Before leaving the hideout, Turan took the time to check its defenses one last time: several orbs of light to guard against Zahar intruders, and alarm magic tools triggered by human movement. He had arranged them in the positions he would find most troublesome if he were breaking in himself.

Of course, even these precautions were woefully inadequate to stop a noble of the top-ranking tier or above. But an opponent that powerful would already be beyond the Baraha couple’s ability to handle. They could only hope that no one would send a combatant of that caliber all the way out here.

“We’ll be back.”

“Do take care of yourselves. And make sure you wash your clothes while you’re traveling.”

“Oh, Mom...”

Nagged right up to the last moment, Solif looked back at the hideout with an expression of utter exasperation, only for his face to grow somber. A couple with the mana of middle-tier nobles would ordinarily have little reason to fear for their safety, but their enemies were far from ordinary.

Soon, the three mounted the enlarged Vije and set off northeast. Her body alone was five meters long, and her wingspan easily exceeded ten. The appearance of such an enormous bird of prey would have been enough to terrify every nearby city, yet no one noticed her. Vije maintained her stealth throughout the flight.

With the situation so urgent, they traveled even faster than on their previous forced marches. By day, Vije carried all three through the sky; by night, they flew under their own power while she slept inside Turan’s body.

As a result, it took them only two and a half days to return to the Dakayn Plains from their hideout near the Sky Mountains at the western edge of the world. It was a remarkable pace, considering that Turan had once needed a full month and a half to walk that distance, and their recent journey with the Baraha couple had taken about five days.

* * *

“Asiz.”

It was early evening. Asiz, who had been wandering the mansion’s garden with an anxious expression, turned in surprise at the sudden voice. Turan stood there, though Asiz had no idea when he had appeared.

“It’s been a while. Um, where are the other two?”

“Waiting outside the city. The kidnappers might have people watching nearby.”

“I see...”

Asiz was about to say it was a shame, since he had wanted to see Maysa in person, but closed his mouth. This was no time for such leisurely remarks.

“First of all, I’m sorry. For calling you here over this.”

“We’re friends. There’s nothing to apologize for. More importantly, can you tell me more? There wasn’t much to go on in the letter.”

At Turan’s words, Asiz glanced around, then let out a light breath as he gathered his thoughts. Soon, he began recounting the recent events.

“A week ago, my brother went to Morgen to deliver magic tools.”

Asiz’s older brother, Melo, was House Berg’s heir. Naturally, when he traveled carrying a large shipment of magic tools for the main house, he was escorted not only by knights but also by several of the house’s guests.

A few days ago, however, when Melo’s party failed to appear even after their expected return time, House Berg sent Haram, its strongest member, to meet them.

To their shock, they discovered that the party led by Melo had been slaughtered in a valley two days’ journey to the north. Those recovering the bodies found that Melo was not among them, and that a note had been left behind.

“There was a note at the scene. It said, ‘If Arabion learns of this, the heir dies.’ That’s how we knew he’d been kidnapped rather than killed.”

“Any ransom demands?”

“Not yet.”

Apparently, Asiz’s parents were at odds over the matter. His father wanted to inform Arabion’s main house and request support, while his mother, House Head Midella, refused to gamble with the heir’s life. Above all, distrust of Arabion still lingered after what had happened to Maysa.

Turan listened quietly, sorting through his thoughts. Soon, he reached a conclusion.

“It looks like a trap.”

“A trap?”

“Yes. A pretty blatant one, too.”

For a start, judging by the composition of Melo’s escort, the attackers had to be nobles of at least the upper tier. That all but ruled out a robbery by some second-rate wandering noble.

Yet after committing such a dangerous crime, they had openly announced the kidnapping instead of destroying the evidence, without even mentioning a ransom. Wasn’t that effectively an invitation to track them down?

‘They want a Zahar noble to come looking for them. And their target is probably... me.’

He did not know which faction the culprits belonged to, but one thing was clear: they were convinced that Turan, House Berg’s friend, possessed the Zahar bloodline. They had left so few clues that no one without it could possibly follow them.

Was it the Arabion–Nagin faction? Karmine? Zahar? Their warning not to inform Arabion suggested someone else, but that could just as easily be misdirection.

After a moment’s consideration, Turan sighed softly.

“Could I take a look at your brother’s room?”

“... Can you track him?”

“I am a Zahar, you know. It’s well within my abilities.”

Of course, even he could not guarantee he would find Melo’s trail. If they had burned his body and scattered the ashes, he would have nothing to follow. He could only trust that they were keeping Melo alive, if only to capture him.

A short while later, Turan accompanied Asiz to Melo’s workshop and found several strands of hair. No one suspected him, since he had disguised himself as an attendant whom Asiz had sent away on a personal errand.

“What a relief. The maids clean my brother’s room every day, so there was nothing left there...”

By contrast, no one could enter Melo’s workshop without his permission, leaving it dirty enough to make finding a medium easy. The moment Turan received the hair, he used it to cast tracking magic.

With every other smell around him erased, he took a deep breath and caught a human scent from far away.

“Northwest. About eighty kilometers away, I think. What’s out there?”

“Eighty... There should be a small forest. I can’t remember its name, but Uncle went there to kill a wolf monster not long ago.”

“So it’s deserted. The perfect place to hide with a hostage.”

Now that he knew the location, there was no need to delay. As Turan made to leave, Asiz called out hastily.

“H-how about telling Uncle Haram and asking him to go with you?”

Turan’s martial arts teacher, Haram Berg, was the strongest wizard in House Berg. He was a master combatant with upper-tier mana approaching the limit for a single-bloodline noble, a body honed to its utmost, seasoned fighting skills, and an array of combat magic tools.

Even Turan would have a considerable struggle against him if they fought with equal mana, so he would certainly be helpful. Yet Turan shook his head.

“Master needs to stay here and protect everyone else.”

Melo was a good friend who had made Turan his guardian magic tool, but the person who mattered most to him in House Berg was still Asiz. He could not risk someone more important being hurt in the attempt to save another.

“I suppose...”

“So make sure you stay close to Master whenever you can.”

Leaving Asiz with that advice, Turan concealed himself and immediately took to the sky. Riding Vije swiftly out of the city, he soon spotted Solif and Maysa waiting nearby.

“How did it go?”

“I think someone’s laid a trap for us. For me, to be precise.”

“For you?”

Turan explained the circumstances to his startled companions. After hearing him out, Solif clicked his tongue.

“It certainly sounds that way. Damn it, could this be because we got my parents out?”

“We won’t know for sure until we go.”

“You’re going?”

“Yes.”

With a hostage at stake, he could not simply back off. More importantly, he needed to know exactly who his enemies were: Arabion, Zahar, a coalition of the two, or some third faction. He would have to retreat if they proved too strong, but refusing to investigate at all was not an option.

* * *

In a small forest some two hundred kilometers northwest of Zavillin, House Berg’s seat, Turan walked alone among the first trees and frowned.

‘You’ve certainly come prepared.’

The wizard presences he sensed through his Holy Relic were truly staggering. Three in the top-ranking tier, seventeen in the upper tier, and forty-four in the middle tier, along with some eighty knights.

Even a great house would have found it difficult to muster such a force, yet here they were, waiting for someone who might arrive at any time. The likelihood that the kidnappers were a coalition of several great houses had just grown.

‘Almost makes me want to leave them waiting a little longer.’

Of course, he could not actually do that. They might kill Melo and find a new victim.

As he watched quietly, several nobles approached from the distance with orbs of light hovering above them. Despite his stealth, they seemed to have detected his presence and shouted toward him.

“Turan of Kalamap! Drop your stealth and show yourself! Otherwise, Melo dies!”

Knowing Turan’s identity, they had apparently prepared a top-ranking detection magic tool capable of sensing Zahar nobles. Turan promptly dropped his stealth and appeared before them.

“Aagh!”

“S-stay right where you are!”

Now that he was closer, Turan could see that the wizard who had called out was from Arabion. More specifically, these were members of the middle generation, the faction led by Maysa’s uncle Kadram that had persecuted her.

He had mainly robbed their mansions during his last infiltration, so he had seen all their faces before. They, however, would never have met him.

“Is that any way for proud Arabion nobles to talk after kidnapping a vassal house’s heir?”

“Hmph! Vassals? They’re traitors who helped kidnap a great house’s heir!”

The Arabion nobles seemed convinced that Melo and the rest of House Berg were in league with Turan. Rather than bother answering, he took a few steps toward them. Still on their guard, they immediately assumed combat stances.

“Enough. Take me inside. You want something from me, don’t you?”

“Disarm yourself first.”

“And if I refuse?”

The nobles looked flustered at his retort. Clearly, they had not anticipated that answer.

“Then Melo will...”

“I’d rather stay outside and wage a guerrilla war than walk in there unarmed. You wouldn’t want that, either. Besides, you’re prepared to subdue one man in there, aren’t you?”

Faced with Turan’s offer, they exchanged glances, unable to respond at once. After a moment, one stepped forward and jabbed a finger at him with a growl.

“Follow us, and behave yourself. I’ll say it again: the moment you cause trouble, Melo dies.”

Following the three Arabion nobles, Turan surveyed the surrounding presences once more. Apparently aware of his approach, those scattered farther out were converging to form a wide encirclement.

Soon, he saw Melo tightly bound, and Kadram sitting on a tree stump.

“It’s been a while, Turan. You really fooled me back then. A Barrier-user bloodline, indeed.”

Unlike at their last meeting, Kadram dispensed with formal courtesy. It was not familiarity so much as condescension—almost the way one would address an enemy. Turan discarded his own pretense of politeness in response.

“I doubt you want to hear me apologize for deceiving you.”

“No, I suppose not. Judging by the fact that you even impersonated me, you seem to have acquired something rather unusual... But we can discuss that later. Where is Maysa?”

As expected, they were after Maysa. Somehow, they had learned that Turan possessed the Zahar bloodline and realized he was involved in her disappearance. And though he was not certain, they seemed to have some inkling about the Mimic Holy Relic as well.

“Somewhere in this world, I imagine.”

“Don’t be childish. We came prepared to capture Maysa herself, should she appear.”

In other words, Kadram boasted, someone like Turan could never escape, no matter what he tried. Ignoring him, Turan glanced around.

‘Two of the top-ranking nobles are Arabion elders... and the third has the Nagin bloodline. So they did bring reinforcements from that side.’

Quite a few other nobles among the surrounding wizards bore the Nagin bloodline, too. Some appeared to have been recruited from vassal houses.

In terms of raw strength, they were not enough to capture all three of them, but with fallen gods in the equation, this was no force to dismiss lightly. Still, they apparently had not accounted for Solif.

Just then, Kadram nudged a young Nagin noble beside him and asked quietly,

“Well? Do you think it’s him?”

“Can’t tell just by looking. You said he can disguise himself, right? His voice is completely different from the one I heard back then, though...”

An ordinary middle-tier young noble addressing Kadram, one of Arabion’s most powerful figures, as an equal? Turan’s puzzlement lasted only a moment before he recognized the man. That flippant manner of speech was strangely familiar.

‘Ymir.’

The fallen god he had killed must have already possessed a new body. And they suspected that Turan was one of the unidentified Zahar nobles who had attacked and killed House Nagin’s wizards while claiming to be descendants of Otas.

Turan firmly suppressed the urge to activate his spiritual awareness and inspect Ymir. The moment he looked at the other man, Ymir would see him in turn and realize he had begun learning soul magic. If possible, he wanted to keep that weapon hidden until he could use it properly.

Then Kadram turned back and abruptly asked,

“Have you ever heard the name Otas?”

“Hard to say. It sounds vaguely familiar.”

Instead of immediately denying it, Turan answered vaguely. He reckoned that if he truly knew nothing, admitting his ignorance too quickly would look more suspicious.

Whether that worked or not, Kadram stared at him for a while before frowning and turning to the young noble Turan believed to be Ymir. He muttered a complaint to the effect that merely probing him like this would get them nowhere.

“Then let’s capture him and take our time finding out. Beat the shit out of anyone hard enough and they’ll talk, right?”

“Easy for you to say when you’re not the one doing it.”

“I put this one on in too much of a hurry. Can’t help you.”

Ymir raised both hands with a mocking grin. Their exchange alone left no doubt that Kadram was a vessel, too.

Kadram glanced at Turan as though he were an insect and gestured. The Arabion nobles openly bared their hostility. Turan was outnumbered dozens to one—no, more than a hundred to one.

Yet he remained wholly unruffled as he surveyed his surroundings, then let out a quiet sigh.

“What, starting to get scared at last?”

“No. I just have no idea how I’m going to clean up the mess after killing all of you.”

Where on earth did such utterly baseless confidence come from? This force was more than enough to prevent anyone short of a great-house Head from escaping.

Ignoring the looks that branded him a madman, Turan gave his fingers a light snap. Dozens of lightning bolts erupted high in the distant sky and bombarded the clearing.