The Son-In-Law Of A Prestigious Family Wants A Divorce - Chapter 70



69. Primordial

“Is this regarding the subjugation of Blackthorn?”

Isaac nodded in response to the Grand Master’s question. She pondered for a moment, then tilted her head, inquiring,

“But I question whether my aid is truly necessary. Is not Arundel nearly finished with the matter?”

“Those Transcendents I know all share a fierce pride and a tendency to look down upon humans.”

“……”

The Grand Master did not refute it.

Her silence was her agreement.

“Even if Blackthorn is abandoned, I doubt they’ll so easily accept defeat.”

“You suspect they’ve left some trickery behind? What is your basis?”

The Grand Master’s expression had turned composed.

As if she would have been disappointed had he not offered evidence, Isaac readily began to explain.

“Have you observed the nearby villages? They enjoy a relatively affluent existence, yet their outward appearances betray this.”

“Hmm. Their skin is universally dark, and so thin as to reveal bone beneath.”

“They are the proof. I suspect—”

“Sorcery?”

The Grand Master finished his sentence, questioning.

Isaac nodded, prompting a short exhale from her.

“You truly know a remarkable amount. Transcendent sorcery is not something easily encountered.”

“I was exposed to it during my posting in the North.”

Though, of course, he had known of it even before then.

‘It’s not a lie, at least.’

Isaac suspected that the haggard appearance of Blackthorn’s citizens, despite their comfortable lives, stemmed from a form of sorcery.

Without lengthy deliberation, the Grand Master nodded.

“Plausible. As you say, it is highly probable that some sort of sorcerous device exists within the manor.”

If Arundel were present, it might be dismissed, but lacking her, one must consider every possibility.

Isaac knew well enough the transcendents’ hatred for humanity, that clinging animosity.

They would not simply back down, not ever.

“As a junior disciple of my brotherhood, of course, I can offer aid. However, in that case, you must heed my request as well, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Grandmaster straightened his back slowly, a smile playing on his lips.

“Speak, who was your master? And where might my brothers be now?”

” … “

He closed his eyes, his face thoughtful.

[Ho? So, you hail from Hellmunt?]

Memories unfolded, each step carefully considered, beginning with their first meeting.

[The talent for the blade takes many forms. It is not so simple a thing to judge solely by the swing.]

His master had reached out a hand to him, when he was drowning in gloom and despair.

Not only that, but he was the first to recognize his talent, his great master.

[A pity. Such a pity. Had it not been for your legs, you would have surely achieved greatness.]

[Disciple, pour your master a drink, won’t you?]

[Alright, alright. I won’t smoke! Though why a master must quit just because his disciple has, I cannot for the life of me understand!]

There were times they laughed together, times they grieved together.

Whatever it may have been, the Grandmaster had supported so much of him.

[My dream, you say?]

[Hmph, what does it matter now, at this late hour?]

He never got to hear the reason you were there as a mentor.

He never got to stand beside you.

[Disciple, I am sorry.]

In the end, in the face of it all.

Even as he crumbled, unable to withstand the transcendent’s final assault, he apologized to him.

Everyone runs towards their dream, yet:

His own dream was lost, forever pushing others forward.

‘If, by some chance, I must tell this secret to another.’

Surely, it would be you, who I would say this to first.

Isaac smiled in that way, and honestly revealed his story.

Perhaps thirty minutes passed.

The Grand Master, eyes wide, slowly raised his great tachi.

*Thwack!*

He answered by bringing the sheathed blade down on Isaac’s head.

“Where do you think you’re going, trying to pull one over on your elders.”

“……”

* * *

The next day.

Before departing for the estate.

Isaac was ensuring the Grand Master’s attire was in order.

He pulled the hood of the robe up, but it seemed to irritate him; he kept shaking his head back and forth, trying to pull it off.

“This is rough, I don’t like it.”

“You have to wear it because of your ears. Can we fold them down a little further?”

“I suppose it’s possible, but it’s uncomfortable. Like walking on tiptoe.”

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His perked ears drooped downwards.

With the hood on top of that, his features were completely concealed.

“Haa, what a mess this whole- Aah! My ears are sensitive! Don’t pull so hard!”

The Grand Master, displeased, spoke as Isaac tried to press the hood down deeper to hide his face as much as possible.

The tail had been concealed relatively well inside the trousers, but a few strands of fur could be seen escaping.

“Leave the great tachi behind. You can retrieve it later, after it’s all done.”

“Would a swordsman ever go anywhere without his blade?”

“Didn’t you promise? That you would help me. If you carry that great tachi around, you’ll be discovered in an instant.”

Instead, Isaac offered him a dull, short sword used by common soldiers.

“What is this uncouth thing?”

“If worse comes to worst, I’ll give you mine. So please, bear with it.”

“Hmph, I don’t know whose disciple you are, but. Your master had better prepare to be beaten black and blue by me.”

“……”

The Grand Master, to the end, did not believe Isaac’s story. Isaac had tried, in his own way, to reveal information that might inspire some trust.

Talking about the future was pointless, as the Grand Master wouldn’t know anything about it anyway.

And even a few tales of the past that he offered were dismissed with irritation, as the Grand Master claimed some non-existent master had told him about it.

‘Asking him to believe me might be a bit much.’

Isaac sighed, a tangled knot in his chest. To bravely reveal his secret, only to be met with such a cold shoulder – it stung more than he’d anticipated.

“Considering your sword, and that you’re a disciple of my lineage, I suppose I’ll lend a hand, however…”

Stepping out of the tent, the Grandmaster grumbled a parting shot.

“Let me be clear. I will choose to believe your boisterous claims from yesterday were born of distrust, not dishonesty.”

“……”

Distrust, perhaps?

Or simply a refusal to believe?

Watching the Grandmaster’s insistent words, Isaac was struck by a sudden doubt, though it quickly faded.

“Isaac! Come on, let’s go – oh?”

Sharen, rushing towards Isaac as he emerged, tilted her head in confusion upon seeing the woman beside him.

He worried she might have overheard, but Sharen, bless her, wasn’t quite that perceptive.

“What’s this?”

“I ran into her on the way. She looked familiar, and it turns out she was an old customer of mine.”

“A customer? Ah, the ferrywoman!”

Sharen beamed, easily letting the matter drop.

Thank goodness for her simplicity.

Silberna joined them shortly after, but Sharen, in her exuberant way, quickly preempted any questions with her explanation, allowing them to move on without incident.

And so, the Blackthorn Manor assault team.

Isaac found himself at the forefront, alongside the Helmont Knights led by Lohengrin.

The Grandmaster, reluctantly, trailed behind as Isaac’s baggage handler.

“Isaac, be careful, alright? Don’t go charging in after the Helmonts for no reason.”

Just before they set off, Clarisse grabbed Isaac’s arm, her brow furrowed with concern.

Clarisse saw him as a future pillar of the kingdom’s martial prowess, and couldn’t bear the thought of him getting pointlessly injured.

“Isaac, Isaac! Look at this!”

Sharen, standing beside him, also tasked with spearheading the assault, conjured a swirl of crimson energy in her palm.

She twirled it this way and that, before compressing it into a sphere.

“Cool, huh!”

“…What are you planning to do with that?”

“Huh? Th-this?”

Sharen stared blankly at the orb in her hand, then pouted and exclaimed.

“Crimson Flare!”

Sharen hurled it at Isaac with all her might, but only a slight breeze stirred – no impact whatsoever.

“Ho?”

Conversely, the Grand Master behind him watched Sharen with an intrigued glint in his eyes.

Huffing, Sharen stormed off.

Watching her back, Isaac subtly questioned the Grand Master. “What is it?”

“No, is it not fascinating? The sight of one belittling the Crimson Descent, revered by so many, to mere child’s play.”

“……”

“Amusing. Seems not all the Arundel spawn are monstrous after all.”

Hearing the Grand Master’s words, Isaac began to reconsider.

The key to the Crimson Descent was usually how much it amplified power. But Sharen had just done the opposite, nullifying all impact.

‘Perhaps Sharen possesses a unique talent for the Crimson Descent, against all odds.’

As he nodded in thought, a refreshingly crisp scent, laced with her unique chill, wafted from his side.

It was Silverna.

“Isaac, do you have plans after the subjugation?”

Isaac hesitated for a moment, seeing Silverna question as if she was simply searching for a place to go for fun.

“Hmm.”

His original plan was to head to the rocky mountains to meet the Grand Master.

But now that the Grand Master had sought him out, his destination had vanished.

“I don’t know.”

“Then let’s go to Evergard together.”

“Evergard?”

Wasn’t that the capital of the Albion Kingdom?

“I heard there’s a Knight Training Academy there. In the North, training has been sporadic due to the massive swarms. And even after that, the environment hasn’t been ideal for training, has it?”

That was true.

Until now, swordsmanship training felt like a side activity amidst other events.

In short, a proposition to delve deeply into the study of the sword.

Isaac found it quite intriguing.

‘While I’m overcoming challenges with swordsmanship and knowledge for the time being, it’s true that my physical abilities are somewhat lacking.’

Just yesterday, Sharen’s strength had overwhelmed him, dragging him along.

“And… naturally, we can pay a visit to the dungeons as well.”

“…!”

Isaac’s eyes widened at Silverna’s smile, realizing this was the real point.

Wasn’t Alois imprisoned in the dungeons right now?

“Anxious, are we? I saw you asking the Princess for a favor last time, so I figured you’d be worried. But going there without a good reason might be seen as bad form.”

“…Yes, thank you.”

A soft smile graced his lips.

Isaac felt as though one of the anxieties weighing on his heart had lifted, thanks to her consideration.

“If you’re thankful, buy me dessert there! I want to try something called an ‘Egg Muffin’ that we can’t get in the North!”

“Ha, alright. Understood.”

Silverna beamed with delight at Isaac’s answer. Seeing her so openly pleased gave Isaac a strange feeling.

“You certainly have a face that’s worth something, don’t you?”

If the Grand Master hadn’t whispered from behind, he would have chatted more with Silverna.

Just then, the vanguard began to move.

Although it was called a vanguard, due to the mansion’s nature, not the entire army could enter; it was more accurately a select force, the main body.

Most of the soldiers surrounded the mansion from the outside, forming a shield wall.

“Hellmunt-!”

Right in front of the main gate.

Loengrin, who was walking at the very front, raised his greatsword high into the air.

Simultaneously, the other Hellmunt knights behind him raised their greatswords as well.

Crimson mana began to condense around Loengrin, forming a single, massive clot.

“Glory to the great Hellmunt-!”

Loengrin swung his greatsword in a long arc towards the mansion, and the crimson mana that the Hellmunt knights had condensed flew towards the building.

“Truly barbaric.”

“Oh, I am speechless!”

Even Silverna and the Grand Master, who were standing beside him, were astonished. It was clear how much Loengrin had been racking his brain last night.

Not underestimating the Transcendent.

He had devised a plan to completely demolish the entire mansion!

In fact, the crimson mana was already smashing into the mansion in an instant.

The once-imposing Blackthorn Manor lay shattered, its innards exposed.

Among the debris, the dead were visible; several Transcendents sprawled as lifeless corpses.

The manor looked as if some colossal maw had taken a ravenous bite from it.

The Transcendents remaining inside stared blankly at Loengreen.

“Haa… Haa… This… this is! Hellmund! Haa… Haa!”

He looked quite spent, yet the effect was undeniably magnificent.

Truthfully, Loengreen hadn’t been expected to achieve quite *this* much.

One could deem it a more than satisfactory outcome.

Following that, arrows rained down from behind the soldiers, who had formed a shield-wall.

A clear message that they had no intention of approaching those cornered wretches.

“This… perhaps we have no need to intervene?”

Sylverna spoke, and Isaac was about to nod in agreement.

But the Grand Master’s hood twitched. Her eyes widened slowly, and she tugged at Isaac’s sleeve, whispering.

“Be ever vigilant. This shall not end so easily.”

“…”

Isaac did not question her pronouncement.

The shower of arrows, which had fallen like a torrential rain, now seemed blocked, pattering to the ground.

The moments of their descent varied, and the fragments into which they’d been cleaved differed as well.

If one were to be precise, it was more accurate to say they had been ‘cut’.

The central staircase of Blackthorn Manor, now with neither walls nor ceiling, lay bare.

The man descending it possessed the eyes of a serpent.

His tongue was forked, his skin a bloody crimson.

He looked as if he had been forged in flames, yet his attire was a pristine uniform, befitting nobility.

Two horns rose from his head.

And a tail swayed languidly.

Lastly.

In his hand, he held a great ōdachi, taller than a man.

“That…!”

Sylverna glanced involuntarily at Isaac. He, too, bit down hard on his lip, regulating his breath.

“You know it.”

That it originally belonged to these black b*stards.

Even Isaac had suspected this author wasn’t just some ordinary Transcendent, but the Great Master behind him, somber, confirmed it.

“A lineage of Primordial origin.”

Primordial.

The first Transcendents.

Even ordinary Transcendents could kill a common knight with ease, yet.

A Primordial bloodline was a disaster close to turning the tide of any battlefield.

In his past life, he’d turned his back on them more than once, felt the morale of his allies plummeting into despair the instant they appeared, countless times.

And.

The Great Master’s end, too, was by their hand.