[Translator - Pot ]
[Proofreader - Kawaii ]
Chapter 216: What Awaits at the End of the Path of Vengeance
Butler Aiden stood quietly outside, guarding the reunion between mother and son.
"Thank you, Count," said Friederun with tear-filled eyes as she bowed deeply to the Head Butler.
"You've suffered much as well," the Head Butler replied.
The two of them had worked together to maintain what little connection Lusatia had with the outside world.
"Our efforts weren't in vain."
"Indeed they weren't."
Friederun had waited a very long ti for this mont when her spirited and wise master would spread her wings and soar once more.
"I always believed that the Fourth Lady was more than just gentle and fragile."
"I believed so too."
Friederun had observed Lusatia's determination.
"Young Master Allen rising up on his own and working toward avenging Eisenach, it was truly fate."
"Yes, a fate that could no longer be ignored."
"Now he's ready to willingly throw himself into the turbulent currents of the era."
"...It couldn't have been an easy decision."
Lusatia's return to the duchy's political arena wasn't rely an issue concerning her alone. It carried the significant political implications of rebuilding the Eisenach as imperial in-laws.
Naturally, this would also create a major shift in the succession struggle for the Grunewald Duchy.
"Taking Young Master Allen's hand, reviving the clan, and inheriting the title of Duke."
Friederun's eyes now held firm resolve as well.
"And to stand against Visquera, Bergen, and Agrippa."
Lusatia would tell her son the hidden truths.
"Are the three of you prepared to bear any truth together?" the Head Butler asked, turning to Olivier, Jeffrey, and Peter.
"Is there even a question, Uncle?" Olivier answered imdiately.
"We have been waiting only for this mont."
***
The old tale Lusatia shared reached far into the distant past.
"This story takes place when Litvaleur was neither a kingdom nor even a period of warring small nations," she said.
How many hundreds of years ago could this be? Allen wondered in amazent.
One thing was clear: this story took place long before the ti of Vitenfeld Grunewald.
"When this entire peninsula was a colony of the now-fallen empire, there lived a man in the Virgenhrid Mountains. His na was Eldarkion Eisenach, a legendary gladiator who had achieved an undefeated myth in the imperial arena."
"...A gladiator?" Allen frowned.
"Was he a slave?"
"That's right," Lusatia nodded.
"Since ancient tis, the Virgenhrid Mountains were famous for their treacherous terrain. The harsh natural environnt itself was a cradle for warriors."
Allen inwardly agreed.
'That's true. Humans are destined to grow stronger through days of struggle.'
"Lord Eldarkion was born with a strong physique and courage, and he possessed leadership skills that guided his peers. He was a boy who was certain to beco the next tribal chief."
Lusatia continued her story like a mother telling a fairy tale to her son.
"For a warrior, a sense of adventure is a virtue. But unfortunately, our ancestor, who had gone hunting far away, encountered imperial soldiers..."
Soldiers in armor, wielding swords and spears forged of steel. And cavalry shooting arrows and riding horses.
Before them, there was nothing the 'very young barbarians' could do. As arrows flew and the boys began to fall, Eldarkion imdiately understood the situation.
He went wild alone to help his companions escape.
"According to the story, he killed dozens of soldiers in an instant with just a crude axe."
The commander, noticing his ferocity and strength, ordered his capture.
That's where Eldarkion's legend began.
"As paynt for helping three of his companions escape, he was dragged to the distant imperial capital and beca a gladiator in the arena."
It was truly a shocking world. Spectators numbering tens of thousands, their bright clothes in colors he had never seen before, and their strange hairstyles.
"Won wearing powder and painting their faces, strange scenes of slow and dull-looking n being protected by warriors."
And above all.
"The spectacle of warriors captured from various regions dying as entertainnt for a single night."
Even there, Eldarkion was special. He possessed innate strength, exceptional martial talent, and survival instinct.
Though no one taught him martial arts, Eldarkion absorbed combat techniques greedily and grew stronger by honing them in actual combat.
"By the ti he'd grown into a robust adult, there was no one in the arena who could match him one-on-one."
Then sothing strange happened.
Among the spectators moved by Eldarkion's strength and indomitable will, so began to worship him.
"It was truly a ridiculous paradox. Nobles and free citizens worshipping a re immigrant slave?"
A hero quickly becos a threat to power.
The emperor issued a special order, and to kill the arrogant barbarian gladiator, the arena prepared a terrible stage of execution.
Beasts, monsters, magical creatures, mages, and powerful warriors, all rushed in to kill a single gladiator.
"How do you think he survived?"
At Lusatia's question, Allen ventured hopefully.
"Did he awaken the dark mana there?"
"That's right."
In that mont of life or death, Eldarkion absorbed the magic flying toward him to cut off his breath.
Radiating a blade aura more brilliant and sharp than ever before, he slaughtered all his enemies and then held up an enemy's head from a pool of blood.
"That day, our ancestor literally beca a legend among gladiators."
"I can see why. The trial that failed to kill him only made him shine brighter."
Eldarkion grew in power and fa day by day.
"Known as 'The Undefeated Eldarkion,' that man's reputation finally led citizens to demand, 'Make this hero a free man.'"
That was the beginning of another catastrophe.
"From ancient tis, rulers have extrely hated public heroes. The imperial emperor decided to kill him as humiliatingly and insultingly as possible, by any ans necessary."
However, the emperor's plan reached Eldarkion's ears through a noble who deeply respected him.
"He decided to escape. He had been expecting such a day would co."
If one knows, one cannot help but prepare.
Eldarkion had long since used his dignity and reputation to build friendships with other gladiators and earn their loyalty.
It wasn't difficult. He had long been established as a symbol of hope for slaves brought from all corners of the empire.
"They called each other brothers, shared how to survive as gladiators, and passed on combat techniques. In other words, he had forces under him with more practical experience than any soldiers."
That night, Eldarkion led a rebellion. Hundreds of gladiators killed the arena master, seized the armory, and attempted an escape in the middle of the night.
"The empire was turned upside down, and a pursuit team was quickly ford."
However, Eldarkion repeatedly annihilated the imperial forces that ca after them.
"It was thanks to the immigrant general-turned-gladiator who joined as his strategist, possessing outstanding tactical capabilities."
From that mont, Eldarkion beca not just a fugitive slave but the leader of a rebel army and a warlord.
"Slaves suffering from discrimination joined under his banner. According to one account, his forces suddenly grew to more than 10,000."
And when they reached the sea to return to the peninsula.
Eldarkion sent back those who wished to return to their holands and crossed the sea with only those who would follow him.
"That number was as many as 3,000."
Eldarkion finally returned to the Virgenhrid Mountains with his companions.
It happened 17 years after he had been taken away as a slave.
"Upon his return, he found that one of the companions he had helped escape had beco the tribal chief. That man imdiately knelt, paid homage, and proclaid our ancestor as the new chief."
Thus, Eldarkion beca both the leader of a liberation army and the king of the mountain people.
"He fortified the natural barriers and prepared for the empire's attacks."
The emperor's anger was imnse.
He absolutely needed to behead Eldarkion as an example to all imperial subjects.
"The governor ruling the Litvaleur Peninsula ford a punitive expedition, but they only confird that they could never overco them with the treacherous mountains as a battlefield."
Three punitive forces were all defeated, but the mountain people were equally exhausted and starving from the continuous fighting.
"Our ancestor infiltrated the enemy camp alone, assassinated the governor, and hung his head as a warning to the emperor."
The mysterious power of dark mana, the martial prowess that stood at the peak of the arena, and forces trained through continuous battle.
Eldarkion had beco soone even the emperor could no longer take lightly.
"In the end, the emperor had no choice but to sign a truce recognizing our ancestor's right to independence in exchange for acknowledging the emperor's authority."
Thus, Eldarkion's na beca the nightmare of the empire and the legend of the mountain people.
"Peace finally ca, but the dark mana had long tornted his body and mind. Eventually, he passed his position to his son and lived in seclusion, researching ways to control that power."
An unparalleled genius with an indomitable will, Eldarkion eventually succeeded in creating martial arts techniques to control this power that was like a curse from heaven.
"But too much ti had passed. His son, who had inherited the throne, had died, and now a young grandson had beco the leader of the clan."
There was no place for a hero of the past in the new era.
So when he turned 100, Eldarkion left only his final teachings and disappeared without a trace.
"Many stories are told about his end, but no one knows the truth."
So even believed he had beco a spirit of the mountains.
"...This is the story of our ancestor, Eldarkion, as I heard it from my father."
Mother took a sip of water to moisten her throat.
"So the blood of the great hero flowing in my body wasn't just from the founder Vitenfeld."
I suddenly looked down at my palm.
'What an insane bloodline.'
It was absurd to hear.
'I already knew my body itself was fraudulently powerful.'
But I never imagined to this extent.
"Among his descendants, there were those who rarely awakened dark mana through atavism."
Mother said.
"But their nas generally weren't passed down to posterity. Do you know why?"
I answered.
"They couldn't overco it."
"That's right, my son."
Mother covered my hand with hers.
"To master his martial arts requires trendous talent, power of the 7th tier or higher, and an iron will that won't break under any pain or trial."
"...7th tier."
That was truly no easy level. Even Karzan in my past life ultimately couldn't reach it.
"Until those conditions are t, dark mana is nothing but a ti-limited curse that makes its possessor suffer."
"The doctor said it could only be cured by obtaining Ereshkigal."
"That is one way."
However.
"For a true master, dark mana is not a disease to be cured."
Mother declared.
"Rather, it's a secret weapon to be overco and controlled, a privilege given only to the chosen."
"And to enjoy that privilege, I must defeat Grimnar Angantyr and complete my revenge."
Could there be anything more providential?
By succeeding in my revenge, I would achieve a feat sufficient to ascend to the throne and also gain martial arts techniques passed down through a single line that would exchange my terminal condition for trendous power.
"That gives even more motivation."
"But that path will truly be a thorny one."
"Now I understand how great a resolution you needed to make before appearing here, Mother."
I said.
"But having made up my mind, I will no longer hesitate or run away."
Mother's aura enveloped .
"I will walk this path with you, Allen."
How coincidental and fated this all was.
Allen's personal revenge becoming the revenge of Eisenach, which in turn becos the path to the throne of Grunewald.
'And even by gaining the power to control dark mana...'
I could beco 'Karzan's blade' to aid in revenge against the Dark King.
'But right now, more than anything...'
"I'm just happy to et you again, Mother, and to be together from now on."
I embraced my mother. The sensation was so delicate and light, yet warm.
"You've beco too thin. Please eat properly from today."
Mother replied with a tearful voice.
"Let's eat together often."
"Yes," I smiled.
"Our chef's skills are amazing."
Mother smiled in return and stroked my back.
"I look forward to that."
[Translator - Pot ]
[Proofreader - Kawaii ]
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