The blood-soaked clearing was enveloped in silence.
It remained so until the man shook the blood off his sword.
It was an unbelievable outcome.
Miltram’s “masterpieces” possessed a power befitting the title. Even Ceria, the second strongest after Ian among the vanguards, had been caught off guard for just a moment.
They were monsters that could even regenerate severed body parts.
Yet those fearsome enemies were annihilated in an instant at the man’s hands, without understanding what had happened.
The past, marked by struggles and battles, felt almost laughable. Moreover, the group had ultimately failed to hold their ground and had been subdued.
In contrast, the test subjects fell like autumn leaves before the man.
Even the regenerative ability that Miltram boasted, akin to that of an immortal, proved ineffective.
The severed bodies did not revive, and no signs of resurrection from Miltram were present after his head was taken.
It was clear that the man had employed some sort of trick.
Nevertheless, no one dared to question him.
The group, hesitant to rise, merely gazed at the man with wary eyes.
Their instincts were warning them.
He was different.
That man was somehow different from ‘Ian Fercurus.’
In the past, they might have overlooked it.
At the time, their bond with Ian was still shallow, and even if something seemed off, they would have dismissed it as a feeling.
In fact, it wasn’t easy to think of any other possibilities.
The body remained the same, but the personality had changed.
It was a story they had never even heard of until meeting Miltram.
Should they hear of it, it typically came up in discussions about the mysterious powers of monsters or strong curses.
Those were rumors whose veracity was uncertain. Moreover, even piecing together the information they had gathered, they could not elucidate the existence of that man.
Spells that manipulate the mind usually carry immense side effects.
It was fortunate if even fragments of the original personality remained. However, the man was not only thinking clearly but was also adapting to the possessed body too naturally.
That was the reason even Celin, who had spent a long time with Ian, did not catch on.
At most, she only felt a slight sense of unease.
If even Celin felt that way, it was beyond difficult for the rest of the group to harbor suspicions against the man.
However, the group could no longer avoid the truth.
The man before them was not the Ian Fercurus they had known.
If he was Ian, then none of the numerous crises they had faced up to that point would make sense. There was also no reasonable explanation as to why he would be hiding such talent until now.
Following the Bloodletting Script, now came the revelation of another Ian.
The series of secrets being unveiled left the group confused.
The first to regain composure was the Lady Virgin Saint.
She was a woman who stood firmly on the treacherous ice of the Holy Kingdom’s political landscape. Regaining composure and thinking strategically in the face of unexpected variables was her forte.
Of course, even that saint had yet to fully overcome her shock, but she managed to suppress the quiver in her voice.
The saint posed the most essential question to the man.
“…Who are you?”
“Ian Fercurus.”
It was an unbearably simple response.
There was no emotion reflected in the man’s face as he said that. He spoke in a calm tone, as if stating a mere fact.
The man only directed his golden eyes toward the saint.
As soon as the saint met that gaze, she couldn’t help but flinch.
She had treated countless patients up until now.
Among them were veteran soldiers who had spent years on the battlefield.
There were also monster hunters who sought vengeance against monsters after losing family or lovers, and those who had lost their will to live due to repeated betrayals.
Yet the saint could assert this.
No one bore a heart as worn as that man’s.
Rather than any emotion, only fragments of it floated in his eyes. What little remained were negative emotions like regret, malice, hatred, and despair.
As the saint hesitated over what to say, someone else initiated conversation with the man.
“W-what are you saying… you monster!”
A woman jumped up, pouring out her rage.
She was a lovely girl wearing a hooded hat.
Her brown hair and blue eyes complemented each other well. Despite her petite stature, her determined gaze made her an impressive young lady.
Her name was Elsi Rainelle, a woman who had been Ian’s loyal follower from the outset.
At first, Elsi was so captivated by the appearance of the Bloodletting Script and the man’s unbelievable feats that she was left speechless.
However, as time passed and she thought it through, she realized there was a significant issue.
If that man wasn’t the “Master,” where had the real “Master” gone? That was an unknown.
As she was nervously fretting over that, the man’s indifferent reply reached her ears.
Elsi was taken aback.
The gratitude for having her life spared had long since faded away. More than that, she was concerned about the well-being of her beloved master.
In no time, a voice soaked in anger spilled from Elsi’s adorable mouth.
“C-could you not return our master right now?! Ian Fercurus?! You jerk! Our master is way more wonderful than you! And more caring, cruel, and merciless…!”
“Shut up.”
It was a chilling tone.
With just those words, Elsi’s expression went blank.
She hadn’t heard someone say something harsh to her for many years.
Of course, she had faced some scolding in her childhood and had been insulted at the Academy.
But later, Elsi had personally paid back that debt with interest.
Since then, few had dared to provoke her carelessly.
At most, it was only Delphine who would respond whenever Elsi initiated a quarrel.
Hearing someone tell her to be quiet all of a sudden was something she had not experienced in a long time.
As the world went white in her mind, a burning feeling climbed up Elsi’s throat.
The girl’s gaze turned fierce in an instant. If left unchecked, Elsi’s proud repartee might make an appearance.
At that moment, the man added in a weary voice.
“I was going to return him anyway… If you want to receive the ‘Ian’ you know back quickly, start preparing to leave. There’s a mountain of tasks ahead.”
His surprisingly cooperative attitude caught Elsi off guard, making her shudder and halt the words she had planned to say.
She was itching to unleash all sorts of harsh words swirling in her mouth.
Yet the prospect of him actually returning her master rendered her at a loss for words, and there was a growing fear that provoking him unnecessarily might put Ian in danger.
For now, it seemed best to follow the man’s orders, even if she had her doubts.
Fearing the man might change his mind, Elsi hurriedly began to pack her things, as did the rest of the group.
On the contrary, it was the man who appeared momentarily taken aback.
He turned back with a look of distrust, something rare for him.
His narrowed brows testified to his discomfort with the situation.
“…But, ‘Master’?”
“W-what! Why?”
Elsi shook her small fist as she paused in her preparations.
She was displaying an attitude as if ready to clash with someone wielding the strength of someone exceeding the Expert rank, a challenge to the man who had just single-handedly dispatched ten test subjects.
It seemed her feelings toward the man who had temporarily taken her master were less than favorable.
However, it appeared the man was shocked by something a little different.
He stood there blankly staring at Elsi before shaking his head and swallowing a hollow laugh.
“…Ha.”
After that, the man did not speak to Elsi again.
He occasionally glanced at her with a complex expression but said nothing further.
Once they were all ready to return, the horrors of the clearing were to be cleaned up by the Rainelle Clan’s magic troops.
The first to enter the clearing was Raymond, who stiffened at the sight.
Just the quantity and quality of the fallen test subjects made it clear.
He realized that the test subjects they had faced from Miltram were merely decoys.
“So this was the real thing… How did he take them down?”
The man silently tapped his sheathed sword.
It was a wordless cue, the meaning of which was crystal clear.
The only issue remaining was whether he could trust that word.
In any case, Reynolds had no time to verify the authenticity of the testimony right then.
He hesitated for a moment but eventually let out a heavy sigh and said.
“…Got it, I’ll hear the details later. For now, we’ll handle the cleanup here.”
Thus, the journey continued towards Percus Manor.
For about half a day, an awkward silence enveloped the space between the man and the group.
Even Celin, usually the most sociable, was too on edge to take notice.
The man’s displayed prowess was astonishing to such an extent that it was chilling.
If he set his mind to it, it wouldn’t be impossible for him to turn the group into a handful of blood.
Uncertainty regarding the man’s true nature made the group’s anxiety inevitable.
Surprisingly, it was the man who could not endure the subtle tension first.
“…Aren’t you curious how he was killed?”
It was a question devoid of emotion as usual, rendering its intent unclear.
For a conversation starter from across time, it was indeed quite an unremarkable topic.
