Chapter 463 - Summary
The declaration of canceling the proposal by Seden, who had been hired as a broker, was more than enough to freeze the atmosphere of the conference hall.
To make it as if the proposal had never existed.
Not only the moderator, but even the western, southern, and the northern forces—excluding Verden—sent looks that showed they had absolutely no idea what was going on.
"Sir, Sir Seden?"
Gideon of the South slightly raised his voice, hiding the trembling at the corners of his eyes.
It was a demand for explanation.
Yet Serlo turned his head away without even sparing a glance at Gideon, quietly avoiding Verden's gaze.
"...I will say it once more. I swear never to revoke it, and I proclaim that the New East will respect the contract of the competitive war. In other words, we will abide by exactly what the lords had agreed upon."
"Wait...!"
"Moderator, did you hear me?"
"Ah... ah, yes."
"You are the witness of the mediation zone. Everyone here is a witness. A witness to the verbal promise that the New East will never utter a word about the competitive war again! Therefore, there is no need to leave any certificate."
Creak.
Serlo pushed out his chair and stood up, arranging his clothes.
"Anyway, that is the stance of the New East, so I will be taking my leave. There is no reason for me to remain in this conference hall any longer. Besides, a pressing matter has just come to mind. Farewell."
Before anyone could stop him, he spilled out all he had to say and turned around immediately. Truly as though his business was finished, without a trace of hesitation.
Step, step, step.
Thus Serlo pulled out the hat tucked in his breast, pressed it deeply over his head, and left the conference hall.
***
Breathing in the outside air through his nose, Serlo forcefully suppressed his urgency and carefully descended the forty-seven steps.
If possible, he wanted to sprint out of this city of Medilon—no, out of this Ownerless Land—right away, but he knew he must not.
Instinct, intuition, experience told him so.
From now on, even a single wrong breath could mean his farewell to the world.
"Sir Seden!"
A voice called from behind, but Serlo had no leisure to mind it. He silently kept his gaze downward and continued down the steps.
Soon the tip of his shoe left the last step and touched the ground of the city.
Tak.
Gideon, who had urgently requested the moderator to pause the meeting and then hurried over, seized Serlo's shoulder tightly.
"Where exactly are you going? The meeting is not yet over."
"I already stated my stance."
"Stance? No, are you seriously...!!"
Gideon barely swallowed his words.
If he blurted it here, the shadow contract would become an open secret.
So instead of words, he let his expression show his dissatisfaction.
This is a breach of contract.
Fixing his gaze straight ahead, Serlo murmured softly.
"This is why those who don't know their place…"
"What do you... mmph?!"
In the blink of an eye, Serlo seized Gideon's lower face.
The crushing grip conveyed a force that seemed as though he could burst his head with the slightest squeeze. Locking the jaw tightly, he forced silence.
"All things in this world fall into four categories."
"...!!!...!!"
"What one can do, what one cannot do, what one must do, and what one must not do. Only by discerning between these, can anyone hope to live out their destined span."
Serlo declared.
"And this is both something one cannot do and something one must not do. Absolutely...!!"
Shoving Gideon down, he advanced again. His strides widened, little by little. More cautious than ever.
It was when he entered a secluded alley where the conference hall could no longer be seen.
A power, a magic like none before, halted Serlo in his tracks.
───Unexpected.
A voice reached him.
It was not a hallucination but a will transmitted solely to Serlo.
Qi, magic power, divine power.
Barring special cases, only a rare few could deliver thought through these three forces.
This was the art of a Transcendent.
───I certainly concealed my presence.
An overwhelming sense of existence pressed upon him.
Serlo stopped breathing, and began trembling.
"I, I did not know."
Who could have imagined that in the Ownerless Land, such a great being would exist… that a Magus of the Eastern Continent, called holy, would step into the realm of Transcendence?
From the start, Transcendents had agreed not to interfere in the Ownerless Land. For otherwise, balance would be heavily distorted.
But that was only an agreement among the 'existing' Transcendents.
To a newly-born Transcendent, it did not practically apply.
That was the reality.
"If I had known whose domain this was, I would never have interfered. Just as you saw moments ago, when I withdrew my proposal before everyone's eyes...!"
Serlo's vision spun.
'How did it come to this?'
He had only taken a commission to amend the competitive war contract at the South's request.
Then once again, a clear voice struck his mind.
───Have you ever met a Transcendent before?
"...Yes, I have."
The fear Serlo now felt, that dread, stemmed from experience.
───Then you know well enough what comes next, without needing me to say it.
Clench.
Serlo's whole body tensed up.
The senses he had honed all his life—now, he hated them. For he had perceived something that should never have been perceived.
Realizing that without even intending to—he could only call it misfortune.
"Grant me a chance! I will never set foot here again, I beg of you...!"
Serlo's voice rang, almost breaking.
Blood flowed from his tightly clenched fist.
If it was desired, he would leave the Central Continent. If it was commanded, he would never again show himself in the world. He pleaded for his life.
It was nearly a speech.
As his breathing grew ragged, Verden asked.
───What is your real name?
Before the supreme insight of a Transcendent, trying to conceal the truth was nothing but folly.
"S, Serlo Broden."
───Serlo Broden. Naturally, I cannot simply let you go. Who knows when or where you might change your mind.
"I...!!!"
───Besides, there are things I wish to know.
The final whisper thundered in his mind.
───Run, and you die.
The crushing presence weighing down Serlo's heart gradually faded. The thought the Transcendent had left behind echoed within him.
Vertigo set in.
Serlo, his tension released, staggered and leaned his back against the wall of a building, then slumped down.
The rough tone from his adventurer days burst from his lips.
"...I'm screwed."
To have encountered a Transcendent who deliberately concealed their existence from the world.
There was no other way to express this unfair situation than with those words.
***
Verden folded his arms.
'Never thought my identity would be exposed, not even recognized by the lords of the Empire. Quite the sharp eye.'
He didn't know where this old man named Serlo had come from, but including his individual strength, he was deeply intrigued.
Which meant, he would have to interrogate him.
To find out what scheming he had done with the Southern Alliance behind the competitive war.
Thud.
Just then, Gideon of the South, who had followed after Serlo, returned and took his seat.
His face was pale.
Not so much frightened, but his complicated emotions were plainly reflected in his expression.
Verden spoke.
"Seeing how urgently you chased after that man called Seden, you must have quite the connection. Did you talk well with him?"
Gideon flinched, but quickly schooled his expression. Returning to his usual composure, he confidently shook his head.
"There is no real connection. I merely saw him once when meeting with Marquis Gerdom, the former Great Lord of the East. And I pursued Sir Seden simply to warn him not to disrupt the conference like that again. That's all, so please don't misunderstand."
"Then, like the New East, you have no complaint with the outcome of the competitive war. After all, you did say from the beginning that you would not interfere, since it was a matter between the North and East."
Gideon's mind whirled quickly.
He didn't know why the broker had fled, but there was no way to revive the proposal in the present conference.
So, he laughed readily.
"Of course."
Having received the South's confirmation, Verden turned his head toward the west side of the hall.
"And the West?"
"We too said we would stand as bystanders, so of course we will not raise objections now. Congratulations on your victory in the competitive war."
Clap, clap, clap.
Applause spread.
Though the tone was somewhat dry, perhaps even reluctant, it didn't matter.
With this, the massive composite mine that the South had held officially and completely became the North's, as the prize of the competitive war.
Lastly, the matter of hostages.
"Helmer, was it. How did the Sovereign say he would pay the ransom for the Mercenary King?"
"He said he would entrust it entirely to the North."
Helmer adjusted his glasses slightly.
He participated in the conference in a strictly businesslike manner, showing no agitation.
"So you're saying he will accept any demand?"
"Anyone can see it is we who are at a disadvantage. Still, if you want a detailed answer, I suggest speaking with the Mercenary King himself. He would know the exact worth of his own ransom."
To negotiate a ransom with the captive himself.
Frankly, the West's intention was obvious, but there was no reason not to accept it.
"I'll send a letter later."
"I'll await it."
The conversation with the West ended simply.
Verden turned his attention to the center of the hall.
"Moderator."
"Y, yes."
"I heard that the suicide of Great Lord Kardric was the responsibility of the Mediation Zone, not the North. Therefore, the ransom should rightfully be compensated by the Mediation Zone."
"By precedent, that is true. But I must first report to the higher—"
"I give you one week, starting now, to set a price that satisfies us and send it to the city of Arein. No mistakes this time."
Verden stood.
"Prove the purpose of the Mediation Zone's existence."
If they failed to properly make amends for today's responsibility, he would tear down the entire Mediation Zone... The moderator, realizing the meaning, nodded repeatedly.
Though there had been twists and turns, the outcome of the competitive war was decided, and the first round of hostage negotiations with each faction concluded smoothly.
"Let's go back."
It was settled.
***
Leaving the conference hall, heading toward where the northern carriages were waiting.
At the very back of the procession, Cain and Unia looked at Verden's back, whispering behind their hands.
"Wow, it was right about to turn into total chaos, but the moment senior showed up, everything got settled in one stroke. And without half-killing anyone."
"True."
Cain narrowed his eyes.
"Since he came back from the Great Forest, senior's aura has definitely changed. I still don't know what it is, though."
"Right? Or maybe it's just because his robe, once pure white, has turned black?"
"Could be."
"Hm. I think I heard somewhere that the darker the clothes, the more oppressive it feels to others... Should I try it too?"
The twins fiddled with their own robes, seriously pondering what color to change them to.
Clack.
Verden used
"You two get in first."
Isabella put her hand on her waist.
"Patriarch, where are you going this time?"
"There's someone I need to speak with. I'll be back tonight at the latest."
"Well, then good. We'll wait in Arein."
"See you later, Sir Asher."
After offering their farewells, Isabella and Liam boarded the carriage.
"Cain, and Unia."
"Huh? Why us?"
"When you report later, tell them this as well. That I asked to meet at the earliest opportunity."
"...!"
There was no need for further explanation.
"Got it, senior."
"Understood, senior."
The new generation of the Society nodded with earnest expressions.
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