🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 3
I never once thought that he wasn’t Palaon.
At those words, I paused and turned around.
What is this…?
“Is he serious?”
That thought lingered only briefly.
I soon shook my head vigorously.
I remembered clearly.
Wilheim returning home at dawn, slipping through the shadows.
Covered in blood from head to toe.
At that time, disappearances were frequent in the territory.
“If my father said it, it must be true.”
People kept disappearing, right?
But strangely enough, from the day I witnessed Wilheim, the disappearances seemed to stop.
Was it just a coincidence?
Of course, there was also the possibility that Wilheim had taken care of the murderer.
“Let’s go in.”
“…Yes.”
I set aside my thoughts and walked forward.
Yet, my mind was still in chaos.
It made sense; the Wilheim I saw today was not the same one I knew.
How long had we been walking in that confusion?
“We’re here.”
Wilheim and I stopped walking.
At the end of the cave, a chamber—not too large, not too small—awaited us.
And in the center of that chamber was…
“A shield?”
A white shield, large enough to cover the upper body of a grown man.
As I stared at it, Wilheim stepped forward and spoke.
“Descendant Wilheim pays respects to the ancestor.”
Wilheim bowed politely and looked at me.
“You should do the same.”
“…Yes.”
I stood beside Wilheim and bowed respectfully.
“Descendant Cthun pays respects to the ancestor.”
I wanted, in my heart, to bow twice as the Confucian ritual required, but I refrained.
After the bow, Wilheim called me over.
“Come here.”
“Yes.”
“This is the ancestor’s weapon, Krasion. It’s a peerless weapon that even withstood a dragon’s breath. Originally, it was paired with the great sword Crescius, but I kept that one.”
“…Is it alright to take it?”
“If the weapon permits it.”
“I see.”
Really… this shield blocked a dragon’s breath?
Curious, I examined the shield, and Wilheim said:
“Place your hand on the shield. This is the final ritual of the Palaon bloodline that has undergone the blood rite.”
“My hand?”
“Yes.”
He explained that, depending on the case, the lingering soul of the ancestor within the weapon may bestow a gift.
A common example: amplification of talent.
“You’ve awakened the Blessing of Death, so it might be slightly different for you. But this is a sacred ritual that every Palaon must undergo.”
Wilheim stepped back as he spoke.
I stood alone before the shield, blinking.
“Do I just place my hand on it?”
The moment I did, something strange vibrated through me.
Thrum—!
Was it just my imagination? I tilted my head in confusion.
Suddenly, a blinding light—
Whoosh!
My consciousness was drawn into somewhere.
“Where am I?”
I found myself in an entirely pitch-black space.
And a voice spoke.
“How remarkable. My descendant has awakened the Blessing of Death.”
“…?”
I turned and saw a knight there.
Black hair, blue eyes.
A young knight somewhat resembling Wilheim, but wearing a mischievous smile Wilheim would never make, asking me a question.
“So, what brings you here? Just perform the ritual and leave, right? Why did you wake me?”
There could only be one being who could say such a thing.
Ark Palaon, the founder of Palaon.
No one else.
The Ancestral Chamber
Wilheim waited calmly for Cthun to finish the ritual.
But why…?
Normally, the ritual lasted no more than five minutes.
Even then, only when the recipient of a gift had talent.
Yet, Cthun remained motionless long after the ritual began.
Why?
Concerned that something might have gone wrong, Wilheim approached Cthun.
Then—
Stagger.
“Cthun…!”
Wilheim caught Cthun as he swayed and nearly fell.
“Are you alright?”
“…Yes?”
“I said, are you alright? You haven’t moved for a long time.”
“Ah…”
Cthun blinked as if waking from a deep sleep, then nodded.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Tell me if there’s a problem.”
“No, really, I’m fine.”
Though Cthun insisted he was fine, Wilheim was not reassured.
He feared that the lingering soul of the ancestor within the weapon might have affected Cthun in an unfavorable way.
“Really…”
Just as Wilheim was about to scold Cthun again, there was a clear, ringing metallic sound—
The armor of the dragon slayer Ark, Krasion, appeared in Cthun’s hands.
Wilheim could hardly believe his eyes.
An unworthy person should have been struck with unbearable pain, yet here was the child holding it.
After a moment of disbelief, Wilheim accepted reality.
“You’ve been deemed worthy.”
“Yes.”
Cthun said, cautiously observing Wilheim’s reaction.
But Wilheim’s expression was brighter than Cthun had expected.
“Congratulations. No one can deny that you are Palaon now.”
Cthun saw Wilheim’s face light up with unrestrained joy.
Returning from the Ancestral Chamber
After returning, Wilheim immediately informed his father.
“Father—!”
The soldiers, frozen at the unusually loud voice, feared something had gone wrong.
But they were shocked again when they saw Wilheim’s expression.
“Wilheim… smiling?”
Even the Baron of Palaon was equally stunned.
“Wilheim, what happened? Did…?”
Just as thoughts of poison mushrooms in the mountains crossed his mind, Wilheim said:
“Cthun has lifted the shield.”
“What? The shield?”
“Yes, the ancestor’s weapon, Krasion.”
“…!”
The Baron was astonished.
The idea that the child could wield the weapon was rare; even Wilheim himself could not always be chosen by a weapon.
How many in Palaon history had been chosen by a weapon, excluding Wilheim?
“Only three.”
It wasn’t about talent—some with strong bloodline abilities could fail, some with weak abilities could succeed.
Yet, all three had one thing in common:
“They became heroes.”
Though their lives were short and did not revive the family, they were undeniably heroes.
Now, Wilheim had Cthun.
“Two in one generation… has this ever happened?”
No. Absolutely not.
The first in Palaon’s history.
The Baron’s heart pounded at the thought that he witnessed this historical moment and that the heroes were his sons.
Hence:
“Where is Cthun?”
“Father, you should change into proper attire first.”
“Attire? …Ah.”
The Baron realized his clothes were still blood-stained from earlier interrogations.
“I’ll go immediately. Tell Cthun as well.”
“Yes, take your time.”
The Baron went to change, and Wilheim went to Cthun’s room.
A little later:
“My son, I heard the news. Krasion chose you!”
“Yes, yes.”
“Well done. Truly well done. You’ve grown so well. Not that I raised you, but you really grew!”
The Baron lifted Cthun high in joy, tossing him lightly like in a celebratory cheer.
“Ah, Burgi.”
“Yes, my son!”
“Ugh… uuuuuugh—!”
“The boy is spirited!”
The Baron avoided disaster with quick reflexes, laughing heartily.
It was a time where only Cthun suffered while everyone else rejoiced.
Unfortunately(?), it didn’t last long.
“I found you.”
A voice came from the doorway.
The Baron froze.
“…Wife.”
“What commotion is this at this hour?”
“Well…”
His excitement faltered at Hela’s stern expression.
The reality he had momentarily forgotten came rushing back.
A war-born illegitimate child…
‘Considering the hardships Hela endured protecting the estate alone, I have no words.’
His own fault.
Just then, Wilheim spoke.
“Mother, Cthun has been chosen by the weapon.”
“Weapon…?”
“Yes, the shield Krasion.”
“….”
Hela’s gaze fell on Cthun, who was exhausted after vomiting. Her eyes trembled.
Then briefly:
“Wilheim, go fetch the attendants. We need to clear the space.”
“Yes.”
“And later, you can explain everything.”
Hela cleaned Cthun, guided him to bed, and comforted him until he fell asleep.
That night, Cthun slept soundly—the first time since arriving in Palaon.
The Next Morning
I blinked with a light heart.
What is this refreshing feeling?
It felt like being reborn.
‘Is this the power of bloodline awakening?’
I thought briefly, then shook my head.
The physical change from the awakening might contribute, but the psychological effect was even greater.
The reason, after all…
“I never once thought that you weren’t Palaon.”
“Rest easy and sleep peacefully.”
It had to be Wilheim and Lady Hela.
Though uncertain if Lady Hela fully accepted me, the warmth from yesterday eased my worries.
Perhaps that was why:
“Hmm, this feels so comforting.”
[…Your feelings differ from mine. Inside, I’m furious, boiling with rage.]
I realized that the events of last night were not a dream.
Oh, by the way, the ancestor had gone out briefly.
He wanted to see his descendants awake.
But he seemed furious?
[That Bastil! That wretched fool! How could this happen?! After all I’ve done for him, my descendants live like this?]
“Excuse me, but who is Bastil…?”
[The founding king, of course!]
Ah, the founding king Bastil. I had thought the name trivial.
Yet his anger was hard for me to comprehend.
“I heard that at least my father helped rise to power through the war…”
[What?!]
Oops, a misstep. The ancestor almost choked with rage.
Then, decisively:
[I cannot stay idle in the ancestral chamber any longer.]
“Excuse me? What will you do if you don’t stay…?”
The ancestor, resolved, said:
[Let us make a contract. I shall personally become your undead and restore Palaon.]
Wait, that contradicts Confucian principles…
…Then I remembered: I am but an ignorant resident of medieval Land.
However, one problem remained:
How does one make a contract?
