The Traitor Of The Clan (4)

As Azadine stepped out of the audience chamber, his companions were waiting for him.

Jiswa, the priest of the Blue Turban Party, was so overwhelmed that tears welled up in his eyes.

“Glory, and yet more glory, Azadine. The Heavenly Lord will be pleased as well.”

Was it because he had felt the Golden King Manza-Jadek’s overwhelming favor? Jiswa couldn’t stop praising Azadine, lauding him as a remarkable hero who had been promised a glorious status, to the point his mouth ran dry.

“So that’s what the Golden King Manza-Jadek looks like—a pig.”

Mediam was appalled by Manza-Jadek’s strikingly unusual appearance. In contrast, Scott was deeply moved.

“So voluptuous!”

“…What?”

Voluptuous? That was a word that had no business suddenly popping up.

“Did you see that richly layered flesh, with not a single visible ab? It was ideal.”

From the perspective of orcs, who gained muscle just by breathing, the corpulent body of Manza-Jadek was the embodiment of their dream physique.

Scott stroked his own firm abdomen with a sigh of regret.

“Ah, if only I could be half the man the Golden King is. Just look at this ugly body of mine. In contrast, Manza-Jadek truly is the Golden King. I might just fall for him.”

“……”

The aesthetics of orcs were vastly different from those of humans. It was a reminder of that fact.

“In any case, what he’s offering is truly exceptional. With a reward like that, the clan could be preserved. Starting a fight with the king of Vthuma’s pardon in hand means that whether we win or lose… the clan won’t be exterminated, right? And afterward, all the power will be in your hands.”

Ismail had brought it up to tease Azadine, knowing he found the reward distasteful, but even as he spoke, he realized it was actually quite a favorable proposition.

“It’ll only matter if we win. From now on, they won’t let their guard down. Besides, if Master is leading them, then he’ll know me better than anyone.”

Just as Azadine said this, the Raven of Shirap cried out once more. It was the voice of the blood mage Joan.

“It’s an emergency, Golden Lion Envoy! A formidable figure has attacked the prison!”

“A formidable figure?”

“Kazas! It’s Kazas!”

“……”

Azadine’s master, Elder Kazas, had personally launched an assault on the prison.

It had already been said that Kazas was leading the offensive. Now that he had joined it himself—

‘He’s calling for me.’

On a moonless night, though the storm had temporarily eased, the air was still oppressively heavy and humid, like water itself.

To make matters worse, it was thick with heat, and the sweat wouldn’t evaporate at all. The unpleasant night air reeked of blood.

By the time Azadine’s group reached the prison, a bloodbath was already underway. The Haldoon gang released from the prison, Elder Kazas, and Sion Ethar had built up piles of corpses.

Many mages and Vthuma’s soldiers already lay dead, and even war elephants were being controlled by Kazas, marked with crimson symbols on their heads.

Kazas had created this scene yet hadn’t left—he was waiting for someone.

“Golden Lion Envoy.”

The soldiers had been driven by Kazas and the Messenger Clan members to the front of the prison building and were hesitating.

Approaching any closer would mean certain death.

No matter how many troops were sent in, they could not subdue those members of the Messenger Clan.

“I’ll handle this.”

Azadine dismissed the soldiers and personally stepped forward to face Kazas.

“You’ve finally come, Azadine.”

“Master.”

Azadine looked upon his master.

–Rumble…

The sky, which had quieted for a moment, roared, and the storm returned with thunder rolling in from the sea.

In his powerless childhood, Azadine was shunned and despised by the entire clan.

Even his own blood-related sister hurt him, and when Aldis—the only one who truly cared for him—was too busy with missions to look after him, it was Kazas who willingly took Azadine in.

“You help me with my research, and I’ll give you the strength to become a Messenger. We give and receive, so don’t overthink it.”

Kazas used to say that to Azadine while drawing a line between them.

But in the society of the Aragasa—the Messenger Clan—one could not survive without strength. In that sense, Kazas had essentially given Azadine the power to live.

The gratitude Azadine felt was immeasurable, beyond anything he could compare it to.

“So. Azadine. It was you who betrayed the clan.”

Kazas greeted Azadine with other members of the Messenger Clan at his side. The humid air made it hard to breathe.

“Master.”

“I told you once, didn’t I? You and I are in a give-and-take relationship. So if that’s your will, I won’t ask anything from you. I’ve neither done you a favor nor received one from you.”

“……”

When Kazas had taught him from the Kazas Grimoire and said those words, Azadine had actually been happy.

Anyone could say you didn’t need to repay a favor. But when someone who truly helped you said it, the weight was like a mountain of gold.

Now, meeting again like this, Kazas once more drew a line with Azadine. But this time, the meaning behind it was different.

“I’ve come here today to deal with the traitor of the clan. Azadine. Don’t answer as a disciple. Speak only for yourself. Why did you betray the clan?”

“Wasn’t it the Elders’ Council who betrayed the clan first? It wasn’t the emperor who cast the Curse of Servitude on us—it was the Elders’ Council…”

“Yet every other member of the clan is standing here, are they not? You alone are resisting the clan, and you say the traitor is the council? Ah, perhaps not alone?”

Kazas looked at Mediam and Ismail standing by Azadine’s side.

“The reason the clan stands there—isn’t it for profit? Joining hands with the Naga, using the dark arts of the Nether to slaughter the people of Hubris. All just to steal what they have.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“I cannot accept that.”

“Are you saying you intend to punish the entire clan? Who gave you that right?”

“Then who gave the clan the right to harm the people of Hubris? At the very least, I act based on my duty as the Emperor’s Messenger, my conscience, and my sense of aesthetics.”

“Hah.”

Kazas gave a bitter smile at Azadine’s unflinching defiance.

“Aldis made a foolish choice.”

Was he referring to Aldis appointing Azadine as the Second Messenger?

Or perhaps to how she raised Azadine and instilled in him her ideals and dreams?

“Does Aldis know about this?”

“That she sides with the Naga and sacrifices the people of Hubris? Of course. Aldis isn’t a fool. It would be a lie to claim she didn’t know what consequences her choices would bring.”

“Why? The Aldis I knew wouldn’t have made that choice.”

“Azadine, you know only one side of Aldis. She is Hathir’s daughter.”

“I was aware of that much.”

No one had spoken it aloud, but everyone in the clan knew that Aldis was the daughter of the Head Elder.

“She’s a compassionate person. That’s exactly why she would prioritize blood and clan above all else. The clan has long lived under persecution from the people of Hubris. Do you think she’d refuse a request from her beloved father?”

Aldis didn’t outright oppose the decisions of the clan. She merely tried to minimize unnecessary bloodshed within those parameters, ultimately yielding to the dominant current.

“Then why do you obey Hathir?”

“Because I made a promise.”

“A promise?”

“Yes. I promised Harkonia that I would protect her son. Long ago…”

There was an undeniable hint of yearning in Kazas’s voice as he said Harkonia’s name, and Azadine immediately understood the situation.

What bound Kazas—who wasn’t even of the Aragasa—to the Messenger Clan was an old promise.

For the sake of a woman he once loved—who was not his to love, but the Emperor’s—he had upheld a mission for centuries, one that no one forced upon him.

“Aldis is the same, Azadine. I want you to be happy… but if your path opposes Hathir’s will, I’ll have no choice but to cast you out. Must it really come to that? Must you go that far?”

“……”

Elder Kazas felt pity for Azadine.

Though he claimed his actions weren’t out of kindness, that it was all just a mutual exchange, it was clear he felt sympathy.

But that couldn’t compare to Hathir.

The same was true for Aldis.

They may pity Azadine, may feel sorry for him—but if he opposes the one they cherish most, Head Elder Hathir, they would sever him without hesitation.

‘So that’s how it is. I… I’m a fool. To them, it was nothing more than cheap sympathy.’

To Azadine, Kazas and Aldis had been the very refuge of his soul.

But what they gave him was nothing more than cheap sympathy, the kind one might offer in a passing morning greeting.

Had it been someone else in Azadine’s position, they likely would have shown them the same kindness.

And yet Azadine had mistaken that trivial kindness as sanctuary for his soul.

Because he had never been loved.

Because of that, even a fleeting kindness had become, in his heart, something sacred he called love and carried with him.

Now, if he betrayed the clan, he would lose even that sanctuary.

Did he really have to go that far?

Was he ready to accept that cost?

That was what Kazas was truly asking.

“Ha… hahaha.”

A sudden burst of laughter escaped him.

‘Good thing I don’t have eyes. It would’ve been pathetic to cry right now. Damn it. I feel so drained. Maybe I should just give up.’

The thought struck him unexpectedly.

If he gave up here, if Azadine, the one who bore the title of Golden Lion Envoy, returned to the side of the clan, Vthuma would fall in an instant.

The resistance would be massacred, the royal guard purged—but perhaps surrendering the throne quickly could bring a bloodless resolution to the crisis.

But—

He loved the stars.

And he loved the story of the Triune Archangels who descended from the realm of stars to protect humanity, and of the Rescue Knights who fought at their side.

He may never have been loved—

But what he loved had always been sincere.

So even if it meant being cast out by his clan and left alone, he could not betray that sincerity.

Azadine drew the Azure Steel longsword.

“So. That’s your answer.”

Kazas saw Azadine’s reply and rested his own hand on his sword’s hilt.

He didn’t ask Azadine to speak. If he did, his voice would surely tremble, and it would all become so undignified.

Azadine raised his sword in silence.

And then, at that moment—

A bolt of lightning struck the royal palace of Vthuma.

“!?”

The atmosphere began to shift. Rainclouds surged in from the sea, and above them loomed a colossal shadow watching over the world.

The Light of the Crown was rapidly fading, and the boundary between this world and the present reality was collapsing.