Gaon glanced at Rotes.
Rotes had said Kerhen’s funeral was held forty years ago.
Yet Tron, an artisan of the Kerhen Workshop, was claiming Kerhen was alive.
What was going on?
“Oh…”
Rotes looked equally shocked.
Catching Gaon’s gaze, he quickly asked Tron, “Didn’t he pass away? I attended his funeral forty years ago…”
“Ah,” Tron exclaimed, nodding.
He explained, “That’s what the world was told. The elder was facing a once-in-a-lifetime challenge, one that could’ve led to his death if it failed. So, he held a funeral in advance. Fortunately, he succeeded in creating a masterpiece and survived. Only a few in the workshop know this.”
Gaon pieced it together.
Rotes’s account was true, and so was Kerhen being alive.
And one more thing became clear—the nature of Kerhen’s “challenge.”
He actually made an elixir?
Kerhen wasn’t a mage or a warrior, yet he was still alive?
The only explanation was an elixir.
It accounted for his survival.
“To answer your question, I last saw him fifty-five years ago,” Gaon said.
“I see,” Tron replied.
“But he completed the elixir, didn’t he?”
“…!”
Tron’s face lit up with surprise.
It was an unexpected revelation.
“You must’ve been very close. To know about the elixir…”
Few knew Kerhen was working on an elixir.
Curiosity piqued, Tron asked, “May I know your name?”
“Gaon.”
“Gaon-nim…?”
Tron paused, tilting his head.
“Uh… um…”
He stammered, unable to speak clearly, his face full of confusion.
“Are you… the Gaon I’m thinking of? The first Tower Master of Gardion Tower and Emperor of the Varta Empire…?”
Tron spoke with disbelief, certain it couldn’t be true.
But the situation and atmosphere pointed to that Gaon.
Gaon smiled silently.
Tron looked at Rotes.
“Yes, it’s him,” Rotes confirmed.
Tron immediately dropped to his knees, bowing deeply. “It’s an honor to meet you!”
“No need for that. Stand up,” Gaon replied.
Tron rose, and Gaon asked, “What’s the matter? Did he disappear without a word?”
Tron’s question about recent meetings implied Kerhen wasn’t at the workshop.
“Well…” Tron hesitated, looking troubled. “Three years ago, he left a letter and departed. He said he was going to do things he couldn’t in his youth. We haven’t heard from him since…”
Gaon was speechless.
It was an unexpected reason.
“Did the elixir restore his youth?”
“Yes, he fully regained his past appearance. He said it was like being in his early twenties, though to me, he looked late thirties.”
Gaon nodded in understanding.
“If I meet him later, could you pass on that everyone’s worried?” Tron asked cautiously.
“Sure,” Gaon agreed readily.
It was a simple request—just passing a message.
What Kerhen did with it was his choice.
“Thank you!” Tron said gratefully.
Gaon asked more about Kerhen—about the elixir’s effects and what he’d crafted before disappearing.
Tron began explaining, and Gaon listened, thinking, He made all sorts of things.
The explanations alone were astounding.
Gaon was curious about Kerhen’s mind—how he conceived and created such things.
“This is our workshop’s new product, the Magic Armor, debuting at this special auction. The elder developed it twenty years ago, but it took many artisans a year to produce a prototype…”
Tron, with a nostalgic expression, showed a black glove with a button on the back.
It wasn’t an ordinary glove.
“May I demonstrate?” Tron asked eagerly.
Gaon, who was about to request a demonstration, nodded.
Tron put on the glove and pressed the button.
Swish!
The glove glowed, transforming instantly into black armor covering his entire body.
“Impressive,” Gaon remarked.
It wasn’t ordinary armor.
Made of black iron, stronger than steel, it had two magic circles engraved on it.
“Haste and Strength?” Gaon guessed.
“As expected, you recognize them! Yes, though only at the 2nd Circle level,” Tron said, sounding slightly disappointed.
But enabling Haste and Strength buffs without a mage was monumental.
It wasn’t “just” 2nd Circle—it was an incredible feat.
“How do you deactivate it?”
“Press the button on the chest. Only the wearer can do it.”
Tron pressed the chest button, and the armor reverted to a glove instantly.
At that moment—
Knock, knock.
“It’s Kellion. May I enter?”
The voice of Kellion, the auction house manager, came from outside.
Gaon checked the time.
“Time flew by.”
It was time to go.
“Come in,” Gaon said.
The door opened, and Kellion entered, bowing. “Apologies. It’s time to close the special vault…”
He trailed off, glancing at Tron and the artifacts on the table.
Tron smiled. “They’re all genuine. I vouch for them.”
“Oh…!”
Kellion gasped.
Not just one or two—eight artifacts.
He’d thought some might be fakes, but all were Kerhen’s?
“The grades…?” Kellion asked, swallowing hard.
Tron looked at the artifacts again. “Two top-grade, four high-grade, two mid-grade.”
“…Pardon?”
“I must’ve misheard…”
“No, you heard correctly. Two top-grade, four high-grade, two mid-grade,” Tron repeated clearly.
“…!”
Kellion was stunned.
Tron turned to Gaon. “If it’s alright, may I personally present them at the auction?”
“That’d be great,” Gaon replied.
With Tron, a Kerhen Workshop artisan, presenting, the auction would heat up, fetching better prices.
“Thank you for allowing it,” Tron said, then turned to Kellion. “Is that possible?”
“We’d be the ones grateful!” Kellion replied, snapping out of his daze.
He added to Gaon, “Please wait a moment. I’ll prepare the registration certificate.”
Gaon nodded, and Kellion left, returning shortly with documents and a golden plaque—made of actual gold.
“Here’s the certificate and a VVIP auction pass.”
“VVIP pass?” Gaon asked.
“No need to reserve a seat. Come anytime during the auction, and you’ll have a place,” Kellion explained.
Gaon nodded, rising.
He turned to Tron. “Take care of it.”
“I’ll do my best,” Tron replied, bowing.
“It was an honor to meet you.”
“See you next time.”
Gaon patted Tron’s shoulder encouragingly and left with Rotes for the Scarlet Inn.
As they walked, he thought, Are the others alive too?
Kerhen was alive, thanks to the elixir.
Perhaps others had found ways to survive too.
Soon, they arrived at the inn.
Taylor wasn’t alone—he was awkwardly chatting with a middle-aged man.
Gaon sensed who it was—the guildmaster, Geto, from the Adventurers’ Guild.
“Master!” Taylor stood as he saw Rotes.
Geto also rose, approaching Gaon. “I have something to discuss privately.”
Here you are.
Geto carefully handed over a pouch—not an ordinary one, but a subspace artifact containing the Hedin Mercenary Band’s bodies.
“And I’ve spoken to the elder,” Geto added.
“Good work,” Bloody said, taking the pouch.
“I’ll put in a good word with the prince.”
“It was my duty, but thank you,” Geto replied with a smile.
“Safe travels.”
“See you next time.”
After exchanging farewells, Geto left.
Bloody headed to the residence of Galico, head of the court mages.
At the office door, a servant greeted him. “Greetings, First Disciple.”
“Is he inside?”
“Yes, along with the Second Disciple.”
“I see.”
Bloody frowned slightly at the mention of Marin, the second disciple, but knocked and entered.
“Greetings, Master,” he said, bowing to Galico, who was sipping tea at the head of the room.
“How’d it go?” Galico asked, nodding in acknowledgment.
“I’ve secured the bodies. I plan to keep them for now—they might be useful later.”
“And what should I do?” Marin asked with a smile.
Bloody served the 2nd Prince, Beltik, while Marin served the 1st Prince, Potik—both assigned by Galico to ensure influence regardless of who became king.
Galico murmured, thinking, then asked Marin, “What would the 1st Prince do if he learned of this?”
“He’d try to recruit the Gardion Tower mages. Even without the bodies, witnesses could tarnish the 2nd Prince’s reputation.”
Marin’s voice was confident.
Galico turned to Bloody. “And the 2nd Prince?”
“The same—recruit the mages. But…” Bloody trailed off, his eyes disdainful. “His fiery temper might lead him to kill them if recruitment fails and the 1st Prince pressures him.”
“Can he kill them? I heard they’re High Mages.”
“The elder’s a concern, but they’re 5th Circle.”
Bloody spoke confidently. “With the 2nd Knight Commander’s help, he’d try to kill them.”
The commander, a near-Master and the 2nd Prince’s backer, could handle a 5th Circle mage, though a 6th Circle would be tougher.
“I see,” Galico nodded.
“Let the 1st Prince hear of this naturally. Then we’ll observe.”
“Yes!”
“Understood.”
Galico dismissed them. “I’d like to rest now.”
“Have a good night.”
“I’ll return with good news!”
Bloody and Marin left.
Galico sank into thought.
5th Circle…
Bloody said the Gardion elder was a 5th Circle High Mage.
That can’t be right.
If so, Breck wouldn’t have died.