The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

The day after the graduation ceremony.

As a graduate, no longer a student, Arin visited the academy to head to the instructors’ personal research offices.

She was there to meet her former teacher, Silica.

The research office that had been dark for three years suddenly lit up.

As soon as she knocked, the owner of the office appeared.

“It’s been a while, student Arin.”

“You’ve been well, teacher!”

“I didn’t expect to see student Arin here again. Oh! You’re not a student anymore, are you? Please forgive my rudeness, Princess Arin.”

“Please don’t say things that make me feel distant! Here at the academy, everyone is equal regardless of status, right?”

“It’s funny that we, who are no longer affiliated with the academy, are talking about the spirit of the academy. Please, come in.”

Before entering, Arin looked back at Resimus, who had accompanied her as her knight escort.

“Wait outside for me, Resimus.”

Resimus seemed uncomfortable but complied without objection.

Once inside, Silica served tea.

“I heard from the Chancellor. You want me to participate in the research you are doing?”

“Yes. Let me show you this first!”

Arin took out three documents from her handbag and handed them to Silica.

These were additional materials she had prepared to give directly to her.

Silica’s brows furrowed as she read the first line at the top of the first page.

However, she asked calmly, hiding her inner thoughts.

“Is this about Cyan?”

It was already known throughout the empire for three years that the youngest of the Duke’s household, Cyan, was an assassin affiliated with Mist.

Arin did not respond.

“You said you saw Nephilim three years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Can you confirm that you didn’t see wrong?”

“I clearly saw them. Three giants attacking Cyan…”

Although her vision was very blurred due to her distressed mental state at the time, Arin was confident about what she saw.

Silica asked again.

“What proof do you have that those giants were Nephilim?”

“There is this passage in the imperial history books. ‘The history of the mortal realm has always been determined by the agents of the gods. If an agent fails to fulfill the will of the gods, a new agent shall be sent.’ …”

It was a phrase that seemed more appropriate for a religious text than a history book.

“The owner of the Holy Sword, Aschel, who proclaimed himself a savior, died that day by Cyan’s hand. He was the agent meant to uphold the peace of the continent under the will of the God of Light, Lumendel. Not long after, those giants appeared before Cyan. I do not believe this to be a coincidence, teacher.”

“So you’re saying that God has sent a new agent called the Nephilim to maintain peace on the continent… Is that what you want to say?”

Arin nodded.

Silica silently scanned the documents on the Mist that Arin had researched.

There was nothing special.

Most of it consisted of the public perception of the Mist and the assassinations suspected to be their doing over the last three years, which she had inferred and organized in her own way.

Silica felt relieved internally.

Of course, the relief was for Arin, not for herself.

There was no content that crossed the line.

“Do you believe that Cyan is still alive, Your Highness?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation in Arin’s answer.

“The materials you provided say that the Nephilim pursue their targets until death. Do you think Cyan, who is being chased by such beings, is still alive?”

“I think Cyan has been hiding all this time. There must be an organization looking after him, and God must have protected him.”

Caught off-guard, the corners of Silica’s mouth unwittingly rose.

“I understand how you feel, Your Highness. But why me, of all people? There were many experts who could have assisted you in this field.”

She could have even gotten an introduction from Chancellor Kundel.

But Arin had wanted Silica from the beginning, the Chancellor had said.

Silica needed to know why.

What ulterior motives she had.

Arin replied with a bright smile.

“Actually, there wasn’t a big reason. I just thought that Teacher Silica would understand my feelings the best!”

“Understand?”

“Yes. When I was at the academy, you were my favorite teacher and the one I relied on the most. I just really wanted to work with you! Was it too much to ask?”

Silica shook her head.

“Not at all. I’m grateful you think so highly of me. I understand now. I’ll join you in this research, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Teacher Silica!”

Arin stood up briskly and bowed deeply.

Silica smiled, but inside she wasn’t feeling it at all.

Understand?

There was no way she was summoned for such a frivolous reason.

It was a clumsy cover-up, but for now, she decided to let it slide.

She hadn’t crossed the line yet.

“But there’s one thing you should know, Your Highness.”

Silica’s voice suddenly became icy.

“The path you wish to take, the very person involved might not want it.”

The person involved.

Though she didn’t mention any names, it was clear she meant Cyan.

“So whatever you do, keep to the line. And if you must cross it, be prepared for the consequences!”

Silica grinned again and offered her hand to Arin.

“Let’s do our best, Arin!”

Having somewhat grasped the warning, Arin managed her expression and shook hands.

“Yes, Teacher!”

Arin couldn’t help but notice how much Silica’s red hair had grown since three years ago.

* * *

I’m annoyed.

What could be the reason?

Is it because the leader told me not to go outside until Aer’s power is infused into me again?

Or is it because of Princess Arin, who has been doing futile research for me for three years?

Neither.

The reason I’m annoyed is because of this foolish god who is blatantly mocking me right in front of my eyes.

-Thunk! Clang!

Unable to bear the sight of daggers continuously falling at the base of the wall, I asked,

“What are you trying to do by having someone sit here?”

[I told you, didn’t I? I’m divining your fate.]

“Are you not just provoking my patience?”

At first, I thought it was some kind of divine ritual, so I let it be, but it clearly doesn’t seem to be the case.

Aer had been throwing daggers at a map of the continent spread out on one side of the subspace for about ten minutes.

-Ting! Ting!

Not a single dagger stuck in the map; all of them bounced off.

[Though it may seem meaningless, this is a credible process accumulated through experience. If these daggers represent your fate, then that map is the direction your fate will take.]

Choosing directions at a crossroads by dropping a stick and calling it divination was absurd enough to make one scoff.

Even as he spoke, Aer continued to throw daggers, but they kept bouncing off without exception.

[Hmm. Usually, by now, a dagger would stick somewhere, but this is more treacherous than expected. Every place you aim for is being blocked.]

“Why don’t you just say that there’s nowhere for me to go in this realm?”

It felt like superstition with no credible basis, but watching the daggers bounce off like that made me feel slightly disgusted.

If it was done on purpose, at least it would show.

This foolish god really seemed to be throwing them meaninglessly, as if it didn’t matter if they stuck or not.

“If it’s like that, does it mean I’m just destined to die wherever I go?”

Aer responded.

[If you were supposed to die just because a dagger bounced off, you would have died at least ten times by now.]

“Don’t tell me you’ve done this before?”

[Many times. Of course, whenever you went out to purify, and each time you roamed across the continent, I threw them all. The results were no different from now.]

I think I need to change the title for this god.

Not a fool, but a madman.

[It could be seen as a natural phenomenon. There weren’t many humans who were directly marked by a divine revelation. And most of them didn’t end well. There’s no guarantee you won’t either.]

“What are you trying to say?”

[Do you really think it’s possible to kill a god?]

Without hesitation, I replied.

“Impossible.”

[How do you plan to do something even you see as impossible?]

“I wouldn’t know.”

Pointing at myself with a finger, I answered at the same time.

“But perhaps the one who marked me knows, right?”

Aer’s expression subtly changed, and I continued.

“You said it before, right? Gods cannot discuss their intentions with beings other than other gods.”

[That’s right.]

“So tell me. Why didn’t Lumendel take my life directly, and instead chose to go through the troublesome act of marking me?”

Aer remained silent.

“The owner of the holy sword, the Nephilim. Why bother sending an intermediary to erase my existence? Isn’t that inefficient?”

[Now that you mention it, it does seem so.]

“It’s not just ‘it seems so’. You roughly know why Lumendel is going through such trouble…”

Aer just continued throwing meaningless daggers in silence.

Gods are omnipotent.

This is a fact known by all humans.

However, gods do not use their omnipotent power fully on humans.

Why?

They created these beings themselves, why don’t they just erase them in one go when things go sour?

There must be a compelling reason.

I do not know, but the god of light knows, and this scorned foolish god also knows…

-Thuk!

Then, the last dagger thrown by Aer finally stuck in the map.

Aer and I turned our eyes simultaneously.

[Ho?]

Aer exclaimed in admiration and stroked his chin.

[Finally, the direction of your destiny has been decided.]

He marvelously turned the topic yet again.

I watched the map with a gaze full of discontent.

“So, what’s that supposed to mean?”

[What else? We need to go to where the dagger has struck!]

“Are you serious?”

I couldn’t help but furrow my brows.

In this vast continent, bypassing major nations and numerous cities, the destination it finally pointed to was,

“You’re telling me to go to the Frozen Land?”

In the northern part of the continent, a land of winter where no humans live. It was Pruina.

If it were merely cold and devoid of people, I wouldn’t complain.

But there, another race lives.

White Elves, a race with snow-like pale skin and pointed ears, as if embodying the winter’s accumulated snow.

“Are you saying I should go and make friends with the elves?”

[I merely showed you the direction. What you do there is up to you.]

Aer pulled out the embedded dagger with a pleased smile and then looked at the shimmering blade, letting out an enigmatic laugh.

What exactly did he see?

After stopping his examination of the blade, he approached me with the dagger and boldly stabbed it into the marked area.

Instead of blood, a black mist surged from the stabbed spot.

A considerable pain followed, but I managed to endure it.

The blazing symbol of the sun soon became enveloped in darkness.

[This time, it will last longer.]

“How long?”

[At least two weeks.]

“Are you telling me to return from Pruina in just two weeks?”

Even the leader, Silica, wouldn’t issue such an absurd order.

Aer looked at the mark contentedly.

[Don’t think of it as too much of a hassle. Who knows? There might be someone there who can clearly foresee your uncertain future…]

I had a lot more to say, but I resigned myself and stood up.

If you ask whether I’m going along with it as if I’m being fooled,

Yes.

I am indeed falling for this mad god’s tricks.

Aer had thrown dozens of daggers carelessly as if telling them almost not to hit.

But the last dagger that struck Pruina,

That was thrown with genuine intent.

He sure likes to forecast.

He’s openly telling me to head in that direction, how could I ignore it?

“Pruina, huh…”

I just hope it won’t entangle me in some trivial matter.

* * *

Beneath a large sacred tree lush with white leaves, there lay an altar imbued with the essence of the Frozen Land, adorned with ice pillars and thin metal.

There, an elf was praying alone, slowly opening her eyes that she had gently closed.

Her hair was as delicate as the snow that thickly blankets the plains, and her eyes clear as a pristine lake.

An exquisite headpiece decorated with ice flowers highlighted her harmonious beauty.

Her name was Hastia.

She was the twelfth prophet of the White Elf tribe, still a young girl barely showing signs of adulthood.

A look of deep sorrow was captured in her distant eyes.

‘In a world cleansed of the black mist, only the intensity of light will remain… Can we endure such a world?’

Hastia shook her head gently and closed her eyes again.

(To be continued in the next episode)