S-s-s, s-s-s...
With each inhalation and exhalation his lungs swelled and fell. Along with his breathing the magical energy of the technique Supernatural Power and Divine Madness flowed through his body, and once he felt it stabilize, Kun began to slowly rouse his consciousness.
Flash.
Continuing the breathing method, he at the same time sorted the memories that had surfaced at the well. They were images that belonged to him and at the same time were foreign — the fleshly legacy of young Kun Zoldic. Thanks to the recent burst of headache, the chaotic fragments that had been spinning aimlessly in his mind began to fit together into a single picture, like a puzzle.
In any case, sooner or later I would have to deal with this.
Kun exhaled slowly. The air left his lungs and his mind became crystalline clear.
So then...
First, the basic facts that formed the skeleton of the boy’s identity clarified.
...Lost his parents in early childhood under unclear circumstances.
...The younger grandson of Ernst Zoldic, the Sword Emperor, head of House Zoldic.
These facts described Kun Zoldic in the broadest sense. And once the dam broke, the rest of the memories poured out in an unstoppable flood.
...The possessor of a frail body, in which one could hardly recognize the blood of the Sword Emperor, and a weak psyche — since childhood he had constantly seen ghosts.
...Despite being a direct descendant, by decision of the Council of Elders he had been exiled to Lion’s Moat.
...Moreover, stripped of all rights and titles of House Zoldic for the next fifteen years.
The boy did not have the amber eyes characteristic of his line but scarlet pupils with a faint golden sheen. That was why he had used magic to change their color and had taken the alias Ethan. And finally...
A defective lion cub.
“A lion casts its cub into the abyss, and only in that way can the cub prove its right to live.”
Recalling that official justification of the Council, Kun curled a crooked smile. Now he understood the true reason for the exile.
So that was why a direct heir ended up here.
Innate talent, blood strength, an environment where rivalry among siblings is encouraged from the cradle, colossal backing — those like them have a thousand ways to grow strong without resorting to the horrors of Lion’s Moat. Throughout the history of the great houses, there would scarcely be three direct heirs who went through that crucible.
But since they had sent him here...
An orphan whose body could not form a mana heart, whose mind was drained by constant visions. In House Zoldic, where jungle law and the right of the strong reigned, this child looked like easy prey or refuse to be thrown away.
The Council’s decision was merely a formality.
Pretty words about “gaining experience befitting an heir” were just a screen. In practice they had sent him here to die.
A family ready to renounce even its own blood if there was no spark of talent...
Truly in the spirit of House Zoldic. But there was one detail:
...In this body I had awakened.
Kun continued to breathe steadily.
The curse of Dead Man’s Sleep was only one problem.
Loss of status for fifteen years, harsh survival conditions — it was premature to think about the future when existence itself, here and now, was at stake. But he was no longer that weak-willed boy. Moreover, House Zoldic could become a fine tool for his revenge.
When that thought flashed through his head a question arose:
Could Myung have planned all this from the start?
A body perfectly suited to the dark arts and a powerful clan behind it. Too convenient a coincidence. As if to confirm the suspicion, a familiar voice answered within his consciousness:
— Help... you?
— Help... you?
A chill ran over his skin. It was the very voice that had spoken to him through his own shadow at the moment of death. The voice of a monster from another world, a master of unholy arts who called himself Myung — the king of all that is baleful and spectral.
A being capable of seeing its future incarnation and guiding rebirth...
Such a fiend could easily have engineered the present situation. Thoughts blossomed in his head like ink in water.
— Then, my past life.
— According to our agreement, I grant you another fate and another chance!
The memories Myung had left stirred his mind again.
Flash!
The fragments were incomplete, sometimes severed, as if someone had deliberately cut pieces out. But even that was enough to realize Myung’s power.
An absolute leader, the full opposite of me — a mere chain hound.
One who by his own will found himself in the next incarnation and transferred his soul into another body.
What to call such an entity? One thing was clear: it was something infinitely beyond human comprehension.
And this being — was my past life.
Kun replayed his words in his mind. Mirror facing mirror; sky and earth looking each other in the face. Honestly, the meaning of those metaphors still eluded him. But...
I have no reason not to believe him.
After all, the very fact that he now lived and breathed was already beyond logic.
— Live as you wish!
Myung’s words echoed in his ears.
As I wish?
All his life he had been a foreign hound. Those words did not find an instant echo in his heart. But... that did not mean he had no desires. Kun wanted only one thing: the ruin of Roberian Don-Bringer and all his vassals.
...To become a true knight, not a dog.
...To find the family he had lost in childhood.
Pushing away the voices of former subordinates that sounded like hallucinations, Kun focused. He needed to reconcile the information from the body’s memory with reality.
The civil war in the South had ended about ten years ago.
Now Roberian and the heads of twenty-four vassal houses still ruled the South.
In that case...
Kun’s gaze grew cold. At that moment he heard a sound unlike any before.
Scritch-scritch..
Scritch-scritch..
As if ants were digging a tunnel. The sound was so faint that only Kun himself could hear it. It came from the depths of his own body.
This...
The magical energy of Supernatural Power and Divine Madness began to consume the death-energy — the sagas — accumulated in his body.
Scritch, scritch, scritch...
The force of the dark art slowly devoured the stagnant energy in the mana-channels, growing in volume.
Of course, compared to the total amount of death in my body, these were only crumbs, but...
If it has enough time, it can overcome the deficiencies of Dead Man’s Sleep.
To see the first fruits would take months. To completely cleanse the body — no less than ten years.
Kun ran the timeline through his mind and whispered:
Now I understand why Dead Man’s Sleep is ideal for this technique.
In theory it made sense. The foundation of his new breathing method was the energy of souls that had left the world of the living.
More precisely, it was the Breath of Aura that devours the unclean and turns them into food.
So the cursed energy of Dead Man’s Sleep for him was not poison.
From that viewpoint, my whole body is one vast elixir for developing power.
Soon the magical energy, having completed its circuit, returned to the heart.
Uuuung.
Feeling it, Kun barely smiled. At this rate, by the time he finished training in Lion’s Moat he would easily reach the level of a first-rate Master. The rate of growth was terrifying. But...
That still would not be enough.
Kun shook his head. His enemies were Roberian and the Southern high command. Essentially, an entire state. Moreover, Roberian had been a Grandmaster ten years ago. It was hard even to imagine what heights that monster had reached by now.
To slay such a beast, one had to become an even more terrible monster.
A monster...
Fixing that word in his consciousness, Kun steadied his breath. He cast aside extraneous thoughts and plunged fully into meditation.
Flash.
He did not notice how the shadows around him began to thicken, taking on an unnaturally deep black.
And so...
Half a year passed.