Episode 104
Just as Luan had been anticipating today's sparring session, the Hunting Master, Tanko, had also been looking forward to it. Perhaps even more than Luan himself.
Normally, Tanko was the one to strike first during these spars. The moment he judged Luan ready, he would pounce like a wild beast. But today was different.
Tanko's instincts were as sharp as those of any wild animal. His finely honed senses detected something intangible, an unsettling strangeness he couldn't explain. It gave him pause, making him hesitate before charging forward.
Is it just my imagination? Tanko wondered.
At this moment, Luan's figure appeared right in front of him.
Tanko parried the incoming punch with his palm and readjusted his stance.
Luan's movements were noticeably different from yesterday's. His speed and power had improved, but what caught Tanko's attention the most was something subtler: the precision of his strikes. They were smooth and efficient—stripped of any wasted motion.
Tanko couldn't help but admire it. So that's how it is.
Tanko's eyes sharpened. He shelved his lingering doubts and focused entirely on his opponent.
The two exchanged rapid strikes at close range.
At some point during the flurry, Tanko realized he was using both arms instinctively, but he didn't pause to reflect on it.
For the moment, he had forgotten that his opponent was a hero disciple he was supposed to be teaching. Something about this fight reminded him of his days as a Great Warrior, roaming the Eastern Grasslands.
Then, an unexpected thought crossed his mind. It's hard...
The close-quarters combat, the domain Tanko had honed through countless fights, was beginning to weigh on him. He favored this range best and was most confident in it. No matter who the opponent was, he was certain he could knock them out if they entered his range.
However, that wasn't the case now. If anything, he wanted to widen the gap by two or three steps.
That urgency translated into action.
Tanko's spinning kick connected squarely with Luan's chest—or so he thought.
Upon closer inspection, he realized Luan had crossed his arms just in time to block the blow. Even so, the force wasn't fully absorbed, and Luan was sent flying, slightly lifted off the ground.
The next moment was even more surprising. Midair, Luan twisted and landed not on a branch but upright against the side of a tree, as though standing sideways. Before gravity could claim him, he launched himself toward Tanko like a bolt of lightning.
Later, Tanko would admit to himself that he had completely lost track of Luan in that instant.
A tremendous sound followed the moment Tanko felt a touch on his outstretched fist. The noise was enough to draw the attention of the hero disciples, who had been immersed in their sparring.
Some of them gasped. "W-what...?"
Tanko didn't try to calm them. He couldn't afford the distraction. His eyes dropped to his hand.
What exactly defined an attack? Typically, it meant an awareness of the opponent's movements and a direct response to strike. But that wasn't what had just happened. Luan had slammed into Tanko's fist, which had simply been hanging in the air.
It is of his own accord...
Was the technique incomplete? Did Luan lack the skill to match the speed? Or had it been intentional?
"I lost." Luan's voice came from the dust.
Tanko stared at him, eyes conflicted, and asked, "But you are fine."
"Yeah. That said..." Luan stood with a sheepish grin, his voice laced with embarrassment. "I think I broke my arm."
***
What happened if someone got injured during the training camp?
Of course, expulsion wasn't an option. Unless the person was on the verge of death, it was impossible to leave, even if they lost a limb. Injured hero disciples were taken to the infirmary in the instructors' building.
Coincidentally, the instructor serving as the doctor here was my target.
"It's not broken," Junian said indifferently. "Just a slight crack in the ulna."
"I see."
"It isn't serious," she remarked. "Rest here today, and you'll recover either tomorrow or the day after at the latest."
"You're not giving me a potion?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course, the young master would ask that," Junian clicked her tongue. "Do you have any idea how much a bottle of potion costs? It'd be a waste on a wound like this."
"What about divine power?" I pressed, glancing at her with interest.
"I'm afraid I lack talent in that area."
That was to be expected. She was an inquisitor for a reason, likely a fighter with an aptitude for combat.
I nodded, my gaze drifting around the infirmary. There were four beds.
"Where is Hans?" I asked.
"Hans? Ah, the one who was brought in the other day. His condition has improved enough that I sent him back to his room," she replied.
"I see." That meant there were no eavesdroppers.
"Well, I'll be off now," Junian said, turning to leave. "Take your medicine and get some good rest tonight."
"You are an inquisitor of the Sun Church, right?" I asked, my voice low but pointed.
Junian stopped in her tracks and looked at me. "That is true. But why are you asking all of a sudden?"
"I heard that Aton's believers are particularly sensitive to miasma."
"That's just a rumor," she responded dismissively.
A rumor?
I blinked, and Junian continued, "I can smell it when church members do something dirty. If you want to be an inquisitor, you'll need to learn to sense it well. I've dealt with enough Dark Qi to know it better than most outsiders."
That figures.
"So, have you sensed anything strange during this training camp?" I probed.
When Junian turned to face me, I knew immediately I was right. There was suspicion in her eyes, but it wasn't the kind of dismissive look that suggested I was spouting nonsense. She had sensed something as well.
In this case, there is no need for further explanation. I just have to give her a subtle nudge.
"What are you trying to say?" she asked.
"I'll be blunt. A church member has infiltrated this training camp."
Junian blinked, then let out a low laugh, though it didn't last long.
"Listen carefully, kid. I'm a priest and an inquisitor, but I'm also a Great Master of the Badniker family," she said. "You should be grateful you carry the blood of the Badnikers. If you didn't, you'd be paying the price for that insult."
Her harsh threat didn't faze me. "A priest might perform a ritual to summon a demon king here—"
Junian cut me off, "Hey, can't you tell the difference between heaven and earth?"
I didn't respond.
"Watch your mouth. A priest? A ritual to summon a demon king? You'd be trembling at the mere sight of a low-grade demon."
"I get why it's hard to believe. But I was ordered to infiltrate the training camp," I said.
"That's a lie that's not even funny. They hid this from me, a Great Master, and only told you, the incompetent child of the Badnikers?" she rebuked.
I found that strange myself. I wasn't sure about anyone else, but why hadn't they told Junian about this?
She wasn't just a Great Master but also a member of the Sun Church. There was no chance she was part of the Dark Church.
Were they trying to save face?
That was my guess. Maybe the Iron-Blooded Lord and the family didn't place much value on the Great Master title.
I said, "You know the reason why, don't you?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.
"Doesn't the family head have a famous saying?"
Junian fell silent, knowing exactly what I meant.
"Potential lies dormant in the blood."
Even Ludwig was proof enough that the Iron-Blooded Lord entrusted dangerous missions to his children. So here I was, playing my part, repeating to myself, The Iron-Blooded Lord gave me a special assignment to infiltrate the training camp.
"Talk is cheap. Give me more solid evidence," she demanded.
"Alright. There is one knight instructor whose skill level is unrecognizable, right? A man too strong to be a regular knight," I claimed.
Junia didn't confirm or deny my claim.
"He's part of the infiltration team. I'm not alone," I added.
After invoking my father's name, I dropped the name of his younger brother—Luke.
Junian fell silent.
I expected as much. In my previous life, it was Junian who had revealed this very truth to me.
"I understand if this is hard to believe. There's a church member in the Badnikers' domain, not to mention a priest and a demon king. But surely, you've heard about the ambush I suffered on my way to the main house, right?"
She nodded.
"I will be blunt. The Badnikers' territory is no longer a safe zone."
Something was changing within the Dark Church. Given their power and influence on the continent, this was no small shift—it signaled a change in the era itself.
I wasn't speaking without cause. After all, I had been involved in the events at the Jewel Mountains, what happened to Hariba, and the tragedy at the training camp.
"Of course, nothing is certain. That's why I need your help. If you don't believe me, just treat me as a madman. You can always report it to the main house," I suggested.
The last part was a bluff.
Junian remained silent, her expression unreadable, but I could sense her internal conflict. I knew what her decision would be.
"If you're lying, I swear by Aton's name that you'll regret it," she swore.
The invocation of her god meant she was sincere. Despite her cold demeanor, Junian seemed like a devout believer.
I just smiled. "Deal."
"So? What do you want from me?"
"Nothing grand. Just a little help—for now."
With that, I gave Junian a brief outline of the plan.
***
With Junian—the Theology Master, inquisitor, and instructor at this training camp—on our side, our odds had improved by 20%. Add Luke to the mix, and we had a real shot against Juan.
Nonetheless, I knew that this wasn't good enough.
The priest had a deadly trump card—a suicidal move that summoned the demon king by offering himself as a sacrifice. In technical terms, a mutual destruction technique.
To prevent that tragedy, we'd need one more person.
Of course, certain conditions had to be met. We needed someone as strong as Luke and Junian. Someone we could trust without question. While the criteria were simple, fulfilling them wasn't.
First of all, the hero disciples were eliminated. Even the strongest among them, Charon, couldn't hold a candle to an instructor.
As for Seren, her destructive power in a single blow surpassed that of an instructor, but it came with the risk of destroying her life force. So, she was out.
There were a few promising instructors left, but I was hesitant. I'd already seen several instructors align with Juan during the training camp. Even if they weren't church members, the possibility of them being brainwashed was real.
Still...
I laughed. In truth, I already knew who the final person would be. He was at least as strong as Luke and Junian—and in many ways, more reliable. If I could secure his cooperation, our odds would surpass 90%.
The catch was, he wasn't at the training camp.
It can't be helped.
I glanced at the black ring from the Iron-Blooded Lord on my finger. I injected mana, and the response was immediate.
Like last time, I found myself in a room. The only difference was that it felt darker than before.
A low voice echoed. "What? It is you."
I turned toward the source and saw the disheveled Assad, seemingly asleep on the sofa. The book lying beside him gave the impression that he'd been using it as an impromptu eye patch.
For now, I felt relieved. If I had encountered my father through the ring's pure function, the situation would have dragged on. This Archmage, however, was the one who could solve my problem directly.
"Hello."
"Luan Badniker." Assad yawned. "You are probably at the training camp right now."
"I need to ask you for a favor."
"A favor? From me?" he asked, perplexed.
"Yes."
"I need to leave the training camp area for a short while. Can you loosen the barrier slightly?" I asked.
Assad rubbed his eyes before replying, "What are you planning to do?"
"There's someone I have to meet."
Before the regression, Assad had shared critical information with me. It was the other insurance policy that I had prepared alongside Luke.
The Swordmaster, Carzakh, was the final piece of my plan.