novelraw Chapter 206 : Chapter 206
Chapter 206 : Chapter 206
Chapter : 206
“Your expression is not good.”
At the indifferent voice speaking to him, Lerwon—who had been transferring the Golden Elixir into a bottle—nearly shattered the glass jar on the spot.
After confirming who had addressed him, Lerwon asked with undisguised hostility.
“Mordegar, do you have a complaint?”
“Mordin.”
“I do not have the slightest intention of doing what you want, like the others.”
Lerwon sneered openly as he stared at Mordegar.
In his two black eyes, what he saw was not some ‘Mordin,’ but Mordegar.
As long as he remembered the man who had personally dealt with countless people under Iris, Lerwon’s hostility would not fade.
As long as Lerwon remembered their suffering clearly, there was no chance he would ever accept ‘Mordegar’ as ‘Mordin’ in earnest.
“You speak as though you are perfectly innocent.”
When Mordegar spoke with what sounded like a light scoff, Lerwon glared at him as if he wanted to kill him.
“Right. As if I could be innocent.”
Iris had been determined to break Lerwon completely.
In that process, though he had not wanted to, he had tortured people.
He had not killed anyone with his own hands, but he had also driven people to their deaths. As long as he remembered that, Lerwon could not be free.
Mordegar, who had been Iris’s hands and feet, could not be free either. He must not be allowed to become free.
He must not be allowed to be called ‘Mordin’ and walk away from all those sins as though nothing had happened.
“You cannot trust me.”
“There will never be a reason to trust you.”
Inside the dungeon, it had been nothing more than temporary cooperation.
Now he no longer needed Mordegar’s power, so why should he tolerate his existence at all?
“If you insist on making a foolish decision with your eyes blinded by old resentment, I will not stop you.”
“I do not want to hear that kind of nonsense from you!!”
Lerwon seized Mordegar by the collar.
Even then, Mordegar merely stared at Lerwon with an impassive face.
Eyes as inorganic as stone, as if to say you could never have any value to me. Those eyes—so dreadful they made him sick to his stomach.
Grinding his teeth, Lerwon drove his fist into Mordegar’s cheek.
THWACK!!
Mordegar’s cheek snapped to the side, flushing red where the blow landed.
SPIT!
Whether the wound had split or not, Mordegar casually spat out the blood that had pooled in his mouth.
“Is my existence that irritating to you?”
“The fact that you call it ‘irritating’ is proof that nothing about you has changed.”
The look in Lerwon’s eyes carried a vicious hatred and contempt.
There was no point in arguing over who had been wrong.
At least between these two, that was an undeniable truth.
“You may not need me at all, but Theo Lisitoel does.”
“Why would Theo ever need the likes of you?!”
He was not entirely without a guess.
It was probably because of that other talent Iris had found useful while secretly finding it annoying.
It was not difficult to infer.
“Even with one arm?”
“Having one arm does not mean I cannot make staves.”
That was true.
Perhaps Mordegar alone might be pardoned on the grounds of his usefulness as a master staff craftsman.
The Empire was always short on talented staff artisans, and gauging his own usefulness was one of Mordegar’s other talents.
With eyes that held sincere loathing, Mordin looked down at Lerwon, who was a little shorter than him.
In memories that flashed like a revolving lantern, he felt, at the very least, a sense of apology toward Lerwon.
The child who had barely reached his waist had, before he knew it, grown to nearly his height.
Did it move him? He did not know. He only felt that the time he had looked away had been far too long.
“Even if I apologized with complete sincerity, you would not accept it.”
Mordegar knew as well. Sometimes, an apology alone could provoke the other person’s fury even more.
To Lerwon, Mordin was exactly that kind of existence.
Simply realizing that he possessed the capacity to feel regret was enough to stir an extreme revulsion.
That was the natural price of the past he had stood by and allowed.
He neither wanted to undo it now, nor even believed it could be undone. Only—
“I know you cannot tolerate my existence. But at least until Iris Viden collapses, use me.”
“…….”
Lerwon fell into a heavy silence.
“Lerwon Viden. Are you going to ruin things for the sake of personal desire?”
“You crazy bastard, do not lecture me like you are teaching a disciple!!”
Unable to endure it, Lerwon struck Mordegar’s cheek with his fist once again.
Within the clear anger, hatred, and contempt, a cold emotion sank deeper, pressing him like a demand.
It was a waste to get worked up over this kind of trash.
But it was also a waste not to use someone capable enough to be pardoned even after committing grave crimes.
He clenched his fist until it creaked.
His nails dug into his skin until red blood finally dripped onto the floor, yet Lerwon only continued to stare at Mordegar as though he meant to kill him.
“I admit that I need you. But that does not mean you have the right to show yourself proudly in front of me, trash.”
“As you wish.”
“I will make you pray desperately for death.”
Even at Lerwon’s curses, Mordegar did not blink.
If anything, it would have been stranger if he had.
“So why did you come all the way here? If you have something to say, spit it out quickly.”
Even as a precaution for when things went wrong, Lerwon planned to make as many bottles of the Golden Elixir as he could.
It was all he could do right now.
“Do you think the only thing you can do is make support potions?”
“Then what else is there?”
Lerwon slammed a hand onto the desk with a BANG!
A fierce anger burned clearly in his eyes.
Hating himself for being powerless was nothing new, so that did not matter.
But this time was different. Enduring alone would not end anything.
“You stayed by Iris Viden’s side too, so you should know to the point of disgust, should you not? How cruel that woman can become, and how—”
“How she might change her mind on a whim.”
The farce of nobles arguing about negotiations and concessions over Iris existed only because they knew nothing about her.
Anyone who had experienced even a fraction of Iris’s true nature would never dare to entertain the thought of ‘negotiating with Iris.’
The only thing that could be trusted was ‘Golden the merchant group,’ not ‘Iris Viden the human being.’
And yet the so-called leaders of the Empire were determined to commit that foolishness anyway.
“You will hate being lumped into ‘us,’ but only ‘we’ know Iris’s true face.”
“So?”
Theo had Theo’s plan.
Mordin wanted Theo’s plan to succeed.
That would be the ideal ending for Iris as well, and the only path for Lerwon to reach an ideal beginning.
But paths always veered beyond expectation, and Iris was an expert at twisting them.
So the two of them had to consider another plan.
Another plan that only two people who truly understood Iris could devise.
“Will you listen to my plan, at least once?”
Mordin asked Lerwon with a greasy smile.
---
Tap. Tap.
Pieces moved in chaotic confusion across the chessboard.
In the darkness, only the chessboard and the pieces upon it shone.
After several rounds, the woman asked with a vexed, petulant air.
“Can you not go a little easy on me?”
Even at that alluring, beautiful voice, the person opposite her silently placed the next move.
“You ignore what people say without a second thought.”
“…Continue.”
At the demand that was closer to an order, Iris Viden—woman in the dark—let out a laugh.
“You know it too.”
Iris made her next move.
Unlike Iris’s gentle voice in the dark, there was unmistakable fatigue in her opponent’s voice.
The magic used to seal Iris had inverted the concept of ‘the most perfect protection.’
A subspace created for perfect protection was inverted and used to imprison the target instead. And because of that, its fatal flaw was the same.
The moment Evan Lisitoel lost consciousness, the seal would end. The snake named Iris would be unleashed upon the world.
For his sake, Evan endured, forcibly clutching his mind as it drifted farther and farther away—solely for his son.
“At best, the time you can give is one week. To think you can find a way to kill me within that time. How naïve have you become, tsk.”
“Will you not continue?” Evan asked.
A voice that sounded as though he had to stitch it together with effort, word by word.
Evan’s strained voice sounded enjoyable in one way, and yet deeply unpleasant in another.
“…How boring.”
If the goal were simply to maintain consciousness, there was no way Evan Lisitoel’s limit was a mere week.
If it were only a matter of ‘enduring,’ Evan could endure even a month.
An archmage’s mental fortitude did not belong in the same category as an ordinary person’s.
The problem was that he had to maintain magic so overwhelming that an ordinary person’s head would burst from merely looking at it.
Without allowing even a brief rest, continuously.
Even at this moment, his mental strength was being worn away by the second.
“I am the one who wants to ask. Are you not going to give up? You can just give up your son.”
“Nonsense.”
Oh dear—he was even conserving the strength it would take to release killing intent.
He must be having a terribly difficult time. Well, to keep such magic sustained, it would have to be. An ordinary mage would have collapsed long ago.
Only because it was Evan had he endured this far, and he would likely endure a few more days as well.
Clinging to the conviction that it was a grace period he could grant his son, the foundation for victory.
“You do not have to suffer this much for your son.”
Iris’s voice overflowed with leisure.
Time was on Iris’s side. That much was obvious.
She had ‘wasted’ a week, but to her it could not even be called a waste.
Because in that week, the people outside would splinter apart into factions.
“Do you think people will gather their strength to kill me?”
Aha-ha-ha! Iris burst into laughter.
“Evan, I did not know you were this naïve.”
“…….”
“They will wrap my son up prettily and place him before me. Because only then will they be safe.”
And if Iris whispered that she wanted ‘Theo Lisitoel,’ they would gladly offer him up for their own security.
Recalling the white-haired young man who had stared straight at her, Iris moved a piece.
Evan’s white pawn died, and Iris—who took it willingly—leaned her lips close and whispered softly.
“More than anything, do you really think your son is your real son?”
Revealed by the shining pawn, Iris’s mouth curved into a cruel smile.