Chapter 159: Unfinished Business

The cold morning sunlight slipped through the gaps in the velvet curtains and fell directly across Malrik’s face.

He was buried beneath layers of silk sheets and plush pillows, lying in a bed far too comfortable for its own good.

Honestly, it was hard to believe the thing hadn’t been designed specifically to destroy people’s will to get up.

Malrik had been exhausted. Yesterday had been a day packed with events.

He had awakened in the Duchy after his deadly battle with Vorgath. His siblings had visited him, and strange rumors about his other identity, the Black Reaper, had spread throughout the Empire. He had met his father, the Duke, and received the title of Baron.

Afterward, he had visited Bromur to commission armor for himself and Ronan’s squad before attending the auction with Velrosa. Then the Second Prince had appeared, and through him, Malrik had discovered his mother’s true identity.

Malrik let out a muffled groan, rolled onto his side, and pulled the silk sheets over his head to block out the intrusive sunlight.

His body felt heavy, and the very thought of leaving the warmth was unbearable.

I could stay like this for the rest of my life... or at least until my crazy uncle and aunt’s war for the succession is over.

Malrik smiled faintly at the thought, but the smile didn’t last long.

He slowly opened his eyes and sighed. No matter how tempting the bed was, he could no longer afford to be lazy.

He pushed the covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair in an attempt to chase away the last traces of sleep.

"Unfortunately..." His eyes gradually came into focus, taking on a sharp, cold glint. "There’s someone I need to kill before I leave the Duchy."

Still, the killing could wait a little longer.

Malrik sighed deeply and let himself sink back onto the soft mattress. He pulled the silk covers up to his shoulders and surrendered to their comforting warmth once more.

About five minutes later, he finally threw the covers off and got to his feet, his expression now serious as he shook off the last traces of laziness.

"Eliza," Malrik called in a quiet, low voice, as though she were standing right beside him.

Barely a second passed before the door opened without a sound. His personal maid stepped inside with quiet, measured steps and bowed respectfully.

"Yes, Young Master."

"Please prepare breakfast for me. I’ll take a bath," Malrik said as he headed toward the bathroom. Then, without turning around, he added, "And prepare a carriage as well. I’ll be going out for a short visit after stopping by the Treasury."

Eliza paused for a moment. "May I ask where you’re going, Young Master?"

Malrik stopped and turned toward her.

For a moment, a dark glow ignited in Malrik’s eyes. Eliza’s question seemed to have brought back an unpleasant memory, and his expression darkened as he sank into grim thoughts.

Threads of dark green mana began to seep involuntarily from his body. The room’s temperature dropped noticeably, and the air grew heavy with a quiet, murderous intent.

Then Malrik blinked.

The glow vanished from his eyes.

He immediately reined in his mana, and the room’s temperature returned to normal as though nothing had happened. He looked at Eliza, a faint, calm smile settling on his face.

"Just a visit to an old friend."

Then he added casually, "You can come along if you want."

Eliza studied his face in silence. She wasn’t used to seeing such a cold expression on her master’s face, but she didn’t ask any further questions.

Instead, she gave a slight bow. "I’ll prepare breakfast and the carriage right away, Young Master."

She left quietly, closing the door behind her. Only then did Malrik turn and enter the bathroom.

About ten minutes later, Malrik emerged from the bathroom with a cotton towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets trickled down his chest and over his well-defined, athletic physique.

Meanwhile, Eliza had already set an elegant breakfast table in the corner of the room.

She approached with a loose silk robe for lounging and helped Malrik put it on, adjusting its edges with practiced ease.

Neither of them showed the slightest embarrassment or awkwardness. The age difference between them was obvious, and in the original Malrik’s memories, Eliza had always been the closest thing to a mother, having cared for him and stayed by his side since childhood.

So despite Eliza’s gentle beauty and attractive, serene features, Malrik felt no romantic interest in her. Their relationship was uncomplicated, built on familiarity and mutual respect between a master and the woman who had cared for him since childhood, as well as his closest and most loyal personal aide.

Malrik began eating his delicious breakfast as usual, a glass of fresh juice by his side.

As soon as he finished his meal, he took a final sip of his juice, placed the glass on the table, and turned to Eliza. "Thank you for the food, Eliza."

Eliza nodded respectfully. "You’re welcome, Young Master. Grandmaster Bromur sent these over early this morning."

She brushed her hand over her storage ring, and with a faint flash, two items appeared on the table.

Malrik looked at the first item on the table, where a long grey spear with a sharp blade rested. He examined it for a moment, surprise flickering across his face.

Did that insolent dwarf really finish it this quickly?

So he’s not all talk.

Before he could examine the spear more closely, however, something beside it caught his attention. A finely crafted piece of black leather armor lay beside the weapon.

Malrik paused, then turned to Eliza with a puzzled frown.

"Armor? I don’t remember asking Bromur to make one... Did he send it by mistake?"

Eliza merely shrugged, unable to offer an answer.

Malrik turned his attention back to the two items on the table, studying their distinctive appearances.

His hand instinctively reached for the black armor first.

The moment his fingers touched its surface, he noticed the difference. The leather felt unnaturally soft, yet when he pressed it firmly, it remained rigid and resilient, more like a sheet of metal than flexible leather. When he lifted it, he was surprised by how little it weighed.

The armor wasn’t merely good. It was excellent.

Bromur’s craftsmanship was truly on another level.

It would be a real shame if the armor had been sent to him by mistake.

Malrik set the armor aside and turned to the spear.

He wrapped his hand around its shaft.

The moment the weapon settled in his palm, he could feel its perfect balance. The metal was pale grey, threaded with fine platinum veins. Its ridged blade curved slightly, resembling the fang of a ferocious beast. A dark, non-reflective coating covered its surface, swallowing the light around it.

Malrik’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Then, with a single thought, Malrik summoned the system interface and began reading the descriptions of the two items.

The excitement on his face gradually gave way to confusion as he moved from one line to the next, his expression growing more perplexed with each passing moment.

"What the hell...? Well, at least this armor wasn’t sent to me by mistake."