Chapter 403 - 398 — Camp

Chapter 403: Chapter 398 — Camp

The duo set off not long after that. Zephyrion’s decision to carry on with the mission despite the obvious setbacks was met with fierce resistance from Demorian. Throughout their journey, the ancestor spared no effort in trying to convince him to turn back.

"Fifty—no, a hundred! I’ll give you a hundred rune arts, my protégé! Every single one a masterpiece invented by yours truly during my prime! All you have to do is turn back. Come on, protégé, you know you want to. Do you have any idea what you could accomplish with a hundred of my arts? You’d be practically unstoppable!"

A hundred rune arts from one of the world’s greatest geniuses was enough to make anyone’s mouth water, but Zephyrion managed to curb his temptation. It was especially easy when he reminded himself that the ancestor still hadn’t given him the rune art he’d previously promised.

Faced with his continued silence, Demorian grew even more desperate.

"Alright, alright, still not enough? You’re a tough nut to crack, protégé. Who the hell did you inherit that stubbornness from? Fine, how about this? I’ll even throw in my blood!"

Despite himself, Zephyrion couldn’t help but grow curious.

’...Your blood?’

"Haha, that’s right, my blood!" Demorian exclaimed cheerfully. "During my prime, this master of yours spread his seed far and wide! You can’t even begin to imagine how many descendants of mine are scattered across the continent. And with my magnificent bloodline, I’m certain there are plenty of divine beauties among them for you to choose from!"

’...We share the same blood.’

"Ah, potato, tomato! You’re missing the point, protégé! Do you have any idea how many chicks those house heads have fucked since my time? Our blood’s probably so diluted by now that we might as well be strangers!"

Demorian’s voice suddenly dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, as though he were letting Zephyrion in on some great secret.

"Just say the word, my protégé, and I’ll track them down for you. One word from this ancestor, and those beauties will be lining up to worship the ground you walk on!"

’...’

Judging by the ancestor’s triumphant tone, Zephyrion had the distinct impression that Demorian had been saving this utterly delusional offer as some sort of trump card.

Letting out a weary sigh, Zephyrion decided to give the absurd proposal the only response it deserved.

Silence.

Unfortunately, after a few moments without a reply, the ancestor began to panic again. He was just about to launch into another round of bargaining when Zephyrion promptly tuned him out. The last thing he wanted was for Demorian to grow desperate enough to offer something even more ridiculous.

’...His sperm.’

Zephyrion shuddered, wondering where the hell such a disturbing thought had come from. He quickly pushed it out of his mind before his imagination could take him somewhere even worse.

’Focus. Focus. Things are only going to get more dangerous from here. I can’t afford any slip-ups.’

He’d been through several high-stakes situations during his time at the Order. At the very least, keeping his composure under pressure was something he’d grown accustomed to.

"You seem lost in thought, brother. Everything alright?"

Zephyrion snapped out of his thoughts to find Nourald watching him with a curious expression. The Aerelith was gliding effortlessly beside him as they moved through the forest, the air parting before him as though daring to obstruct his path would be some sort of divine sin.

Unfortunately, Zephyrion couldn’t do the same, so he’d resorted to leaping from tree branch to tree branch, using his limited control over air to reduce his weight and make his movements appear almost weightless. So far, the deception seemed to be working, as Nourald hadn’t once questioned his unusual method of travel.

"I was just thinking about all the things I’ll miss once we return." Zephyrion replied after a moment.

Nourald let out a wistful sigh and nodded in agreement. "Brother, don’t even get me started. It’s practically all I’ve been thinking about! This past month has been one hell of a journey. I’ve been to places I didn’t even know existed, met people I never imagined meeting, and eaten things I honestly wish I could forget. Haha, you wouldn’t believe half the things I’ve been through!

"There was even this village where they tried to marry me off to the chief’s daughter. Beautiful girl, mind you, absolutely gorgeous, but her father wanted me to stay there forever! Can you imagine? Me? Settling down in some little village in the middle of nowhere? I mean, don’t get me wrong, she was lovely, but..."

Zephyrion listened silently as Nourald rambled on, gradually forming a clearer impression of the man. He seemed cheerful, innocent, and almost ridiculously enthusiastic about everything, but Zephyrion couldn’t bring himself to lower his guard.

He still hadn’t managed to determine Nourald’s rank, and the ease with which he manipulated the air suggested that he was anything but weak. For all he knew, that carefree personality could be nothing more than a facade.

He certainly wasn’t about to take any chances.

Zephyrion continued engaging him in conversation, occasionally asking questions to keep him talking and, more importantly, to prevent him from asking too many questions of his own.

Eventually, they reached the crest of a tall hill just as the setting sun painted the horizon a deep scarlet. Below them, spread across a vast clearing, was an enormous camp illuminated by dozens of flickering bonfires.

Zephyrion swept his gaze over the white-haired figures moving about the camp, carefully suppressing the grimness threatening to creep into his expression.

’...At least a hundred.’

And every single one of them was a Herald.

For the first time, Zephyrion found himself seriously reconsidering the ancestor’s offer.

...

Zephyrion followed a smiling Nourald through the camp. Though he maintained a calm expression, only he knew of the turmoil raging within.

There were far too many things that could go wrong. Someone challenging him to some sort of air battle, a situation requiring him to fly, or even something as simple as being asked to conjure a gale could expose his identity. And as a Ferran surrounded by more than a hundred Aerelith, Zephyrion certainly didn’t like those odds.