Chapter 348 (Patreon)

An old man sat comfortably on a couch, his legs crossed and one hand resting on the armrest. At first glance, there was nothing particularly impressive about him. His shirt was plain, almost humble, the sort of clothing one might expect from a farmer enjoying a quiet afternoon. Yet everything around him told a different story. The room itself radiated wealth. Expensive portraits lined the walls, their gilded frames gleaming beneath carefully placed lanterns. The furniture was crafted from rare wood, polished so thoroughly that it seemed to drink in the light. Every piece of decoration whispered the same message: power.

Across from him sat Sheen Espada, who had only just arrived. He bowed respectfully before taking a seat.

“Were you able to make contact with her?” the old man asked.

His voice was calm, almost casual, but Sheen knew better than to mistake that tone for indifference. Sheen nodded. “Yes, Grandfather. I managed to touch her hands and arms several times.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed the old man's face. “And?” he asked. “What did it say?”

The question referred to the task that had been entrusted to Sheen by the Espada family itself.

Several days ago, his grandfather had personally handed him a Skill Book containing a rare ability called [Power Revelation]. The skill was deceptively simple. It allowed the user to glimpse another person's true combat prowess, but only after maintaining skin-to-skin contact for several seconds. The longer the contact, the clearer and more accurate the reading became.

It was not a skill suited for battle. It was a skill meant for judgment. For measurement. For determining exactly where a person stood among monsters and if they would affect their plans.

Sheen inhaled slowly before answering. “My brother would lose.”

The old man remained silent.

“I can't compare her to the version I fought before,” Sheen continued. “I didn't possess [Power Revelation] back then. But if my reading is correct, she's much stronger now than she was during our last encounter.”

His expression darkened. “Much stronger.”

The old man's fingers lightly stroked his beard. “And your brother?”

“There is no chance,” Sheen said immediately. “Not anymore.”

The answer came too quickly to be doubted.

For a moment, the room fell silent. The old man continued stroking his beard, his eyes distant as he considered the information.

“How about your father?”

This time Sheen hesitated. The question was more difficult. His father was one of the strongest warriors in the empire, a man whose name alone carried weight in military circles.

After several heartbeats, Sheen finally answered. “They are close.”

The old man's eyebrow rose slightly.

“She might even have the advantage.” 

Now that drew genuine interest.

“She possesses too many troublesome skills,” Sheen explained. “Father's fighting style is a bad match against hers. If they fought ten times, I think Kana would win more often than not.”

The room grew quiet once again. This time the old man leaned back into the couch. His gaze settled on the ceiling. As though he were searching for an answer hidden somewhere among the carved patterns above.

Then he asked a final question. “What about me?”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Only slightly. Only for a moment. Yet the pressure behind those words was enough to make Sheen's stomach tighten.

A faint trace of bloodlust escaped the old man.

Not directed. Not intentional. Merely leaking from someone who had stood at the peak of strength for far too long.

Sheen immediately felt the color drain from his face. “You would win,” he said.

The answer was firm. Without hesitation. Without doubt.

The old man studied him for a few moments longer before the pressure vanished.

Then he laughed. It was not a loud laugh. Nor a cheerful one. It carried the weight of age and experience, the sound of someone who had seen too many battles and survived all of them.

“I never imagined,” he said, shaking his head, “that at my age I would encounter something this interesting.”

His eyes drifted toward the window. Toward the distant city beyond. “What exactly would I gain from defeating a young girl from the Kingdom?”

The question sounded rhetorical.

Yet both of them knew it wasn't. Sheen opened his mouth. “But Grandfather, if—”

“I know.”

The old man sighed before the sentence could finish. For the first time, his amusement faded. What remained was something far heavier.

Responsibility and burden. The kind carried by people who believed the fate of nations rested on their shoulders.

“I know exactly what it will cost.” His gaze hardened. “It will damage my reputation.”

He paused. Then looked directly at Sheen. “But reputations can be rebuilt.”

His voice was calm.  “However, the future of the empire cannot.”

The room fell silent after that. Neither of them spoke. Because some decisions, once spoken aloud, no longer sounded like possibilities. They sounded like inevitabilities.

…..

There was a small celebration that evening after Boris finally woke up. The returning knights joined in as well, turning what should have been an ordinary meal into something closer to a feast. Platters of roasted meat, fresh bread, grilled vegetables, and various dishes prepared by the empire mansion's servants covered the long table.

The problem was that most of the food seemed to be disappearing into a single person.

Boris sat at the center of the table, methodically working through an amount of food that would have fed several knights. Empty plates were stacked beside him in a growing tower. Every time a servant placed down another dish, it vanished moments later.

Even the servants from the empire had begun exchanging concerned glances. One of them quietly carried out another pile of empty plates while another returned with fresh food. Boris burped, nodded in satisfaction, then immediately reached for another serving.

The room fell strangely silent. The knights gradually stopped eating and simply watched. Suri stood beside Boris with her arms folded, staring at the mountain of empty dishes. "I thought I was the biggest eater among us."

She glanced at the towering stack of plates. "Looks like I was very wrong."

Kana and Chelle exchanged a look before nodding in agreement. "We thought so too," Kana admitted.

Chelle leaned forward, genuine concern showing on her face. "Boris, are you sure about taking that amount of food in one go? You might get a stomach ache from eating that much."

"I agree," Suri said. "If I ate that much at once, I'd probably throw up."

Chelle paused and forced a smile. Suri would probably not throw up, not when it comes to food.

Boris paused long enough to consider the question. He looked down at the food in front of him, then touched his stomach.

"That's the strange part," he said. "I don't feel full. Or sick. It feels like..." He searched for the right word. "Refreshing."

He grabbed another piece of meat. "Like I'm filling up something that was empty."

Kana rested her chin on one hand as she studied him. "Maybe it's a side effect of your new skill."

Everyone knew she was referring to the transformation Boris had used during the battle inside the strange gray world.

"If that's true," she continued, "then we need to be careful. We don't know what other side effects it might have. Next time you use that skill, we should make sure someone is watching."

Boris nodded before returning his attention to the meal with renewed determination. The discussion ended abruptly when the doors to the dining hall opened.

Rose Light stepped inside first.

Her wounds had mostly healed, but there was still a faint stiffness in the way she carried herself. The encounter with the Heavenly Jhings had left marks that healing magic couldn't completely erase.

"We have guests," she announced.

The room immediately quieted. Even Boris stopped eating. Well, stopped eating for several seconds.

Everyone turned toward the doorway.

A large man entered the room accompanied by two imperial soldiers clad in polished armor. His expensive robes stretched tightly around his broad frame, and enough jewelry hung from his body to purchase a small estate back in the kingdom. A massive turban sat atop his head, decorated with gold and gemstones that glittered beneath the lantern light.

The man produced a scroll and unrolled it with practiced elegance.

"I am Lono," he declared, his voice surprisingly thin for someone his size. "One of the Seven Councils of the Capital City."

The room grew attentive. Lono cleared his throat and continued.

"I bring the words of Governor Sanki Espada."

At the mention of the Espada name, several people straightened. "The governor formally invites Kana of Saltrain Village, Suri of Saltrain Village, Boris of Saltrain Village, Chelle Pint, Ryle Greece, and Commander Rose Light to attend a meeting at his office tomorrow at noon."

He lowered the scroll slightly "The purpose of this meeting is to discuss your participation in the upcoming King of Kings Festival."

A murmur spread through the room. Boris raised a hand. "Shouldn't it be the emperor inviting us?"

The question caused one of the imperial soldiers to cough.

Lono's eye twitched. His expression tightened as though Boris had unknowingly stepped on a political landmine.

"Unlike northern nation," Lono replied carefully, "His Imperial Majesty is exceptionally busy. It is nearly impossible to receive an audience with him."

He folded the scroll. "I have only seen the emperor twice in my entire life."

A trace of pride entered his voice. "And I am already a member of the council."

That answer seemed to disappoint Boris far more than it probably should have.

"Oh."

Rose Light stepped forward before Boris could ask anything else.

"We will attend tomorrow."

Lono nodded. "Excellent. A carriage will arrive to collect you at noon."

With that, he bowed politely and departed with the two soldiers. The room remained silent for several moments after the door closed.

Then Artin, who had been leaning against the wall the entire time, crossed his arms.

"Why am I not invited?"

Nobody answered. Artin pointed at himself.

"I helped save everyone. I’m quite useful."

Still silent.

"I am literally part of the diplomatic escort."

The silence somehow became worse. Suri finally patted him on the shoulder. "Maybe they forgot."

Artin looked deeply offended. "How do you forget someone who can turn into a bird?"

Chelle considered that. "To be fair," she said, "you were a bird most of the time."

The room erupted into laughter. Even Rose Light smiled faintly.

Artin stared at them for several seconds before letting out a defeated sigh.

"You know what?"

He pointed toward Boris.

"I'm going to sit next to him and eat until I feel better."

Boris immediately pulled another plate toward himself.

Post note:

Yes. Sheen has a hidden agenda.

2nd chap of the week.

Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂

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