Chapter 301: The Secret Behind His Birth (2)

The Mad Saint King emerged from the darkness. He had a shaggy beard, bulging eyes, and a massive frame nearing two meters in height. Even if one tried, there was not the slightest resemblance to Keter, whose features were handsome no matter how one looked at him.

Yet the Mad Saint King spread his arms wide.

“Come here. Let me give you a hug.”

There was no hostility in his words, but the malice was so strongly etched into his expression that he might as well have been called a demon king.

Keter did not approach him, and it wasn’t just because of that sinister expression.

“There’s not a single thing about us that looks alike, so why are you insisting you’re my father?”

Most would simply assume that the Mad Saint King was insane and making things up, but Keter himself was no stranger to madness. Because of that, he understood the mindset of madmen.

Kron, the Mad Saint King, was not insane. He genuinely believed Keter was his son. That was why Keter wanted to know the basis for that belief.

Kron stroked his coarse beard.

“True, you don’t resemble me...” he muttered. “But it is certain that the blood of our Yaksha tribe flows through you, and I am the last surviving Yaksha. Therefore, you are my son.”

“Yaksha tribe? What is that?”

“A guardian tribe that has fought the malevolent gods since ancient times and kept their seals intact. Look.”

Kron turned slightly and revealed five orbs floating in the darkness. Inside each fist-sized sphere were grotesque monsters carved in disturbing detail.

“Do you see their forms?”

“Yes, I see them. They’re rather small for Malignant Gods.”

“Haha... The fact that you can see the Malignant Gods beyond the orbs, as well as the fact that your mind remains intact even after seeing them, is proof that you are a Yaksha. No other race can perceive the true forms of Maglinant Gods without divine power, and even with it, their minds would be corrupted by the gods’ aura. And yet, look at you. You’re perfectly fine.”

“...Is that so?”

Just as a fish living in the sea takes breathing underwater for granted, it didn’t fully register with Keter that seeing Malignant Gods, which came so naturally to him, was a privilege of being a Yaksha.

No... it might make sense. But I’m from Sefira.

All members of the Sefira family possessed golden irises and violet pupils. That wasn’t merely cosmetic—it granted them hawk-like vision and freedom from the constraints of darkness.

If what this man says is true, then I’m from both Sefira and the Yaksha tribe?

Even for Keter, who rarely bound himself to common sense, that was absurd.

Still, just in case, he asked, “...Are you female, by any chance?”

“What?”

Kron stared at Keter as if he were insane. Keter waved his hands hurriedly.

“No, listen. My father is Besil, the patriarch of Sefira. These eyes are proof. But if what you’re saying is true, then I have both Sefira blood and Yaksha blood, which would mean you and Besil...”

“Enough. Wasn’t the woman who gave birth to you named Akrah?”

“...Yes. That’s right.”

“Then you are indeed my son. As for being from Sefira? That’s something you’ve misunderstood.”

Keter was genuinely shaken—even more than the day he regressed. He had been convinced Kron was simply mistaken, until the name Akrah came out of his mouth.

Something was very wrong. Two different men were claiming Akrah as their wife and Keter as their son. If he counted the two people in Sefira who claimed to be his father as well, there were now four men insisting Keter was their son, each with their own so-called evidence.

Since Keter still didn’t know the full truth behind Sefira’s circumstances, he decided to focus on the Mad Saint King before him.

“Where is Akrah, my mother? If we ask her, we’ll have our answer.”

There was no way for Sefira to know Akrah’s whereabouts, but it was clear Kron knew something.

“That’s what I should be asking you. Shouldn’t you be the one who knows where Akrah is? She’s the one who gave birth to you and raised you,” Kron asked.

Keter rubbed his forehead.

“I grew up in Liqueur without knowing who my parents were.”

“Alright, anyway, my long wait was worth it.”

“...Anyway?”

Kron acted as if none of that really mattered. Keter was dumbfounded.

“Akrah promised to bear my successor and took my seed. That was fifty years ago. I waited a long time. Now, I will train you to become the guardian of this place.”

The Mad Saint King only talked about what he wanted. In that regard, at least, he truly did resemble Keter.

“I never agreed to that,” Keter replied.

“Haha. A son defying his father—how bold.”

As the crushing pressure returned, Keter realized something clearly. Even if Kron truly was his father, to Kron, a son was nothing more than a tool. The warmth and joy he had shown earlier were no different from the reaction one had when uncorking a bottle of wine that had been aging for a long time.

The corner of Keter’s mouth twitched. He had been angry many times in his life, but he resolved it through violence every time—either the other party died, or he did. Because of that, the emotion called rage was unfamiliar to him, as he usually dealt with it before it could take shape.

But the moment Keter realized that Kron, who might truly be his father, saw him as nothing more than a tool, rage surged up to his head, as this was not something that could be dealt with through a fight. However, it wasn’t something that could be resolved through conversation either. Kron wasn’t that kind of person.

The realization that it couldn’t be solved by words or violence, and that the other party was his own father, filled Keter with irritation and fury.

“In a crazy world, the sane one ends up being the madman.”

A fierce presence erupted from Keter’s body. He drew on all the Ein power he had accumulated, along with the full might of the Terra Ring. Whether the opponent was his father, or an absolute being beyond Transcendentals, Keter had not the slightest intention of submitting.

* * *

There was no chance of victory, and Keter knew that. Kron obviously also had Ein, so even the might of the Terra Ring, a fragment of the gods, would be useless before Kron’s overwhelming strength. Keter may be able to withstand Kron if he used Heavenly Strength and Mandala, but in the end, he would lose. Yet, knowing all this, he still chose to fight—that was Keter’s life.

“Kehehe... Kahahahahaha!”

At that moment, Kron burst into mad laughter. It was so hearty and unrestrained that it made Keter’s resolve seem almost pointless.

“Yes, yes! That’s it! That’s my son! Wahahaha!”

“...?”

“Why are you standing there so stiffly? Come here.”

The atmosphere shifted completely. Keter, who had been overwhelmed with rage, couldn’t immediately make sense of the sudden change and just stared at Kron.

“No need to be shy.”

With a flick of Kron’s finger, Keter was suddenly transported right in front of him, despite Keter having perceived it in advance and attempted to defend.

“Hm. You are quite handsome since you took after me. Your training’s decent, too.”

Kron examined Keter up close, even prodding him here and there. Only then did Keter finally relax his stance.

“What is this about?” Keter asked.

“Relax. I have no intention of imprisoning you here like myself. I don’t even want the role of guardian. I can’t very well force my son to do something I despise.”

“You were testing me.”

“If you were a spineless fool who bowed to power, I couldn’t call you a Yaksha, nor my son. In that regard, you pass.”

“...I don’t think of you as my father.”

“That doesn’t matter. I believe you are my son, and if I believe it, no one else’s opinion is needed.”

At those words, Keter let out a hollow laugh.

We think exactly the same way.

Belief was something that should never be swayed by others. For the first time, Keter found himself thinking that Kron truly might be his father, and that only made things stranger.

This isn’t even a remarriage case, and we both have traits that only direct descendants can have. Is this biologically possible?

To put it bluntly, even if Akrah had slept with both Besil and Kron, and Keter had been born from that, he should have inherited the inherent ability of only one of them. There was no way he could possess both. Now, it had nothing to do with who Keter’s real power was.

If something like that were possible, other families would’ve tried it long ago.

Even if Akrah herself were a Yaksha, it still shouldn’t be possible. Inherent abilities weren’t inherited from both parents but only from one. There were extremely rare cases where both were inherited, but those occurred perhaps once in a million. It would have been understandable if it were something like this, but since that didn’t seem to be the case, it made his head spin.

Damn it. The more I learn about my mother, the more complicated it gets.

And then there was this awkward atmosphere. Fortunately, Kron seemed to dislike it as well and broke the silence.

“Keter. You came here as a Solver, didn’t you? I didn’t call you expecting much, but I think you might be able to grant my request.”

“You’re not going to ask me to become the guardian here, are you?”

“That’s not what I want, but how about just one day?”

“You want me to guard this place for a single day?”

“Of course, you wouldn’t last even a minute here with your own strength. As such, I’ll lend you my Authority for a while. With that, even someone as weak as you could last three days.”

“You said one day just now.”

“You could endure longer in terms of power, but given your personality, you’d only last a day before coming back. That’s what I mean.”

“Hm...”

Keter’s first impression of Kron had been garbage, but that hardly mattered anymore. Now, Keter weighed the situation purely in terms of gain and loss.

“And how am I supposed to trust that I’ll come back?” Keter asked.

“I’ll give you my heart. If I don’t return, crush it.”

“And the reward for the job?”

“Name what you want.”

Kron sounded confident that he could provide anything Keter desired; he was so confident that it felt like he would give Keter one of the Five Element Relics if he asked.

At that moment, a sly idea occurred to Keter.

“Give me the gifts you owe me.”

“Gifts...?”

“You said you believe I’m your son, right. Then, as a father, you should give me birthday presents. I’m eighteen now and turning nineteen next month, so... I’ll be taking nineteen overdue gifts.”

“That’s a fair point. I, too, received birthday gifts from my father every year until I came of age. You’re still a minor, so you’re entitled to them.”

“And tell me how you met my mother, and what she was like. As your son, I have the right to know.”

“That is your right. I will tell you.”

Seeing Kron agree so readily actually dampened Keter’s enthusiasm.

“There’s a catch, isn’t there?” Keter asked.

“You’re sharp. If you are to regard me as your father, then as my son, you must fulfill your role.”

“Guardian?”

“I have no intention of making you a guardian. Ask no more about that.”

“Then what is it?”

“That, I cannot tell you.”

Seeing the firmness in his expression, Keter stopped pressing and fell into thought. A gift from an absolute being would never be trivial. On top of that, gaining information about Akrah was highly tempting.

But behind every tempting offer lay an equally heavy price. And right now, the fact that he couldn’t predict what that price would be...

“Deal.”

...only fueled Keter’s curiosity.

* * *

While Keter, having attained enlightenment, was collecting artifacts and taking on requests of the Syndicate, the Family War between Sefira and Bydent was reaching its final stage.

“I request negotiations, deputy patriarch of the Sefira family.”

Jordic, the patriarch of the Bydent family who had previously vanished, returned. The moment he did, he asked Hissop to negotiate. Victory had clearly tilted in Sefira’s favor, mostly because support from the princes had not arrived—no, it had been cut off entirely.

Bydent was isolated and abandoned. Now, Jordic had only two choices left: to resist to the very end, clinging to Sefira and turning the conflict into a muddy, drawn-out struggle, or to surrender to Sefira.

Cruelly speaking, Hissop had no reason to accept Jordic’s negotiation request. If he slowly tightened the noose around Bydent’s neck, it might take more time, but he could force their surrender safely and decisively. Yet Hissop agreed to the negotiations.

“Welcome, Patriarch Jordic.”

Jordic had braced himself to be beaten with stones or eggs, but contrary to his expectations, Sefira welcomed him warmly. This was neither a deception nor a trick; Jordic knew this because he had personally seen that Bydent’s prisoners were being treated well.

Hissop went straight to the point. “Patriarch Jordic, let us end this Family War here. There is no reason for citizens of the same kingdom to fight one another over the princes’ power struggle.”

Jordic agreed with that sentiment. He could have accepted it, but if he didn’t reveal his true feelings now, he felt he would regret it for the rest of his life.

“Will you truly accept Bydent’s surrender? Even after all the suffering and hatred we inflicted upon Sefira? Even though it was we, Bydent, who declared war first?”

At Jordic’s sincere question, Hissop paused briefly before answering, “I do not believe hatred should be repaid with hatred. However, please do not misunderstand. I am not saying that everything in the past will be treated as if it never happened.”

“Ah...”

Jordic’s expression darkened. In other words, Bydent would still be made to pay for its sins. He thought Hissop was saying their surrender would be accepted, but Bydent should not expect to walk away unscathed.

“You must acknowledge your wrongdoing and offer a sincere apology. That is not something I can compromise on.”

“...?”

Jordic, who had lowered his head thinking that Bydent was forever ruined, slowly looked up.

Just an apology? That’s it?

Unaware of Jordic’s thoughts, Hissop maintained his firm expression.

“Excuses like it was a mistake or a misunderstanding will not be tolerated,” Hissop said.

“...Is that all?”

“A sincere apology—what more is needed for reconciliation? Not only I, but everyone in Sefira will forgive Bydent.”

Had Crown Prince Rukan or Second Prince Rakan said something like that, Jordic wouldn’t have believed them in the slightest. But Hissop?

I know you would be genuine.

This probably wasn’t Hissop’s unilateral decision either. It had to be a conclusion reached because all of Sefira had agreed.

Absurd.

Jordic couldn’t bring himself to look at Hissop’s face. It shone too brightly, making himself and the Bydent family seem unbearably small and grim by comparison.

“...We accept.”

It wasn’t that it wasn’t humiliating. Jordic was internally screaming in protest, asking how a man could bow his head to someone his own age. But he ignored that voice. No, it had never truly been his voice to begin with.

Petty pride—I will no longer listen to you.

Forgiving, admitting wrongdoing, and apologizing were things anyone could do, yet not things just anyone was capable of doing. But Hissop forgave, and Jordic acknowledged his fault and apologized.

The endless chain of hatred and the bloodstained path of revenge were severed this easily and emptily.

And so, the Family War between Bydent and Sefira came to an end. However, peace did not arrive. Both Hissop and Jordic knew that this conflict had merely been a prelude. That was why neither of them let their guard down.

Sure enough, an imperial edict arrived from the royal palace.

—The Sefira family, who have mocked the sacred laws of the Lillian Kingdom and committed the grave crime of treason by collaborating with foreign powers, are hereby ordered to immediately disband all military forces. Patriarch Besil is to present himself at the royal palace at once to face judgment under the law.

Unable to tolerate Sefira’s revival and growth any longer, Rukan and Rakan had finally taken direct action, moving to wipe out the Sefira family themselves.