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Chapter – 20
‘Gotta crush them completely.’
Yellow sprouts should be trampled before they grow too much.
Carlyle knew all too well what kind of influence Hector and Gunter could have on the Sigmund family,
so he decided to make sure they learned their place — once and for all.
“You… you bastard!”
Blood poured from Gunter’s nose as he snarled at Carlyle.
“Watch your mouth when you talk to your older cousin.”
“Older cousin, my ass!”
Gunter charged at Carlyle.
Thud!
Carlyle’s fist slammed into Gunter’s solar plexus.
“Hu—uuuuuuuugh!”
Gunter gasped, air violently forced from his lungs.
“Keugh, keuhhh, keuhhh!”
He clutched his gut, unable even to breathe.
Crash!
Carlyle grabbed Gunter by the hair and slammed him to the ground.
Thud!
Gunter convulsed like a frog struck by a stone.
“Gu—Gunter! Damn it!”
Finally snapping out of it, Hector shouted at his fallen brother.
“Carlyle, you son of a—”
Crack!
“What was that?”
Carlyle’s hand clamped around Hector’s neck.
“Didn’t quite hear you. Say it again.”
“Keugh, kuhk!”
“What was that?”
“Kuhhk, khhh!”
“Still can’t hear you.”
Hector trembled, fury and terror mixing in his eyes.
‘You crazy bastard…! How can I say anything when you’re choking me—?!’
Carlyle tightened his grip.
“Why aren’t you answering?”
“Keuhh, kuhk!”
“Manners, Hector. Your cousin asked you a question.”
“Khheeuugh!”
Right before Hector passed out—
Smack!
Carlyle’s palm cracked across his cheek.
“Ah!”
Thud!
“Huuhh, huhhh!”
Hector gasped for air as he hit the ground.
“Y-you… youuuu…!!!”
Gunter, barely conscious, growled and reached for his belt.
Crunch!
“Arghhhh!”
Carlyle stomped down on his wrist.
“You weren’t about to pull a knife on your cousin, were you?”
“Gaaahhh!”
“No, of course not. Right?”
Carlyle pressed harder.
Crack!
Gunter’s wrist twisted grotesquely as a white shard of bone tore through his skin.
“M-my mother will never let this—!”
“You think you’ll be able to tell her?”
“Wha—?”
“The dead can’t talk.”
“S… surely not…”
Shiiing—
Carlyle’s sword gleamed before Gunter’s trembling nose.
“You maniac!”
Hector flinched at the sight.
“You’ll really die for this! You think you can kill us and walk away alive?!”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What?!”
“Two dead cousins for one me? I’d say that’s a bargain.”
Carlyle’s face was utterly blank.
A chill ran down Hector’s spine.
‘He’s… he’s lost it! Completely!’
That expression — that calm, empty expression —
was nothing like the Carlyle he knew.
The old Carlyle might rage and bluster, but he always backed down when overpowered.
This one… had nothing to lose.
‘S-should I run?’
But he couldn’t leave his twin brother behind.
“Drop your sword. Kneel.”
“What?!”
“Or should I put a hole in your brother’s face?”
Carlyle’s blade poked Gunter’s nose, drawing a thin line of blood.
“F-fine! Okay! I’ll do it!”
“Mind your tone.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Reluctantly, Hector unbuckled his sword and dropped to his knees before Carlyle.
If he didn’t, he was sure Carlyle would kill Gunter without hesitation.
Slap! Slap!
Sharp sounds echoed through the dark alley.
Slap!
“Ugh!”
Slap!
“Ah!”
Without a word, Carlyle alternated between striking Hector and Gunter across the face.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, brother! Ahhh!”
“My face—! Stop—gah!”
Their pleas fell on deaf ears.
Carlyle’s face showed no emotion — only the rhythmic, deliberate motion of his hand.
By the time he stopped, their faces looked like swollen hives,
puffed up threefold from the beating.
“If you ever buzz around me again like flies… I’ll really kill you. Got it?”
They nodded frantically.
“If you tell anyone about today… I’ll kill you.”
Nod, nod.
“From now on, keep your heads down. Especially in front of me.”
Nod, nod.
Seeing the fear etched into their faces, Carlyle finally decided that was enough.
Beating them further would just waste time.
“Here. Drink this and get lost.”
He tossed a potion at them.
“Share it. You’ll heal up fine.”
Leaving those words behind, Carlyle walked away from the alley.
“……”
“……”
The brothers stared blankly after him.
“Was that… really Carlyle?”
“I-I don’t know. He’s terrifying… ugh!”
Gunter groaned, clutching his mangled arm.
“Let me see… Damn, that’s bad.”
“Will it heal?”
“Let’s use the potion Carlyle— no, Carlyle brother gave us. But… I should set the bone first.”
“What…?”
“If I don’t, it’ll heal wrong. You might never move that arm again.”
“……”
“I’ll count to three.”
“G-gently.”
“One, two—”
Crack!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Gunter’s scream echoed through the alley.
Carlyle, far away now, smirked faintly as the sound reached him.
‘That should keep them quiet for a while.’
He could tell Hector and Gunter had been properly terrified.
At least for the time being, they wouldn’t dare tattletale to their parents.
Maybe someday they’d forget and act out again… but not soon.
Two hours later.
‘Guess I should call it a day.’
He hadn’t found a single trace of residual souls tonight —
not even a whisper.
‘Might as well grab a drink before heading home.’
Carlyle stepped out of the alley toward the plaza.
Just then—
Ding!
A message appeared before his eyes.
[Notice: Detected traces left by the dead.]
[Notice: A residual spirit is nearby.]
‘Huh?’
He narrowed his eyes in surprise.
Residual spirits usually lingered in specific, desolate places — not bustling city squares.
‘Where is it…?’
He focused, scanning the area carefully.
“L-look, it’s the young master!”
“Ah!”
“Let’s go, hurry!”
As soon as the townsfolk spotted him, they scattered in all directions.
In moments, the lively plaza fell silent, emptied by fear of the notorious “rascal.”
‘It’s nice being feared.’
Smirking, Carlyle resumed his search.
Then he felt it — the presence was coming from…
Ssshhhhh—
‘The fountain?’
At the center of the plaza stood a massive fountain,
decorated with a statue of the Sigmund family’s first patriarch.
That was where the residual energy pulsed strongest.
[Notice: Residual spirit discovered.]
[Notice: Reading the traces left by the dead.]
Before Carlyle’s eyes, memories began to unfold — not of one, but of many souls.
— Please, let my husband return safely from the war.
— Heal my mother’s illness.
— Bless this year’s harvest with abundance.
Hundreds of years of prayers —
the earnest wishes of countless people who had knelt before this fountain.
Their desires had coalesced into one vast residual spirit.
Ding!
[Notice: Residual spirit read.]
[Notice: You may now absorb the spirit.]
‘Not ideal timing.’
Back in the present, Carlyle glanced around.
Even if the crowd had thinned, it was impossible for the plaza to be completely empty.
Absorbing the spirit now would definitely draw attention.
‘Guess I’ll wait.’
He sat by the fountain, deciding to bide his time until the night grew deeper.
After 9 p.m., few people dared to wander outside anyway.
Eventually, the plaza fell silent.
Only lamplighters remained, checking the lanterns along the street.
‘Perfect.’
Carlyle extended his hand toward the fountain.
[Notice: Residual spirit absorbed!]
[Notice: Skill acquired!]
[Earnest Wish]
Type: Invocation
Skill Level: 1
Duration: 60 seconds
Effect:
- Luck +150%
- Critical Hit Chance +15%
‘Nice.’
Carlyle nodded, pleased.
Luck and critical rate — both notoriously rare stats,
hardly found in even a handful of items in the game.
A skill that boosted both at once, and reliably?
That was a major gain.
And if this was just level one…
imagine how strong it would become later.
‘Good thing I checked this place. Worth the trip.’
Satisfied, Carlyle turned toward the inner castle.
In the days that followed, Carlyle found no more residual spirits.
He trained ceaselessly, preparing for the day he would march to war.
Months passed.
Finally, the time came for him to depart.
“Do I really have to wear this? It’s so uncomfortable.”
Carlyle tugged at the stiff uniform —
the ceremonial dress of the Decaron Army.
“Young master, the induction ceremony—”
“I know, I know. It’s important.”
In the Sigmund family, few events rivaled the Induction Ceremony in importance.
It symbolized a noble’s pledge to serve the army and uphold their duty.
But what made it even more special…
was succession.
