The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 197: Chapter 193 — Boom

Days had passed since the tribunal.

The territory still reeled from everything that had happened. Zephyrion’s fame was at an all-time high. The people still praised his name. He had become the center of discussion in nearly every gathering. His mansion had become so overrun with gifts it was difficult to find somewhere to put them all.

And, to Zephyrion’s dismay, numerous houses had sent engagement proposals to the Calderalth. The house had an unspoken rule of never interfering in such matters and ensuring every proposal reached its intended recipient.

Unfortunately, that recipient was him.

Zephyrion could still recall his irritation. Then there was the confused and curious Lumi, who couldn’t seem to understand why he was so angry at the poor letters.

For a moment, Zephyrion found himself wondering how she would react if she could actually read them.

Then he discarded the pointless thought and turned towards the ancestor trailing beside him.

’Are you sure you’ll be able to convince him?’

The ancestor didn’t appear to hear him. He was simply staring dazedly at Selis. Since spotting her that morning, he had barely taken his eyes off her.

Zephyrion began restricting him. That got his attention. Demorian jolted.

”Huh? What! What! I didn’t do anything!”

Zephyrion rolled his eyes.

’I asked you a question.’

Demorian visibly relaxed as the unseen pressure vanished.

”I know, I know.” Demorian sighed dramatically. ”Forgive me, my protégé. It’s just...” His eyes drifted back to Selis. ”Look at her. Just look at her. The proportions. The curves. That expression.” He pressed a hand to his chest. ”Ah, what I wouldn’t give to see that look crack.”

Demorian turned towards him, eyes turning moist. ”Zephyrion... You have to pursue her. No, listen to me. You have to. Please. I’ll do anything. Anything. Jus—”

’...she’s almost twice my age.’

”Age...” Demorian scoffed. ”A meaningless number. A prison invented by cowards. Should true beauty be denied because of arithmetic?”

Zephyrion stared at him.

’Were you a pedophile?’

”What? No! Of course not!” Demorian nearly jumped out of his skin. ”Absolutely not! That’s not what I meant!”

He paused. Then he paused again.

”Oh, gods, that’s exactly what it sounded like.”

Demorian hurriedly pointed a finger upward.

”This only applies to older women. Older. You let fruit ripen before you pick it, no? Otherwise it’s sour. That’s just common sense. You understand what I mean, right?”

’...no.’

Demorian stared at him.

Then he sighed deeply and shook his head, as though questioning whether Zephyrion truly belonged in this world.

”Anyways, you have to—”

’Answer my question.’

Demorian blinked in confusion.

Zephyrion sighed and repeated the question.

”Of course I’m sure!” Demorian declared. ”That Vyr and I were close. Very close. Hah! He was a man of culture. A true scholar of culture. We once spent three months crossing empires in disguise while pursuing beauti—”

Zephyrion tuned out the ancestor. The first part had already answered his question.

Ferravyr.

The Metal Calamity.

Though there was a very real chance Ferravyr would tell Demorian about the Frost Mark on him, it was a risk Zephyrion was willing to take.

Besides, Demorian had already bonded himself to him. The ancestor couldn’t change his mind even if he wanted to. More importantly, the potential information and resources he could gain from securing the Metal Calamity’s support far outweighed the risk.

So he had requested permission to venture outside the estate, using the excuse of wanting to see their territory, when in truth, he wanted to see the Metal Calamity.

Zephyrion stared ahead, where the jagged peaks of Mount Ferravyr loomed in the distance. Even from here, he could feel the faint hum rippling through the air.

Then, a light pierced the clouds and struck the mountain.

Zephyrion furrowed his brows.

’What was—’

BOOOOM!

The sound reached them first, threatening to rupture their eardrums. Then came the sight of a massive mushroom cloud clawing its way into the sky. Zephyrion knew what came next. He looked ahead and found Selis gone.

The scent of soft peach brushed past him. Then she was there, one arm wrapped around his waist.

”Hold tight.”

Her breath was warm. Her voice soft. He had just begun to look into her eyes when metal surged around them, sealing them within a silver dome and eclipsing the world beyond.

The shockwave struck. The dome trembled. Despite the relentless pounding against the barrier, neither they nor their horses moved an inch, held firmly in place by the metal shielding them.

Eventually, the assault ceased. The dome peeled away. What greeted them was devastation. The forest had been reduced to ruin. Trees were shattered across the earth. Cracks spiderwebbed through the ground.

It was chaos.

”Young lord.” Selis said grimly. ”We should return now. We—”

”No.”

Zephyrion kicked his horse forward, surging through the ruined forest at full speed. Lumi followed immediately behind him, with the reluctant Tobias trailing after her.

Selis frowned at their departing backs. Then she shook her head and pursued.

Zephyrion’s mind was a sprawling mess. He ignored the panicked sounds coming from Demorian. That attack... had it struck the mountain? They were still kilometers away. To feel the shockwave so clearly even from here...

He struggled to comprehend the power behind it.

Selis, who seemed to have abandoned any hope of convincing them to retreat, eventually moved ahead and took the lead.

The deeper they traveled, the worse the destruction became.

Eventually, they reached the end of it. Then they stopped. Before them lay a massive, yawning crater, smoke still pouring from its depths. Ordinarily, it would have seemed like nothing more than the aftermath of some catastrophe.

Except moments ago, Mount Ferravyr had stood there.

There was no life in sight. Only silence. Only death. The Metal Calamity. A being on par with the Ten Thrones. Gone. Gone? Just like that?

”Protégé.”

Demorian’s serious voice snapped him from his thoughts. The ancestor was staring upward. Following his gaze, Zephyrion caught sight of a single white speck drifting gently from the sky.

Instinctively, he stretched out his arm and watched it settle upon his palm.

Its cold touch and already melting form made him realize exactly what it was.

”Frost...”