Chapter 16

Hazabut’s stalling was obvious. Frustration boiled inside Dumaine.

He had taken this vacation for today. The chance had come. In the presence of a Dragon Heart, all magic became useless.

“How strong do you think it is?”

“That crystal?”

“Yes, this one.”

Dumaine tossed the crystal into the air and caught it again, over and over. Hazabut’s eyes widened as he tried to stop him.

“That’s dangerous.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a Master. Haha.”

Hazabut knew well what kind of physical prowess a Sword Master possessed, but watching such a priceless treasure tossed around like that made him anxious.

“You should stop.”

“Haha, fine.”

“Wha—!”

Suddenly, Dumaine hurled the Dragon Heart against the wall. Hazabut was so shocked he froze, unable to react. At that moment, Dumaine pulled something from his cloak.

A rolled-up parchment. He ripped it cleanly in half.

Mana warped instantly. Though it stabilized soon after, the twisted traces remained in the air.

“This…?”

The old mage immediately sensed the disturbance.

“Forgot already? A mana field.”

How could he forget? The mana field spread across the Desert of Death had nearly cost him his life.

Hazabut realized the danger and began preparing a spell—but his mana scattered before it could take shape.

“Ah, don’t bother. I heard nothing below 5th-class works inside it.”

Hazabut was a 7th-class archmage. He could still use 6th- and 7th-class spells, but those required time to chant. Desperate, he turned to flee the reception room. His life was in danger.

But Dumaine gave him no chance.

The mana field didn’t affect a Sword Master in the slightest. He closed the distance in a flash and slammed his fist into Hazabut’s solar plexus.

“Kuugh…!”

The pain was so severe the old man drooled uncontrollably. In all his life, he had never felt such agony. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious.

Should he kill him now? Dumaine shook his head. But leaving him alive like this was no good either.

He would think about it later.

“This alone is enough.”

The Dragon Heart was intact.

Dumaine tied up the old mage with the rope he had prepared. He blindfolded him, bound his hands behind his back, looped the ropes in multiple layers. He tied his legs and gagged his mouth as well.

“Heheheh.”

Normally, he would never have done something so reckless. But blinded by the Dragon Heart and consumed by ambition, his mind no longer worked rationally.

He hefted the bound Hazabut onto his shoulder, shoved him into the carriage, and climbed onto the driver’s seat himself.

Leaving the orcs behind, Colin crept close to the villa, hidden in the shadows. He was curious about what was happening inside, but barging in wasn’t an option. Instead, he sharpened his hearing, tuning in to the voices within.

The king’s name was mentioned… and something about a crystal. A high mage and a Sword Master scheming together?

Just then, the door opened.

‘Interesting…’

Colin spotted a swordsman-like figure carrying an old man bound in ropes over his shoulder.

‘That face… I’ve seen that mage somewhere before.’

It was a familiar face, definitely someone renowned. Where had he seen him?

Then Colin’s eyes caught sight of the crystal.

Thump. Thump.

His chest pounded. Even as a Grand Master, his heart thundered beyond control.

There was a crystal in the swordsman’s hand. He shoved the unconscious mage into the carriage. At that moment, it no longer mattered who the mage was.

‘Dragon Heart…’

In the Empire, there existed dragon mana, granted to Masters and above to broaden their horizons, to spark new realizations. Colin had felt it the moment he ascended to Master level, and he had never forgotten it since.

And the mana he felt from that crystal matched it perfectly—chillingly so.

Colin set off after the departing carriage. Dumaine drove on, unaware that a Grand Master was tailing him.

The carriage traveled for a long while before stopping before a cave. Dumaine dragged Hazabut inside and left him deep within, then immediately seized the crystal and began to meditate.

Dragon Heart mana trickled into him. Euphoria surged through his body, a sensation beyond description racing through every vein.

‘What a miraculous chance…’

Colin watched Dumaine absorbing the Dragon Heart and completed the scenario in his mind. Then he moved without hesitation.

Lost in ecstasy, Dumaine never saw him coming.

Colin’s cold smile flashed as he struck the back of Dumaine’s neck, hard enough to knock him out.

“Kuugh—! Kkughk!”

Black blood spewed from Dumaine’s mouth in violent bursts.

“Grrrk…”

His eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. Foam bubbled from his lips as he toppled over unconscious. Yet even then, his hand still clutched the crystal.

“Greed written plain as day,” Colin muttered.

Colin took the crystal and tucked it safely into his robes.

“You can’t die yet, young man.”

For the scenario to play out properly, Dumaine had to remain alive. Whispering swiftly into his ear, Colin pressed his palm against Dumaine’s back and pushed mana into him. But the unconscious man’s body resisted violently.

Dragon mana.

Colin quickly withdrew, softening the recoil to limit the damage. Even so, his face paled. Even for a brief moment, directly brushing against such feral mana left its mark.

“At least you won’t die.”

Dumaine’s ashen complexion gradually improved. Still, if left alone, he might only grow stronger. He had to stay alive, but not stronger than this. That way, his words and influence would carry less weight.

Colin channeled mana into his hand and struck Dumaine’s neck and navel lightly.

“Kuheok!”

Dumaine vomited more dark blood and shuddered violently, his complexion growing even darker.

Colin glanced deeper into the cave, then turned to leave for the Empire—only to pause. Leaving both men here would be troublesome.

So he hauled Dumaine onto the carriage and, against all expectations, played coachman. Retracing the road, he returned to the villa, dumped Dumaine there, and finally made his way back to the Empire.

Hazabut regained consciousness two days later.

A strange tension rippled across the continent. It all stemmed from one incident, centered between the Crimson Empire and Widav Kingdom—the famed kingdom of magic.

What began as a diplomatic affair had become the hottest topic everywhere. In taverns across the land, it was all anyone could talk about—because the story was sensational.

Crimson Empire, inside a tavern.

“You heard?”

“I heard it while waiting for you. But is it real?”

“Of course it’s real! Everyone’s talking about it.”

“Still, come on. A Dragon Heart? Does that even sound possible?”

“Then why hasn’t the Empire made any announcement? It’s been over thirty days, and they’ve stayed quiet.”

The two men chattered on. Around them, every table buzzed with the same rumors.

“Haah~ Drinks taste better with gossip like this! So listen: a Dragon Heart being secretly transported by the Empire got ambushed by a Widav Sword Master! But here’s the twist—it was actually a Grand Master carrying it! And in the clash, the Sword Master was beaten within an inch of death and lost his mind!”

One man stood up, performing like a storyteller. At another table, people even acted it out like a play. Other kingdoms were no different—similar tales spread like wildfire.

“Hahaha! To think it was Sir Colin pulling the strings! Not only the greatest swordsman on the continent, but also a schemer to match—it seems I am truly blessed! Ha-ha-ha!”

The Emperor of the Crimson Empire laughed until his jaw ached.

“It was only by Your Majesty’s grace that it was possible,” Colin replied, smiling along.

They were gathered in the great hall, surrounded by the Empire’s core elite. The Three Great Knights were present, along with the imperial court’s chief mage and numerous counts.

They took Colin’s initial “scenario” and embellished it even further. With Colin having already acted—and more importantly, with the Dragon Heart now in their possession—the story was airtight.

The Emperor, harboring ambitions of unifying the continent, demanded only the finest scenarios from his brightest talents. Within days, a masterpiece had been produced.

The Empire’s high command now debated the next steps. Seize their weakness and exploit it.

The justification was already ironclad.

“Now that we’ve secured justification, it’s time we roughly adjust the timing as well.”

At present, Widav Kingdom had become the reckless nation that dared challenge the Empire. The scenario was airtight: a bold Sword Master, after catching wind of Dragon Heart intel, launched a secret mission against the Empire and failed miserably.

And so Widav lopped off its own tail—discarding the supposedly guilty Sword Master. Up to this point, everything had flowed exactly as the Empire’s script demanded.

The knight, his mind shattered, could no longer speak a word in his own defense. Exiled, reduced to a cripple, he was no longer any threat. In a way, that was fortunate.

Widav had put out the fire, but only barely. The Empire’s wrath still loomed, though it was somewhat soothed by the exile. The Widav king bowed his head to the Empire, the Empire feigned outrage, and Widav cried injustice.

There was no proof Dumaine had ever targeted the Dragon Heart the Empire was transporting in secret. But the circumstantial evidence stacked up. Before the assault, Dumaine had taken a sudden vacation, and he had ordered his butler to procure a mana field scroll.

In the end, Dumaine himself was crippled and exiled in a broken state, both body and mind. At the same time, the Empire unveiled the Dragon Heart before the continent—a priceless treasure, undeniable evidence.

Hazabut had nearly leapt from his skin in shock. Wasn’t that the very Dragon Heart they had discovered in the Demon Temple?

His assailant, Dumaine, was now reduced to a husk. The Dragon Heart was in the Empire’s hands. He had no idea how this could be. Only Hazabut knew the truth, but he could never speak it. He had deceived the king from the start—this secret had to go with him to the grave.

And yet, worry gnawed at him. It was clearly a fabrication, but that was what unsettled him most. The Dragon Heart Dumaine once possessed had surfaced in the Empire’s grasp. That meant the Empire might, even faintly, know of its connection to Dumaine… and to him.

Ridden with unease, Hazabut shut himself away in the Magic Tower. Outside, rumors swirled, whispers tying him too closely to Dumaine in the past.

Ten days had passed since Dumaine’s exile.

A man came to Hazabut in secret.

Finding him wasn’t hard. The man only had to say one word: “Cave.”

The cave where Hazabut had first regained consciousness.

“…Where are you from?” Hazabut asked.

“From the place you’re thinking of.”

The man from the Empire curved his lips into a smile.