HPV 57

The mage seemed slightly surprised that Yurichen had brought up Riarun.

A bright, clear, yet somehow secretive beauty, as if nestled in the arms of a spirit.

He wasn’t a comrade mentioned in the Oracle, so by rights, they should have been strangers — but through some chance or fate, they had remained together.

What was the High Priest’s intent in mentioning Riarun now?

“I made efforts in my own way to draw your attention,” Yurichen said.

“I didn’t want lecherous eyes lingering on Riarun.”

Penzey gave a small, hollow laugh.

For just a fleeting moment, a A ghost of a smile appeared on his smooth, porcelain-like face before vanishing.

“No wonder… you were wearing your veil so carelessly,” he said.

Truly, it was an odd thing.

The High Priest, who had spent his entire life using his appearance only to overpower others without intention, had, for the first time, deliberately revealed it — and although he would never admit it, he had ended up ‘seducing’ someone.

Naturally, the High Priest did not think of it as seduction. To him, it was simply leadership, necessary to smoothly guide the group to the Black Dragon’s Nest.

Before Penzey now stood a face that revered Gaoih, a flawless, unblemished face of purity.

There had been a time, long ago, when Penzey had wished to see that face twisted in despair and anger.

He had burned with jealousy, wishing that great faith would be shattered, wishing for Yurichen’s ruin.

But now…

He almost wished that Yurichen would live his entire life just as he was, renowned and unbroken.

It was better for the world if there was nothing that could ever bring down Yurichen, the High Priest.

As they passed by a stone wall, Penzey’s arm suddenly cut across Yurichen’s path.

The way forward was blocked. Yurichen turned his body slightly, and they ended up facing each other.

The mage lowered his head, boxing the priest against the wall.

“Yurichen Viezlin, whose every word is truth,” Penzey murmured.

On a moonless night, he dared to mimic the moon, lifting his sly eyes to seize Yurichen’s gaze.

“What punishment will you give me, who is nothing but lies?”

The distance between them was dangerously close. To any onlooker, it would have looked like a scandal unfolding.

Both of them still dressed in mourning clothes, no less.

“Do you want to be punished?” Yurichen said lightly, almost offhandedly.

Penzey waited, a heavy smile lingering at his lips.

“You’ve never lied to me,” Yurichen said. “So there’s no punishment.”

“Say it,” Penzey pressed.

Slowly, the mage’s smile faded, and with it, his mask fell away.

“You’re a thunderous drunkard who likes to play tricks on me,” Yurichen said.

“And you enjoy teasing me.”

“Is that so,” Penzey murmured.

“Don’t act so arrogant. Do you think hiding and covering yourself up makes you some pitiable soul? You’re just a no-good thug, whether you hide your face or not.”

It wasn’t a sermon. It wasn’t a lecture, or forgiveness. The words were sharp enough to cut, yet the voice was calmer than ever.

Penzey’s disguise magic consumed three of the six circles he could command.

But against a black dragon tainted by a demon, those three circles would never be enough.

He had to use the best magic he had. Sooner or later, Yurichen would have brought it up anyway.

Above Penzey’s heart and on the backs of both his hands, red magic circles flared and then faded.

Yurichen quietly watched as Penzey’s face returned to its false features.

“Let’s say nothing happened… now try to convince me. Yurichen Viezlin. Convince me to drop the disguise, using your own mouth. Isn’t that your mission?”

Yurichen stepped forward with his left foot. The priest’s black shoes shifted and brushed lightly past Penzey’s.

***

A soft whisper reached the mage’s ear.

The next day, Paronai went out for a walk just like before and visited the Count of Ikaran’s grave.

From time to time, people would ask him where his parents were, but with a lazy grin, he somehow managed to dodge them each time.

Even at nine years old, Paronai was a prodigy in swordsmanship, and slipping away between adults was no challenge for him.

It didn’t feel right, placing flowers atop the gravestone. Paronai’s large eyes stared at the letters etched into the stone, marking the death of someone who shared his surname — Penzey.

His own parents were doing fine back in their hometown. They even got in trouble at the Swordsmanship Academy for sending him too many letters every week.

Every Sunday night, he was busy just replying to them.

But Penzey…

Penzey looked completely unfazed, even after his father’s death.

‘It feels even heavier because you’re not sad. It’s sadder because you had a father whose death leaves you feeling nothing. That’s why… as your friend…’

But, honestly, calling himself Penzey’s “friend” felt a little off now.

Paronai had shrunk into a child while Penzey remained an adult. It felt awkward for a child and an adult to call each other friends.

After bowing his head in silent prayer, Paronai slipped out and wandered the streets.

He had only one silver coin, given to him by Yurichen “for emergencies,” and the sword he clutched to his chest. (He was too small now to wear it properly at his waist.)

Wandering through the alleys… Paronai stumbled upon something unusual.

A caged magical beast, bred by the Count’s estate to be used for training.

Several men were struggling to load the cage onto a cart, the whole thing covered in cloth.

But due to the funeral coinciding with this event, they seemed to be badly understaffed.

Far too few people for a cage that large.

…And they’re not even trained fighters.

Paronai’s sharp instincts immediately read the situation.

One, two, heave-ho!

The men clung to the cart and tried to move it. Maybe sensing his gaze, a faint tremor began to leak from within the quiet cage.

The warrior, driven by instinct, drew the sword he clutched to his chest.

He tossed the scabbard to the ground and raised the blade high with both hands.

One of the men moving the cage spotted Paronai and spoke in a bothered tone.

“Hey, kid, get outta here. Where’d you get that sword?”

The little boy’s answer came in the form of a tremendous shout.

“Get out of the way!”

Leaping to a height easily three times his own, Paronai slashed at the beast that had just torn through the wooden cage and burst free.

ROAAAR!

The enraged beast rose up on two legs, its entire massive, black, muscle-bound body roaring in fury.

Before it could lunge at the men pulling the cart, Paronai’s sword sank into its arm by a hair’s breadth.

Screams rang out everywhere.

One of the men barely escaped injury and fell backward, crawling away in terror.

“Huff, huff…”

Paronai landed on the ground after drawing the beast’s attention toward himself. When his feet hit the ground, his ankle almost twisted. He was too small, too weak.

Even gripping the familiar sword took all his effort, leaving him breathless. His small hands were going numb. His wrists ached as if they would snap, and the skin of his palms stung, ready to tear.

Even now, the beast’s two arms came crashing down, aiming to rip the little warrior apart.

“Kh…!”

He barely twisted his body to evade, but couldn’t recover his balance —his back slammed into the cart behind him.

A sharp, painful shock burst from his small body. In the next instant, the beast’s arm struck him squarely.

He rolled several times across the ground.

Paronai barely managed to avoid biting his tongue, using a technique to minimize internal injuries.

With trembling arms, he forced himself up.

As the beast lunged to crush him, he rammed his sword — the one he still hadn’t let go of — deep into the back of its thick, black hand.

The beast howled in pain. By pouring his entire weight into it, Paronai succeeded in driving the blade through the creature’s hand. But the sword wouldn’t come free.

Digging his feet into the ground, he desperately tugged at the hilt with every last ounce of strength he had.

As he strained to pull the sword out, the beast’s claw came slashing down — and jabbed straight toward his body.

He let go of the sword at the last second and narrowly avoided being skewered. But the danger wasn’t over.

The beast’s rampage had half-collapsed the building beside them.

He tumbled into the basement of the half-collapsed building and barely managed to grab onto a single brick jutting out near the edge with his left hand.

Unfortunately, it was the building that housed the Gaioh temple underground.

The basement floor was so far below that his cry echoed faintly in the abyss.

If he fell, he would be seriously injured.

Paronai forced strength into his trembling left arm. For a fleeting moment, he bitterly regretted having enjoyed himself earlier, forgetting that he was now a child again.

Just then —a small figure came running with rapid, clattering steps.

Tiny Riarun.

He rushed straight toward Paronai, who was hanging from the edge of the collapsed building, and reached out his right hand.

“Grab my hand!”

Paronai looked up.

A child, angelic in appearance, was solemnly reaching out his hand.

Before he could even feel moved, Paronai shouted back in disbelief:

“How am I supposed to grab your hand?! You’re just gonna get pulled down too!”