Chapter 81
Well, it’s been twenty years, and you’ve really made something of yourself!
The sunset spilled like liquid gold over the emerald greens of the Hisna Manor, where busy servants scurried about, making last-minute preparations for an impending feast.
Nacho stood on the corridor, tossing a silver coin in his hand like it was a magical charm.
The coin bore the emblem of the Empire’s Dragon Slayer Army—a pair of dragon wings cradling two long swords crossed in an “X” shape.
In the Empire, different coins represented different social standings, along with the associated powers they wielded.
From the lowest tier to the top, there were copper coins, silver coins, gold coins, and then the unparalleled unicorn crystal—symbolizing being just one person beneath the emperor and above all the rest.
It took Nacho Salaman nearly two decades to upgrade his copper coin to this shiny silver piece.
Sure, at first glance, it looked like he had barely scraped the bottom of the barrel, but for most folks, just achieving this level was a massive deal.
Beyond that lay the chaotic whirlpool of imperial power where gold coin holders were seasoned politicians, wise and cunning.
Nacho knew he wasn’t quite in that league yet; just holding on to his little patch of land and keeping his head on his shoulders was success enough.
At this point in his life, the one he really wanted to thank wasn’t the “noble lord” who kept promoting him.
Nope, it was a “ghost”—a ghost who had vanished for twenty years.
Twenty years ago, Nacho had witnessed a cataclysmic battlefield where dragons were all about vendettas and revenge.
That man, Leon Casmod, was absurdly powerful. If not for Rave taking him down with a bang, life in the Empire would probably be a complete circus now.
And Nacho wouldn’t have scored that promotion afterwards.
Leon was considered prime meat in the eyes of the aristocrats—they were all too eager to tie themselves to him, thinking that a bit of credit there could mean riches and promotions for them.
So, Nacho felt a deep gratitude for that fellow. Without him, Nacho would never have climbed this high.
Of course—
Nacho gazed at the silver coin in his hand, a smirk playing on his lips.
He could only silently thank that monster, who belonged to a realm far beyond his understanding.
Face-to-face gratitude? Yeah, that ship had sailed.
Just then, a burly waiter stealthily crossed Nacho’s line of sight, holding a tray and keeping his head low like he was sneaking past the enemy lines.
Nacho’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the man’s footsteps.
He tilted his head to glance at the towering waiter’s back and muttered, “Funny… I don’t think I’ve seen this guy before.”
“My lord, the room is ready. Shall we head over to wait for them?” another man sidled up to Nacho, showing proper respect.
“Scott, have you seen that black-haired waiter?” Nacho asked.
Scott, Nacho’s current right-hand man and helper, shot a glance in the direction Nacho was looking.
He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the waiter’s back before shaking his head. “Never seen him before. Probably a new hire. The Hisna Manor has strict standards for their servants; don’t worry, my lord.”
Nacho nodded and didn’t press further.
The two walked through the hallway towards the most luxurious dining room in the manor.
Once seated, Nacho asked, “How much longer until Gini and the others arrive?”
“About twenty minutes,” Scott replied.
“Alright, go do another round to ensure that everyone here is on our side.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Nacho was meticulous with his affairs. Every time he hosted this welcoming banquet, he arrived early to arrange the men and set up the watch.
He loved having everything firmly under his control.
Twenty years ago, Nacho had no clue what power truly was;
but Casmod’s disappearance indirectly allowed him to taste the flavor of authority.
That feeling was addictive, like a drug that drilled deep; once you got a taste, you couldn’t simply walk away.
Nacho sat at the dining table, his eyes half-closed, quietly awaiting the arrival of the Sharp Blade Special Forces.
Squeak—
The door opened.
Then came slow, heavy footsteps.
“Aren’t they supposed to arrive in half an hour?” Nacho didn’t even bother to open his eyes, annoyance lacing his tone.
He hated it when Scott messed up the timing, and he despised having a well-planned event derailed by those three idiots showing up early.
That left him feeling anxious and afraid of losing control.
However, his question was met with silence as the figure simply crept in and closed the door behind him.
Nacho finally opened his eyes. “I’m talking to you, Scott! You—”
But as he caught sight of the black-haired man in the room, all the words froze in his throat.
The guy was in a waiter’s uniform, balancing a tray with a fork and kn*fe.
But Nacho knew, with the man’s prowess, anything could become a deadly weapon—not just cutlery.
At that moment, Nacho felt as if he were caught in a dream.
Or was this a ghost?
Fear blasted open deep within Nacho, making him want to scream, but the pressure radiating from the man before him rendered him suddenly mute.
It felt like a stone lodged in his throat.
His hands started going numb, a tingling sensation creeping down to his feet.
Nacho’s eyes widened, the whites crackling with bl**d vessels, as he finally uttered the man’s name:
“Leon… Casmod…”
The name was like a key that unlocked the invisible shackles around Nacho.
It felt like saying it would somehow lighten his burden.
His heart raced, but he kept trying to appear calm.
He subtly lowered one arm, digging his nails into his other hand under the table, trying to use pain to maintain his cool.
Leon, seeing that Nacho still recognized him, didn’t seem particularly surprised.
He slowly approached, pulled out a chair, and sat down, casually placing the tray with the knives in front of him.
Leon leaned back languidly in his chair, watching Nacho with an unwavering gaze.
He said nothing—just kept staring.
Nacho couldn’t make eye contact; he gulped hard.
d*mn, where were the sentries? The patrol team? The bodyguards?!
How had this bunch of nitwits missed everything?!
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the dining room.
Scott burst in, panting, looking flustered as he blurted, “This is bad, my lord! Our men have been… wiped out…—L-Leon Casmod?!”
After a brief moment of shock, Scott’s instincts kicked in, and he spun around, ready to call for backup.
But the moment he turned, he ran smack into two tall girls.
They had their hands shoved in their pockets, nodding ever so slightly, their expressions a mix of mischief and sweetness.
Snap!—
Leon snapped his fingers. “What are you doing standing out there? Come in and sit!”
Noya stepped forward, crackling with faint electric energy.
Scott had no choice but to awkwardly backtrack and join Nacho at the table.
Leon fixed a blank stare on Nacho, revealing the nervousness bubbling underneath.
After a moment of silence, Leon spoke lowly, “I know you’re probably very curious about why I’m still alive, but I don’t have time to explain right now. What I need you to do is tell me where the Empire is keeping the Heartguard Dragon Scales.”
Leon’s tone was calm, yet dripped with an unyielding pressure, pushing Nacho’s fear to its peak.
He opened his mouth to stall for time, hoping to wait for the Sharp Blade Trio’s arrival.
Regardless of whether Leon was as formidable as he had been twenty years ago, in front of the trio, he would be no more than a squash bug.
So—
Nacho was momentarily stunned as he stared at Leon’s face, shocked to discover that the guy looked exactly the same as two decades prior, showing no signs of aging whatsoever.
Could it be… he also had a secret elixir?
“Nacho, we’re all old friends here, so why waste time?”
Leon stood up and slowly walked behind Nacho and Scott.
Thud!—
He slapped both Nacho’s and Scott’s shoulders firmly.
The weight of the slap sent Scott shaking all over.
Nacho, however, remained frozen, staring straight ahead.
“Well, since that’s how you want to play it, I suppose I’ll have to use a bit of a stronger approach.”
“Leon, you—”
With a swift chop, Nacho suddenly found himself in darkness, consciousness slipping away in an instant.
“My lord, are you alright—”
“Oh, forgot about you.”
Another swift chop sent Scott crashing onto the table beside Nacho.
Leon hefted the two of them—one on either shoulder.
Noya and Moon strolled into the room.
“The Sharp Blade Trio is here, let’s get out of here.”
“Okay.”
The trio swiftly exited the dining room, heading towards the back door of Hisna Manor.
Aurora had already prepared the carriage. Once they all piled in, the horses galloped away at full speed, leaving all the chaos behind.
