the Halla Clan suffered from madness. Fuck! I only found out after marrying into the clan. Ah—no, I don’t mean I hate my wife! It’s just… it pisses me off that I only found out now. I asked the chieftain just when exactly this madness started.]

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[According to the chieftain, their clan had suffered from madness passed down from their ancestors. The man believed to be the progenitor of the clan endlessly pursued strength and eventually reached a state of transcendence. But even that wasn’t enough for him—he continued growing stronger until he became a demigod. A true war god. However, his belligerence provoked the other gods, and in response, they imprisoned him in a divine prison of their making. His descendants were cursed and afflicted with madness. Honestly, when I heard this, I couldn’t help but curse. Isn’t it fucking ridiculous? How petty can gods be? Shit, from what I heard, this so-called progenitor only committed the “crime” of wanting to become stronger, and the other gods, scared out of their minds, just bullied him into submission. Either way, this damn madness is something that everyone with the clan’s blood inherits without exception. That’s why the Halla Clan has spent hundreds of years researching how to control it.]

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[There are two major causes that trigger a madness outbreak. The first is experiencing a massive psychological shock. The second is repeated acts of killing. The first is straightforward—if the mental shock is too great to handle, the dormant madness explodes, causing the person to lose their rationality and go on a rampage. Once this happens, there’s no way back, no matter what method is used. The end is always the same—death at the hands of the clan. But the second one is even more important. Possibly due to the curse, the more the Halla kill, the more they crave blood. This is the origin of their nickname, ‘Blood Fiends.’ The more blood they spill, the deeper their madness runs. But here’s the fucked-up part—the threshold is different for every person. Some go berserk after killing just ten people, while others can kill a hundred and still remain stable. That’s why the clan developed a special cultivation method called ‘■■■■■■’.]

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[By mastering this technique, one can gauge how far their madness has progressed, and also reduce the degree of madness. Of course, only ten people in the clan’s long history have ever fully mastered it, which should tell you how difficult it is. And if even a small mistake is made while learning it, it can drastically worsen the madness. That’s why it must be learned properly, using the correct method. Regardless, if you carry the blood of the Halla Clan, this technique is something you must learn no matter what. Being born into the Halla is like being a ticking time bomb—you never know when you’ll explode. The cultivation method is the only way to slightly raise the chance of defusing that bomb. Naturally, outsiders are forbidden from learning it. It’s a technique that holds the fate of the entire clan. Even now that I’ve become a member myself, I’ve never been granted permission to learn it.]

I closed the book and let out a deep sigh.

“Haa…”

Irunka Winterbell.

Since my mother was also a member of the Halla Clan, she must have learned that cultivation method. And yet, the fact that she still went berserk meant that—just as the book described—she had either suffered a psychological shock she couldn’t withstand, or something had gone terribly wrong during the process of practicing the cultivation method.

Or maybe… it was both.

What made it all the more absurd was the author of the book. How could someone who married into the Halla Clan go around blabbing their secrets like that? The information in this book could be misused in countless ways.

‘…Ah, maybe it was originally meant to be just a private record?’

That seemed plausible.

After all, being an adventurer, he probably just wanted to document what he had experienced and learned. And somehow, that record ended up leaking to the outside world.

It was a convincing theory.

‘The possibility that someone intentionally caused Mother to go berserk…’

Since this book came from Turk’s study, I couldn’t possibly be the only person who knew about the madness of the Halla Clan.

‘I need to find out what exactly happened to Mother that day. I have to uncover the cause of her berserk state if I want to reveal the truth.’

If I had a memory stone, this would’ve been resolved easily. But by now, there was no way something like that would still remain.

At that moment, a thought flashed through my mind—Whale, the white one.

‘Behemoth. Is it possible for you to read the memories of objects?’

[If it’s something old, then maybe.]