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Chapter 212: Rinella’s Destiny is Her Own (5)

Instead, they displayed a natural movement, as if darkness was more familiar to them.

Lifting the teapot, pouring tea, and sipping the tea. There was no hesitation in this series of actions.

This signified that they had established their vision.

The two of them were not only sipping their tea but also studying each other's expressions leisurely. In the end, the middle-aged person clad in the pitch-black dress uniform was the first one to break the silence.

He let out a heavy sigh.

"...Fine, I surrender. I have no idea who you are."

"As I mentioned, I am just a loyal subject of the Empire."

The response to the middle-aged man's complaint was so straightforward.

Therefore, the middle-aged man chuckled. A loyal subject of the Empire? As if there were loyal subjects the Emperor didn't even know existed.

Still, it was fortunate that he could at least verbally proclaim himself as a ‘loyal subject’.

He was a talented individual who had already achieved so much at such a young age. Although the agents might not have noticed, the middle-aged man’s discerning eyes couldn't be deceived.

The amount of mana the man possessed was ordinary.

However, his skill in manipulating it was phenomenal. As if the limits, such as the shortage of the total amount of mana, were nothing at all, the man only concentrated his mana where needed at the right moment.

The result was a tremendous increase in physical capability.

Of course, there were limits.

Fundamentally, concentrating mana on a specific body part came with corresponding stress. Yet, the man was effortlessly moving large amounts of mana.

In a prolonged battle, he would be defeated because even when utilizing a means, the limitations of physical ability were evident.

But would there ever be a situation where this man engaged in a prolonged battle??

While contemplating that possibility, the middle-aged man tapped the table with his fingers in a practiced rhythm, like a trained musician.

"It was an impressive skill. Honestly, your mastery in controlling mana is comparable to a Master... Where did you receive training?"

"Isn't the battlefield the best training ground?"

The man sipped the tea with a tired expression as he spoke. Fatigue was particularly evident in his golden eyes.

After swallowing his saliva,the middle-aged man also raised his cup.

The continent had remained peaceful for centuries. War wasn’t taking place anywhere.

There were, at most, subjugations of different tribes taking place at the northernmost part of the continent, or the so-called 'frontline' situated at the southernmost, which could barely be considered a battlefield.

Those two places were battlefields that received considerable attention from the Empire.

Naturally, the middle-aged man was well-informed about them. However, no matter how he searched his mind, he couldn't find any information related to this man.

This indicated that the man's response was a lie.

The reason was obvious.

There was something he wanted to conceal.

As the response was within the expected range, the middle-aged man decided to move on without any comment.

"Well, let's leave that aside... Your skill in handling chains was remarkable. Have you received separate training for that?"

"...There is a flow in everything."

The unexpected response caused the middle-aged man to pause his hand holding the teacup in mid-air. His blue eyes darkened.

"Understanding that flow makes you realize that all weapons are fundamentally the same. Whether it's a sword, a hatchet, a bow, or even chains."

"Even so, claiming that a sword and a bow are the same seems a bit far-fetched, doesn't it?"

"That's what it sounds like, but in reality, I prefer swords and hatches."

The neat acceptance made the middle-aged man chuckle. He put down the teacup he was holding.

"You're an interesting fellow... Someone I know used to say something similar."

A faint longing crossed the middle-aged man's eyes. He seemed to be reminiscing about a certain memory in the past.

What snapped him out of his thoughts was a single sentence uttered by the man.

"I know."

"...Do you know me?"

There was a hint of curiosity in the middle-aged man's question.

He now felt a strong sense of interest beyond amazement. It was unclear where this man's limits lay.

In response to his anticipation, Ian straightforwardly provided the answer.

"If I didn't know, I would have attacked you much earlier, wouldn't I? I’m speaking to the Empire's Sword Duke."

The middle-aged man addressed as the 'Sword Duke' couldn't help but burst into laughter.

The Empire's Sword Duke.

The title carried considerable weight.

He was one of the only three Masters that currently existed on the continent. Apart from the Saint of the Holy Nation or the Great Witch of the Ten Southern Kingdom, no one could rival the strongest swordsman on the continent.

He was rumored to be a monster who, in his prime, destroyed a mountain during a clash with the Saint of the Holy Nation.

However, time had a way of turning even the hottest fire into ashes.

After roaming the continent for many years, the renowned Sword Duke one day returned to the Imperial Palace, reducing his external activities.

In the end, he couldn't break free from the bonds of blood as the Imperial bloodline coursed through his veins.

However, even after several decades had passed, the Sword Duke's reputation and dignity remained intact. No matter how much time passed, a master was still a master.

His power was not something that could be matched by experts.

Even if the current Ian were to challenge him, the odds were so high that he would end up defeated. The leisure of the apparently middle-aged man was derived from his extraordinary skill.

The Sword Duke, who had been laughing a moment ago, soon found himself lamenting.

"Time is indeed cruel... How could I have such an excellent opponent and be unable to draw my sword against him?"

"You still don't seem eager to draw your sword."

In response to the man's nonchalant remark as he sipped his tea, the Sword Duke broke into a wide smile.

"Well, it depends on your performance. But this old man is feeling a bit confused..."

The Sword Duke once again tapped with his index finger on the table.

The guarded expression in his blue eyes grew darker. It was a gaze that conveyed that it wouldn’t be surprising if he were to draw his sword.

Yet, there were no signs whatsoever.

The man silently drank his tea. Before long, his teacup was empty.

"...How do you possess the Dragonblood Script? My nephew claims he never granted it to you."

The man lightly sighed in response to that question. Faint emotions passed through his golden eyes.

Regret and longing, the colors of emotions akin to those of a defeated soldier, all caused the Sword Duke's eyebrows to twitch involuntarily.

An almost unnoticeable sigh escaped the man's lips. He asked in a low voice.

"His Majesty is still healthy, right?"

"No, he has become quite weak. So, I hope you can resolve the troubles of my nephew and me."

The man, lost in thought for a moment, reluctantly spoke.

The Sword Duke showed signs of tension without him realizing it.

Depending on the response, he might have to shed the blood of a promising young man's future in his hands today.

And then, at that moment…

"A dragon hidden in a cradle, a rusty blade that cut more finely than a renowned sword."

"…?"

The riddle-like words momentarily stunned the Sword Duke.

When he shot a questioning look at the man, Ian added a remark.

"Just relay it as it is."

"…To whom is this message?"

"Is there anyone else in this era who is the rightful bearer of the Dragonblood Script?"

It was meant to be conveyed to the Emperor.

Recognizing this, the Sword Duke's expression sank discontentedly. He was the guardian of the Imperial Family and an elderly figure within the Imperial Household.

Not only that, he was also the Emperor's uncle.

As one aged, it was their natural inclination to become meddlesome. For the first time in his life, he felt somewhat uncomfortable knowing that this young man and his nephew were sharing some kind of secret.

However, the answer the Sword Duke would provide was already predetermined.

"…Fine."

His status as the Empire's Sword Duke and the Emperor's uncle was not important.

The sole master of the Empire was the Emperor.

The Dragonblood Script was a symbol of his authority, and naturally, the judgment regarding it belonged solely to the Emperor. The Sword Duke was well aware of this.

The Sword Duke slowly rose from his seat. It was to report to the Emperor.

Just as the Sword Duke was about to leave, another request from the man halted him in his tracks.

"And please inform His Majesty that I will take charge of the Imperial Intelligence Academy branch."

Abruptly stopping, the Sword Duke looked at Ian with a bewildered expression.

It was a situation where he could potentially lose his life depending on the Emperor's decision. Yet, Ian was confidently making additional proposals.

Moreover, his expression revealed no trace of any emotion— just a tired gaze as he sipped his tea.

"Also, please tell His Majesty to cut back on the alcohol. It might lead to trouble later."

"…But he hasn't been drinking much lately."

"Of course, he’s probably drinking in secret. If you open the second compartment of the bedside cabinet and check under the bottom panel, you'll find a liquor bottle."

The Sword Duke had to lower his head. His expression now indicated weariness.

Despite everything, he wondered how this young man could know the secret, even if the Emperor hid it from his uncle.

But that suspicious gaze soon turned into a sour one.

When the Sword Duke returned to the interrogation room, he held an Imperial seal, symbolizing the Imperial Family.

"…It’s just as you said. And I confiscated two bottles of liquor as well."

Ian only nodded silently as if he had expected that.

"Please inform His Majesty the Emperor that I will visit him in the near future."

As he spoke, the man casually removed the handcuffs that had been wrapped around his wrists. The restraints glowed white-hot and snapped with a loud bang.

Watching Ian dismantle them one by one, the Sword Duke's gaze became even more sour.

His expression indicated that it was the first time the Sword Duke realized that such expensive restraints could be easily broken.

The Sword Duke didn't forget to issue a warning to the man at the end.

"For now, I'll trust you, but this is only temporary..."

"Understood."

Nevertheless, as always, the man responded with an indifferent voice.

"Watch me closely until the end."

And so, the Imperial Intelligence Agency Academy branch fell into the hands of the man.

****

Upon hearing the news, Neris immediately spat out curses into the air.

"...Stop talking nonsense!"

Even without this incident, Neris’ feelings towards Ian were already unfavorable. To be precise, she was more fearful.

He was not only brutal, but she couldn't even comprehend the intentions or principles behind his behavior. Neris, who had extracted and analyzed information on numerous individuals, found Ian to be an entirely unfamiliar type of person.

Naturally, he belonged to the worst category for someone to be in charge.

After that, she cursed several times, but there was no chance that the instructions from the higher-ups would change.

Neris was already aware of that extent.

She just took some time to come to terms with this unfortunate reality.

Not long after, exhausted from all the cursing, Neris finally presented a more optimistic outlook.

Yes, even if he was called the 'Academy’s Mad Dog,' wasn’t Ian Percus still human?

Last time, there were circumstances, and as long as they didn't cause any trouble in the future, he wouldn’t be able to beat his subordinates as he wished.

Therefore, Neris decided to try her best to welcome the new superior.

Of course, every time she encountered him again, Neris couldn't help but silently curse him.

Bastard, trash, murderer, violence fanatic...

Although she had chewed out these words in her mind multiple times, Neris easily became disheartened whenever she met Ian's golden eyes.

The fear had not yet subsided.

Nevertheless, Neris harbored hope.

Ian seemed somewhat strict, but he appeared to be quite principled.

There would be no punishment if she didn't make a mistake.

Therefore, if she avoided causing any incidents, there would be no reason for Neris to receive punishment. She held onto that belief for a few minutes before facing Ian.

Splut, and blood splattered into the air.

Neris became stunned. Her lips detached as if in a daze.

It wasn't just blood that soared through the air.

There was also a slender and long finger flying, sprinkling blood. And the original owner of that finger was none other than Neris.

The man who had struck down the woman's finger with a hatchet spoke indifferently.

"Neris..."

As always.

"I told you not to doubt me."

In her stiffened thought process, Neris was reduced to thinking that Ian Percus was not someone principled.

He was an embodiment of violence.

Soon, an ear-tearing shriek /genesisforsaken