Carmine, the third son of Duke Komalon, had been in a foul mood for the past week.
While the recent broken engagement was part of the reason, what was really getting under his skin was Count Palatio.
At the latest banquet, he tried to relieve his stress by antagonizing Count Palatio, only to end up publicly humiliated.
Of course, it was entirely Carmine’s fault.
If he hadn’t made inappropriate comments about the appearance of another noblewoman, the engagement talks would have gone smoothly.
And if he hadn’t provoked Count Palatio, he wouldn’t have faced such disgrace.
However, Carmine had completely forgotten that he had instigated the conflict.
He only focused on the humiliation he had suffered, replaying the incident over and over in his mind.
It was the first time in his life he had experienced such shame.
After all, as the son of Duke Komalon, a cornerstone of the kingdom, he had never faced such humiliation before, and that moment had left a deep mark on his memory.
For about ten days, Carmine would often grind his teeth while recalling the event.
As soon as he arrived at the Komalon estate, he spoke, as if making a decision.
“Yes, young master?”
“Where did that bastard say he was going?”
“The last I heard, Count Palatio had some business in Caliban—”
Without listening to the knight finish, Carmine hurried into his room and opened a desk drawer.
Inside were numerous crystal balls.
He picked the one from the far right and immediately took out a magic stone from his pocket, bringing it close to the crystal ball.
As the crystal began to glow brightly, time passed, and the light started to dim.
[Well, if it isn’t my friend Carmine!]
A voice came from the crystal.
“I’ll get straight to the point. I need your help.”
Carmine spoke while holding the magic crystal.
[Hmm? You need help? With what?]
“Count Palatio. He’s probably on his way right now. I need you to deal with [N O V E L I G H T] him.”
[Deal with him? You mean Count Palatio?]
The person on the other end, confused by the situation, asked again.
“You don’t have to kill him. Just leave him half-dead.”
There was a brief silence from the man in the crystal before he spoke.
[Even so, that’s a bit—]
“I’ll give you five.”
“If you take care of him, I’ll give you five more. You need them, don’t you? To get stronger.”
The man in the crystal let out a dry laugh at Carmine’s words.
[Are you serious? You can get me five of those?]
“If you get the job done properly, it’s no problem.”
The man in the crystal remained silent for a moment.
“You can do it, can’t you?”
Then, as if amused, the man chuckled.
[My friend, you know me too well. You always know exactly how to get to me!]
“Are you going to do it or not?”
[All I have to do is take care of him, right?]
“Yeah. As brutally as possible.”
[Wow, he must have really pissed you off to ask this much. Anyway, got it. I’ll take care of it and contact you once it’s done.]
With those words, the communication ended.
The room fell silent, as if the conversation that just took place had never happened.
But there was one difference.
A sly grin spread across Carmine’s face.
‘Did he really think I’d let him off after publicly humiliating me?’
That was the only thought occupying his mind.
“Have we finally arrived?”
“Looks like it.”
It had been about two weeks since Alon met Eliban, the protagonist of this world.
Looking out at the capital city of Kirdam in the distance, Alon shifted his gaze to the back of the carriage.
Various gifts were loaded there, all meant for Deus, the person they were about to meet.
“Ugh, I’m exhausted,” yawned Evan from beside him, clearly tired as he glanced at the gifts.
Alon, too, felt the fatigue, just as Evan said.
“Long journeys are always tiring.”
“…It would have been a lot more peaceful if we hadn’t gone to that labyrinth-like place.”
Their tiredness was not only from the long journey, but also because Alon had made several stops in the past week.
“It was necessary.”
That was Alon’s only reply to Evan.
In truth, the reason they had made all those stops on the way to Caliban was to prepare for the upcoming battle with Outer God.
The lotus-shaped necklace now hanging around Alon’s neck, which hadn’t been there two weeks ago, was part of those preparations.
Ignoring Evan’s gaze, Alon changed the subject.
“Deus has returned from his expedition, right?”
“Yes, he should be here.”
Alon fell silent for a moment before asking, “…He’ll meet with me, won’t he?”
“…I’m sure he will,” Evan replied, though Alon remained slightly skeptical.
‘It’s not just about meeting him… the real challenge is getting him to agree to my request…’
Alon had provided Deus with a great deal of financial support over the years and even saved him from what could have been a disastrous situation.
In terms of pure cause and effect, Alon was definitely in the position of a benefactor.
But realistically, from Deus’s perspective, Alon was probably just a faceless person who had generously spent money to help him from afar.
After all, Alon had never actually met Deus in person.
Without any direct interaction, it was hard to expect any real closeness, so now that he was finally in Kirdam, Alon couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.
‘I can only hope the gifts will win him over.’
As Alon mulled over his thoughts, they finally reached the northern gate of Kirdam, where they joined the line for inspection, just like any other travelers entering the capital.
Even though he was a noble in the Asteria Kingdom, when traveling abroad, inspections were mandatory for everyone.
After briefly explaining his identity to the soldier conducting the inspection, Alon waited for Evan to finish as the line of carriages slowly moved forward.
“Excuse me, Count?”
“There seems to be a slight problem.”
Evan leaned his head into the carriage, speaking, which made Alon tilt his head in confusion. He nodded slightly and stepped down from the carriage, where he was greeted by a knight with an overly confident expression.
The knight had red hair and a lion crest on his chest, exuding an air of arrogance. As Alon looked at him curiously, the knight spoke.
“Are you Count Palatio?”
“That’s correct.”
Though they had never met, the knight spoke informally, as if the facial expressions in this fantasy world were enough to reveal a person’s personality.
As Alon replied, Evan leaned in to whisper into his ear.
“That knight seems to be a disciple of Fiola.”
“Yes, you know, the Fourth Sword.”
At Evan’s words, Alon finally let out a low murmur of realization.
A master knight known as the Fourth Sword, Fiola, came to Alon’s mind, and though he nodded, he still wore a puzzled expression.
“So, why is the disciple of the Fourth Sword here? …And with a whole group of knights?”
As Alon glanced around, he noticed several other knights wearing the same lion crest as Fiola.
“…What business do you have with me?”
Turning back to Fiola’s disciple, Alon asked. The knight, who had been leisurely walking toward him with a smirk, finally introduced himself.
“First of all, I’m Vilan, a direct disciple of Sir Fiola.”
“I’ve heard that my friend owes you a small debt.”
When Alon asked, Vilan smiled and continued.
“Yes, a friend.”
“I don’t recall having any significant connections here in Caliban.”
“My friend doesn’t have any particular ties to Caliban either. He’s from the Kingdom of Ashtalon.”
At those words, Alon instinctively muttered, “Ashtalon Kingdom…? Huh?”
But then he quickly remembered and let out a low, understanding sigh.
“That’s right, you remember. He contacted me.”
Hearing Vilan’s words, Alon couldn’t hide his disbelief.
‘Wait, I didn’t do anything to that guy! …Wait, how long has it been? A few weeks?’
For a moment, Alon was impressed by the petty thug Carmine running to his friends to complain within just over two weeks.
“I also owe him a bit, so I have to at least make an appearance.”
“So, you’ve been waiting here all this time just to make that ‘appearance’?”
“To be precise, I’ve been waiting for word. All carriages from the Kingdom of Asteria pass through this gate.”
Alon felt a wave of dizziness at Vilan’s nonchalant words, as if apologizing for the inconvenience, but not really meaning it.
Even though nobility’s influence diminishes significantly in foreign lands, it wasn’t to the extent that one would be treated like this at the gates.
“So, what’s your plan?”
“I’ll give you two choices. Those valuable-looking goods in your carriage—how about gifting them all to us?”
“And the other choice?”
“Spend about three weeks in the underground dungeon.”
“…You’re well aware that I’m a noble from another country, aren’t you?”
Alon asked, knowing that imprisoning a foreign noble without cause would undoubtedly cause trouble.
“I am Sir Fiola’s only direct disciple.”
What Vilan was essentially saying was, “I can cause a ruckus, and because of my status, I’ll face no consequences.”
The ridiculous part was that Vilan’s statement held some truth. Here, Alon was merely a foreign noble, but Vilan was the sole direct disciple of a master knight.
‘Unbelievable, birds of a feather really do flock together.’
Alon sighed, realizing that this bunch of thugs were perfectly matched for each other. Just as Alon sighed, Vilan gave a wicked smile.
“But to be honest, no matter which option you choose, the result will be the same.”
Vilan lightly tapped Alon’s stomach with the hilt of his sword.
“After all, my friend only asked for one thing.”
Vilan casually threatened Alon.
Evan, who had been silent until now, slowly began to scowl. He instinctively reached for the sword at his waist when—
A voice called out from behind, causing both Alon and Vilan to turn their heads.
There, Alon saw him.
‘Deus Macallian…?’
Dressed in black iron armor, wearing a cold expression, Deus was walking toward them.
The moment he appeared, the atmosphere at the gate grew heavy, as if the air itself was weighed down.
Despite the fact that it was just one person arriving, the soldiers straightened their postures, eyes wide in shock. Even the knights, who had been wearing relaxed expressions moments ago, now stood upright, their faces tense.
The soldiers, who had been casually observing the situation, immediately raised their swords in salute upon seeing Deus, but he didn’t spare them a glance.
“We greet the Great Sword!”
The knights of Vilan’s group, ‘Yuzon,’ shouted in reverence, but Deus ignored them as well.
Instead, he walked directly toward Alon.
Seeing this, Vilan hurriedly pulled back the sword he had pointed at Alon, trying to speak, but—
Deus’s hand shot out and grabbed Vilan by the throat.
Vilan quickly reached for Deus’s hand in protest, but—
“What do you think you’re doing?”
At those cold words, Vilan’s face turned pale as he struggled to breathe, his eyes wide with fear.
“How dare you lay a hand on my benefactor.”

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