Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"……."

I hadn't released any killing intent, drawn up any mana, or projected any sense of pressure.

I had simply asked a question that had just formed in my mind.

I only looked at him with my usual calm expression.

Yet, the overwhelming presence he exuded was so immense that I couldn’t speak easily.

Perhaps it was because my primal instinct for survival was ringing out in warning like mad.

If I made the wrong choice here, I was certain that my grand plan would crash to the ground without even a chance to unfold its wings.

I was certain that the ‘sword’ of that monster showed no mercy even to his own blood.

I was certain that even if the world were to collapse, I still couldn’t defeat that monster right now.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're quite bold."

Shit.

I was now certain I should not have chosen that answer.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart pounded wildly.

Could it be...?

Had he figured out that I was Deus?

No.

It was too early to jump to conclusions.

If he truly knew I was Deus, he wouldn’t have asked like he was probing for answers.

Even I, the fifth Deus, had never thought another Deus might exist until I had gained my powers.

There’s no way he could have arrived at that idea so easily.

Then what exactly was the power he was referring to?

‘Wait a second. No way. There's no way... Even if Arkan is the strongest knight on the continent, that shouldn't be possible…’

"This is your last chance to answer. Where did you get that power?"

A smile appeared on Ron Winterbell’s lips as he watched the scene unfold. Ignoring him, I held Arkan’s gaze with composure.

"I didn’t obtain it. It’s mine."

"Yours?"

"Yes."

His reaction only confirmed it.

He hadn't realized that I was Deus.

‘He figured out that I had truly stood up.’

I could understand how it was theoretically possible, but even I found it hard to believe I had actually pulled it off.

Just moments ago, Arkan had inspected my body, detecting even the smallest traces showing that, for a brief moment, the nerve stems in my lower body had fused and functioned properly.

‘Even within that short span of time.’

However, it seemed even Arkan hadn’t deduced that it was the result of extreme mana manipulation.

That was understandable.

No matter how exceptional he was, it was far more reasonable for him to believe that his paralyzed youngest son had used some sort of unidentifiable sorcery to stand and subdue a knight, than to accept that he had stood using mana.

…Something like black magic, for instance.

"You dare to claim that the sorcery which raised your crippled lower body is yours? In the territory of Winterbell?"

Even Arkan himself couldn’t make sense of such a bizarre power—except for the black magic used by worshippers of the Demon God.

Unlike divinity, blessings, or mana, black magic, which draws on demonic energy as its source, sometimes contained types that even seasoned warriors or mages couldn't distinguish—unless they were high-ranking priests.

That was why Arkan had concluded that his youngest son had ultimately turned to black magic.

"If what you seek is eternal obliteration, I’ll be happy to assist."

Clear intent to kill.

The moment I faced it head-on, I nearly lost consciousness.

Despite the three-step distance between us, I could feel it vividly.

The edge of his blade pressing into the back of my neck.

His hands were resting on the table, but that meant nothing.

Whatever I said now would become my final plea.

"And yet here I am, deserving praise, not reprimand—so why are you scolding me?"

"Praise?"

"If I prove that your assumption is wrong, what will you give me?"

"……."

"Will you grant me something if I succeed?"

His deep, blue eyes—like a bottomless abyss—fell upon me. As I stared into them, it felt as if I were sinking quietly into the depths of the sea, a place with no end in sight.

"Accepted."

His lips curled into a faint smile.

The second time.

This was only the second time he had shown his emotions so plainly.

Everyone watching was shocked—though none showed it on their faces. It was a man no one could remember ever showing emotion, now displaying it twice in one day.

"I’ll acknowledge it. That perhaps you may still have some use. Is that not enough?"

I smiled back as I looked him in the eye.

"It’s more than enough."

Everyone’s eyes turned to me.

Their expressions held a mixture of expectation, unease, and anxiety over what I was about to reveal.

One of them had to be the very person who had ruined my legs.

What I was about to show them now was my declaration of war—a challenge thrown directly at the one who made me a cripple.

‘Watch carefully. See what the cripple you made will carve into history from this point forward.’

I focused my mind and took a slow, deep breath, drawing mana into my lower body.

As with all things, the first attempt was the hardest.

For the second time, I connected the nerve stems far faster than before. As time passed, the long-lost sensations in my lower body began to return.

I started by moving my toes, then my ankles, and then I pushed strength into my knees and thighs.

Twitch!

Like a puppeteer manipulating a marionette, I found it easier to think of my lower body as a puppet under my control.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

I rose to my feet.

“Phew.”

I stood from my wheelchair and took a step—sluggish, but precise.

One step.

And then another.

As if I were engraving my presence into this land with every footfall, I moved cautiously, deliberately, adjusting my breath with each motion.

Finally.

I stopped in front of Arkan Winterbell, met his gaze directly, and said with confidence,

“…Do you acknowledge it now?”

──Silence fell.

Everyone present wore the same expression—they simply couldn't believe what they had just witnessed. Some were shocked, others confused, some anxious, and a few intrigued.

And Arkan, the head of the household, was no different.

"...Indeed. I was wrong."

He, too, was astonished.

"This is unexpected. You moved your lower body by manipulating mana?"

"…Yes."

As soon as I finished speaking, I collapsed on the spot.

Cecil hurried over with my wheelchair and helped me into it. If I had truly wanted to, I could have held out a little longer—but I saw no need to reveal more of my strength here, so I chose this course of action.

Sooner or later, whether I wanted it or not, news that I could move my lower body using mana would reach Arkan’s ears.

So I judged it better to leave a lasting impression now and gain something in return.

Of course, it was regrettable that I had been forced to reveal one of my cards sooner than expected, but when one desires something, there are always things that must be sacrificed.

“To even think of applying the principles of mana manipulation to a broken lower body… And to actually perform it—that would be difficult even for a master warrior.”

Arkan looked at me with a satisfied expression.

“Well done.”

“Thank you.”

“I never imagined I’d experience new insight at this age. I shall reward you.”

“…….”

“Just once. For a single day, I grant you access to the family treasury.”

A reward I hadn’t expected.

The Winterbell Family Treasury.

A mysterious vault that held every kind of rare and precious treasure in existence.

A place so secretive that only the Duke and the direct descendants he permitted could even set foot in it.

It was divided into four sections, from Zone 1 to Zone 4—the innermost zone, Zone 4, was said to be accessible only by the Duke himself.

‘The treasury! There’s no reward more valuable in this situation. If I’m lucky, I might even find rare elixirs that can accelerate my recovery.’

The treasures and elixirs of astronomical value were likely housed in Zone 4, but even those in Zones 1 through 3 were known to be incredibly precious.

There’s a reason the Winterbell Duchy is counted among the three great treasuries of the continent.

“Thank you.”

“There’s no need for thanks. It is only natural that a reward be given to one who has proven their worth.”

I could feel the stares of my brothers.

Openly filled with jealousy, envy, and wariness.

They all knew.

If I were to fully recover, the blade of vengeance would one day find its way to one of their throats.

They all wanted to speak up, but none dared to do so. They knew full well that running their mouths in this situation and earning the Duke’s ire would only bring them harm.

But then, as if to mock my expectations, Ron Winterbell abruptly shot to his feet and shouted desperately.

"Th-that’s impossible! According to a friend of mine, Ran Winterbell moved his lower body like a regular knight. Such control is impossible with mana manipulation alone. He must have used some kind of sorcery to repair his legs!"

The atmosphere instantly grew cold.

Only then did Ron Winterbell’s face go pale, as he finally realized what he had done.

"Impossible, you say?"

Crack.

It wasn’t my imagination. The air around him had begun to freeze. Shards of ice started to form in the air and clatter onto the floor.

"And yet the one who would be the next head of the household dares to speak of impossibility so carelessly."

"……."

"Very well. Let’s see for ourselves, shall we?"

The temperature in the room plummeted. Each breath now left a visible puff of white mist in the air.

"I-I’m sorry! That was a poor choice of words…"

Ron Winterbell couldn’t finish his sentence—his hands were rapidly icing over.

"Hiiiek! F-Father!"

"The youngest has raised his lower body. So you, as his elder, raise your upper body. I’ll gladly render you a cripple myself."

"I’m sorry! I’m truly sorry!"

Ron’s pleading cries were practically begging. But Arkan’s face didn’t so much as twitch.

‘So that’s the power of Deus, bearer of the primordial ice…’

A warrior at the sixth star level had been suppressed before he could even react.

It was a truly terrifying display of power.

At the same time, though, the sheer dominance of the scene stirred something in the blood of the other Winterbells present.

Because if one became the head of the household… then that overwhelming power could one day be theirs.

“You’ll kill him at this rate, Father.”

The one to step in was Lux Winterbell, the second son. Wearing his ever-present smile, he spoke in a gentle tone.

“Ron really did overstep himself, but still—he’s a swordsman. Crippling his arms is a bit much, don’t you think? For the sake of my accomplishments, won’t you let this one slide? Please, Father.”

“Just this once.”

“Thank you, Father.”

As Arkan withdrew his power, the ice that had encased Ron’s hands slowly began to melt away, restoring them to their original state.

After that—

As if his business here were finished, Arkan rose from his seat and casually left the hall.

Then, Lin, the eldest daughter sitting across from Ron, opened her mouth.

"See? You should know your place, little brother. Now Father’s marked you. You should be grateful this is all that happened."

"……."

Ron didn’t reply, simply glaring with narrowed eyes.

Lin shot a mocking glance my way before walking out of the hall. Shortly after, Marian, the second daughter, followed her out.

Only three of us remained.

Lux Winterbell rose first, walking over to me and placing a hand on my head.

“It’s been a while, little brother. You’ve grown into a proper young man now.”

“It’s been a while, brother.”

Though he wore a kind smile and treated me warmly, he never truly revealed his inner thoughts.

Even when I searched my memories, I couldn’t recall him ever showing hostility toward me.

Still, there was something unsettling—something hard to define.

An unnatural smile.

Everyone wears a mask, but his smile felt far more artificial than most.

“You must’ve endured unimaginable hardship to move those damaged legs. Congratulations, little brother. I’d love to sit and chat, but it seems you have guests waiting. I’ll leave you to it for now. See you next time.”

"Yes, brother."

With Lux Winterbell’s departure, only Cecil, Ron Winterbell, and I remained in the room.

Ron glared at me with eyes full of murderous intent.

"Ran Winterbell… What kind of trick did you pull!?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Bang!

Enraged, he slammed his fist down onto the table, sending shards flying in every direction.

"Cut the crap. You moved your legs by manipulating mana? And I'm supposed to believe a wretch like you pulled off a technique like that? Don’t make me laugh. Obviously, you used the help of that one-armed woman behind you to learn some dark sorcery. You think I don’t see the scheming hidden behind that shameless face of yours?"

This was delusion bordering on paranoia.

"Even if I did use sorcery, what can you do about it? The Duke himself acknowledged me."

Grrrk. Grrrk.

He ground his teeth, staring at me like he meant to kill me.

True to his reputation among the siblings as the most hot-blooded and dull-witted, he reacted predictably to even the shallowest provocation.

"You really want to die, don’t you? Fine. If that’s your wish, I’ll make it happen. I’ll send you to join your mother, so you can never dream empty dreams again."

He really had no shame.

Spouting this nonsense and still daring to cross the line?

Now the only question was: how best to crush this bastard to truly satisfy my rage?

‘Unfortunately, unless I use Makina, there’s no way to take him down right now. Even if I could kill him here, I shouldn’t.’

Hmm...

Alright.

"Three months."

"What?"

"Exactly three months from now, I’ll split your skull in half."

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