Chapter 1295
Once the warriors had completed their grueling stamina drills, Raon granted them a forty-eight-hour reprieve. Instead of making his way toward the Lord's Manor, he directed his steps to the annex building.
—What has come over you?
Wrath floated near his shoulder, his expression twisted with confusion.
—I assumed you would sequester yourself in the primary training area to focus on your cultivation as usual?
The entity widened his eyes, clearly shocked that Raon would prioritize a visit to the annex.
'If I embark on this upcoming operation, I likely won't taste decent food for quite some time.'
Raon gave a small shrug, his mind already calculating tactics to take down Sariel.
'I’d like to have a taste of home before that happens.'
If the situation unfolded as he suspected, the gourmet treats Wrath craved would be unavailable for a long duration. Thus, he chose the annex for what he considered a final, comforting feast.
—Hah!
Wrath let out a sudden gasp of realization.
—You are being considerate of my desires! You’ve finally accepted your place as a member of my household!
The creature nodded with satisfaction, claiming he would welcome Raon with open arms.
—Excellent! Lead me to Sariel! I shall personally tear every feather from that winged nuisance!
Wrath ground his teeth together, clearly harboring a deep-seated grudge against Sariel.
'Don't bother.'
Raon dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, nudging Wrath back.
'Unless I find myself at death's door, the use of demon king descent is off the table.'
This was different from a typical Sword Domain. Invoking demon king descent would result in the degradation of the Martial Prowess and the spiritual foundation he had forged through immense suffering and effort.
To some, such a penalty might seem excessively punishing. However, considering it was a Sword Domain that functioned by hosting a foreign soul to strike down foes, he viewed the cost as a necessary balance of power.
—Tch! Cursed laws of causality!
Wrath bristled, clearly irritated by the inescapable cosmic rules that restricted him.
'Furthermore, like I mentioned previously...'
Raon’s gaze sharpened as he mentally reviewed the data on Sariel.
'That individual appears capable of perceiving the thoughts of others. Though it likely isn't an absolute power without limitations...'
Wrath had noted that Sariel fled at the mere sight of him. If the Archangel peered into Raon's mind and caught a glimpse of Wrath’s true nature, he would undoubtedly vanish instantly.
'If a being possessed of such immense arrogance chooses flight, it implies he has zero desire to engage you. I cannot allow your presence to be detected.'
—Hmph! I am a pillar of strength! I could consume those winged pests regardless of how many they send!
Wrath smirked, interpreting Raon's caution as a tribute to his power.
'I suppose so.'
Raon offered a distracted confirmation and licked his lips.
—Then what is your strategy for capturing him?
Wrath leaned in, his curiosity piqued.
'Archangel Sariel is likely both egocentric and incredibly wary, just as you described.'
By synthesizing the reports from the Shadow Agents' Leader Chad with the firsthand accounts from Wrath, a picture emerged of an opponent who was prideful yet timid—a frustrating combination to pin down.
To lure Sariel in, Raon needed to insult that pride from an equivalent status.
'Essentially, I have to provoke him while appearing to be on his level.'
—Equivalent status...?
Wrath tilted his head, unable to grasp the nuance, as his own solutions usually involved raw intimidation.
'You'll see soon enough.'
With a light laugh, Raon entered the garden of the annex and made his way inside.
"Oh?"
"Young Master!"
"Sir Raon is here!"
Helen and the kitchen staff, who were busy in the garden, stood up abruptly as Raon approached.
"W-what brings you here so suddenly?"
Helen’s shoulders shook slightly, caught off guard by his arrival. Her tension was palpable, likely because Raon was currently holding the position of Temporary head of house.
"No special reason. I just wanted a home-cooked meal before I leave for my next task."
Raon raised his hands in a reassuring gesture, telling them to relax.
"Truly? You should have sent word ahead! We don't have anything elaborate prepared..."
Helen bit her lip, her mind racing over the current state of the pantry.
"It doesn't matter. I just want the usual dinner."
Raon beamed, requesting the simple fare they always served.
"I will get to work immediately."
Judiel offered a polite bow and hurried into the building to begin preparations.
"You haven't changed a bit since you were a boy."
Helen chuckled softly and led the other maids toward the kitchen to start the fire.
—Keu! A standard dinner is the perfect choice!
Wrath voiced his approval.
—It seems you have finally developed a sophisticated palate for the joys of eating!
The entity smacked his lips, admitting that a familiar meal felt more enticing than a lavish banquet.
'Indeed. The familiar is best.'
Raon smiled and walked toward the lake located at the rear of the property.
—Hmm. Are you not going inside?
Wrath looked confused as Raon stopped short of the building.
'As I always do.'
Raon stood still by the water, which shimmered under the night sky.
'I felt like taking this in once more.'
Though he said he wanted to look, he actually shut his eyes. The area was so deeply etched into his memory that he could sense every detail without sight.
The rustle of leaves in the evening wind, the gentle rings on the water's surface from insects, and the cozy, warm energy radiating from the house itself.
Despite his long absences, he felt more connected to the environment now than he ever had while living there daily.
Seuuu.
Raon’s eyes flickered open. His spirit and his internal Mental Image felt as clear and undisturbed as the lake.
Perhaps due to the moonlight dancing on the ripples, a faint gold shimmer seemed to spark within his crimson pupils.
—Hmm...?
Wrath let out a low, inquisitive sound as he observed the blending of gold and red in Raon's gaze.
—Those eyes...
Two days later, at the primary training grounds of the head of house.
The warriors of the Light Wind Palace were assembled in perfect rows, a frost-like chill emanating from their disciplined presence. Their eyes burned with a ferocity that suggested they were ready to take on an entire army.
Thud!
Raon ascended the speaker’s platform, absorbing the intense, icy pressure of the Light Wind Palace swordsmen.
"The time to depart has arrived."
He stood at the platform's edge, thoughtfully rubbing his jaw. His expression remained tranquil and focused, a stark contrast to the heated spirits of his subordinates.
"Are you prepared?"
"Yes, sir!"
"We stand ready!"
"We could charge into battle this very second!"
The members of the Light Wind Palace shouted their affirmations, their confidence bolstered by having survived the exhaustion training.
"Tell us who we're hunting! Who is the target!"
Martha licked her lips, her impatience for a name showing through.
"I’m feeling invincible today!"
Krein slammed his fist into his palm, claiming he could take on any challenger.
"I-I don't quite feel that way..."
Dorian let out a nervous sniff, the lingering trauma of the training still visible in his posture.
"This might not involve a direct clash, so keep your heads."
Burren placed a grounding hand on Martha’s shoulder and let out a weary sigh.
"It doesn't matter what it is..."
Runaan gave a curt nod, signaling her readiness for any task Raon assigned.
"I like your enthusiasm."
Raon surveyed the group with a satisfied nod.
"Our target for this operation is an Archangel."
His gaze turned piercing as he announced their intent to confront Archangel Sariel.
"An Archangel..."
Burren’s expression tightened at the mention of such a formidable being.
"Excellent! That’s the kind of challenge we need!"
Martha smirked, feeling that only a being of that caliber was worth their time after such intense preparation.
"Exactly! We're ready to crush those winged bastards!"
Krein stomped the ground, his bravado peaking.
"Y-you guys are losing it..."
Dorian gulped, watching his comrades with disbelief.
"......"
Runaan’s hand drifted to the hilt of her blade, her focus sharpening to a point.
"Grrrrr!"
"Let them come, whether it's the Archangels or the forces of Eden!"
"We'll cut them all down!"
The warriors of the Light Wind Palace brandished their weapons, letting out guttural shouts. The adrenaline from their recent training seemed to have left them in a state of hyper-aggressive confidence.
"Silence."
Raon tapped his foot, and the chaotic noise vanished instantly as the swordsmen snapped back into their disciplined ranks.
"I appreciate the confidence, but pay attention. I will detail the Archangel we are pursuing. That individual is..."
Raon proceeded to outline everything he knew about Archangel Sariel, drawing from the intelligence provided by Chad and Wrath.
"He can read minds? That's insane!"
Krein’s jaw dropped in disbelief.
"That isn't the primary concern. His ability to manipulate human spirits is what makes him truly dangerous..."
Burren frowned, disturbed by the existence of such a power.
"I don't care if he reads minds or toys with souls, we just need to crack his skull!"
Martha’s smile was predatory as she spoke of decapitating the Archangel.
"Wait... he reads thoughts?"
Surprisingly, Dorian didn't recoil in his usual fashion. He seemed more curious than terrified by Sariel’s specific talent.
"Let's move out! Why are we still here!"
Martha bared her teeth, eager for the fight to begin.
"If we kill the source, those he controls will be freed! We just have to hit them hard enough!"
She drew her steel, as if ready to demonstrate the fruits of her labor right then and there.
"A confrontation with the winged race, including Sariel, is inevitable. However, as I mentioned before, our opening move will be..."
Raon's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he looked over the eager faces of the Light Wind Palace.
"A con job."
As he spoke, his eyes locked onto Dorian, who was standing in the middle of the formation.
"Pardon...?"
Dorian felt a cold sweat break out under Raon's intense stare.
"M-me?"
"Gather 'round! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"
Krein, whose hair was now a vibrant shade of blue, clapped his hands loudly to draw a crowd.
"The most renowned mystic from the northern territories has arrived in the Winten Kingdom! This is the legendary figure who settled the crisis for the lord of Habun Castle and earned the unwavering respect of Zieghart. The divine herald who sees all and knows all is here among you!"
Raon, now sporting black hair, stepped out in tandem with Krein’s announcement.
Acting with the flair of a professional orator, he projected his voice with authority, showering the supposed mystic with extravagant praise.
"A mystic?"
"The one who saved Habun Castle? I've never heard of that."
"I thought the mystic was in the Sarion Kingdom. Is this the same man?"
"Sounds like a swindler to me."
The locals whispered among themselves, skeptical of the grand claims. However, Raon’s convincing performance kept them rooted to the spot, curious to see the spectacle.
"The mystic approaches!"
"He is here!"
Raon and Krein performed a deep, exaggerated bow of reverence. Behind them, Burren—bearing a spear—and Martha—with a massive sword strapped to her back—walked forward.
The sheer martial pressure radiating from Burren and Martha was enough to make the citizens hold their breath in awe.
Thud!
The two warriors stepped to either side, acting as a decorative guard. Through the path they cleared, a thin young man with hollowed cheeks and a weary expression emerged, leaning heavily on a weathered wooden staff. His gaze was vacant, and his gait carried a strange, somber dignity.
"Ah..."
"Look at that tragic expression..."
"Could he truly be a holy man?"
The onlookers felt a heavy atmosphere settle over them, intimidated by the young man's haunting presence.
"Behold Sage Doraen, the man who has unraveled every mystery of the world!"
Following Raon’s proclamation, Burren and Martha slammed their weapons against the earth, creating a thunderous boom.
Kuuuuung!
The young man continued down the lane provided by his guards, his eyes appearing more sorrowful by the second.
"Just look at him..."
"The aura around him is chilling."
"Is that the face of a true sage...?"
The crowd broke out in nervous perspiration, overwhelmed by the man’s gaunt appearance and the heavy air he carried.
Inside the mind of the man known as Sage Doraen, however, the internal monologue was quite different.
'Please...'
Dorian—the man obsessed with collecting rare items and the perennial victim of the squad's antics—looked at the crowd with eyes that were actually pleading for a way out.
'Someone, please save me!'
