The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

In the near future.

The definition of “near” varies from person to person.

It could be an hour from now, tomorrow, or even several years later.

It might even mean decades into the future.

So, when does this near future that Hastia the elf saw about me refer to?

Eager for the answer, I waited silently.

‘…….’

However, Hastia remained unresponsive thereafter.

She stared blankly, as if seeing and yet not seeing me, simply zoning out.

I even waved my hand in front of her face, but there was no reaction.

Wondering if something was wrong, I began to gently pull my hand away, but—

—With a swift motion!

Hastia grabbed my hand quickly.

Then, looking me straight in the eyes again, she conveyed her thoughts.

‘She’s here!’

“Who? Who’s here?”

‘The human who desires the power of my foresight! She just sent me a message near the barrier!’

So that’s why she was zoning out.

It seems the leader of the knights outside has arrived.

‘She asks to be let in. She says she can show us the path to a future that will satisfy everyone……’

So she tries to persuade when force won’t succeed?

She’s probably thinking, “Come out, we won’t hurt you,” hoping to coax us gently.

This naive elf might just fall for it.

‘It’s a trap, isn’t it?’

As if disagreeing, Hastia promptly asked,

“The likelihood is high.”

‘Still, I want to hear it. I want to know why they seek the power of my foresight and what kind of future they intend to create with it.’

There’s no need for those bright, eager eyes waiting for my reply.

If she wants to talk, she can; if not, she can ignore it.

Of course, the consequences of that decision are hers to bear alone.

The problem is that I too cannot entirely escape the consequences of her decision.

Hastia gripped my hand tighter, as if urging me to answer quickly.

* * *

The wind lingers in the emptiness where a crack forms, revealing another space beyond it.

The fissure grew just large enough for a single person to pass through, and a woman who had been waiting stepped into the barrier.

She was the saint who had sent her sympathies to Hastia.

Hastia, with a resolute gaze and a steadfast stance, welcomed her in front of the divine tree.

The saint smiled faintly and extended her hand, as if she knew Hastia’s unique way of communicating.

“Nice to meet you, Prophetess. I am Saint Nephrodite Iris, the voice of the gods.”

Hastia did not hesitate and took her hand immediately.

‘The 12th prophet of the White Elf tribe. I’m Hastia.’

“It’s our first meeting, yet you don’t seem surprised? Did you know I would come?”

Hastia did not answer.

“Then this will be easy. You know what I want, don’t you?”

‘…Why do you desire the power of prophecy?’

The conversation moved directly to the main point without any trivial preliminaries.

Nephrodite, looking behind Hastia at the divine tree, said,

“I apologize for what I did to the Elf tribe. I didn’t mean to cause them pain. I just needed an example to sway the heart of Hastia…”

‘The power of prophecy is a legacy only given to our White Elf tribe. You, who are not an elf, can never possess this power!’

Hastia’s grip on the saint’s hand tightened.

Nephrodite smiled lightly and let go of Hastia’s hand.

She then approached the divine tree.

“The divine tree, a sacred being long guarded by the White Elf tribe… Yet, it seems it cannot protect you. Isn’t that right?”

Incensed, Hastia cried out in silence.

Nephrodite, unbothered, gently stroked the trunk of the divine tree.

-Whooosh!

A cool breeze then swirled around, almost like a sealed space.

The wind made the frozen leaves of the divine tree dance, and the branches mingled, creating a resonating sound.

Hastia’s eyes widened in astonishment.

‘The divine tree?’

This was an emotion stirred by nature, created by the divine tree itself.

The divine tree only responded to the presence of the White Elf tribe.

It had never reacted to the touch of any other life form.

What could be the reason for the divine tree to show such a lively emotion now?

There was only one possibility.

‘Could it be that this woman is also…?’

Nephrodite shrugged, as if her guess was confirmed.

“I, too, am a White Elf, entitled to the power of prophecy.”

Suddenly, another gust of wind revealed the ears of the saint, hidden under her veil and hair.

Sharp and white ears.

Clearly the ears of a White Elf.

Nephrodite continued, looking back at the divine tree.

“Our world is currently engulfed in a crisis known as the Black Mist. The divine representative, tasked with maintaining peace, has died, and the new master of the holy sword to replace him has yet to appear. Though momentarily hidden, the vile heir of the Black Mist could reappear at any time and plunge the world into chaos.”

Hastia clenched her cloak tightly around her.

“To prepare for that uncertain future, we need the power of prophecy. Please join us, Hastia. Then everyone will be safe—your tribe and you…”

After her communion with the divine tree, the saint approached Hastia again and extended her hand.

Without hesitation, Hastia firmly grasped the saint’s hand.

‘Nephrodite Iris.’

Then, with unwavering eyes, Hastia conveyed her response.

‘You cannot take away the prophetic power I possess. That is the future I have seen.’

Nephrodite’s lips, which had maintained a half-smile, gradually straightened into a line.

She had never thought Hastia would simply comply.

Nor did she expect persuasion to work.

At most, she anticipated that Hastia would threaten to end her own life rather than let humans take her power.

But Hastia did not do that.

She faced the challenge head-on, as if she had means to overcome this hardship.

Moreover, from the moment Nephrodite entered the sanctuary of the divine tree, or even long before that, there had been one troubling detail.

“But Hastia.”

‘…?’

“Whose cloak is that?”

Caught off guard, Hastia suddenly realized she had been clutching the cloak she held in her hand, and she flinched.

‘!!!’

A black cloak that starkly contrasted with her otherwise all-white appearance.

It was clearly not something that would belong to Hastia.

Embarrassed and unable to contain herself, Hastia fumbled awkwardly.

She had been wearing it so comfortably that she forgot it belonged to someone else.

Nephrodite’s momentary disdain was interrupted by a new development.

-Ssssss

A faint mist began to form behind her.

Sensing someone’s presence, Nephrodite turned around,

“…!”

But she was stopped dead by a lethal blade imbued with murderous intent.

With great effort, Nephrodite moved her eyes to see the identity of the blade at her neck.

A blade enshrouded in a vile black mist, its purple steel suffused with corruption.

There was only one weapon in the world that could fully contain such filthy energy.

“I knew there was another, but I didn’t know it was you…”

She also knew the one capable of wielding such a weapon.

“The Heir of the Black Mist!”

Cyan’s lips, which had been straight, now curved up into a smirk.

* * *

Saint Nephrodite Iris, the spiritual pillar of the Knights of Light.

Though she bears the title of saint, she is merely a symbolic evangelist spreading the doctrines of the god Lumendel, without any authority to directly lead the knights.

However, this doesn’t mean she is completely powerless.

The person who once provided crucial information to my old nemesis in a previous life, enabling him to take control of the Knights of Light, was this very saint.

She also actively participated in his endeavors and guided him in the right direction.

At first glance, it might seem like she only had connections with Aschel.

But Saint Nephrodite also has a deep connection with me.

In her previous life, she was the first to notice that I was an assassin from the Mist, a fact that neither Aschel nor Boris had realized.

Now, three years after Aschel’s death, she has appeared before me.

This is, in effect, our first meeting in this life.

And no matter how I think about it,

It feels like I’ve caught a big fish.

The saint, swallowing nervously, asked,

“What brings you to the frozen lands?”

“Do you know me?”

“As a saint serving Lord Lumendel, how could I not?”

Of course, she would know.

“Hmm? Didn’t he tell you? That I would be coming here?”

“Assassins truly are different. You hide this uncomfortable aura of the mist so well.”

The saint suddenly seemed nauseous, covering her mouth with one hand.

“Was I that frightening? Even if that’s the case, as someone who hears the voice of God, shouldn’t you have waited until the decree was passed? What’s the hurry that brought you here, coveting the abilities of another tribe?”

“He is not idle. As his creations, we must resolve such crises on our own.”

After composing herself, the saint pointed at Hastia.

“I don’t know how much you’ve heard from this elf, but the prophetic power granted to the White Elves isn’t merely the ability to see the future.”

This was new to me.

“There is another ability too valuable to merely be left unused. That’s what I want!”

“Even so, it doesn’t look like you can touch it in your current state.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Suddenly, the saint’s shoulder brushed against my chest.

“Is it here? The place where He marked the prophecy?”

I felt an instant repulsion and pushed the cursed sword closer to her.

However, the saint seemed unfazed, rubbing her shoulder against my chest.

“The power of the Black Mist suppresses the energy of the mark. As long as this power remains, no Nephilim will come after you.”

“It seems you know a lot, being a saint.”

“But if it’s a Nephilim meant for me, that’s a different story.”

Her voice suddenly changed.

“I am a saint, a messenger who conveys the voice of God. I am under divine protection to fulfill this noble duty.”

-Flash!

A bright golden light emanated from beneath her neck, where Kaeram was aiming.

Blinded for a moment, I squinted my eyes,

And when I looked again, the saint had turned to face me, smiling slyly.

But my gaze did not meet hers.

I was looking at her chest, beneath her neck, emitting an odd light.

Proudly, the saint lifted her clothes to reveal her chest.

The sight of her pale skin and the familiar symbols etched upon it made me nauseous.

The same solar emblem that was marked on my chest.

But the color was different.

Her emblem shone with a golden light similar to the salvational light emitted by holy swords.

Could it be…

While I was still focused on the emblem,

I noticed Hastia behind her, clutching my cloak and gaping.

Behind Hastia, the form of a familiar giant shimmered, his golden appearance and silver eyes unmistakable.

“…”

In the blink of an eye, the giant revealed his full form and aimed a massive spear at me.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Knights of Light, who had been awaiting the saint’s emergence, went into combat readiness.

They felt an extraordinary presence coming from the direction they had just passed, a presence that seemed to scrape even the metal with its icy gust.

Leading the front, Mihan gripped his sword handle tightly, awakening his vigilance.

“It seems they have finally sent a proper force from that side.”

The sensation indicated the presence of at least dozens.

The previous battle was more of a slaughter than a fight.

Despite having lived isolated from humans for a long time, they had not expected them to be so weak.

It had even instilled a sense of disappointment in some of the knights.

Hoping this time to witness the true power of the elves, the rest of the knights also checked their weapons and magic, preparing for battle.

-Whooosh!

Amidst the intensifying blizzard, a massive elf appeared.

Nothing else was visible.

“Just one…?”

The knights, who had sensed the presence of many, could not hide their confusion.

Looking around with wide eyes, they only saw one figure.

However, the aura and intensity emanating from that single figure gave the Knights of Light a strange pressure they had never experienced before.

The giant elf, emerging from the blizzard and surveying the dozens of knights aiming their swords at him, murmured softly,

“Abandon any thoughts of returning alive, humans.”

(To be continued)