ROTLE- Chapter 172- [Spellsword]

“Your arm’s no longer black, Lord Lacheart.”

The words echoed in Aiden’s ears, but he knew better than to be distracted in this moment. In fact, he doubted that distraction would do much to hinder him. If anything, he was doing his best to stay his hand. His anger was working on him in this moment.

Ted and Zen were only the gods knew where. Valdan was stuck with them, unconscious at the mercy of a healer who had been very comfortable to bargain with his life.

Surviving the fall had been nothing but a stroke of luck, genius, and a coat that repaired itself. The coat had taken a brunt of the damage, a weaving of endurance had done much to leave him sturdy, then a protective shield created from an enchantment of protection had been the final piece of the puzzle.

Still, he had lost over sixty percent of his health, only to get up and find the [Saint] and [Mage] performing the uneducated action of fighting an [Illusory Serpent] head on. The [Saint] hadn’t been bad at what he was doing, but anyone with half a brain knew that you did not fight the creature with any elemental ability. It was common sense. All it did was level the creature up.

Now, the [Saint] was being dramatic, standing in his way just after he’d saved the fool’s life.

Aiden’s scowl deepened. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. He would kill the [Saint] and be done with it. The fool wasn’t strong enough to survive a blade to the neck—none of them were at that level yet. That was the domain of those who had caressed the limits of level three hundred.

Calm yourself, he thought.

“Lord Lacheart,” Estabel spoke again. “I give you my word that if you release the [Saint] you will not come to harm.”

Aiden gritted his teeth, watching the [Saint]. He certainly did not want to make an enemy of the church. Not now, at least. He knew secrets of the church that even the [Saint]s did not know. He didn’t know everything, but he knew enough.

“Your arm, Aiden,” Estabel said. “We must attend to it.”

Aiden heard her loud and clear, but his gaze focused on the [Saint]. He watched the man, waited, and waited. Finally, he saw the understanding. They came to an agreement.

Only then did Aiden’s hold on his sword relax. A moment after, he lowered his sword and stepped back and to the side.

There was silence for a moment, but the tension had not cleared. Any moment the [Saint] could decide to break their unspoken agreement. With dimensional mana at his beck and call, Aiden was sure that he could handle anything that the [Saint] threw at him. His little endeavor in unbinding the [Illusory Serpent] had told him all that he needed to know about the man’s enchanting skills. He was good, but Aiden was better. With dimensional mana, he was just as strong, too.

Only when the [Saint]’s shoulders finally relaxed did Aiden banish his sword to his storage space.

That got a raised brow from Estabel.

“Usually, people keep their swords out,” she commented. “You make an interesting choice.”

Aiden finally looked at her. “I make interesting choices.”

Intriguingly enough, he saw no malice from what had happened to her staff when she’d used it to touch his arm long ago when they’d met at the border town.

“So,” she said. “Your arm.”

Aiden looked down at it and found it a deep red. The white streaks that marked his arm from the [Fragment of Nastild] and the enchantment that the merchant of Nosrath Alobam had placed on it when it was black were gone. It was an intriguing thing. But Aiden was more worried about something else.

Fuck, he thought in mild annoyance. I guess I won’t be weaving for a while.

He looked up from the arm and found Estabel waiting patiently for him. The [Saint] seemed to be fuming in silence. The man had clearly not liked the outcome of their little squabble.

He probably still wants answers to where we were, Aiden thought.

The question, however, was if Aiden had been the one to drag him there or if something else was amiss. There was also the fact that the [Spatial Crack]s had been afraid of him—his arm to be specific.

With his title of [Hostile] he was supposed to be an enemy of space. He had assumed that they would rush him, try to destroy him. He had nothing butt questions.

“Lord Lacheart!” Estabel’s voice interrupted his train of thoughts.

“My arm is fine!” Aiden snapped at her.

She paused, gave him an incredulous look.

Aiden’s response was a shake of his head as he tried to dismiss his displeasure. She had done him no wrong. And now that his mind was a little calmer, he remembered that by this time the [Illusory Serpent] was an unknown monster on this side and the other side of Nastild. It wasn’t until after the fall of Nosrath that the creature became common and people learnt how to deal with it.

“My apologies, [Mage],” he said with a short bow of his head. “I am not a pleasurable company right now. There are things I must do.”

With that, he turned and was off.

He had only three steps before a brown piece of paper settled in the air in front of him. He gave it a flat look. Engraved upon it in red ink was a complex enchantment. A complex enchantment of binding.

His red arm twitched. A new trait he had gained not too long ago touched his mind. [Dimensional Touch]. He still remembered his fight at for the [Crystal of Existence]. With the trait, he had the ability to affect the world.

Aiden did nothing, though. Instead, he turned to look at the [Saint], raising a curious brow.

“You wish to go for another round?” he asked, restraining himself, finding the patience he had somewhere within him.

“Do you think I would just let you walk away after what I witnessed?” the [Saint] asked.

Aiden just watched him, trying to remember his name. The [Saint] had been the official at his duel in the Naranoff manor. He remembered how the man had worried him then, how he had done his best not to get on the man’s bad side.

Now, however, he could not even be bothered.

Because you have pitched yourself against his enchantments and fighting ability and found them wanting, he thought. The arrogance of perceived equality.

“And what have you seen?” he asked.

The [Saint] glanced at Estabel. It was the briefest thing, but it was enough for Aiden. The [Saint] did not want the [Mage] to know the existence of that world. Either that, or he did not want her to know that they had been there.

Estabel looked between the two of them, a slight confusion touched her expression. When no one said anything for a while, she shrugged.

“How sure are you that your arm is fine?” she asked, pushing past the silence.

Aiden looked down at the arm. “Because this is not it’s first time.”

“You have studied it?” she asked.

Aiden shook his head. “It is my arm. I know what is happening to it.”

“It wasn’t like this the first time we met, though.”

That caught the [Saint]’s attention and he nodded. “That is true. You had a normal hand at that time.”

“Things happen,” Aiden said with a finality. “It’s as simple as that. Now, if you don’t mind,” he thumbed at the piece of paper still hovering in his path, “I would like to leave.”

The [Saint] opened his mouth, then closed it. Aiden was running out of patience. He could feel Ted and Valdan moving further and further away from him. When Oncot had thrown him, they had not yet entered the domain of Nosrath which was the forest he was currently finding himself in.

If he kept on wasting time, who knew what would happen.

“A moment, Lord Lacheart,” the [Saint] said, then turned to Estabel. “What did you mean he was also my business, [Mage]?”

Estabel looked at him like he was stupid. “How does a [Saint] not know that the rising darkness has already begun. The rise of the [Demon King] is upon us.”

A contemplative frown creased the [Saint]’s lips. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“What do the scriptures say about the rising darkness?” she asked. “What are one of the things that are important to be done when it comes?”

“All men, women and children should…” the [Saint]’s words trailed off for a moment. He frowned, as if rethinking his answer. Sharp eyes focused on Aiden. “It has already happened?”

Estabel nodded. “Took you long enough.”

The [Saint]’s frown only deepened. It was almost a scowl now. “He is a summoned?” he asked, incredulous. “How do you know?”

Estabel slapped her forehead. “How do you not know? The monarchs announced their summoning a few weeks ago. Do you live under a rock?”

“Careful,” the [Saint] hissed. “I will not be insulted.”

Estabel sighed. “It’s like dealing with a child,” she muttered under her breath. “Anyway, he is a summoned, that’s why he is your business. You should not be killing a potential [Hero].”

The [Saint] was not pleased. “So the rising darkness is truly upon us.” He looked at Aiden who was still waiting for the paper to be taken away from his path. “That would explain your growth. No one grows as fast as you have in a month.”

“Paper,” Aiden said.

Ted and Valdan were moving farther away. It was almost as if they were in a hurry. He wouldn’t say he was surprised. Chances were that they were moving in a hurry in the direction of where Oncot had thrown him. With the teleportation, he had been taken elsewhere, though. They were off by a lot.

“You will need to be trained properly,” the [Saint] said.

Aiden sighed. Sometimes, diplomacy was useful. The Order taught that a lot, and Valdan had often told him something like that. Ted always screamed it, though.

“Your name, if I may ask for it,” he said to the [Saint].

“I am [Saint] Clerent of the church, ordained a year past,” the man answered. “I told you this when we met at the Naranoff manor.”

Aiden nodded. “My apologies, I must’ve forgotten. May I be granted leave. I have a task I must accomplish.”

“And what task is greater than your training?”

“I came here with friends,” Aiden explained, doing his best to distance himself from his anger and impatience. “An unfortunate mishap led to our separation, and now I must find them. It is important.” He eyed Clerent and Estabel before adding the next piece of information. “One of them is a [Healer].”

Maybe that would motivate them to want to tag along in finding the others. He could do it on his own but he would be lying if he said it would not be significantly easier to have a [Saint] and a [Mage] as assistants.

“A [Healer],” Estabel mused. “We could use one in finding my teammates.”

Clerent looked at them as if they were stupid. “What is more important is leaving this place and presenting Aiden Lacheart to the church for proper training.”

“I’m sure the monarchs have trained them well enough,” Estabel said. “Do not underestimate them.”

“Royal families are not know for their vast array of teaching methods,” Clerent pointed out.

Aiden paused. Were they arguing over what was to be done with him right now? Had they suddenly forgotten about how he had saved them from the monster and what he had just done to Clerent?

Were they arrogant or stupid?

Does it matter? He thought, summoning his sword once more.

Clerent fell into a combat stance immediately. Pieces of paper floated into existence around him, each one glowing a subtle yellow. Even the one barring Aiden’s path began glowing.

Aiden wondered if it was an effect of the [Saint]’s skill or if the glow was aesthetical. There were people who were known to add unnecessary aesthetics to combat tools where they could.

“Calm down,” he told the [Saint], his tone casual as he unsheathed the sword from the scabbard and stabbed it in the ground. He held up only the scabbard, to prove that he had no plans of attacking. “See?”

“I still cannot let you wander off,” Clerent said. “For your safety, and the potential safety of the world.”

Aiden fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was fairly certain that it had nothing to do with those, at least not to any significant measure. From what he knew from his research in his past life, the church had not been able to summon them because the church could not. The scriptures did not permit them to.

As such, they had done everything in their power in his past life to get their hands on a few of the summoned. But they did not do so publicly so that the masses would not claim that they were disobeying the scriptures when they found out.

Shaking his head, Aiden placed a finger to his scabbard. With [Unarmed Engrave] his inscribed an enchantment on it. He turned, [Mage] and [Saint] watching him, and threw the scabbard as far in the direction he was walking as possible.

“I don’t understand,” Estabel said.

“It’s simple,” Aiden said. “I need help finding my companions. Your help will be welcome, the both of you. However, what I am not going to be doing is leaving here without them. Will you help?”

Estabel shrugged. “I don’t see why not. On two conditions, though.”

Clerent was all frowns today.

“I’m listening,” Aiden told her.

“The first condition is that we go looking for my own companions once we find yours.”

“If you have a viable way that won’t stress us, then that is agreed,” Aiden conceded. “What is the second?”

“The summoned are said to come from another world. I would like to ask questions about what life is like on that world. I would appreciate honest answers.”

Aiden didn’t see why not. “Sure.”

“And you?” Estabel asked Clerent.

“My duty is to bring him back to the church.”

“Dude,” Aiden sighed. “You just found out about me. That is not your duty. Are you in or out?”

“In,” Clerent answered hesitantly. “But on one condition.”

“No.” Aiden’s answer was abrupt. “Your conditions will not be heard because I know what you really want.”

Clerent’s jaw ticked.

“Now, if we’re all done, we better hurry,” Aiden said, bringing his hands together. “That creature has our scent and is definitely tracking us.”

“That reminds me,” Estabel said suddenly. “How did you know about the creature?”

Aiden’s hands moved, weaving a sign in the blink of an eye, sword in hand. “I learnt a lot in Bandiv.”

Aiden’s handsigns came to an end.

[You have used class skill Enchanted Weave]

The moment he saw the notification, he realized his stupidity. He had just spoken to himself about it a moment ago.

[Due to the existence of Trait skill Dimensional Touch class skill Enchanted Weave does not take effect]

You idiot! He snapped at himself just before the pain came.

It reached from his heart, extending straight to the tips of the fingers of his reddened arm, before channeling its way back. It screamed within him, forcing him down to one knee as he clutched at his chest, gasping in pain.

The pain is not your enemy, he reminded himself, talking himself through it as it subsided. It was worse than he remembered this time.

“Lord Lacheart,” Estabel said, voice worried. “Are you alright?”

It took almost everything in Aiden to nod as Estabel reached to help him up.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Just a side effect of teleportation magic. It’s been happening since I was summoned to your world.”

Clerent raised a brow. “Would you say that it happens to your companions as well?”

“Some of us,” Aiden answered, looking at him as he got back up to his feet. “Why?”

Clerent shrugged, nonchalant. “That looked very painful, but I’m sure the solution to that can be found in the church. Would you be willing to find it?”

Aiden gave him a skeptical look. “Maybe after I have found my companions.”

“The Mage Radiants could fix that too, actually,” Estabel said.

A sigh slipped into Aiden’s mind. They were bargaining, trying to entice him to join one of them with a promise of fixing his pain.

Aiden almost shook his head. Instead, he simply looked in the distance he had thrown his scabbard in. Out of a lot of things he had done in his life, this one was probably one of the dumbest. He had actually intended on using the scabbard to blink his way out of this conundrum, completely forgetting that he could not use [Enchanted Weave].

That was very stupid and inattentive of you.

“We can help with the pain,” Clerent said once more. “You don’t have to continue experiencing it.”

Aiden was on his feet now, thinking about the perfectly good scabbard he had just thrown away due to his stupidity. That’s what I get for trying to aura farm.

“Or,” a voice called out from nowhere, “he could just not teleport.”

All heads turned, everyone jumping into attention. The orb at the top of Estabel’s staff glowed a murky brow as she pointed it at the tree. Clerent’s pieces of paper pointed in the direction of the voice as if they were sharp objects with a pointy end.

Aiden, however, froze. He knew the voice, recognized it as if he had spent years listening to it, because he had.

When he turned his head to the tree, he was unsurprised at the sight he found. The face was clearly younger, but it was the same.

Yellow eyes peeked out from under blonde hair. Those eyes had led to speculations of some trace of royalty in their owner’s bloodline, rumors their owner had been sure to dissuade. The man’s face was young with squared jaws. He had a casual look, something that said he was accustomed to joviality in every situation.

He sat on a tree branch with a raised knee and an arm resting on it. He was clad in heavy armor that Aiden suspected was actually light. It was also definitely expensive.

Aiden could not see the man’s spear, though. It was probably tucked away in his storage space.

“Declare yourself!” Estabel barked.

“My name,” the man said easily, “is Alfonset the fifth.”

Then he dropped from the tree.

Everyone remained alert, but not Aiden. He feared nothing from the man in front of them. Why? Because the man prided himself on being a pacifist and a scholar.

For all his introduction, Aiden knew better. Before them stood the [Spellsword], Tanor.

Smart, charismatic, one day powerful…

… And a member of Aiden’s team in his past life.

Author's note: Interesting tidbit--Some people might think that it doesn't make sense that Aiden forgot he couldn't use [Enchanted Weave] and ended up with that slip up, but the real reason it happened was because while typing this chapter, I had actually forgotten that he couldn't use it and only remembered when I was typing the skill activation. I figured, since I forgot, then he forgot, and chose to just keep it going into what it ended up becoming instead.