CHAPTER 85: Familiar Enemy

Switch Plan

Alistair nodded. “General Douglas brought something sealed under the King’s instruction. He said it is for you alone once you wake.”

The room shifted around the words.

Adrian did not answer immediately. His gaze remained on his father, but his mind had already begun measuring the implications. A gift from the royal family, carried by General Douglas himself, sealed under the King’s instruction, and meant to be opened only after he regained consciousness. That was not a simple token of sympathy. The King was not foolish enough to waste a formal royal gesture on flowers, jewelry, or a decorative blade when the South was moving toward war in one month. If the item had been sent privately, then it either contained information, authority, or a tool that could not be displayed before the court.

Before anyone could continue, the door opened again.

Doctor Malivan entered with two assistants behind him, though the assistants stopped near the doorway after seeing the entire main family already gathered around the bed. The doctor’s expression tightened with the stern patience of a man who had expected this exact problem and still disliked witnessing it.

“My lord, my lady,” Malivan greeted, bowing first to Alistair and Elise before turning his gaze toward Adrian. “Young master. I see you have decided to wake before I gave permission.”

Adrian lowered his head slightly. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Malivan adjusted his spectacles. “That is the most polite way I have ever heard a patient confess to ignoring medical expectations.”

Isaac almost laughed, but Marian’s glance stopped him.

Alistair stood from his chair. “The conversation can wait. Check his condition first.”

Doctor Malivan nodded. “That would be wise.”

No one argued.

Even Adrian did not attempt to continue. He leaned back against the bedboard while the doctor approached with practiced care. The assistants brought forward a tray of instruments, several small vials, a thin crystal rod for mana pulse reading, and a folded diagnostic cloth marked with healing array lines. Elise released Adrian’s hand reluctantly, though she remained close enough that if the doctor had asked her to step away, the entire room might have grown colder.

The checkup lasted twenty minutes.

Doctor Malivan examined the bandaged cut beneath Adrian’s eye, checked the healing progress along the ribs and shoulder, observed his breathing pattern, inspected the pulse at the wrist and neck, tested pupil response, and finally measured the mana flow around both the heart and mind cores. He asked Adrian to raise his arms, rotate his fingers, breathe deeply, hold the breath, exhale slowly, and describe the pain level without pride. The last instruction made Merek snort once, though he did not interfere.

Adrian obeyed with discipline.

The doctor’s expression grew increasingly complicated.

By the end, he removed his spectacles, cleaned them once with a cloth, then placed them back on his nose as though hoping the second look would be more believable than the first.

“If the young master did not still have bandages and visible scars,” Malivan said at last, “no doctor would believe he was the same patient who was carried here three days ago.”

The room released a breath it had not known it was holding.

Elise closed her eyes for a moment. Marian’s fingers tightened over the edge of her sleeve. Isaac stared at Adrian as if trying to decide whether admiration or anger should win first.

Alistair’s gaze remained serious. “Explain.”

Malivan turned toward Adrian first. “Before that, I need to ask. Did you experience any particular changes in your body after waking?”

Adrian did not lie. “I woke with pain, stiffness, and lingering instability in both cores. I used mana sensing, but adjusted it into a new method. Mana gathering. Instead of merely recognizing and attracting mana particles, I used breath to draw mana inward, separated the flow into two paths, circulated one toward the mind and one toward the heart, then exhaled what felt impure or incompatible.”

Enel’s eyes sharpened.

Garret’s face remained composed, but his attention deepened.

Doctor Malivan looked as if Adrian had just handed him a fascinating crime.

“You did that immediately after waking?”

“Yes.”

Merek clicked his tongue. “Of course he did.”

Malivan exhaled through his nose, then turned toward Alistair. “Scientifically speaking, the method did not erase his scars or undo the physical injuries by itself. The bones had already been supported by healing magic, holy cleansing, and treatment over the past three days. However, what the young master describes seems to have removed residual impurities within the blood vessels, improved lung circulation, and stabilized the signal response between muscle tension, nerve-like impulse, and mana movement through the veins.”

Adrian looked at him.

The phrasing was too close.

Not exactly modern medicine, not fully, but the structure of the explanation carried concepts far beyond common Arcane Kingdom medical speech. Blood vessels. lung circulation. muscle signals. nerve-like impulse. It was not the language of old herbal treatment alone. It was the language of someone who had opened the fourth module and begun digesting what should have taken years.

Alistair frowned slightly. “Simpler, Doctor.”

Malivan paused.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, he looked embarrassed. “My apologies, my lord. I became excited using the terms from the module I received. The young master seemed to understand them better, so I spoke too quickly.”

Seraphine’s eyes slid toward Adrian. “Of course, he understood.”

Adrian did not answer.

Malivan cleared his throat. “In simpler terms, the young master’s body fractured because his core output exceeded what the vessel could safely support. For a knight, it is like a man with a novice body attempting an advanced technique meant for a veteran. His courage may be admirable, but his bones, muscles, and aura pathways cannot carry the burden cleanly. For a mage, it is like chanting a high-tier spell when one’s mana capacity and spell structure only support a rookie-level casting. The spell may activate, but the caster becomes part of the price.”

That explanation landed clearly.

Isaac’s expression darkened. Marian looked toward Adrian with quiet anger and concern mixed. Elise did not speak, but her gaze lowered to the bandages around his chest.

Malivan continued, “Before today, I expected to spend this report arguing that the young master had stabilized only enough to survive. However, he has now stabilized both foolishness and impurity.”

“Doctor,” Adrian said mildly.

“I am your doctor,” Malivan replied. “I am allowed accuracy.”

Merek laughed once.

Malivan pointed carefully toward Adrian’s chest and then his head. “When the young master first arrived, the newly formed third circles in both cores were unstable. They were present, but rough, pulsing irregularly, and consuming too much internal force. Now they are calmer. Not perfect. Not ready for strain. But normal enough to breathe with.”

Alistair’s shoulders lowered by a fraction.

“What do you recommend?” he asked.

“A light meal for today. No heavy food, no difficult digestion. Tomorrow, light movement only. Walking inside the room, assisted if necessary. Three days from today, if no complications appear, the young master may be released from the hospital under continued restriction.”

Adrian nodded. “Understood.”

Malivan looked at him suspiciously. “You agreed too quickly.”

“I have no intention of delaying recovery.”

“That is not the same as resting.”

Adrian remained silent.

Malivan narrowed his eyes. “There it is.”

Adrian finally asked, “May I at least do written work?”

Elise’s expression sharpened. “Adrian.”

“It would reduce the number of questions I ask aloud.”

Isaac muttered, “That somehow sounds worse.”

Doctor Malivan exhaled like a man seeing his patient crawl toward overwork with formal permission papers. “Written work may be allowed only in the afternoon, and only for limited intervals. Morning should be used for your new mana gathering method, since it appears to assist natural stabilization. Night is for total sleep recovery. No midnight writing. No private experiments. No circle forcing. No combat training. No walking beyond instruction. If I discover otherwise, I will request Lady Elise and Garret to enforce compliance.”

Garret bowed slightly from the door. “With pleasure.”

Adrian looked at him. “That sounded personal.”

“It is a professional concern, young master.”

Seraphine smiled faintly. “Professionally terrifying.”

Malivan packed his instruments. “I will return later with a proper written schedule. For now, he may eat once the meal arrives, speak briefly, and then rest. Briefly, my lord.”

The last words were directed toward Alistair.

Alistair nodded. “I understand.”

Doctor Malivan bowed and excused himself with his assistants, though not before giving Adrian one final warning glance that promised medical warfare if ignored.

When the door closed, the room became heavier again.

Alistair sat in the chair beside the bed.

The warmth from earlier remained, but his expression had changed. He was no longer only a father relieved that his son had awakened. He was also the Marquis of the South, a commander who had nearly lost his heir during an operation Adrian himself had led.

“How did it come to that?” Alistair asked.

Adrian did not pretend not to understand. “You are asking why I made the reckless decision.”

“Yes.”

“It was reckless.”

The room shifted at the easy admission.

Adrian continued, “But it was not careless.”

Alistair’s gaze remained fixed on him. “Explain.”

So Adrian did.

He explained from the moment Arslov appeared after the explosion. The surprise vertical slash. The death of the knight who had spoken too early. The suffocating killing intent that froze Rolan and shook even the trained soldiers. The first defensive formation. The black flare. The fact that Arslov treated it as amusement rather than a threat. The first impact that broke three barriers and left only Darius’s earth mana standing. Brutos recognizes his face. The decision to withdraw. The pursuit. The calculation that if all of them ran together, Arslov would catch and cut them down before reinforcement arrived.

His voice did not dramatize the events.

That made them worse.

He described how Darius alone would have died too quickly if left behind as a delaying force. Not because Darius was weak, but because Arslov enjoyed strong prey and would press harder if he sensed sacrifice. He explained the split: Rolan and half the group rushing to the rendezvous point with the wounded, while Adrian, Darius, and those still capable of fighting bought time. He detailed the rotation defense, the way Arslov broke coordination, how the knights sacrificed fingers, shields, bodies, and breath to preserve the line. He described the mage losing his arm. The pain after Arslov’s fist struck his chest. The moment he realized the soldiers were not variables, not pawns, but his people. Then the forced third circle release.

Elise’s hand covered her mouth halfway through.

Marian’s eyes grew wet, though she refused to let the tears fall.

Isaac stood stiffly, face pale and furious in a helpless way.

Darius was not present, but Alistair seemed to see the battlefield through Adrian’s words regardless.

Adrian finally said, “I trusted Rolan to reach the rendezvous point. I trusted Darius to hold when I needed him. I trusted the knights not to collapse. I trusted Enel to notice any dark mana if it appeared. I trusted you to arrive at the correct time.”

Alistair’s face changed.

Only slightly.

But the burden of that trust entered him.

Adrian lowered his gaze. “If you had arrived late, we would have died. But if I did not stay, they would have died before you could arrive.”

No one spoke.

Alistair leaned back slowly.

A long silence passed before he answered.

“You made the correct decision under an impossible condition,” he said. “That does not mean I am pleased with it.”

Adrian nodded. “I understand.”

“You carried fear properly,” Alistair continued. “That matters. A man who feels no fear before Arslov is either a liar, a fool, or someone more monstrous than him. But you trusted the people around you and used the fear to command, not collapse.”

The praise struck harder because it was restrained.

Then Alistair’s voice hardened.

“But it should be the last.”

Adrian did not argue.

“I cannot promise that no impossible condition will appear again,” he said.

Alistair’s eyes sharpened.

Adrian added, “But I can promise I will not choose that option unless all other paths are worse.”

Elise closed her eyes as if that was both comfort and cruelty.

Before Alistair could continue, Enel spoke.

“Young master, do you know the dark mage who appeared beside Arslov?”

Adrian looked at him.

His confusion was immediate and genuine.

“Dark mage?”

The room stilled.

Enel’s brows drew together. “You do not remember?”

“There was a mage around?”

Alistair looked toward Enel, then back to Adrian. “You were already standing half-unconscious when you released your third circles.”

Marian whispered, “You don’t remember the warp gate?”

“No,” Adrian said.

He searched his memory. Perfect Recall could reconstruct nearly anything he consciously perceived, but the moment after the forced release was blurred. Not lost completely, but fractured. He remembered Arslov. He remembered declaring his name. He remembered pressure, golden white mana, and then darkness. Everything after that belonged to the body moving without the mind fully seated inside it.

Alistair’s voice lowered.

“It was the Duke.”

The room froze.

Even Adrian became completely still.

Merek’s expression turned murderous again. “Vilcrom.”

Seraphine’s fingers tightened around her sleeve. “So the bone-masked mage was him.”

Isaac looked between them. “The Duke? The King’s cousin?”

Alistair nodded. “Duke Vilcrom Gotha. The Mad Mage of the Black Tower. First cousin of His Majesty.”

Marian’s face paled. “Why would he appear with Arslov?”

“That is the question,” Alistair said.

Adrian’s mind began working faster despite Malivan’s warning. Duke Vilcrom. Arslov. Noble faction. dark magic. old poison. commoner-mage suppression. merchant guild control. bandit pressure. revolutionist movements in the capital. The pieces had been close before. Now one had finally shown its face.

Alistair continued, “I saw him once on the eastern battlefield years ago. He did not wear the bone mask then, but I do not forget that mana. Dark, structured, suffocating. The royal family is aware of his danger, but awareness and action are not the same. He holds power, territory, faction loyalty, and enough magical strength that reprimanding him without full preparation could fracture the kingdom before the King chooses the battlefield.”

Enel added, “He is near the peak of the seventh circle.”

“Yes,” Alistair said. “And he has hidden behind old influence, noble legality, and rebellion rumors for years. We heard whispers that he was tied to factions trying to weaken the crown. We heard he was hiding movements beneath merchant channels and eastern networks. But I did not expect his connection to the King of Bandits to be so direct.”

Seraphine’s voice was cold. “He came personally to retrieve Arslov.”

Merek’s jaw clenched. “Then Arslov is not merely a hired brute.”

“He is a weapon,” Adrian said.

Everyone turned toward him.

Adrian’s eyes had sharpened, no longer softened by recovery. “A released weapon. The Duke allowed him to test the South, draw out our response, and measure hidden strength. When the result became dangerous, he retrieved him. That means Arslov’s attack was never meant to be isolated banditry.”

Alistair nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

“And if the Duke appeared once,” Adrian continued, “he will not appear again without greater advantage. He has seen Enel. He has seen you. He has seen the cavalry response. He has seen enough to adjust.”

Enel’s expression became grave. “Then we must switch the plan.”

Adrian looked at him. “Yes.”

Elise frowned. “You are not planning anything today.”

“I am identifying direction.”

“That sounds like planning spoken by someone who was told not to work.”

Adrian wisely did not answer.

Instead, he turned toward Garret. “Bring the royal gift.”

No one asked why.

Perhaps because everyone understood that if the King had sent something sealed for Adrian, and the Duke had now been identified as a familiar enemy, the timing was no longer ceremonial.

Garret bowed. “At once.”

He left silently.

While they waited, the room remained tense but disciplined. Alistair did not push Adrian to continue speaking. Elise adjusted the blanket over him. Marian poured water and forced him to drink half a cup. Isaac kept staring as if Adrian might vanish if left unobserved. Merek and Seraphine exchanged a look that held too many old calculations for the younger siblings to read. Enel remained near the window, his gaze lowered, likely replaying the dark mage’s presence from the battlefield.

Garret returned within minutes, carrying a long sealed case.

The case was not ornate, but the royal crest marked the locking band. Its enchantment was subtle, made for privacy rather than display. Garret placed it carefully on the table, then glanced at the bed.

Adrian tried to adjust his position.

Elise immediately pushed one pillow behind him without waiting for him to strain his shoulder. “Do not move foolishly.”

“I was only sitting straighter.”

“That can also be foolish.”

Garret unfolded a portable bed table and placed it across Adrian’s lap. The case was laid upon it. Alistair inspected the seal first, then nodded.

“It has not been opened.”

Adrian placed his hand over the crest.

The seal reacted.

A thin golden light traveled across the lock, then released with a soft click.

Garret opened the case.

Inside was a huge scroll.

Not a letter.

Not a decree.

A map scroll, bound in thick protective leather and sealed again with a smaller inner ribbon. Garret lifted it with both hands and placed it on the table. Adrian removed the inner ribbon and slowly unrolled the parchment.

The room went silent.

The map spread wider than the table.

Garret quickly adjusted the supports so the edges would not fold.

What appeared before them was not a kingdom map.

It was a continental map.

The entire Arcane continent stretched across the parchment in detailed lines: kingdoms, mountain ranges, coastlines, forbidden territories, old route networks, major rivers, distant borders, unmarked zones, and several places shaded in colors that clearly meant military, magical, or political classifications. Some labels had been written in royal cipher. Others were plain enough to be understood immediately.

Merek reacted first.

His eyes widened, then narrowed with disbelief. “How did the boy receive this kind of gift?”

Isaac looked at him. “It’s just a map.”

Seraphine answered before Merek could. “No. It is not just a map.”

Merek leaned closer, voice low and severe. “In the Arcane Kingdom, private possession of a continental map is forbidden.”