Chapter 240
After his conversation with the family head, Zeke left the Four Seasons Castle and made his way to the Atlas estate.
Inside the carriage, Zeke was still reeling from shock.
“Arthur Draker was a Grandmaster…”
He had believed that since the age of the Hero King, no Grandmaster had existed. Clearly, he had been wrong.
Then another question surfaced in his mind.
“If Arthur Draker was a Grandmaster, why did he die in my previous life?”
The accepted story from his past life was that Arthur Draker, after naming Abel as his successor, had withdrawn from family affairs and died shortly after from an illness.
Of course, even a Black Knight was still human and could fall ill. But for someone of Grandmaster caliber, that was a different matter entirely.
The Hero King, also a Grandmaster, had grown so powerful that he chose to leave for the Land of the Fae, claiming his strength disrupted the balance of karma itself.
Granted, there would have been a gap between the Hero King and Arthur Draker, even among Grandmasters. Still, the idea that someone of that level simply died from illness was hard to believe.
Zeke came to a hypothesis.
“It’s more likely Arthur Draker faked his death in my past life.”
That explanation held more weight than the idea of a Grandmaster succumbing to disease.
“If that’s true, though, then why did he let Abel and Zeemenz run amok? Was he planning something all along?”
All Zeke could do was suspect that Arthur Draker had secrets yet to be revealed.
While lost in thought, Zeke arrived at the estate and was soon greeted by his old mentor, Duke Draker.
Holding his usual drink in hand, Duke spoke without preamble.
“Heard the Four Seasons Castle is in total chaos?”
Zeke nodded.
“Did you know Abel became a Black Knight?”
“I only found out after the appointment ceremony. I figured Arthur was up to something again when I saw he was granting a rank above Guardian Knight. Then out of nowhere—bam—Abel gets promoted to Black Knight. I was shocked.”
Even Duke seemed to have difficulty believing Abel’s promotion. He took a long drink, then fell silent.
Zeke looked at him and asked carefully:
“Master, may I ask you something?”
Noticing the serious look on Zeke’s face, Duke’s expression hardened. He seemed to already know what the question was.
After a pause, he replied slowly:
“You want to know why my promotion to Black Knight was revoked.”
Zeke gave a silent nod.
Duke’s case—having once been a Black Knight, but no longer—was nearly unheard of in the history of House Draker.
Some Black Knights retired due to old age or illness, or after being injured in duels. But to have the promotion itself revoked, like Duke, was highly unusual.
Duke poured himself another full glass and downed it in one go.
Then he looked straight at Zeke.
“You know why I drink so much?”
“I thought it was just because you liked alcohol?”
“You brat. You really know nothing about your own master.”
As he set the cup down, his hand trembled visibly.
He looked at Zeke and said quietly:
“No matter how much I drink, I haven’t gotten drunk since that day.”
Indeed, Zeke had often seen Duke drink, but never drunk. He had sometimes acted like a drunkard, but not once had he actually been intoxicated.
“What do you mean, ‘that day’?”
Duke rubbed his face with a dry hand, a motion like trying to wipe away a memory.
His lips had turned pale.
Zeke had never seen him look so afraid.
‘It’s like what I’ve seen in mercenaries and knights suffering trauma after war. What did that mage call it? Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?’
Duke finally steadied his breathing and said:
“I crossed the Dark Sea.”
Zeke’s expression turned grim.
“The Dark Sea? You mean the one beyond the western edge of the continent?”
Duke nodded.
Zeke pressed further.
“Why did you go beyond the Dark Sea? Is there something out there?”
Duke clamped his mouth shut, then eventually said:
“I’m sorry, Zeke. But no matter who you are, I can’t say anything about that.”
His voice was firm—absolute.
Yet even that told Zeke a great deal.
‘It was a secret mission tied to House Draker.’
If a former Black Knight like Duke Draker had been deployed, it couldn’t have been anything ordinary.
Zeke remembered the final message left by Terakan Draker—his intent to cross the Dark Sea.
‘Was that mission about following Terakan’s trail?’
Several questions came to mind, but he knew he wouldn’t get any answers from Duke about that mission today.
Then, Duke broke the silence.
“I can’t tell you about that mission, but I can tell you what happened afterward.”
He drank again before continuing.
“After that mission, I lost the ability to properly wield the power of a Black Knight. No… I couldn’t even fight at all.”
“That can’t be! You taught me Gale Force Technique yourself!”
“I told you. Real combat is impossible for me now. I can still spar with a sword, sure. But an actual life or death battle... that's out of the question.”
It was clear that whatever had happened beyond the Sea of Darkness had left a deep scar on Duke’s psyche.
Watching his teacher struggle, Zeke recalled something.
‘Would buffing him with the mental-type skill Indomitable Will have any effect?’
He remembered how using a strong mental defense skill on Felix had produced some results before—but it also came with serious aftereffects. Mental-type skills were dangerous; if used carelessly, they could leave someone in an irrecoverable state. Considering Duke’s severe condition, it seemed too risky to meddle.
‘I vaguely recall a crazy mage in Nirvana who was researching post-traumatic stress disorder... I should look him up if I ever head to the Aten Peninsula.’
If Duke Draker could regain his original strength as a Black Knight and join Zeke’s faction, it could tip the scales again in their delicate standoff against Abel’s side.
Duke stared at the amber liquid in his glass as he spoke.
“After that... well, it was the start of all that filthy political drama. I was one of the most prominent Black Knights aligned with the Patriarch’s faction, so naturally, some of the elders saw me as a thorn in their side. Back then, I was a bit of a wild card too. They jumped at the opportunity to cancel my Black Knight promotion and strip me of my title—totally unprecedented.”
Zeke started to understand why Duke had grown so disillusioned with the capital and shut himself away at the academy for years.
Clicking his tongue, Duke continued.
“If it weren’t for you, I’d have never come back to Atlas. I didn’t want to see that filth again.”
“Still, you came back in the end.”
“Yeah, I did. Damned if I know why I got myself tangled up with a punk like you.”
Grumbling, Duke pulled something from his coat and handed it to Zeke—a thick bundle of papers.
“What’s this?”
“What do you think? It’s the blood, sweat, and tears of a great master who had to run around in person because his student was such a mess.”
Zeke unfolded the bundle and started reading through it. To his surprise, it contained a detailed breakdown of the current power structure within House Draker—political alignments, faction relationships, everything.
“Master, this is...?”
“You’ve been running around starting up that Bahamut Order or whatever. Clearly, you’ve got something you want to accomplish. I tapped all my old connections to compile this with the best information I could find. Use it well.”
In House Draker, information was power.
Zeke realized now why Duke had endured being sent on errands by the Patriarch despite hating to return to the capital—he’d done it all to gather this intel.
Zeke felt a surge of sincere gratitude.
Across both his past and current lives, aside from Decker, Duke was the only person who had ever done something for him without asking for anything in return.
After hesitating for a moment, he spoke up.
“...Thank you, Master. I mean it.”
Duke flopped down onto the sofa with a huff.
“You brat, that’s why you should treat your master well. When I get old and worn out, who else do you think I’ll rely on? You better take care of me, keep the booze flowing every day.”
Zeke chuckled at the sight.
“Understood. I’ll even find you a good match and get you married off.”
“Eh? You little punk, trying to tie me down? I’m a proud bachelor forever, dammit!”
Zeke tucked the bundle of papers into his inventory and suddenly thought of Andrei.
“Is Professor Andrei still in Valhalla?”
“He quit after about a year—said it didn’t suit him. He’s back at the capital now, joined some organization.”
“Where, exactly?”
“The Celestial Sword Corps. These days, he and Aoul are thick as thieves. Always dropping by, asking for feedback on his swordplay. Annoying pests.”
Despite his words, Duke didn’t seem genuinely bothered.
‘I actually wanted to ask Sir Aoul some things about the Eastern Empire. This works out perfectly. I’ll make sure to talk to him next time he visits.’
Zeke hoped to eventually recruit both Aoul and Andrei into the Bahamut Order. But since it wasn’t an official knight order yet, he’d wait until he became a high-ranking knight before making his move.
After thanking Duke once again, Zeke headed to his room.
Once there, he pulled out Agamemnon’s Mask.
Although it had been set aside due to the Sea God quest, the very first thing he needed to do was restore the mask at the Fairy Lake—returning it to its original form as a sacred relic.
Zeke examined the mask closely, turning it over in his hands.
“The emblem on the forehead... I always suspected it had some deeper origin, but to think it’s actually a sacred relic.”
If he could restore it to its true state, it would likely unleash a divine power far beyond purification.
‘It might just help when facing Abel, who’s been baptised by the demonic realm.’
Zeke stored the mask and took out the Absolute Compass.
It pointed steadily in one direction—but he found it hard to believe that simply following it would lead him straight to the lake. As he stared at the needle, his thoughts raced.
‘It’s pointing toward the lab… Well, I need to head there anyway to drop off the items from the Inverted Tower and the Hercyon of the Baptised with Lord Feynun. I may as well go.’
Zeke had already arranged to have Gelion, the Soul Smith, work with Feynun.
On the surface, the lab was disguised as a pharmaceutical company’s research facility—but in truth, it was Zeke’s secret hideout.
He boarded a carriage headed toward the lab in the center of Atlas.
Even as the carriage moved, Zeke kept his eyes locked on the compass needle.
But as they entered the city, the needle suddenly began to spin wildly.
“Huh? What the—what’s going on with this thing?”
[Recalibrating compass to the optimal route toward ‘Fairy Lake’.]
[Information has been updated.]
[Now guiding toward the new direction.]
The spinning compass needle suddenly stopped and pointed in a new direction.
But unlike before, the needle kept shifting as he moved.
“Is it broken? Why is it acting like this?”
By then, the carriage had arrived near the lab in the city. Zeke got out and checked the compass again.
The needle continued to twitch subtly, never settling.
‘Hmph. I don’t get it.’
Perplexed, he was about to head toward the building where the lab was located when something triggered his senses.
‘Killing intent?’
It was faint—too faint for an ordinary knight to notice—but Zeke could sense a murderous aura nearby.
He pretended not to notice and entered the lab building.
But he could feel the ones radiating that killing intent quietly following him.
‘Assassins? In broad daylight? Whoever they are, they’ve got guts.’
And from the feel of it, they were no amateurs.
Zeke intentionally made his way to the garden behind the building.
Still aware of the presence tailing him, he calmly walked out into the garden and sat down on a bench, acting as if nothing was amiss.
He waited, quietly sensing the assassins as they closed in.
Just then—
“Oh! My lord! I didn’t know you were here!”
Gelion, who had been strolling through the garden, spotted Zeke on the bench and cheerfully approached him.
In an instant, Zeke sprang to his feet, grabbed Gelion, and rolled them both aside.
Shraaang!
A flurry of blades stabbed down into the exact spot where Zeke had been sitting—thrown by assassins who had been hidden in his blind spot.
Crack!
The bench shattered completely from the force.
Gelion, saved in the nick of time, was pale with shock.
Zeke stood up and got a good look at the attackers.
His expression hardened.
‘Those guys…’
The assassins weren’t just anyone—they were the Ravens of Ishtar.