The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld-Chapter 122

[Translator - Pot]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]

Chapter 122: Somerset, the Unfinished Vessel

I followed the traces of the Nepherus, using the villagers' testimonies as a guide.

“You’re quite skilled. Did you hunt a lot when you were younger?”

Even Venion, who had been quietly observing, couldn’t help but ask with a hint of admiration.

“You know that’s not the case, don’t you?”

“Just curious, that’s all. Just curious.”

I faithfully followed Jeffrey’s advice.

Based on the information I gathered, I observed the enemy’s traces and followed their expected route along the complex coastline. Eventually, I found the Nepherus’s lair.

Was it because I was a genius? Maybe. But more accurately, it meant the creature wasn’t cautious enough.

‘That’s why it’s going to die by my hand. Pathetic fool.’

The arrogance of thinking oneself a king. That’s a direct path to death.

‘My end will be the same. The reputation of Karzan, who lived in the shadows, eventually reached the ears of the Dark King, hastening my death.’

Fame comes with danger. It’s like exposing yourself to the arrows of unseen enemies.

That’s why it was crucial that no one discovered that Allenvert Grunewald, the noble son of the duchy, and Karzan, the rising power of the underworld, were the same person.

Even if Verdzig’s suspicions were close to the truth, and even if he were the type to act on mere intuition, I had no intention of leaving behind any concrete evidence.

“It’s over there.”

Enough with the thoughts.

Following the traces picked up by my expanded sensory perception, I saw a cluster of islands beyond the coastline, leading to a towering coastal cliff.

In the middle of it was a massive cave entrance, like the gaping maw of a monster.

“Oh, I didn’t expect you to find it this quickly.”

Venion chuckled, praising me.

“You’re quite skilled at using sensory perception.”

“Does it seem that way?”

“There’s almost nothing left for me to teach you about sensory perception.”

Venion hummed and nodded, to which I replied.

“You never taught me in the first place.”

“The Young Lady taught you well enough.”

“Isn’t that negligence on your part?”

“Let’s call it efficient division of labor.”

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

Anyway, I turned my attention to the hole in the middle of the coastal cliff and the swarming, grotesque sea creatures around it.

“Wow.”

Giant barnacles clinging tightly to the rocks. And turtles with eight legs, climbing up and down the sheer cliff face like lizards.

Both were bizarrely mutated beasts—monstrous creatures.

“What the hell is that? Ugh, it’s disgusting.”

I hate monsters and mutated beasts. At least orcs and ogres look somewhat humanoid, but these things are just downright creepy.

“Just looking at them makes me sick.”

I rubbed my arms. Ugh, goosebumps.

“Still, it’s strange. I didn’t expect there to be so many mutated beasts here.”

Venion narrowed his eyes.

“At this rate, there might be a mana vein surging beneath the seabed nearby. The abnormal proliferation of mutated beasts is always something to be cautious about.”

“Shouldn’t we consider this a fully formed colony already?”

“Correct.”

Venion pointed at the grotesque sea creatures with his finger.

“In areas with unusually high mana concentrations, rare herbs and creatures are also more likely to appear. Beasts that survive in such places often mutate into monstrous creatures with bizarre traits as part of their survival strategy.”

“Is it because mana is infused in everything they eat, drink, and breathe?”

“Exactly. Even if they don’t know effective cultivation techniques, they absorb mana like nutrients and accumulate it within their bodies.”

Mana responds to the will of its user.

“So, just as humans imbue their swords with aura and strengthen their bodies through various techniques…”

“So, beasts also learn to strengthen their bones, hides, claws, develop toxins, and transform their bodies.”

“Exactly.”

Venion smiled.

“Well, when the student is smart, the teacher’s workload decreases.”

“True enough.”

“Anyway, in areas with mana veins where monsters and mutated beasts proliferate, a strong individual occasionally emerges to take on the role of a monster lord.”

“So that sea serpent bastard must be the lord of this colony, huh?”

If so, this is a serious problem.

“I’ve heard that when the monster population grows too large, a monster wave occurs.”

“Yes. Food becomes scarce, aggression rises, and they end up attacking villages. It doesn’t seem to have reached that stage yet, but—”

“It’s only a matter of time.”

I muttered while gripping the hilt of my sword. If that happened, the first to be wiped out would undoubtedly be the villagers I had just met.

“But Venion, if this place truly has such a mana vein, why hasn’t this situation happened before?”

Venion shook his head.

“That’s hard to say. We’ll need to investigate after exterminating the threat.”

“Fair enough.”

“Your Highness, what will you do now?”

Venion asked.

“Requesting reinforcements is also a reasonable choice.”

As Venion said, this was ultimately a test, and if I encountered an enemy I couldn’t handle alone, it would be logical to fulfill my role as a scout.

‘But that’s not a perfect answer.’

“I’ve already made up my mind.”

I drew my sword.

“We’ve already found their base, and time is likely not on our side. In that case, I should fulfill my scouting duties in a different way.”

“A different way, you say?”

“I’ll get closer to assess the situation and, if possible, take preemptive action.”

Venion shrugged.

“It’s pointless to tell you it’s dangerous.”

You’re good with words. Not that you seem intent on stopping me anyway.

“But it looks like the master of the house isn’t home.”

The serpent was probably out causing chaos somewhere.

“You stupid sea serpent bastard.”

I declared toward the Nepherus or whatever it was called.

“When you come back, your home will be in ruins.”

* * *

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Somerset Grunewald.

A commander leading a unit of the Security Guard and a man with the full support of the Agrippa clan, Somerset had recently been plagued by deep frustration.

‘Damn them.’

Verdzig, Karl, and Somerset.

His name, once naturally mentioned in discussions of Grunewald’s succession, had long since been overshadowed by Allenvert.

And that wasn’t all. In his attempt to put that arrogant, half-blooded brat in his place, he had instead been cornered and forced to hand over rare potion.

‘What a joke.’

His mother nagged him relentlessly, and his maternal clan was eager to reap the rewards of their support.

He also disliked how the public viewed him as a pitiful man who only held a place in the succession race due to his clan’s backing.

As a result, Somerset found a third path.

‘I’ll use the underworld as my blade.’

Of course, this was more of an impulsive idea born out of extreme pressure and mingling with desperate outcasts in similar situations.

He knew well that the underworld was a dangerous and vile place. But who would dare to harbor disrespectful thoughts toward the third son of the great Grunewald?

Somerset believed he could easily dominate the scum of the underworld with his power and authority.

‘The Bisakino Brotherhood.’

A powerful organization in Grunewald City, controlling significant interests, even managing the lists of dockworkers.

"Their strength and organization are quite formidable."

If it was a third-rate organization, its leader would likely possess immense martial prowess, reaching the 6th-tier of power. That level of strength was comparable to the knights of the Hundred Kingdoms, making them a force that couldn’t be taken lightly.

'It has to be at least that good to be considered a sword worthy of being wielded by the Young Master of Grunewald.'

A man who could manipulate them to his heart's content simply by securing his authority, background, and future interests. That was the position of Somerset, the third Young Master of Grunewald.

"But."

The vassals and connections Somerset had were all crafted by his mother and her clan. Trying to deceive their watchful eyes and scheme behind their backs was nothing more than the petty trick of a child who underestimated adults.

"Somerset."

This was the result.

"...Do you have nothing to hide from me?"

Silas Agrippa.

The Grand Duchy's treasurer and Somerset's uncle, he fixed a sharp gaze on Somerset.

"It would be wise to speak only the truth."

The piercing eyes of his uncle, a capable bureaucrat who had long survived the political arena of the Duchy and a powerful figure in the Agrippa clan.

Somerset felt his heart sink. Under the relentless questioning of his uncle, Silas Agrippa, Somerset swallowed dryly.

'Damn it.'

Had he already been found out? Where had the leak come from?

Despite his irritation, Somerset felt a chill run down his spine.

"Somerset, I’ve warned you before not to act recklessly."

Silas, with his stout build and usually amiable demeanor, exuded an overwhelming pressure when he turned serious.

"I can understand you drinking and mingling with ruffians, but to secretly involve dark underworld organizations without even consulting us—"

"Why shouldn’t I?"

"What did you say?"

Somerset, who had been quietly enduring the scolding, snapped back defiantly.

"It’s not like I’m the only one secretly aligning with them. Even you, Uncle—"

"Do you truly not understand? Bringing a beast you can’t control into your home to attack your own brothers—how dangerous is that?"

Silas’s expression turned cold.

"Do you know how those underworld scum secure their interests?"

"Ha, do you think I haven’t done my research?"

"And yet you’re giving them a chance to meddle in Grunewald’s internal affairs? Even promising them benefits?"

No matter how rational or cooperative the underworld organizations might seem, their essence was that of criminals who had built their power through blood, blades, and deceit in the shadows.

The idea of bringing in dangerous underworld forces to engage in dirty power struggles, without even attempting to grow one’s own capabilities, was both pitiful and reckless.

"You keep relying on others instead of putting in the effort yourself."

Silas clicked his tongue.

"Young Master Karl knows his shortcomings and works harder than anyone to wield his sword. It’s because people admire his diligence that he’s earned the reputation of being a rival to Young Master Verdzig."

"......"

Somerset’s eyebrow twitched. It was a comparison he had heard so often that it felt like a scab on his ear.

"And what about Young Master Allenvert? You might still be stronger than him now, but his talent far surpasses yours. If you don’t get your act together soon..."

Somerset clenched his teeth so hard they nearly cracked. Yes, this was it. His entire life had been spent under the weight of such comparisons and dismissals, oppressed by his mother and uncle.

But now, at 20 years old, Somerset’s ego could no longer endure this kind of oppression.

"Uncle."

And so, Somerset’s defiance finally extended even to his stern and unyielding uncle.

"So, I’ll do things my way."

"...What did you say?"

Silas’s eyes turned icy at the unexpected retort.

"What did you just say?"

"I said that if my talent isn’t enough, I’ll pursue my own path."

Somerset met his uncle’s gaze head-on.

"Let’s assume, as you say, that my abilities are weaker than my brothers’."

Somerset admitted what he had long refused to acknowledge and asked.

"Should I just accept that and give up?"

"......"

"If that were the case, you, Grandfather, and Mother wouldn’t have been so busy trying to make me the king of Grunewald, would you?"

Somerset sneered.

"Yes, my qualities might be inferior to my brothers’. But I was born a Young Master of Grunewald. I have many resources and many people I can use."

That was the conclusion Somerset had reached after much contemplation.

He had been intimidated by Allenvert during their encounter, and the memory of being manipulated by his schemes had driven him to seek another way out.

"So, instead, I’ll wield and rule over others, using their strength to ascend to the throne. Isn’t that also a way to claim the crown?"

Somerset declared boldly.

"I’ll prove it."

"Is that your resolve?"

"Yes."

...If only those words could be taken at face value, if only Somerset had truly matured, how much better it would be.

'But.'

The fire in Somerset’s eyes was diminishing day by day.

While it might seem like he had developed some resolve, given that he could now meet Silas’s gaze directly—

His eyes lacked the determination to pierce through and dominate his opponent. Instead, they reflected only defiance, impulsiveness, and baseless optimism.

'You’re still so young, Somerset. You’re just a boy pretending to be a man.'

To the seasoned bureaucrat, it was clear that Somerset was far from complete.

But if that Somerset was intent on holding a poison far beyond its capacity...

'Then the adults will have to step in.'

"Remember this."

Silas warned.

"Resolve alone is not enough. I’ll watch over you for now, but if you can’t live up to your words, I won’t stand idly by."

With that, Silas left the reception room, leaving Somerset with a complicated expression.

'Still, the boy did say one thing right.'

While Somerset’s talents might rank low among his brothers—

What he possessed, what he could wield, was by no means lacking.

'The influence of Agrippa is not inferior to that of Visquera or Bergen.'

And so, he had to stake his life and his clan’s legacy to mold this unfinished vessel into a king.

[Translator - Pot]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]