Chapter 7: Legacy

He stood there, silent and unmoving.

Not even Sköll or Hati stirred.

The dire wolves—usually attuned to every shift in the wind—remained curled by the window, completely oblivious to the figure in the room. Only he and I were awake.

He stared at me, his eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. An eerie swirl of shifting colors danced within his irises, like a storm trapped behind frosted glass.

Then he spoke, his voice calm and cold, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

“I have a message from the Duke,” he said. “Come to the Duke’s manor in the center of the city. Be there at midday.”

And just like that, he vanished. No flash. No sound. As if he had never been there at all—like a ghost drifting through the night.

I sat there for a moment, frozen.

Uneasy, I stood. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.

Quietly, I left my room.

I wandered the halls until I came upon a massive staircase, its wide steps splitting into two symmetrical flights that curved along either side of the wall. Between them stood a large door, framed by columns and carvings I didn’t recognize.

As I approached, I noticed the walls were lined with the heads of monsters—some mounted like hunting trophies, others encased behind glass. Each bore a small plaque noting its species and rank.

Many of the names were familiar. Stewart had told me about some of them on our journey here. But I hadn’t imagined they’d be this massive… or this terrifying.

One had jagged tusks the size of my arm. Another had three empty eye sockets where its eyes once glowed. Just imagining what they must have looked like alive gave me chills.

As I reached for the door handle, it swung open on its own.

There, in the center of the room, was Stewart—mouth full, mid-chew, a plate piled high with food in front of him. His eyes widened as if I’d caught him committing a crime.

He quickly swallowed, straightening up as crumbs dusted his shirt. “Arthur?” he asked, his voice slightly strained. “What are you doing up?”

I shrugged, still half-dazed. “I was woken by a strange man. He told me when and where to meet the Duke—midday, city center.”

I paused. “After that, I couldn’t sleep… so I went for a stroll.”

Stewart looked like he already knew who had been in my room moments ago. He set his fork down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Sounds like you met one of the Duke’s personal guards,” he said. “Creepy bunch. They have a habit of delivering messages at the weirdest times.”

He stretched, letting out a quiet yawn before continuing, “But don’t be fooled—they’re some of the most skilled men in the kingdom. If they were adventurers, I’d wager most would be ranked at least A-rank… maybe even higher.”

Curious, I asked, “Are there many of them?”

“You could say that,” he muttered through another yawn, “but I only know a few by name.”

I glanced around the room, then let out a sigh. “Okay… but what exactly are you doing up?”

He gave me a guilty look. “Midnight snack,” he muttered sheepishly.

Panicked, he blurted, “Please don’t mention this to the head maid. She’ll absolutely grill me alive if she finds out.”

I raised a brow. Stewart—top-ranked adventurer, slayer of monsters—afraid of a maid?

“So… you’re afraid of a maid?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Uh, well…” He stumbled over his words, shifting awkwardly. “She’s a former adventurer. Actually, most of the staff here are.”

I blinked. “Aren’t you an S-ranked adventurer?”

Beads of sweat began forming on his forehead. “I am… but—” he paused, looking more nervous than I’d ever seen him—“she’s the one who taught me everything I know. She’s also an S-rank… and, well… she doesn’t tolerate bad habits.”

More sweat dripped down his face.

“I’ve had this habit of sneaking food at night,” he confessed. “One time, she caught me… and smacked me so hard, I was out cold for a full day.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense—and don’t worry, I won’t tell,” I said. Though deep down, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

But my amusement didn’t last long.

By morning, I came face-to-face with the infamous head maid: Elena Spencer.

Her hair had begun to gray, though streaks of brown still showed through. She was muscular—ripped from head to toe—and even beneath the maid uniform, scars traced her arms. There were likely more beneath the sleeves, but what I could see was enough to tell me she was no ordinary servant.

As Rias and I ate breakfast in the grand dining room, I couldn’t help but notice that Stewart hadn’t come down yet. Just as I was about to ask where he was, he wandered in—his face decorated with two enormous red handprints, one on each cheek.

He didn’t need to speak. The twin red handprints said it all.

He avoided eye contact and sat silently across from us.

After finishing our meal, we stepped outside to wait. The morning sun filtered through the fog as the estate’s gate creaked open. Moments later, the same elegant carriage from last night rolled up the drive. Inside were Sasha, Lily, and Bardock, all looking as lively as ever.

Curious, I turned to Stewart. “How’d you manage to get a carriage to pick us up last night?”

He pulled a small, thumb-sized mana crystal from his pocket. “This right here? It’s enchanted with a couple of useful spells.”

“Oh? What spells would those be?” I asked.

Stewart grinned. “The first is a memory transfer spell. The second is a color enchantment. Together, they’re pretty handy.”

He held up the crystal, letting the morning light catch the faint glow inside.

“You think of the place you’re in and infuse mana into the crystal. It sends that memory to a linked one. When the memory reaches the receiver, their crystal changes color—each color signals a different level of urgency.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So it’s good for emergencies?”

“Exactly,” he said. “The receiver touches their crystal, and it transfers the full memory—images, sounds, emotions, everything.”

I let out a low whistle. “Huh. That’s… really useful.”

Stewart grinned. “I know, right? Beats sending a letter.”

We all hopped into the carriage and began our journey to the Duke’s manor.

As the horses trotted along the cobblestone path, I leaned forward. “So… Bardock, Stewart. Who are your families? And how do you two have so much money?”

Bardock looked surprised but shrugged. “My family’s name is Evergreen. So yeah, Bardock Evergreen.”

Before he could say more, Stewart interrupted. “And I’m Stewart Hunter. Our families have a reputation—we’re known for conquering S-rank dungeons and above.”

“Huh,” I muttered. “I see…”

Bardock added, “The Evergreens and Hunters have been close for generations. We often join forces for raids. Though Stewart and I haven’t gone in much lately—not since Lily and Sasha. Dungeons bring back… bad memories.”

Sasha nodded. “Bardock told you about our past—why we avoid goblin quests. Dungeons remind us of the cave we were trapped in.”

Stewart waved it off. “Alright, alright. Let’s not kill the mood. Sorry about them, Arthur.”

But I didn’t mind. If anything, I understood more than they realized.

Rias and I had our own brush with death. Twice.

But the second time… that memory still clings to me.

It was during our first winter alone, after Father vanished.

We were young, unprepared, and completely isolated. I’d stored our food wrong—too much moisture, not enough salt. Everything spoiled before the snow even fully settled in.

We starved for nearly two months. I tried rationing what we had, but it was never enough. I hiked the frozen mountains daily, desperate for anything—roots, rabbits, anything. But the deeper the snow, the less I found.

My body was numb, my stomach clawing at itself. And all I could think was: Rias is dying… and it’s my fault.

Days turned to nights. Nights bled into weeks… and then months.

That’s when I found him.

A man. Lying face-down in the snow. His head was gone—ripped off. His arms and torso mangled. But his legs… untouched.

I checked his pockets—praying for food.

Nothing.

But he was still warm.

I don’t know what killed him. Beast, maybe. But my instincts screamed:

Survive.

So I did what I had to.

I quartered his legs, packed what I could into my coat, and hiked home with raw flesh on my back.

That night, I cooked small portions. Seasoned them lightly. I gave it to Rias without saying a word.

She ate without hesitation. I did too—but each bite felt like swallowing glass. I forced it down, then vomited outside where she couldn’t hear.

But we lived.

Barely.

That meat lasted until spring thawed the rivers. But the guilt… that never thawed.

From that day forward, I made a promise:

Never again.

Never again would I fail her. Never again would she go hungry—not while I was breathing.

The carriage stopped.

I looked up.

The Duke’s manor was enormous. Marble walls. Towering columns. A dark wooden door tall enough for giants.

The wolves lounged across a vast lawn, trees and grass stretching to the outer wall—marking the end of the Fifth Ring.

The door opened, and a man around Bardock’s height stepped out. Neatly combed gray hair. Green eyes. Monocle. A perfectly tailored suit.

“Welcome to the Duke’s manor,” he said. “My name is Henry, head butler. Please, follow me.”

We entered a maze of pristine halls. Eventually, we arrived at the great hall.

At the far end sat a man with silver hair—like mine and Rias’s. A tired, hollow look in his blue eyes. This had to be the Duke.

He spoke. “So… you’ve found my grandson, have you?”

Lily stepped forward. “Yes, Your Grace. We tested him using the guild’s Info Crystal.”

He scoffed, waving at a nearby desk. “I’ve read the report. But if I trusted only that, I’d have fallen for impostors a dozen times over. Illusion magic can fool those crystals.”

Stewart stepped up. “With all due respect, Duke Durak, the boy may look like a man, but he’s only sixteen. Same with his sister.”

The Duke narrowed his eyes. “That could be another lie.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Stewart said, more firmly now. “He also bears your son’s pendant.”

Stewart gave me a subtle nod.

I reached beneath my shirt and drew out the pendant. The Duke’s eyes locked on it. His expression shifted.

“Bring it here,” he said quietly.

I stepped forward and placed it in his hand. He opened it—saw the family crest. Then, he pricked his finger and let a drop of blood fall on the crystal.

It glowed green.

His eyes widened. Just slightly.

His voice softened. “This… this is undoubtedly my son’s pendant. Whether you found it, stole it, or truly are who you claim to be… I want the truth. If you insist on this claim, I will test you further.”

I swallowed, then nodded.

“Yes… I’m Orpheus’s son. Your grandson.”

Silence.

The Duke closed his eyes for a long moment.

Then nodded slowly. “Very well then…”

My heart pounded.

This was only the beginning.