The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation-Chapter 12 - 11 — Mark Two

Zephyrion settled at the table and gestured for Borun to take the seat opposite him.

"Sit. Tell me about Calderalth."

Borun hesitated slightly.

"About that... this lowly one wouldn’t dare claim to have the most current information. What I know are mostly rumors."

"That will suffice."

"Very well, young lord." Borun nodded. "Then I’ll begin with how a Sarakhel came to command this bastion. It was about three years ago. Commander Ragan was suddenly replaced."

"Denmar."

"Yes, young lord. According to whispers from the capital, the faith’s influence within Calderalth has been growing steadily."

Zephyrion’s brows drew together faintly.

"And my father?"

His father, Kastor Calderalth, was a legend of the south, acknowledged as the one of the Ten Thrones, the ten strongest beings across the entire continent.

His mere presence had restrained the Sarakhel from overstepping their boundaries for decades.

"That..."

At Borun’s hesitation, Zephyrion’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Has something happened to him?"

"No—no, nothing of the sort, young master."

Borun waved his hand hurriedly.

"But... according to the rumors, ever since that incident seven years ago, he rarely involves himself in the affairs of the house."

Zephyrion frowned.

’Hmm.’

The incident Borun referred to was none other than the one that had led to his disappearance.

For a fleeting moment, Zephyrion felt the cool surface of the silver necklace against his chest.

He had not been the only one affected. After all, his mother, Serenith Calderalth, Kastor’s sole wife, had also gone missing.

...

"How did this happen?"

At the frigid voice, Noss lowered himself further in a bow.

"I-I—hick! I let my guard down..."

Noss swayed, still clearly affected by whatever Zephyrion had given him.

"Fool. You failed once, and now you fail again. Tell me, is watching a seventeen-year-old truly that difficult?"

Denmar’s icy gaze bore down on him, and Noss trembled under the pressure.

"I-I beg forgiveness. Hick!"

"Tch. There won’t be a third chance."

"Y-yes, my lord."

Silence settled between them as Denmar’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk.

"What did you learn?"

"I-I—hick! Nothing important, my lord. He keeps to himself most of the time. Doesn’t do much during the day. When he talks to the soldiers, it’s just... trivial things."

"His strength. What can you tell me?"

Denmar’s eyes narrowed slightly. Zephyrion had been a prodigy who shattered every record prior to his disappearance, attaining the Vessel rank at merely eight years old.

With more than nine years having passed since then, he should have long surpassed that stage.

"He’s still at the First Mark of the Vessel rank, my lord. I watched him spar with one of the soldiers. His strength and speed match that level."

"Hmm..."

Denmar’s brows furrowed as his fingers continued their measured tapping against the desk.

’That is peculiar...’

A talent that awakened at five and reached the Vessel rank within three short years had not progressed even a single step in the following nine?

’Is it his talent?’

A person’s talent was determined by how deeply they could comprehend their element’s rune and their resonance with the WorldPulse.

Zephyrion must have easily comprehended the initial segments, only to encounter an insurmountable wall at the higher tiers.

’So he’s nothing but trash.’

A trace of contempt flickered through Denmar’s eyes. With such a crippled talent, Zephyrion would never survive within Calderalth.

’No room for risk.’

Even so, Zephyrion’s mere existence posed a threat that could not be ignored.

"Calderalth has sent a Herald from the Whitesteel Guard to escort him back," Denmar said coldly. "Prepare yourself. You’ll accompany them."

"...!"

Noss’ eyes widened. The Whitesteel Guard were Calderalth’s ultimate enforcers. Living weapons who answered to no one but the Head of House.

"You’re dismissed. And remember what I said."

"Y-yes, my lord."

...

Noss stepped out of the office moments later, the cool night air grazing his face. Yet there was no relief in his expression, only raw, simmering fury.

’That bastard!’

He had taken the seat only to preserve his identity and maintain his cover, fully intending never to touch that tea.

And yet, somehow, he had ended up drinking it. Noss had monitored his every move, and he still couldn’t understand how Zephyrion had acquired something potent enough to put him to sleep.

Even worse, he could not understand what had come over him.

’It was him.’

Noss’ fists tightened at his sides. Zephyrion had drunk cup after cup without hesitation, as though daring him to doubt it.

He had then eased the tension with idle, meaningless conversation. Finally, he had casually brought up Noss’ failure, and before he realized it, he had found himself lifting the cup.

’I will make you regret this.’

Noss was an assassin, one who took immense pride in his discipline and control. To be manipulated by a mere seventeen-year-old was humiliation of the highest order.

He strode toward his assigned post outside Zephyrion’s chamber, his teeth clenched tightly.

...

As the morning light streamed through the open window and fell upon him, Zephyrion slowly opened his eyes.

’It’s too slow.’

For the past two days, Zephyrion had been steadily thinning the fog obscuring the Metal Rune. However, the progress was agonizingly slow.

’I need something more potent.’

He was forcing the fog to disperse through sheer mental pressure, but it felt like attempting to thaw solid ice with lukewarm air.

At this rate, unveiling the entire rune would take far too long.

’I’ll address it once I return home. For now...’

He lifted his arm, and a low vibration resonated as he synchronized with the WorldPulse. A sphere of metal materialized above his palm in the next instant.

’It’s stable.’

An Ascendant’s power was divided into five ascending stages: Touched, Anointed, Vessel, Herald, and Dominion. Each stage was further split into seven marks of progress.

The first Mark of Vessel rank, Manifestation, was where Zephyrion had remained for almost a decade.

Now, he had only just uncovered the second mark, Stability, and the results were immediately reflected in the sphere hovering above his arm.

Several seconds passed, but the metal sphere remained perfectly condensed and unmoving, without the slightest tremor or distortion. Zephyrion could scarcely feel any mental burden in sustaining it.

Beyond that, he could feel a substantial change in his body. His bones felt denser, his muscles more tightly coiled. Even his skin felt more durable.

’Hmm... I’ve missed this.’

Zephyrion smiled faintly. For once, he felt grateful for his extraordinary comprehension speed.

He had unveiled the Second Mark only last night, but he had already grasped its principles in its entirety. For others, such understanding would take months, perhaps even years of effort to achieve.

’I just have to deal with the fog.’

He had an idea of what could speeden the process, but that could only be possible once he returned home.

"Hah..."

Exhaling softly, Zephyrion withdrew his will, allowing the metal sphere to disintegrate into scattered fragments before vanishing entirely.

Knock.

"Enter."

At his command, Denmar’s assassin stepped inside and bowed respectfully.

"Your escorts have arrived, young lord."

’It’s time.’

Zephyrion’s gaze narrowed.

Finally, it was time to return home.