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Chapter 256: Rinella’s Destiny is Her Own (49)

The people who had set out to find the Dark Priest had returned to the manor.

There was little to talk about other than the trivial matters of daily life. So, when such an uncommon major event occurred, it naturally captured everyone's attention.

Moreover, it was an incident involving the 'Dark Order'.

This was a matter that could be directly related to their safety. They couldn’t help but be interested, even if they didn’t want to.

Thus, the manor was enveloped in an excited yet gloomy atmosphere .

Eyewitness’ accounts, such as Young Lady Ria crying or Young Master Ian bleeding from his abdomen, pointed to an ominous future.

Not to mention, the expressions of the comrades who accompanied Young Master Ian also seemed troubled.

It was unknown where the Mage Corps of the Rinella Family were or what they were doing. For the manor’s servants, feeling anxious was inevitable.

However, the one who faced the greatest ordeal in the manor was someone else.

The protagonist was none other than Leto Einstern.

Upon hearing the news of his friends' return, he was tottering towards the lobby. But he was suddenly grabbed and dragged into the reception room by Celine, who had appeared out of nowhere..

At first, he showed a dumbfounded expression.

However, by the time the four women exuding a chilling aura took their seats in front of him, Leto had no choice but to succumb.

He soon raised both hands and let out a deep sigh .

It was a sign of surrender.

"...What's the matter, ladies?"

From then on, Leto had to answer their questions with sincerity.

"So, you're saying that man is 'Ian' from the future?"

"Yes, that's right. Saintess."

Leto's responses were unhindered.

After all, the 'Ian' from the future had told them to ask Leto if they had any questions. That was tantamount to giving permission to disclose the information, so there was no more reason to hesitate.

Of course, not many were willing to readily believe his statement.

It was a story that was too hard to believe.

Elsie was one such person..

She slightly frowned and spoke in a rather sharp tone.

It was clear she was displeased.

"…How can you be so sure?"

Leto hummed, adjusting his glasses.

He looked a bit contemplative.

But, as always, it didn't take long for him to find a way out. He smirked slyly and began to speak.

"There are ways to know. Ian and I share a few secrets. For instance, when Celine was twelve years old…"

"Ah, aaaaaah!"

The one to vehemently react was Celine.

Her face turned bright red, and she immediately started frantically waving her hands.

Signalling him not to say any more.

Her eyes were practically spinning from how flustered she was..

"S-stop! I'll believe you! I-I'll vouch for him too! That man is Ian Oppa for sure!"

Only then did Leto give a satisfied smile.

Celina was a person who stood at the forefront together with Ian. Regardless of her achievements, her credibility among her peers was inevitably stronger than Leto's.

And even if the trust between the companions wasn't great, it didn't matter.

Leto had at least gained an ally.

Thanks to that, the catastrophe of revealing even Leto's embarrassing past did not happen.

After all, this was the assurance from the two people who had known him for the longest time.

Even Elsie, unable to doubt that , ended up grumbling and closing her mouth.

Of course, that didn't mean it was a story that could be readily accepted.

Embodying this sentiment, Seria sighed deeply.

"Senior Ian from the future..."

To think that the kind Senior Ian would become such a ruthless person in the future.

The man seen by Seria looked like someone from whom not even a single drop of blood would come out if stabbed.

Though his skills were indeed undeniable,

The way he mercilessly slaughtered the test subjects was still vivid in her mind. As someone well-versed in swordsmanship, Seria could tell.

Each and every one of the man's techniques embodied profound principles.

The strongest swordsman she had seen so far was Delphine.

Although Yurdina Marquess might have been a bit stronger in his prime, that was too far back in her childhood to remember. So Delphine had always been her sun.

However, could even the sister she admired so much replicate the godly skills shown by the man ?

It was impossible.

Rather, his battle was closer to the sagas of masters who were said to cut through mountains and split seas.

Yet, beyond his remarkable skills, his emotions were faint.

An utterly worn-down person, clutching onto what remained of his weathered humanity like some gravel. And to think that he was 'Senior Ian' in the future.

It was an unbelievable story.

And one she didn't want to believe.

This wasn't a sentiment held only by Seria.

Each woman was lost in their own complicated feelings.. Most of them were just keeping silent with gloomy expressions.

As if expecting it, Leto scratched his head and sighed.

Soon words of reassurance began to flow from his mouth.

"Don't worry too much. The future that 'Ian' came from is not set in stone. In fact, Ian is trying his best to prevent himself from becoming like that. To explain this further, I'd have to talk about the 'love letter from the future' as well..."

It was at that moment the door to the reception room swung open.

The person who walked through the open gap was none other than the very subject of their conversation.

His golden eyes were steeped in extreme fatigue.

His name was ‘Ian Percus’, the central figure of the group and a man known as a rising star.

However, the one currently occupying that body was a being from an unknown point in the future.

He strode in, each hand holding a bottle of whiskey.

The man naturally headed towards the head seat of the reception room.

It was originally the seat reserved for the Family Head, a place usually occupied by the person of the highest status..

Following that, he placed the whiskey bottles he had brought onto the table.

Then he immediately uncapped one of the bottles and started drinking straight from it.

It was a blatant display of bottle-chugging.

A bold manner of drinking that was common in the North. The kind of drinking habit one would only see in the male-dominated military culture.

Only someone like Seria might have seen this a few times in passing.

So they were momentarily at a loss for words.

It couldn't be helped, as the man suddenly came in and started chugging straight from the bottle out of nowhere.

Eyes wide open, they just blankly stared at the man.

Regardless, he didn't seem to care at all.

He simply thumped the whiskey bottle down on the table.

The noise snapped everyone out of their daze.

The group, having come to their senses, turned their attention to the man in unison.

It was then that the man wiped his mouth and began to speak.

"...To get straight to the point, we must abandon this territory."

It was a statement just as abrupt as his entrance.

The women's silence lingered a bit longer.

It couldn't be helped.

For a noble, their territory was like their life. This was no different for Ian, who often showed affection towards his territory's people.

Yet even if he was 'Ian' from the future, to suggest abandoning the territory.

The discrepancy was too great, it left the women speechless.

Only Leto, having somewhat of an understanding of the man’s character, dared to ask.

"Why?"

It was neither an accusation nor a denial.

Just a fundamental question, to which the man provided a straightforward answer.

"Because we can't defend it anyway. Now that the Dark Order's ritual has begun, the Evil God’s underling will be summoned. We’re no match with our current forces."

"...Even with the private soldiers of the Yurdina family?"

Seria countered.

The man silently shifted his gaze to Seria.

Meeting those indifferent eyes, Seria flinched and avoided his gaze.

The possibility that the man she loved could face such a dire end was especially hard for Seria to accept.

Perhaps it wasn't just Seria who felt this way, but all of them.

But the man seemed indifferent to the women's complexions.

He simply continued with what he had to say.

"Yeah, it doesn't matter whether we have private soldiers or a mage corps. Rather than increasing unnecessary sacrifices, it's more rational to retreat."

"...How much time do we have?"

"At most, three days."

It was an exchange between him and Leto.

The moment the words 'three days' were uttered, someone slammed their hand on the table with a bang.

It was the Saintess.

She, who inadvertently struck the table, seemed momentarily flustered by the attention that was drawn to her, but quickly regained her composure and inquired in a calm and steady voice.

"Three days is too short. This isn't just a simple piece of land, it's a place of livelihood! There will surely be at least several hundred territory residents who won't be able to leave..."

"Can't be helped."

The man said as he took another big swig of whiskey.

"...We have no choice but to let go of what must be discarded."

His voice was devoid of any emotion.