Eslow accepted Henya’s proposal and granted her a one-year grace period. Of course, it wasn’t because he loved her; it was because he believed it would be better if she bore a child with someone she truly loved. Besides, for someone like Eslow, who had lived for centuries, a year was but a blink. Keter took Henya to a room beside the office under the pretense of treating her injuries. “So, what’s your plan?” Keter asked casually as he stitched up her wound. Henya winced as the pain finally set in. “Are you going to help?” “My schedule is packed, so I don’t think I can. However, I can give you advice. You're a client in my debt, after all.” “Didn’t I just repay that? If I hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t have a head by now.” “First, you weren’t planning to marry me anyway. Second, do you really think I trusted Eslow enough to put my life in his hands? I was planning to pull back halfway through the slash.” “You can dodge after getting halfway sliced?” “How impressive,” Henya said sarcastically. Once the suturing was done, Keter wrapped the wound with a bandage. “So, what’s the plan? Don’t tell me it was just an impulse.” “I’m going to become Lord Deyal’s student.” Keter was baffled. Deyal, the Slasher of Skies and the Lord of the East, was the one who killed him before he regressed. Apparently, Henya had a connection to him. “But I’ll ask him to take Wid in as well. I’ll beg him to help Wid block Father’s blow just once.” If she could really get Deyal’s help, that would be reassuring. But Wid was a total beginner in swordsmanship. Whether he had talent or not was still a mystery. Even with hidden talent, blocking Eslow’s strike in just one year is nothing but a fantasy. Keter glanced at Henya, who seemed full of resolve. If she was that determined, maybe the odds weren’t zero. “You should know better than anyone that even with Deyal’s swordsmanship training, a year isn’t enough.” “Father didn’t specify any conditions. He said to just take the blow. So I’ll use every means possible.” “List all those means. Let’s hear it.” “I’ll gather artifacts and elixirs. I’ll get high-tier mages to stack enhancements and defense spells on Wid. Add Deyal’s swordsmanship on top of that, and maybe—” Keter interrupted by slapping her back.. “That’s not even close to enough.” “Like you said, the lack of conditions is your only window. You need to prepare to a ridiculous degree.” Get full chapters from 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡~𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚~𝙣𝙚𝙩 Keter imagined himself in her shoes, with someone as helpless as Wid, and ran through every outrageous idea he could. “If it were me, I would hold the trial near the Samael Empire’s border, where Eslow can’t go all-out. If he uses full force and the empire notices, they’ll send a Prime and an army. Even for Eslow, he can’t start a war with the empire on his own.” “And it’s good thinking to enhance Wid with a high-tier mage, but that’s not enough. Set up a group foundation magic. You’ll need something like that to have a shot at blocking Eslow’s blow. There are mage towers that would be interested in trying to withstand his blow.” “Don’t be surprised yet. You’ve heard of sword arrays, right? Get help from the Browning family up north or another nation, but form a sword array. Don’t have Wid do it alone and have a whole team block it. The more people and the higher their level, the better.” “...Would Father even allow that?” “He never said it had to be blocked alone, did he? And none of this is easy. You’ll need insane connections and resources. And that’s power—yours and Wid’s.” “That’s my advice. I’m done here.” Keter didn’t say he would help directly. It would be fun, sure, but what he would gain wouldn’t outweigh what he would lose. He was a Solver, not a charity worker; there was a price to his work, and Henya couldn’t afford it right now. Henya didn’t ask for help, either. It was because she knew how much Keter had already helped her. It was thanks to him that Wid had improved and that they were even able to go on a date. Asking for more would be shameless, and it would hurt her pride. Keter had shown her the path, and the rest was up to her. Watching him leave without hesitation, Henya made a vow. You helped me this time, but next time, I’ll be the one offering it. She got moving immediately. With only a year left, she didn’t want to waste even a single second. Eslow sat in his chair in his office, a tobacco pipe between his lips. As Keter entered the room, smoke streamed from Eslow’s nostrils. “You’ve got a long life, don’t you?” “People like you only ever end up two ways. Vanish without a trace or turn up dead.” It was a chilling comment, but Keter only shrugged. “Well, not today at least.” Eslow struck his desk with the end of his pipe. A moment later, Butler Two entered the room and handed Keter two documents. “One is the document for one million gold, the prize money for first place in the Sword of the South Tournament. The other is a formal letter of appointment designating you as a high noble.” Hearing this, Keter smiled in satisfaction. A million gold was an unimaginable fortune, and now that he was formally recognized as a high noble, no one would be able to slight him or question his title again. If I had tried to earn noble recognition without an opportunity , it would’ve taken a million years. People had to prove their value and skills, and Keter had secured that proof, acknowledged by none other than the Lord of the South himself. Eslow exhaled a stream of smoke and hinted, “If you want, you could even choose your own last name.” That meant Keter could separate from Sefira and form his own noble family. It was an offer that no ambitious person could easily refuse, but Keter just scratched the back of his head. Eslow had only thrown it out there to test him, and unsurprisingly, Keter didn’t budge. Eslow turned around, showing his back to Keter. He had tried to pressure Keter, but he failed. He also failed to marry him off to Henya and even failed to kill him. There was no further business. For now, he would let Keter go. So long as Sefira was in the south and Keter belonged to Sefira, he would remain within Eslow’s grasp. Keter remained standing, which made Eslow frown. “You get one sentence.” “I would like the reward for the surgery on Ryze that was postponed.” Originally, Keter didn’t really want anything from Eslow. He thought he would just ask for some elixirs, artifacts, or money. But this tournament had given him valuable insight and experiences, which changed his mind. Now, there was something he wanted. Keter learned of Eslow’s authority through Henya. By making Kai and Jeffrey fight, he had learned that weapons born from that authority could be transferred. As a collector, Keter couldn’t help but want one. “I would like your arrows.” “Not the bow, but the arrows…” Eslow turned back around and stared at Keter quietly. “Why do you think I even have arrows?” Someone of Eslow’s level had no need for actual arrows. He could create projectiles from pure aura, so there was no need. “You’ve got a damn sharp hunch,” Eslow said, breathing out a stream of smoke. “Get out.” “You haven’t given it to me yet.” Keter briefly wondered if Eslow had lost his mind. But just as he turned to leave… An arrow hovered in mid-air, just inches from his eye. If he had moved a second later, he might have become blind. The arrow looked as if it were carved from white marble, its shaft smooth and pale. The tip was as clear as an ice crystal. I can’t feel the presence of the arrow at all… Even while staring at it, it felt like it wasn’t there. Holding it felt like clutching air. Eslow, clearly enjoying Keter’s reaction, grinned. “It’s made from the alpha of the Cloud Wyverns.” Wyverns were top-tier monsters and the predators of the skies. Cloud Wyverns, despite their massive size, were known as assassins of the sky, flying completely silently. And this arrow was crafted from the alpha of that breed. It retained the creature’s defining trait, creating an arrow with no presence or sound. “Does it have a name?” “Then I’ll call it the White Cloud.” The arrow trembled as if acknowledging the name, then became absorbed into Keter through his abdomen. He could sense that he could summon the White Cloud into his hand as he wished. The Sword of the South Tournament had ended, but instead of cooling down, excitement in Eslow’s fief only grew. This was thanks to the post-tournament festivities. People danced, drank, and chattered endlessly about the events of the tournament. There were so many stories to tell that bards were enjoying an unprecedented boom. “Lord Keter proclaimed that archery is the pinnacle of all martial arts!” “His arrows rained down like a storm, and the knights could only flee.” “When the divine archer Keter roared, even darkness recoiled in fear.” Even as such exaggerated rumors spread through the streets, most nobles did not join in the public celebrations. They had their own version of festivities: the social ball. Once the Sword of the South Tournament ended, the most powerful families hosted their own parties. For the eighth tournament, the Garcia and Luban families—both Masters of Swordsmanship—had hosted parties alongside the wealthy Galahind family. But with Galahind now ruined, a new family rose and took its place: the Bydent family, the next most influential family. Known for their spearmanship, they had long been considered a rival of Sefira. Naturally, an invitation arrived for the members of Sefira, staying at their hotel. The three families hosting the social ball for the Ninth Sword of the South were the Garcia family, Luban family, and the newly prominent Bydent family. “The Bydent family is so shameless to send us an invitation ,” Taragon muttered, cursing under his breath after reading their card. Meanwhile, Myle studied all three invitations carefully. “Have you decided where you will attend, brother?” Taragon asked. Attendance was an individual choice, and family members didn’t have to attend the same party. “I’m going to Bydent,” Myle said with a serious expression. “If you want to understand your enemy, the fastest way is to face them directly.” To see the social ball as merely a place for socializing was naive. In reality, it was an extension of politics. Hosts used it to flaunt their wealth, and guests came to expand their connections and trade high-level information. “I am going to the Luban Marquisate. That’s where the largest number of nobles will gather, so it will be the best place to read the political climate.” Anis chose the Luban family’s social ball, which was the textbook choice. “I’ll attend the Garcia Marquisate because I want to get closer to Sir Rajis,” said Taragon. Unintentionally, the three brothers ended up choosing one host each. And then, all three turned in unison toward one person: Keter, who was quietly finishing a late dinner. “Keter, are you going to any of the parties?” With his usual personality, they expected him not to bother, but Keter was unpredictable, so Taragon asked just to be sure. The atmosphere instantly shifted. “Have you decided where?” asked Myle. “You’ve got about a month until the parties begin, so there’s no rush to choose, but…” One of them would surely end up attending with Keter. That required mental preparation, so they needed to know now. “Yeah,” Keter answered without hesitation. The brothers clenched their fists or swallowed hard in anticipation. It was an unprecedented answer that shocked them to their core.