A short while later, in the basement of the Nightwalker Estate.
The Room of the Abyss.
In that place, buried in darkness on all sides, Sien concentrated his senses. He recalled the events that had unfolded that day in the capital, Veneto.
Laila Nightwalker was no monster. However, in terms of the completion of one’s existence, her words were not entirely incomprehensible.
The same applied to the extraordinary powerhouses like Sword Demon Os, Grandel, Arthur Pendragon the King of the Round Table, and Roland the Saint of the Sword.
Even Sien, who would later become the Father of Assassins, was no exception.
A completed powerhouse.
At that point, they were like immortal beings who practiced through an eternity of life; even if they poured hundreds of years of effort into it, there would be no significant difference. They were at their end.
No matter how much they polished their skills, they would not grow stronger. If they tried to learn something new, they could not truly master it, and if they tried to forget what they already knew, they could not.
Perfection is perfect because nothing more can be added or taken away.
Paradoxically, the reason Sien could grow after returning to the past was because his current self was incomplete.
‘The beauty found in incompleteness.’
He recalled the sword mantra that Lady Theresia had taught him before the Turning Swallow technique.
It was something that those who had already reached a certain state and become completed beings could not grasp. It was a power that only the incomplete Sien could obtain.
[The Stance of Twilight and Dawn]
Recalling that realization, Sien whispered softly.
Of course, he could not mimic an absurd technique worthy of being called a secret art—a technique that even Theresia herself had not perfected—just by watching it and hearing a few words of the mantra.
However, on that day, what Theresia had shown within the blood-red barrier was more than that. She had not hidden the technique; she had explicitly shown him its logic and its foundations. It was obvious from the moment she kindly spoke the name of the secret technique aloud.
“Secret Art: Turning Swallow.”
The flow of Aura through his body came to a halt.
Simultaneously, with a burning pain throughout his body, the Aura reversed as if flipping a palm.
From Aura to Mana, then from Mana back to Aura.
Two incompatible properties coexisted for a fraction of a second before dispersing once more.
“Gah!”
Sien screamed as he exhaled the breath he had been holding. He was, quite literally, only following in her footsteps.
‘Well, at least I managed to follow her shadow.’
He had mimicked the technique that Theresia had blatantly shown him so he could follow along, and he had succeeded. Even Theresia probably wouldn’t imagine he could copy it this quickly.
Or would she?
He couldn’t be sure. In the first place, her motive for teaching him this technique was a mystery.
However, right now, he didn’t have the luxury of overthinking the kindness of someone untrustworthy. He just had to do his best to draw out the possibilities inherent in this incompleteness.
He had to do it before his existence was completed and those possibilities were exhausted—to bring down the “perfect monsters” that even the completed Sien of the future could not defeat.
***
At that same time.
In a peaceful city in the northwestern part of the Charlemagne Kingdom.
The city was being trampled and burned to the ground.
Their only crime was that they happened to be blocking the King’s path of advancement.
The path of Arthur, the King of the Round Table.
“Why… why…?”
The King was marching through, trampling the city that had turned into a pile of ash.
He did not take prisoners, nor did he leave anyone alive. He did not accept surrenders, nor did he allow anyone to escape. He simply seized, destroyed, and trampled everything in his sight.
“I… I won’t let you… pass…”
Knowing it was meaningless, an old soldier collapsed on the ground reached out a trembling arm to grab the King’s ankle.
*Crunch!*
Simultaneously, the King’s massive, bear-like foot crushed the soldier’s skull.
“Do not stand in the King’s way,” King Arthur said.
He left behind the shattered fragments of bone and brain matter as he spoke, as if he could not tolerate anything obstructing his path of conquest.
***
The year Sien turned 19.
The continental situation was changing rapidly. Fortunately, it did not deviate significantly from the expectations Sien had set.
The army of King Arthur of the Seven Kingdoms, which had invaded the Charlemagne Kingdom, trampled the northwestern region of the kingdom, gathered their loot, and returned before winter to conclude their first expedition. There were clashes with the Charlemagne Kingdom during the process, but no powerhouses of the caliber of the Twelve Knights or the Knights of the Round Table were killed.
The bloodshed was always the burden of the mediocre, powerless commoners and soldiers.
Furthermore, the loans the Seven Kingdoms had borrowed from the Nightwalker Family were paid as promised, and the Charlemagne Kingdom also repaid the war funds they had borrowed.
Of course, the war did not end there. The following year, the fleet of the Seven Kingdoms would trample the Charlemagne Kingdom again, and the year after that would be the same. Each time, the Republic would repeatedly engage in new business.
The “War of the Last Knights” would not end until decades of endless battles and ceasefires had passed.
Several new Children of Night joined the Nightwalker Family and passed their baptism. Among them, Sien’s goddaughter, Tia Nightwalker, passed the bone-making trial and became a Mademan of the family.
Sien’s big brother, Vigo, also became a Master of the Seventh Style.
One by one, the family members who would share the era with the future Sien were born and grew. Sien was no longer the reckless youngest child of a family with nothing to lose.
It was around that time that a letter arrived from the capital, Veneto, under Laila’s name.
***
In a secret room within the Governor’s Palace in the capital of Veneto.
It was a room filled with darkness even in the middle of the day. In a scene that was desolate and grim to the extreme, a single marble table sat in the room.
The Room of the Ten-Man Committee.
A secret organization that decided key policies on which the nation’s fate rested, including diplomacy, intelligence activities, and war.
“Welcome, Your Excellency, our esteemed Chairperson.”
“And Don Sien as well.”
The true rulers of this country, and the ruler above those rulers, made their appearance. Laila was accompanied by her son, Sien Nightwalker.
At this point, Sien was no longer an outsider to the Ten-Man Committee. Rather, he was the successor to the throne who would follow in Laila’s footsteps to become the true ruler of this nation.
“I don’t see Admiral Rafaello.”
“The Admiral said he would be absent.”
“Well, he is a busy man out at sea.”
Laila took her seat, unbothered.
“So, may I ask why you have urgently convened the committee?”
At Laila’s question, one of the committee members spoke up.
“A few weeks ago, through an unofficial diplomatic channel within the Empire’s territory, a high-ranking noble of the Empire sounded out his intention to defect.”
“A defection of a high-ranking noble?”
Laila blinked at the unexpected news.
“It is Marquis Bernard of the northern territory of the Empire.”
“Bernard of the Black Moon…”
The one who gasped in surprise at the name was Sien.
“You seem to know that name.”
“It would be strange not to know the greatest black mage on the continent.”
“Marquis Bernard… are you truly talking about that black mage?”
“It seems the Empire’s Church has internally concluded that his black magic is a ‘Special Grade Heresy.'”
“Certainly, his black magic isn’t something very pleasing from the perspective of the Holy Empire or the Church,” Laila replied as if it were no surprise. It was exactly as she said. The greatest black mage on the continent was settled right in the north of the Holy Empire. There was no need to mention how ridiculous that fact would sound to the people of the world.
“It hasn’t been officially announced yet, but it seems he obtained internal information from the Church through some route and attempted to contact our country’s diplomatic channels.”
Upon hearing that, Laila smiled with interest.
“That is certainly interesting news.”
“We must refuse the defection.”
A committee member who had been silent spoke up after Laila.
“If we accept that man, a large-scale conflict with the Holy Empire will be unavoidable. Not to mention the impact on our trade associations located in the residential areas within the Empire’s territory…”
The Governor, the official leader of this country, could decide nothing. Similarly, the Supreme Council, the decision-making body that determined the country’s policies, was the same.
The ones who decided were not them, but the ten rulers present in this room.
“Why should we refuse?”
Among them, the standing of the Nightwalker Family was easily equal to the remaining nine members.
“To me, it seems like a rather good proposal.”
“Duke Nightwalker!”
“I hear that the school of necromancy practiced by that man, Bernard of the Black Moon…”
“He can raise the dead to form an army and exert powerful influence that can change the course of a war.”
Laila smiled at Sien’s answer.
“Tactically and strategically, I feel a very interesting potential.”
“Interfering recklessly with matters of heresy in the realm of faith is no different from poking a hornets’ nest for the Empire and the Church.”
The Church of the Holy Romanius Empire.
However, contrary to the name “Church of the Nation,” it was the headquarters of faith that supported the Church of the entire continent, let alone the Holy Empire.
Every nation has values that can never be compromised. For example, for the Charlemagne Kingdom, chivalry was a value incomparable to anything else. And an uncompromisable value becomes their “reverse scale.”
For the Republic of Veneto and the Nightwalker Family, it would be an act of betraying or breaking “trust.” Similarly, from the perspective of the Holy Empire, it was a desecration of the Church and its holiness.
“Your Excellency the Grand Duke surely knows better than anyone. If we meddle in their faith, especially in matters of heresy…”
“What happens then?”
Right then, Sien asked back. His voice was incredibly bold.
“The peace of this country will be threatened.”
At those words, Sien burst into laughter. Laila did the same.
“What is peace?”
Laila asked back. The committee member gasped in embarrassment at her words.
What is peace?
“That is, well…”
He started to speak but then closed his mouth. He was no fool. A person foolish enough to believe in a simple choice between war and peace could never become a “ruler of this country.”
“It is the long-term interest of this nation.”
“Exactly.”
“In the end, it’s a matter of gain or loss. Peace is whatever results in the ‘final profit’ after coldly calculating the benefits.”
“That is all the more reason why there is no reason to accept Marquis Bernard’s defection.”
It was at that moment.
“No… the Chairperson and Don Sien might be right.”
A man with the name of the world’s most notorious moneylender spoke up.
“Lord Medici!”
“Peace is profit.”
It was Shylock de Medici, the president of the Republic’s national bank.
“Therefore, we need to more coldly calculate the ‘potential peace’ that man will bring to us.”
“No, it’s not even worth calculating,” Sien replied, taking over from Shylock. “Accept Marquis Bernard’s defection.”
Sien knew the possibilities he would bring in the future. He knew his potential value better than anyone else.
“Even if it means shedding some blood and fighting a war, we must accept that man.”
[Super-tier Wide-range Annihilation Black Magic: Abaddon]
He was the founder of the concept of “Strategic Magic,” which surpassed mere excellence in performance and made it possible to dictate the victory or defeat of a war with magic alone.
That was the man known as Bernard of the Black Moon.