Chapter 106

Some things are just hard to take, even when you know they're coming and are prepared for them.

Like being beaten by someone or receiving a breakup text from a lover.

Similarly, the shock Turan felt the moment Talis mentioned the name was immense.

As he took a deep breath to calm himself, a voice came from behind.

“If he’s a grandson, then he’s a grandson. What’s with ‘maybe a grandson’? Just how much was he messing around down there that he doesn’t even know?”

“I get it. What else is there to enjoy in this world? It’s not like we went through all that trouble to invent condoms for nothing.”

“That’s such an old story...”

It was the leader of the Carmine nobles, the Family Head and Lawyer, who raised his hand to stop the noisy Carmine nobles.

"So, why did the guy you mentioned break free from control? I heard that in House Zahar, you guys prepare tracking mediums in advance for talented children when they're young."

"Ah, right. I heard that too."

"Then no matter where he escapes, he'll definitely be caught?"

“Wow, that house really runs things in a suffocating way. Glad I never got involved with your faction.”

“But if someone kidnaps him from far away, at least it’ll be easy to find him. Or just loot the corpse.”

Ignoring the grumbling voices, Talis continued explaining.

"To answer that question, it's because he wasn't born within the house in the first place."

"An illegitimate child?"

“Something like that. During the war twenty years ago, one of my sons messed with an Aravion prisoner. Later, when that prisoner caused trouble and was being purged, it seems she gave birth to the child while on the run.”

“Ah, I know this kind of story. Wasn’t there a trend with this genre where the female lead gets pregnant and escapes?”

“To me, this sounds more like an heroic epic. And if he’s out for revenge against his father, then the setup is perfect.”

“If he’s a child from a rival house, isn’t this just Romeo and Juliet?”

“Then, does that make House Zahar Montague?”

The gods, who were in human forms, laughed and treated his parents’ story like some theatrical play for their amusement.

Turan felt a momentary wave of displeasure at their frivolous attitude, but it faded as Talis explained how he had discovered Turan’s identity.

“Back then, things were too hectic, and since the kid wasn’t particularly strong, there was no chance he would be born a noble anyway, so we didn’t bother looking. But recently, one of my vassals mentioned seeing someone who looked like my illegitimate son. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I investigated, and sure enough, it was him.”

The port city of Comad in the Enril Desert, where he had purchased Bije.

The lord ruling that place, Karl Dirmin, was the first to mention that Turan resembled Talis.

That meant that even if not frequently, he had met Talis on occasion.

Later, when they met again, he had said, “I saw a young man who looked like you”, and instead of laughing it off, Talis had investigated the matter.

‘Should I have killed Karl back then?’

The thought suddenly crossed Turan’s mind, but he shook his head.

Setting aside the fact that the noble hadn’t done anything particularly wrong to him, even if the head of a vassal house had been murdered, an investigation would have inevitably revealed Turan’s existence.

In truth, entering the Enril Desert to investigate his birth had been a mistake from the start.

At that time, he hadn’t realized just how much he resembled his relatives, so there was no way he could have known.

“But why is a Zahar noble wandering around instead of joining his family? Don’t tell me he’s sided with another house?”

“It seems like he’s been hiding his lineage. For now, he’s acting as a lord in the Gray Zone while investigating traces of his parents, but his whereabouts have been cut off. Maybe he suspects that we killed his father.”

“So, why are you telling us this?”

The Carmine family head asked, gazing at Talis with calm eyes.

“Are you asking us to eliminate him if we find him?”

“I just wanted to make it clear that, whatever trouble he’s causing, it wasn’t on our orders. If conflict arises, you’re free to eliminate him... but it would be preferable if you informed us first. He seems to have some skill, so I’d like to take him in and use him.”

“Skilled wizards are certainly rare. No matter how diligently we produce children, ones with real talent are hard to come by."

“You’re not planning to use this as an excuse to pull some stunt, are you?”

“I’m not.”

Though their words carried a threatening tone, they did not seem to be serious, as they soon burst into laughter.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the conversation about Turan ended there, and from then on, it shifted into a nostalgic reminiscence.

This gave him the opportunity to quietly sit back and analyze the discussion.

‘So, all they know about me is that I bought Bije in Comad and that I stayed in Kalamaf to investigate past events. On top of that, they probably also know that I helped the Aravion nobles subdue the Dark Elves...’

Of course, Turan could not be entirely certain that this was all Talis knew.

Judging by the atmosphere, these factions had been enemies for a long time, and this was merely a cautious attempt at reconciliation.

In such a situation, it was unlikely that they had revealed everything they knew.

However, if what they had just shared was truly the extent of their knowledge about Turan, then there was a good chance they were still unaware of other critical facts.

For instance, the fact that he had inherited Aravion blood, that he possessed a top-tier sacred relic capable of mimicking bloodline abilities and appearances, that he had magic power comparable to that of a quasi-family head, and that he had two companions even stronger than himself.

And most crucially, that he already knew the secrets of the gods and had even managed to kill one of them.

It's often said that knowing half-truths could be more dangerous than knowing nothing at all.

Perhaps he could use this to his advantage.

Setting those thoughts aside for the moment, Turan kept one ear open and focused on their conversation, forcing himself to absorb their words.

The more he understood what they knew and how they thought, the easier it would be to counter them.

“Do you remember how Caesar kicked me out of the party because of that YouTube link you sent me?”

“Oh. Yeah, I remember. You even got roasted on the forums because of it.”

“And that guy who kept writing posts demanding buffs for production classes... turned out to be a NetKama. He’s dead now, though.”

“If he were still alive, civilization wouldn’t be in this mess. All the guys among us who had any real scientific knowledge are dead, so this is what we’re left with.”

“Not that it matters. Most of the tools needed for development are treated as items anyway, so nothing can be properly manufactured.”

Naturally, Turan barely understood what they were talking about.

It was probably something related to the forgotten culture of the old empire.

Perhaps if he asked the Librarian, he might get a meaningful answer.

Several hours passed.

Although he was sitting in a shaded area, the lounge itself was so brightly lit that it consumed a considerable amount of his magic power. Turan was beginning to wonder when he should make his exit.

Luckily, he did not need to make that decision himself, as the gods stood up and exchanged farewells.

“We were at each other’s throats before, but it’s not bad seeing familiar faces after so long. Let’s meet up again from time to time.”

“Sure. As long as you don’t try to kill me.”

At Talis’s remark, Jemel chuckled and clasped his outstretched hand.

In the meantime, Turan attempted to use Tracking Magic to gather even a single strand of Talis’s hair, only to realize something astonishing.

‘He didn’t leave a single trace behind...’

Not a single naturally shed hair or eyebrow, nor even a tiny piece of dead skin, which would have had a short-lived tracking effect.

There was not even a speck of saliva on the teacup where it should have been.

It was clear that he had been continuously using Telekinesis Magic or some kind of material manipulation magic to prevent any trace of himself from remaining.

Despite conversing with them as if they were close friends, he had not exposed even a single gap in his defenses.

Turan silently clicked his tongue at the near-paranoid level of caution.

Then, he opened the lounge door and stepped out, blending in with the Carmine nobles as they exited the room.

‘I’d like to follow Talis... but I don’t have much magic power left.’

If things went wrong, he could end up stranded inside the family head’s residence with no magic power to escape.

Of course, if he let Talis go without obtaining a tracking medium, it would be much harder to find him again.

But it was not worth risking exposure or capture.

Moving alongside the others down the corridor, Turan left the family head’s residence and slipped into a deserted alleyway, where he finally dispelled his Concealment.

At last, the nerve-wracking infiltration mission was over.

*

Late at night, Turan returned to Onil’s mansion with an air of absolute confidence.

Though he wanted nothing more than to flee this place immediately, he could not afford for Onil to suddenly go missing.

If someone who had attended the meeting were to disappear, they would undoubtedly search for his whereabouts. And if the existence of the Mimic who had extracted Meisa from Aravion became known, they would realize that the same individual had been active here as well.

If that identity were ever linked back to Turan, things would not end with a simple conversation like earlier. For now, he needed to maintain Onil’s persona for at least a few more days.

It would be even better if he could make his exit seem natural.

In front of the mansion, which was still brightly lit despite the late hour, a line of butlers and servants bowed as they greeted him.

“Welcome back, my lord.”

“The carriage has been maintained as per your instructions.”

He had sent the carriage back earlier, using an excuse that he had errands to run for his infiltration. The coachman, perhaps worried that he might use it as an excuse for a tantrum, quickly offered an explanation.

Feeling utterly exhausted, Turan waved them away with a simple gesture.

“That’s enough. I want to sleep, so get lost.”

Even he found it remarkable how naturally Onil’s rough speech, which he had practiced over the past few days, flowed from his mouth.

He briefly thought that, if the opportunity ever arose, he might consider acting as a profession.

With that in mind, Turan allowed the maids to assist him in washing up before collapsing onto the bed.

“Um, my lord. For tonight...”

“I’m tired.”

Turan dismissively waved off the concubine who had approached to serve him for the night. Then, without hesitation, he pulled out a small hand mirror and activated it.

Since it was nearly midnight, it was not long before Meisa’s face appeared.

[Hello.]

“Good evening. Have you eaten?”

[Yeah. I had fried frog today. Solif was still freaking out about it. You wouldn’t think so just by looking at him, but he’s completely a young master.]

Since they had already spoken several times over the past few days while Turan wore Onil’s face, Meisa was no longer surprised by his altered appearance.

They exchanged a few words about recent events in the Reclaimed Land before Turan got straight to the point.

“I don’t have much magic power left today, so I’ll be brief. I eavesdropped on the gods’ meeting.”

[...Gods’ meeting?]

“Yeah.”

[That’s one hell of a way to start a conversation.]

Turan quickly relayed everything he had heard in the meeting hall and the family head’s lounge to Meisa.

When she heard that part of his identity had been exposed to House Zahar, her face turned pale.

[Come back immediately! No, it’s better if we come to you. If we ride Bije, we can be there in a few days...]

“That’s unnecessary. Like I said, they still see me as nothing more than a high-ranking noble. And they have no idea that I’m here.”

In fact, he even considered the possibility of pretending to join House Zahar, infiltrating from within, and gathering information.

After all, the most dangerous enemy was always the one within.

[Wouldn’t that be too risky? If they dig deeper, they’ll eventually find out that you spent time with me in Aravion or that you were seen near Lavitas traveling with Solif.]

“If they try to use me to track you two, I can feed them false information to throw them off. But let’s think about that later. It’s not something we need to decide right now.”

The immediate concern was the looming war between Aravion and Carmine, as well as the fact that House Zahar seemed inclined to support House Carmine.

Of course, there was no guarantee that Zahar was not merely pretending to help while secretly planning to betray them.

For now, Turan needed to use this situation to drive a wedge between Aravion and Zahar, ensuring that the two houses could not communicate or coordinate.

Additionally, he needed to figure out a way to discard Onil’s identity in a way that appeared natural.

[Just hearing all this is giving me a headache...]

“Well, that’s life. No one ever said it was easy.”

For a brief moment, Turan muttered to himself in frustration, but his eyes soon widened as he sensed a distant presence.

The owner of this magic power was definitely the one he had felt earlier...

"Sorry, I have to cut this off."

[Huh? Why-]

Turan hastily severed the magic power of the hand mirror, stuffed it into his large-capacity pouch, and lay down on the bed.

With his eyes closed, he focused his consciousness on the sensations of the sacred relic, and soon, he felt someone calmly walking down the hallway and opening the door.

A noble’s keen senses would normally detect footsteps from even the far end of the corridor, yet this time, he could not hear the door opening at all.

It was the result of highly advanced Concealment Magic.

‘Talis…’

His grandfather, Talis, stood invisibly by the bedside, looking down at him.

It was almost the exact same angle from which Turan had looked down on Onil two days ago when he cut off his throat.

Pretending to be asleep, Turan tried to suppress his rising anxiety.

Why had he come?

Could it be that he sensed something suspicious from the emotions Turan had displayed during their first meeting?

Just because of that?

If he attacked now, should he fight back?

Even if he killed Talis, without the ability to capture his soul, the information would inevitably spread. That would mean revealing that he was capable of detecting Zahar’s Concealment Magic.

One of his greatest weapons would be exposed for an utterly trivial reason.

“Mm…”

After a brief moment of contemplation, Turan deliberately furrowed his brow, turned over, and let out a groan.

As if he were in the middle of a nightmare.

Talis had undoubtedly already picked up the scent of his anxiety. If he appeared to be sleeping peacefully, it would be obvious that he was awake.

But someone having a nightmare? Fear and unease would be natural, making his act all the more convincing.

For several tense minutes, Turan remained in character.

Eventually, Talis, who had been silently watching him, placed a finger under his nose to check his breathing. Only after confirming it did he finally leave the bedroom.

Once Talis’s presence disappeared completely from his range of detection, Turan opened his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

Just in case, he attempted another Tracking Magic spell, but, as expected, Talis had left behind no traces that could serve as a medium.

“This really isn’t easy…”

His first impression of meeting his grandfather in person?

A man so sharp and relentless that he never wanted to cross paths with him again.

*

Several days passed after the meeting.

Turan carried on with his life as Onil without showing the slightest sign that he had detected last night’s intrusion.

He complained and acted out around the mansion, tormented his subordinates like an unruly brat, gambled with his lowly friends, and indulged in expensive food and liquor.

Ironically, under Turan’s performance, Onil’s reputation had actually improved compared to before.

Unlike the real Onil, who had no qualms about breaking bones or inflicting permanent injuries, Turan exercised restraint.

And to those beneath him, that slight moderation was enough to make him seem significantly more tolerable.

Even as he was cursed at, he overheard people chuckling and saying, "Our lord has mellowed out a bit."

Turan clicked his tongue.

Playing the role of a complete degenerate was proving to be more difficult than he expected.

Perhaps due to these rumors spreading?

About a week after the meeting, Onil’s father, Jemel, came to visit him.

“I’ve heard you’ve been keeping yourself out of trouble lately.”

“Yes, Father…”

“What are you up to? You didn’t go and cause another mess while I wasn’t looking, did you?”

Turan recited the excuse he had prepared in advance, directing it toward Jemel, whose eyes gleamed sharply.

He explained that, after the recent meeting, he had realized the family was in a more dire situation than he had thought and had resolved to change his mindset.

To add credibility, he mentioned that he was now spending an hour or two each day practicing magic at home.

Hearing this, Jemel placed a hand on Turan’s shoulder, his expression touched.

“Never let that resolve waver. If you continue on this path, I will always be on your side.”

His voice was filled with sincerity, and his gaze was gentle.

To anyone watching, he would seem the very image of a strict yet affectionate father.

It was almost impossible to believe that he was actually one of the gods possessing the ruling body of Carmine.

Perhaps, like Ymir, who had once possessed Renaud Nagin, he too had a separate surface personality.

Wasn’t the host’s personality nothing more than a shell, a mere façade?

A façade that could not be maintained without the soul of the god inhabiting it.

With that same benevolent expression, Jemel comforted his "son", or rather, the one pretending to be his son, before getting to the point.

“This time, you have been assigned a mission.”

"When you say mission......"

“There has been a magical beast causing havoc along the northern coast for several days now. The local nobles have found it too difficult to handle. Hearing of your improved conduct recently, I personally recommended you as the leader of the subjugation force. If you complete this task well, the family members will start to see you in a different light.”

Protecting their territory was the very reason nobles ruled over commoners.

Repelling invaders was one of their most crucial duties.

Just as Meisa had once led the Dark Elf subjugation force, such responsibilities were typically given to young, powerful nobles with remaining magic power limits, especially those closely related to influential figures, like Onil.

Turan rearranged the words and tone he remembered from Onil, crafting a mix of arrogance and youthful eagerness, and shouted in a manner befitting an immature noble trying to sound mature.

“Yes! I will ensure that I bring no shame to your name, Father!”

The joyful tone in his voice was not entirely an act.

A battle against a magical beast.

It was the perfect opportunity to finally discard the identity of Onil Carmine.