After the initial commotion, Yujin was forced back into bed to rest.
Who would have guessed? The moment his feet touched the ground, that same electric sensation he felt while fighting Tarkan surged through him. Feeling as if a current were racing up his legs, Yujin had collapsed the moment he tried to leave the bed, only for Kalaisha to use her Arts to lift him back onto it.
Kalaisha had to endure the piercing glares of Theresia and Theresis for a while after that, but he chose to ignore it. Even if Tarkan's arrival in the slums had been a coincidence, the fact that she sat back and watched the fight was hard to forgive.
Every time Yujin thought back to Kalaisha's confession, his head throbbed. If she had helped even a little against that monster Tarkan, he wouldn't be suffering like this.
It was late at night. Hearing a knock on the door, Yujin looked toward the entrance and told the visitor to come in.
Kalaisha poked her head in tentatively, looking at Yujin.
"…Hello?"
"You've got a lot of nerve."
"Ack!?"
Kalaisha slunk into the room and pulled up a chair. She placed her staff on the table. Yujin eyed it with interest.
"Can I see that?"
"I don't mind, but be careful with it."
"I will."
The staff was slightly longer than Kalaisha was tall. It looked cumbersome to carry, but she moved it effortlessly using the wind. It was clearly high-quality equipment. The grip was accented with gold, and the staff itself felt durable enough to be used as a club in a pinch. It looked like the Leithanien Arts staves Aorn had mentioned once before.
"Heh, I see you recognize quality."
"It's hard to miss. Besides, I've spent some time around a forge."
As Yujin carefully inspected the staff, Kalaisha leaned back and idly kicked her feet. Yujin handed it back.
"So, what brings you here this late? I assume it's not for small talk."
"A proposal."
A cool breeze drifted in through the window Yujin had left open for ventilation. The curtains fluttered with an eerie rustle as Yujin waited for her to continue.
"A proposal? What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. Come with me. You're exactly the kind of person my master would love."
She was inviting him to leave with her, having recognized his talent.
"I don't even know who your master is. And we've just met, haven't we?"
"Even so, I'm making this offer because I think highly of you."
"Hmph."
"And you asked who my master is. I suspect you'll recognize the name immediately."
Yujin searched his memory for any high-profile names. Kalaisha hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should reveal it, but then she let the name slip from her lips.
"The King of the Nachzehrers, Netsalem. That is the name of my teacher."
Kalaisha's serious eyes locked onto his. A cool wind blew through the window again, setting the mood. Yujin blinked.
"…Who?"
"???"
Kalaisha's dramatic expression collapsed into bewilderment.
"Wait, wait! You don't know? You really don't know?! The King of the Nachzehrers!"
"I repeat, who is that?"
Kalaisha jumped out of her chair, pointing at him and stammering in shock.
The King of the Nachzehrers. Literally translated, he assumed it meant the king of some demonic sub-race.
"Ugh, just how lacking is your education…?"
"What do you expect from someone born in the backalleys who's never left the gutter?"
If he had gone to a proper school and learned history, maybe it would be different, but Yujin's common sense was limited to the average level of a slum-dweller. He had never felt the need to know more.
"Eek, so if you go, do I have to teach you basic history first?"
"Why are you assuming I'm going?"
"Because it's a chance to escape the bottom."
Her expression shifted instantly to a cold, heavy smile. She spoke as if she understood exactly what kind of lives they led.
"For a Sarkaz, life is nothing but pain. Unless you're born at the top, contracting Oripathy is a given, and discrimination is all you'll ever know."
"You talk like you've seen it all."
"I speak from experience," Kalaisha said with a small grin. "If I hadn't met my master, I don't know how I would have survived. Isn't this exactly the kind of chance you need to flip the script on your life?"
"Flip the script, huh…"
Yujin's current situation was far from ideal. They lived day to day, and the only reason they were safe was because Yujin suppressed any threats through force. But what if Theresia was attacked again while Yujin was away? That couldn't happen again.
"Give me time to think," Yujin replied, lost in thought. Kalaisha grabbed her staff and stood up.
"I'm the one recommending you to my teacher, but if you actually stand before him, you'll probably have to prove your worth again."
"…I feel like I'm being scammed."
Yujin gave her a dubious look. Another test?
"It's not a scam! I can guarantee that no matter what kind of bizarre riddle my teacher throws at you, you're very likely to pass."
"You sure have high hopes for me."
"No one would believe that someone from the gutter forged that kind of power on their own."
Yujin's platinum Arts. He appreciated her high opinion of him, but there was no telling how her teacher would see him. He etched the name Netsalem into his mind, vowing to ask around about it later, and closed his eyes.
"Damn, it's cold."
Before sleeping, he finally closed the window through which that chilling northern wind kept blowing.
He wasn't fully recovered yet, but Yujin got out of bed to stretch his muscles.
If he had stayed in that ruined building wounded and defenseless, there would have been no shortage of people trying to kill him. He had plenty of enemies—people who held grudges because Yujin had drawn lines they couldn't cross to exploit others.
If he left, it would be over. The backalleys would return to the way they were before. They would go back to the state they were in when he was a child. The thought was bitter. He wasn't worried about leaving the place where he grew up as much as he was worried about what would happen to those left behind. To change that, he had to tear out the problem by its roots.
Yujin walked out of the room and found Theresia waiting for him. She took his hand immediately.
"Let's go."
"…Yeah."
They left the relatively luxurious temporary housing and headed back to the slums. As they entered the backalleys, he could feel dozens of eyes on him, even if they tried to pretend they weren't watching.
"Ah, Yujin. I looked into that thing you asked about."
"I didn't exactly ask you to go out of your way."
"So what? I didn't have much else to do while you were recovering."
As they walked, they discussed the name Kalaisha had mentioned.
"He's much more famous than I thought. It's complicated to explain, but... he's definitely powerful."
The Sarkaz race was divided into many sub-races. According to Theresia, those with standard horns were the "pure-type" Sarkaz, but there were many others Yujin was beginning to recognize: Vampires, Cyclops, Gargoyles, Goliaths, Banshees, Liches.
Monsters from myths and legends—they all fell under the name Sarkaz.
The Nachzehrer King, Netsalem. They were a sub-race that consumed the rot of their enemies, taking in their screams and grudges. It was said they instinctively craved war; a Nachzehrer who stayed away from conflict would lose their vitality and slowly waste away.
"…So they're a race of warmongers."
Yujin wondered if every Sarkaz sub-race was dysfunctional in its own way. Eventually, they arrived at the ruined building where they had been staying. The usual rowdy noise was gone, replaced by silence. The building, which had at least looked somewhat lived-in, was now a complete ruin due to the battle with Tarkan.
"We lived here for a long time. Now we're leaving."
"I suppose we are," Yujin said, looking up at the structure with Theresia. Since meeting her, they had always stayed here. There were memories. But honestly, the place Kalaisha had provided was much more comfortable.
Money really is the best, Yujin thought, nodding to himself. Theresia looked at him curiously.
"Will we ever come back? Here, to this place?"
"I don't know. It's not like we were... overly attached to it."
Yujin started to say they were attached but changed his mind. Theresia let out a quiet giggle.
"You're right. There was never a quiet day here."
"Still, this is where we started."
Lost in nostalgia, Theresia looked at the old building and the sky. Yujin watched her.
"We'll come back one day. It's home, after all. No need to get too sentimental yet."
"…I guess so."
Theresia clasped her hands and closed her eyes. Yujin stood by quietly, knowing she prayed like this from time to time. He wondered what she was praying for. He would likely never know.