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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Elf's Breath
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"Come on, come on, Young Master! We don't have much time, so skip the pointless struggling and come along quietly. We'll make sure you're comfortable."
The guards approached me slowly, their faces splitting into grins. They had every reason to. They were bigger, more numerous, and their opponent was none other than the infamous me. No need for tension there. Especially since I currently lacked my past powers. But still.
Thwack!
"Gahk!"
My sudden fist slammed squarely into the gut of the grinning lead guard.
'Guys like you don't even warrant me using my strength.'
And right now, I even had aura inside me that I hadn't fully mastered yet.
Dealing with these thugs didn't require Heterogenous Powers, let alone Pankration.
It took less than a few minutes for the guards to hit the floor, rolling around.
"Ugh... ugh..."
"S-spare... me..."
Thud! Thud!
From Hans's perspective, the sight of most guards sprawled out and the small, frail-looking Third Young Master emotionlessly elbow-smashing the last one's face was downright chilling.
Sss... Thump!
The final guard, who'd been getting pummeled, collapsed limply.
The blood-smeared Third Young Master, face expressionless no longer, flashed a bright smile as he slowly approached.
"Well, Manager Hans. When you lose at the gambling table, don't you have to make the appropriate 'settlement'?"
Hans felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of the Third Young Master grinning with his white teeth.
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"That bastard, who does he take for the black sheep?"
I gathered the aura in my body and headed from Hans's office toward the casino's exit, a heavy box tucked under my arm. The box was quite large.
Large enough to fit a whole plant root, and then some.
No use hiding it.
After failing his 'gamble' on me and getting thoroughly thrashed, Hans had to hand over half his hidden stash—not just the mandrake, but everything he'd squirreled away, past today's dealings included.
Sure, he probably had separate secret funds. But for him and that minion of his, today's loss was a massive blow.
Of course, killing Hans had never been the plan. My current level was too low to deal with that minion yet anyway.
Fundamentally, Hans was quite useful. Using today's mess as leverage, I could shake him down periodically, turning him into a handy piggy bank for the future.
Even so, my irritation wouldn't settle.
"That punk. A bug? Even so, how dare he to a direct Carviot scion! The nerve."
The reason for my anger?
It was facing head-on just how much time I'd wasted in this era. Hans had called me a 'bug.'
Sure, I hadn't trained my Heterogenous Powers or Pankration yet.
But this body had once vied with the continent's top powerhouses.
It wasn't about to end at the hands of mere bruisers.
Yet neither Hans nor the guards—
No one had even considered I'd win.
Against a direct descendant of the Carviot family that ruled their territory, no less. The commoners living in the fief.
I admit I was a total mess back then. So I was braced for 'Carviot wastrel' or even 'Carviot black sheep.' But 'Carviot bug'?!
Forget winning the great war with the Holy Empire—in this state, I couldn't even join the war, let alone make any impact.
'This won't do. I need to regain my old power as soon as possible.'
Feeling the mountain of tasks ahead anew, the day after leaving the casino, I headed to the city center. My target: the apothecary alley.
Passing countless shops, I arrived at the dingiest one tucked in the alley's dead end: 'Elf's Breath.'
With the shabbiest exterior in the fief, the worst possible location for customers, and an owner whose unfriendliness bordered on outright eccentricity—this place nailed the unholy trinity. But it harbored a big secret.
The quirky old owner was a member of the sect that revered and spread Heterogenous Powers.
And, by all indications, someone of considerable rank.
Heterogenous Powers.
All powers excluding aura, magic, and divine force. The Heterogenous Power I'd mastered in my past life, 'Steel,' was one such.
The Holy Empire branded Heterogenous Powers as heresy of heresies.
-A wicked power neither the grace of the Lord God, nor honed strength, nor wisdom!
Not just them—the continent's vested interests among kingdoms and nobles agreed on this point.
The reason was simple.
Those who wielded Heterogenous Powers were that strong.
Strong enough to upend the order the establishment had built.
Ordinary folk called them Black Lions, with reverence and awe.
Pursuing their unique grasp of the myriad phenomena—paths no normal person could touch—they were temperamentally incompatible with vested powers like the Holy Empire.
Hence, the 'black.'
But their power was no freakish outlier to dismiss. Two of the eleven 'continent's supermen' entitled to jade thrones were among them.
Hence, the 'lion.'
They split further into pure and turbid streams by inclination; at least the old man here wasn't the dangerous turbid sort.
How could I be sure?
Because in my past life, when I was beyond saving, this old man had awakened my power.
My connection with the 'Elf's Breath' owner began when he coincidentally rescued me from the gutter, drunk and despairing of life.
Back then, he'd appraised me thus:
-Utterly hopeless to rehabilitate, but the seed of your power isn't totally rotten. With hard work, you can bear minimal fruit.
...Thinking back, it was a pretty stingy evaluation.
Still, thanks to him, I barely escaped my family's downfall and, as a resistance fighter, even landed a blow on the Empire in the end.
To me, he was a true benefactor—no, a master in all but name.
'Wonder if he's gone fully bald by now.'
Recalling the past, I'd arrived at 'Elf's Breath' before I knew it. I straightened my clothes outside, then carefully pushed the door that looked ready to fall off with a slight shove.
Creeeak—
As the entrance swung open with a harsh groan, inside the shop an old man—somewhat younger than the one I'd first met, straddling middle and old age—jolted awake from dozing, startled by the noise.
"Tch! What the—? Which rotten punk makes noise while an elder sleeps...? Who're you? A customer? We don't sell meds here—get lost!"
"I've come seeking a medicine to help me find my own path."
"What kinda nonsense is that? If you're drunk, drag your ass home, wipe your balls, and pass out properly... Hm?"
The old man, mid-spate of crude curses and insults, forgot his 'get out' and eyed me up and down.
"Hmmm, hmmm. Indeed. Hm? Hm??
"Mysterious. The seed of power is minuscule, yet how is the soul so mature?"
He gazed at me like a curious specimen.
"Like someone who's rolled through decades alongside power. Ho, traces of 'germination' in the seed too... yet the shell remains unbroken."
Indeed. I'd felt it before, but this old man was no ordinary soul. He'd nailed my current state from one look.
"In my life, I've never seen such a bizarre case. And there's another energy too?"
His eyes brimming with curiosity, he muttered nonstop before fixing me with a stare.
"Rookie. What are you?"
"The third son of this land's lord."
"You're that infamous Carviot bug? Rumors can't be trusted. How could a mere bug have such a mystical soul?"
The old man stopped cursing me. Though he'd said something pretty harsh.
He even locked the shop door, as if afraid of prying eyes.
Not content, he sealed off every window and external vent.
Only then did he finally sit across from me.
"Drink up, rookie. Might not suit your noble palate, but it's good for the body."
"Thank you."
I took the proffered tea without hesitation and drank.
Ah, this hangover cure—I'd drunk gallons of it before. Worked wonders. The taste hadn't changed. Except one thing.
I drank gladly out of nostalgia, but it looked different in his eyes.
"...You down commoner swill pretty casually, huh?"
"I've always been coarse. Don't fuss over that."
It wasn't much, but he seemed satisfied. Then he sobered, glaring as he spoke.
"Hmph, fine... Rookie, how'd you find this place?"
From crotchety grump to a wholly different air in an instant—but to me, it was familiar from my past life.
"Does it matter how I found it? I heard Black Lions help develop abilities for anyone who knocks, without prejudice."
As if I'd erred, he slowly shook his head.
"Rumors are off. We extend hands without prejudice to 'talents we discover'."
Then his gaze sharpened fiercely.
"'Knowing' this place means someone talked. Meaning one I awakened spilled to you."
Oh boy. The mood was veering weird.
"True, you have a seed of power. An unusual aura at that. Probably sent you to me since they couldn't awaken it themselves. But rules are rules."
His eyes blazed like a volcano.
"Revealing a Great Three Sages' hideout without leave is death-worthy. By Black Lion code, tell me who exposed Karma's location. Then I'll help awaken your power."
Uh-oh.
This wasn't in the plan.
Sweat began beading on my back, trickling down.
'Damn, too careless.'
Was it because everything went smoothly at Hans's casino? Or because of our past connection, I took it lightly? I regretted my complacency.
Black Lions stood in total opposition to the establishment.
Secrecy was basic for them.
Showing up out of nowhere with 'awaken my power plz' was bound to seem suspicious.
I'd planned to brush it off as family intel if questioned.
But the old man—Karma's—status was the issue. One of the Great Three Sages, no less. Far higher than I'd thought.
If the Holy Empire had Twelve Archbishops, Black Lions had the Great Three Sages.
Those who wielded Heterogenous Powers to draw out the potential of latent ones to their limits.
They practically were the Black Lions.
Even in my past life, the Empire couldn't find them, dooming their extermination efforts.
Yet claim a mere kingdom's house found them?
Dogs in the street would laugh.
'Damn, one wrong move and I'll get the wrong guy killed.'
Sweat gathered on my brow, dripping down in beads.