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Allen hesitated for a moment but ultimately couldn't resist the pleading gaze of the girl in the green skirt.
After all, leaving a conscious person unattended while tending to Rudeus first didn't sit right with him.
In two strides, he reached the girl and swiftly cut the ropes binding her. She, much like Eris, pouted tearfully and tried to throw herself into Allen's arms—only to grasp at empty air. Undeterred, she turned her head and spoke in a soft, delicate voice—but before she could finish, her expression froze in shock.
"Th-Thank... you...?"
In her line of sight, Allen had executed a flawless Light-Reversal Step, effortlessly evading her outstretched hands.
And then—
He crouched down and began carefully pulling up Rudeus' pants.
His movements were deliberate, as if afraid of waking him.
The girl in the floral dress gaped, then instinctively turned to the only other conscious person in the room besides herself and Allen.
Eris stood by the doorway, watching Allen's actions—and Rudeus' peaceful slumber—with a deepening scowl, her eyebrows climbing higher by the second.
Just then, the situation took an unexpected turn.
Human instincts for danger are sharp, especially when one wakes up to find their pants being adjusted and the leg they were hugging suddenly gone.
Naturally, the body reacts before the mind can fully process things.
Rudeus' steady breathing halted abruptly. His eyes snapped open, confusion and surprise flickering across his face as he took in the scene before him.
Then, Allen's slightly awkward expression came into view.
Rudeus blinked.
They stared at each other for a solid second.
In unison, they looked down.
Their gazes landed on Rudeus' lower half.
—Allen's hand was still resting on Rudeus' waistband, mere centimeters above Little Rudeus.
Allen: "..."
Rudeus: "??"
Allen: "..."
Rudeus: "!!"
Allen cleared his throat. "I can explain—"
Before he could finish, Rudeus' eyes widened in horror, and he clamped onto Allen's wrist.
"Wait a second!"
Allen: "...Relax, let me just— Huh? Wait, what do you mean 'wait'?!"
The rapid tap-tap-tap of boots against the floor reached Allen's ears. His eye twitched as he glanced sideways. "Eris, hold on—let me explain things properly first, or this is gonna get really messy—"
Mid-sentence, a leather boot—stained with blood—streaked across his vision.
With terrifying precision—
THWACK.
"GYAAAH?!"
"How long are you gonna sleep?! Skipping morning lessons, making Allen and Sylphie worry, and now this?! Get up!"
A direct hit. A critical strike.
Rudeus launched upright like a spring, his consciousness fully snapping back. He curled up like a shrimp, glaring at Eris with a mix of fury and betrayal—his pride and other things thoroughly wounded.
"What the hell, Eris?! You're jealous of this?! Where's the logic in that?! I've known Allen longer than you!"
The first three sentences were genuine outrage. The last one was pure, calculated provocation.
Allen stared at Rudeus in disbelief. Dude. Why is this a competition?
Eris faltered for a split second—almost feeling guilty—but her Sword God-style reflexes kicked in. "Hah! A-Allen's my brother! Is he yours?!" She crossed her arms, triumphant.
Allen's gaze shifted to Eris. No, I am technically Rudeus' distant cousin, so that argument won't hold. He's definitely gonna counter—
And counter he did.
Rudeus smirked. "Tch. So what if he's not my brother? My dad cried in his arms once."
Allen: "???????????????"
Eris' face twisted as Rudeus' internet-era debate logic short-circuited her brain. She took a deep breath—
And reached for her sword.
But before she could draw it, Rudeus suddenly turned, finally taking in their surroundings. In the heat of their argument, he hadn't noticed the state of the room.
His face paled as he spotted the blood seeping in from outside. He stumbled to the doorway—
And vomited at the sight of the slaughterhouse beyond.
Eris' lips curled in victory as she released her sword's hilt.
Allen sighed, flicking her blade with a finger before meeting her gaze.
Eris stubbornly held her expression, but her eyes darted away guiltily.
Satisfied, Allen patted her head and moved to Rudeus' side, rubbing his back while scanning the room. The inner warehouse only held Rudeus and the two noble girls.
"There should be more. The bandits took others—we need to keep searching."
"Ugh... Allen, where are we? What happened? Who's missing?"
"Let's head out. I'll explain as we look."
———
By the time they returned to Boreas Manor, the sun was nearly set.
Notably, aside from the two kidnapped noble girls—
The "little ones" were found in a stable after questioning the guards.
A group of Beast Race children, none taller than Eris' chest.
Eris' rage reignited instantly. She marched back and hacked the already-deceased Black Snake into even smaller pieces.
They commandeered the bandits' abandoned carriage for the return trip. Though Allen had carried Eris on his back during the initial pursuit—covering the distance in just over an hour—
The journey back, with everyone in tow and the carriage moving slower, took far longer. After dropping the noble girls at their respective homes (amidst their reluctant farewells), the group finally arrived at Boreas Manor as dusk settled.
The setting sun stretched four long shadows across the estate's entrance.
Sylphie, Hilda, Philip, and Ghislaine stood waiting.
Hilda tensed at the sight of their bloodstained clothes, her face pale—but after confirming no one was injured, she exhaled in relief. Sylphie, rubbing Hilda's back, shot Allen a weary look, which he answered with a reassuring smile.
Throughout the afternoon, Sylphie and Ghislaine had repeatedly assured Hilda that Allen was cautious and wouldn't act recklessly. But for a mother who had only just reunited with her son the day before, the sudden crisis had been nerve-wracking.
Yet all her anxiety melted away like spring snow under sunlight the moment Eris bounded over and threw herself into Hilda's arms.
Meanwhile, Ghislaine observed Eris closely. The girl had been frowning ever since witnessing Allen's Light-Splitter Sword that morning—but now, her expression was completely relaxed.
Eris' thoughts were always written plainly on her face. Her earlier frustration stemmed from her still-unrefined foundations. Unlike Allen, she couldn't yet channel her burning desire into her swordsmanship—tempering her blade in the flames of ambition to strike with greater sharpness.
Ghislaine had planned to guide her through this over the next month.
But somehow—
In just one afternoon, Allen had honed Eris' blade to perfection.
Ghislaine glanced at Allen, impressed yet again.
—Allen never ceased to amaze her. Eris' ambition had been kindled under Ghislaine's guidance, yet it was Allen—who had only just merged desire and swordsmanship to ascend to Sword King—who completed the final step.
As Ghislaine watched, as Eris animatedly recounted Allen's two-strike annihilation of four men, as Hilda's face grew paler with each word, as Rudeus repeatedly apologized to Sylphie—
Allen walked up to Philip.
And stopped.
Father and son stood on opposite sides of the manor's threshold.
Their voices were quiet, their conversation private.
"Where did you go? Why the bloodshed?"
Allen idly scraped dried blood off his boots, not looking up.
"You already know. Why leave the nails unplucked?"
Philip smiled, studying Allen's face.
"Plucking them means finding new ones. If they're harmless, leaving them in place makes control easier."
"And yet, this happened."
"No, you misunderstand. This was always under control. Ghislaine was sent to monitor them after lunch at the banquet. She reported you'd noticed, and your visit to Piyanz that night confirmed it. I expected you to come to me—but you acted alone. No matter. Dead men need no cleanup. The Beast Race children can stay here."
Allen chuckled, shaking blood flakes from his pants.
"You had that much faith in me?"
Philip glanced at the dried blood, amused.
"You've never disappointed me in that regard. But I am curious—just how high is your ceiling? Your judgment, planning, and strategic mind are even sharper than I anticipated. But your combat prowess... reaching Sword King in a single year? That shocked me. Still, I believe your true strength lies in—"
"The power and authority speech again?"
Philip's gaze flicked to Ghislaine.
See? Even a Sword King serves under authority.
Allen didn't need to look to "see" Philip's gesture. He shook his head, unmoved.
Philip's eyes crinkled.
"So you disagree...? Then I'll wait and see."
Allen finally finished dusting off his boots and stepped forward—
Crossing the threshold.
As he passed Philip, he murmured:
"You will."
———
The Beast Race children were taken in by Lilia and settled in the servants' quarters.
Dinner was unusually attended by Sauros, who asked about the day's events but didn't press further.
Since it involved James, there wasn't much to say. A minor nuisance, now removed.
The meal was otherwise peaceful.
Night fell swiftly.
In Allen's room, candlelight flickered across a bloodstained letter discarded on the desk—retrieved from the bandits' warehouse, never shown to Philip or Sauros.
[Allen Boreas Greyrat confirmed at Boreas Manor.]
[Sauros and Philip have likely verified his identity.]
[To prevent his grooming as heir and potential involvement in royal capital power struggles—]
[Recommend immediate elimination with assembled forces.]
[Will continue monitoring for optimal strike opportunity.]
[If no reply within one month, assume mission continuation.]
[—Black Snake.]
Allen tapped the paper, then held it to the candle's flame.
Ash swirled as he opened the window, scattering the remnants into the wind.
Gone without a trace.
He leaned back, lost in thought.
"Persuasion" had proven effective today—though its power was limited, as expected.
His brutal execution of the Vulture had served two purposes: personal satisfaction, and breaking the Black Snake's will.
It worked flawlessly.
Layer by layer, he'd fed the man "reality"—tailored words, gradual hints, then the final reveal.
By the time the Black Snake fled, his mind was shattered. Even when Allen deliberately signaled that Eris—waiting outside—was the stronger swordsman, the man hadn't considered begging for mercy.
He'd just run.
A perfect result.
Persuasion, used right, was satisfying indeed.
Allen paused, waiting.
No smoke appeared before his eyes.
He smirked.
A spring breeze slipped through the window, ruffling his hair.
On his desk, beneath the words "Royal Capital—Ars", numerous arrows branched downward, connecting to names across the Fittoa Region:
Hilda. Philip. Sauros. Eris.
The wind danced across the page, carrying no chill.
Spring had come.
"James... it's time for you to die."
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